Personal Time

After many months of barely seeing my husband, he took his personal days so we could have a four-day weekend together. Hubby used part of this time to dig up the bushes on the side of our walkway, all eight of them. These bushes were over twenty years old, so now with no bushes, that side looks like something out of Sanford and Son. But our little man loves to help his daddy with boy chores. How cute is that?!

Hubby also took on the main part of childcare responsibilities, partly because he will be going on a 'mens' weekend' soon, as well as to Asia in the next couple of months. Did I also mention my sitter has left us? Yah. I needed a break!

The boys got along very well, for the most part. My youngest likes to whine a lot. I thought girls were the whiners. Turns out I was wrong, because the Tot has perfected the whine. His whine is to me what nails on a chalkboard are to some people. Drives me nuts! I'm wondering if it is a youngest thing. I was the youngest, but I don't know if I was a whiner. I'll have to ask my brother. I'm sure he remembers!

This is what happens when my husband takes care of the kids. Does anyone else's husband not bother to have the kids clean up their toys? Guess who had to make them clean up their toys tonight while daddy was at basketball? Now you can tell why I'm their favorite! You know the other thing that my husband will not do? Wipe down the counters and the table in the kitchen. It's like he doesn't see the crumbs and spills. I swear Monday morning I have to take time to clean up from the weekend. I love my husband to pieces. He is a worldclass father and husband, but come on. Take a Clorax wipe and wipe down the damn counter! I guess, though, if this is all I have to complain about then I am a lucky woman, and I am.

While Daddy was at basketball, S. asked if we could eat dinner outside. Now we don't have our umbrella and cushions out, so I almost said no, but I figured what the heck! You know, it was fun. I am not the best about deviating from our routine, and I am glad this time I did. (You'll have to look at Tot. He's pointing towards the sky to tell us of yet another airplane! We didn't know there was a flightpath over us. Now we do!!!) The boys had a great time, and I enjoyed the breeze. Tot kept S. and I laughing. He's our little comedian! I seriously wish I had brought the camera to the cemetary the other day! You know how some people choose to have their headstone made out of a stone bench. Well, a bit in front of my mom's grave there is one of those. Tot thought it was there for him to sit on. He had quite a time trying to get up onto it, but he did. Boy was he mad when Hubby had to get him down! My boys LOVE the cemetary, which feels kind of weird. They love to run all around, and now S. loves to tell us the numbers and letters on each person's headstone! I tell ya', one day when I tell him that it will creep him out, but for now he likes it. Ah...the things that kids do!

Mama

Yesterday was the fourth anniversary of my mom's death. How did we commemorate the occasion? We had lunch with Hubby's sister who was in town. The boys and I haven't seen her since February 06'. Remember, she is the one who is pregnant with 'identical' twins. No fertility treatments folks. And she says to me,"I only wanted one." Some of us would have been happy with whatever we got. We know how hard conceiving a child can be. It's funny how it works that way, huh? She also emphatically told me that she is going back to work. Okay. Never said you weren't. Actually, it was a brief, but nice visit. Except that her husband dropped her off. He still won't see the boys. Even my SIL said that Hubby's parents were being extra nice to him. So fine, we are the bad guys. Nothing new there. It just makes me wonder how supportive he'll be when the babies are born and something doesn't go the way he'd like it too. I mean if you can't be supportive of your wife's desire to see her brother and nephews, a small thing in comparison, how supportive will he be in the raising of twins? I mean if you have even one child you can imagine how incredibly daunting the care of twins will be. I can't imagine having two newborns at once, and I can't imagine even having had one child at a time without the wonderful support of my husband. What's your opinion on this?

Back to my mom. After we had lunch we picked out flowers for my mom's grave. Hubby was so great. He took the boys away from the grave so that I could have some time alone. I needed that. In past years I have been fine. No tears. This year, however, the entire month of April has been rough. I don't get it. I cried the whole time I was there. Not sobs, but I still cried. Of course, I made my usual joke when in an uncomfortable position. I was wearing my Sevens, and I said to my mom,"Yes, I am wearing a $150 pair of jeans while I sit in the grass." That was a throwback to my days of wanting Guess jeans. Some of you may remember them. They had the zippers on the ankles. Oh, how I had wanted those jeans! Her response was,"I don't even spend fifty dollars on a pair of jeans for myself!" She thought it was ridiculous paying that much money for a pair of jeans. I'm sure she would have had a field day with my new jeans! I did get that pair of jeans. I babysat until I had enough money to buy them myself. Anyway, I put the flowers in the vase that is attached to her grave, and walked back to the car.

My oldest son said perhaps the most beautiful and helpful thing to me as I got into the car. He said,"I bet your mama, Grandma Debbie who's in heaven with God, loved the flowers." Doesn't sound like much, does it? To me, hearing my little boy talk about a grandmother he never met, knowing finally that she was my mother and that I am sad because she's not here. Well, that meant the world to me, and I smiled the first real smile I had all day. My mother was right. Your kids get you through. Your kids really do get you through.

Melancholy

Our babysitter got a job; a real job. One that provides benefits, something that we can't give her. S. was very disappointed. I had to tell him that this frees up our time to do other things like swim lessons! Visits with friends to the park! The zoo! You can now go back to the gym's childcare center! I talked it up so much that it started to sound good even to me. Then I woke up this morning in a sweat. I remembered that there is only three weeks left of preschool. Three weeks! And six weeks until summer camp begins. Please don't think badly of me. I love my kids. I worked hard to have them, and I am thankful that God blessed me with them every single day. But, here's the but, how am I going to keep my four year-old entertained for an entire day, every day. I simply am not as cool as our 21 year-old sitter. I don't have as much energy, and I worry about messes.

Lately, I have been feeling kind of stuck again. It has been rainy for days now, and I feel so bored. We can't go anywhere after lunch because that is the Tot's naptime, and we don't mess with naptime around here! Basically, S. and I are confined to the house after 1:00PM every day. We have painted everything you can think of to paint, including clay flower pots. I have even hung foam summer shapes that we painted, from the ceiling. In our playroom only, I assure, but still. I am sick of play-dough, board games, coloring, you name it. Been there, done that. This weekend is also the 4th anniversary of my mom's death, so I am hoping that my attitude is centered around that event. If not, I have my lovely psychiatrist appointment on Monday, so I can tell him all about it. Did I mention that my original psychiatrist, the one who went through PPD herself, is and I quote here,"No longer with us." Did I also mention that the certified nurse practitioner that I see for my general health has left her practice too? Oh, and my original therapist left last May. So in one year, pretty much everyone has left the practice that I was seeing. Which leaves me to wonder: is my attitude contagious?

Tugging At My Heartstrings

A few days ago as S. got into the car after preschool he said,"Amy is not my friend anymore." I asked him why he would say that. He said,"Because she told me that. She doesn't want to play with me anymore." He said something like that about another child a few days before that. He also said one of the boys hit him. Luckily, he did mention another girl who would play with him. He said,"Sammy is a nice girl." That did make me feel better. I must admit, though, that my heart sank and hurt for my little boy when he talked about kids not wanting to play with him. Why would anyone not want to play with my little guy? What's wrong with these kids? Didn't their parents teach them any manners? I needed to remind myself that kids are kids. Kids can be cruel. And at this age, they say they don't want to be friends anymore and two minutes later, they're playing again like nothing ever happened. I did ask my husband if maybe I should call his teacher, ask her if she's noticed S. being withdrawn. I decided to try to not make such a big deal out of it, since he still loves to go to school. I am going to keep an eye on him, but I am going to follow his lead on this one. It's just so hard to be on the other side.

We also have four kids, three boys and one girl, that live next door. These boys are older than S. by several years. A few weeks ago, Hubby found rocks being thrown at S. Then last week, there seemed to be some not so nice talk going on. I went out there, and the boys invited S. over. Since Tot was napping, I walked over with S. I stayed with him since the boys are older, and there had been prior disagreements. S. had a very nice time. The boys were very welcoming. When it came time to leave, I told S. he could stay in our backyard and play while I got the Tot up from his nap. Again, I find things being thrown, my son, and mean words being spoken. When the boys told me S. was throwing rocks and water at them, I spoke to S. and then to the boys. S. told me they were being mean, and I told him to come and get me, not to throw things at them. We never throw rocks. Then I told the boys that if S. was bothering them, then they should move away from the fence. If he is bothering them so much, they should not stand on a chair so they could see him over our six foot wooden fence. I mean if someone is bothering you, you wouldn't stay right by them by your own free will so they could bother you some more, would you? Besides, they are four and a half years older than S. Anyway, we like the parents of the boys very much, and I believe the boys are basically good kids, but they aren't being kind to my son. Today, they are back at the fence, and unkind things are being said. I told S. to not talk to them today. He could stay outside, but no talking or playing with them, since they aren't being nice. Lovely.

My point here is that it breaks my heart when I see my son so upset. Upset by kids picking on him. He justs wants to play with other kids. Wasn't it just yesterday that I brought him home from the hospital and could control his whole day for him? Now that he is out in the world by himself I can't control everything. I can't control what other kids will say to him. I know my son is not an angel; I know this. But, still, it breaks my heart to hear that a child doesn't want to be friends with him, or another child say he doesn't want to play with him. S. is very sensitive like his daddy. My husband tells me what happened to him as a child, and I don't want that to happen to S. But what can I do? How do you stop kids from picking on your son? What do you tell your son to say or do in situations like that? When do you know to step back and let him deal with it on his own? S. is my first child, and I am learning from him. I just hate having to learn this; it breaks my heart.

How could anyone not love this little guy?

Better

Thank you to all who posted a comment to my last post. Your comments really warmed my heart, and helped me to remember how my mother would have felt. I hestitated posting my regrets for the world to see, but am so glad that I did. They reflect how I was feeling at the time, and how I still feel sometimes, but like everything else in the grieving process, they change too.
I guess it doesn't matter how hard we try to perfect, whether it's being the perfect mother or daughter or both. The truth is that we are human. Part of the reason I love my husband so much is that he isn't perfect, nor does he try to be. He is open to learning and changing if that is what needs to happen. I envy him this. I don't know if it's merely being female that lends itself so closely to feeling the need for perfection. The men I know do not seem to have these problems. Me, I have wanted to be the perfect mother since the time I first conceived. I have always wanted to be the best in everything I tried. Sometimes I feel the need to be perfect has paralyzed me. I'd rather not try something new because damn't, I just don't have the energy it would take to attain the highest level of whatever it is.

I think that's one reason why I am so hard on myself regarding my mother. The other being that my mother was so selfless herself. She was always described by others in words such as: good, positive, giving, motivated, nurturing, selfless, determined....and the list goes on. She was also a nurse. Taking care of people was what she did. I struggle with that. Taking care of people does not come naturally for me. So, of course, I am hard on myself when it comes to her care; of what I could have done better. At any rate, I admired my mother, and strive to be like her, but I'm not her. And maybe I put her up on a pedestal so high that there is no way I could even achieve that level of perfection. Who knows.

All I really do know right now is that I'm feeling somewhat better. There were so many things going on this week that were bleak that they just added to my mood. Today, though, at a doctor's appointment, I asked for a script for a mammogram. I haven't had one since my baseline four years ago. I am supposed to have one every year, but since I didn't feel like dealing with the whole breast cancer topic I avoided having one. So there you go. Progress. Now I just have to call to make the appointment.

Hate Me: My Regrets

I have to block out thoughts of you

So I don't lose my head.

They crawl in like a cockroach

leaving babies in my bed.

Dropping little reels of tape

To remind me that I'm alone.

Play movies in my head...

There's a burning in my pride

nervous bleeding in my brain

An ounce of peace is all I want for you...

Hate me today

hate me tomorrow

Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you

Hate me in ways

Yeah, ways hard to swallow

ate me so you can finally see what's good for you.

...In my sick way I want to thank you

For holding my head up late at night

While I was busy waging wars on myself

You were trying to stop the fight

...you made me compliment myself

when it was way too hard to take.

So I'll drive so fucking far away

That I never cross your mind

And do whatever it takes in your heart

To leave me behind.

And with a sad heart I say bye to you and wave

kicking shadows on the street

For every mistake I made.

and like a baby boy, I never was a man

Until I saw your blue eyes cry

And I held your face in my hand.

And then I found out, yelling "make it go away!"

Just make a smile come back and shine

Just like it used to be

......

Blue October, "Hate Me", 2006

Yesterday I cried at my therapy appointment. I never cry, especially in front of other people. I even have a hard time crying in front of my husband. However, no matter what I said, or what joke I tried to make, tears kept coming from my eyes. I am actually very envious of people who can cry easily, because after I do finally allow myself to cry, I feel better. A weight lifted from my body.

April is dead mother's month for me. My mother died in April four years ago, and my life has never been the same. I miss her so much sometimes that I can barely breath. Most times I make myself think of something else because it hurts too much to think about how my life would have been had she never died. I was only 30 years old when she died. She was only 51. I feel so cheated by her being taken from us. I finally had my miracle baby; he was six months old, and she was gone. I needed her then, and I need her now. I see daughters with their mothers, and I am jealous. It hurts so much, and I feel so alone. During the afternoons while the Tot is sleeping and S. is playing by himself, I think about her. I think about how much they would have loved her, and how much joy they would have given her. My brother's two oldest children got to know her, but not my kids. S. even gets my dad's wife and my mom confused. He doesn't understand that my stepmother is not my mother. When I ask him where Grandma Debbie is, he points to the sky and says"Up in heaven with God." That breaks my heart. She was there for his birth; the first one of us to hold him, and he doesn't even know who she is.

I have so many regrets when it comes to my mother. She was sick for so very long. I was so selfish; I should have been there more. I should have spoiled her rotten with things she never would have bought herself. I still remember the day my old fertility clinic called to tell me I was losing our first baby. Hubby told me to call my mom because she could get to our home sooner. I called her, and she immediately came over, cancelling an appointment she had made long ago. All of us in our family always came first to her. But did I put her needs first? No. I wallowed in my own pain over not being able to get pregnant. I hid my pain over her illness in my work. I stayed so busy that I couldn't even think about what she was going through. My dad wanted us all to go to Hawaii, her dream, but we never did. I thought I'd be pregnant, and who can travel then? I don't know. I seriously don't think she would have gone. I know she regretted working as long into her illness as she did. She never got to do many things that she wanted to.

I mainly regret not being there in her final months. I was working through the postpartum depression that I had acquired after S.'s birth. I had a hard time doing anything not related to him. Getting dressed was even hard. I should have just packed up the baby things, and got in the car. I should have been there every day. I lost a lot of time that I could have spent with my mom. Sure, we talked on the phone for hours every day, but it's not the same as being there in person. I only lived five minutes away from her. FIVE MINUTES! I can't really describe how bad I felt when I was battling the PPD. It was like being stuck in mud. I could barely move. No motivation. It took an hour to eat a small lunch. She wanted me there. Her friends couldn't understand why I wasn't. Hell, I couldn't understand why I wasn't. We did spend weekends together. Hubby was wonderful about that. He made sure I was with her.

When the PPD was somewhat under control, I did spend a lot of time with her. There were always people there. From church, her work, or wherever. There always was a lot of noise in my mom's house. In contrast, mine was very quiet, except for the times S. would cry. I finally was feeling better and there for her, and then it was over.

Just before her death, my mother and I planned out my new kitchen. We decided it should have red walls. She was going to help me plan it. And then she was gone. Everything was so quiet. So dark, so lonely. And I just remember all those wasted days. All of that time that I could have spent with her. I'm so sorry mom... So hate me for all those things I SHOULD HAVE done for you. Hate me for being so damn selfish. For thinking of my needs first. I miss you so much. Every. Single. Day. I think about you when I get up in the morning, and when I go to bed at night. When I look at my youngest son's eyes, and their shape is yours. When I look at our oldest, and his profile is you. When I look at my red kitchen, and the ring of yours I wear every day. When I see your pictures all over my house. I think of you when I say something you would have understood. And when I finally understand how hard being a parent was for you too. Now that I'm a parent, I understand you more. I think about you when I'm in pain from my endometriosis. I think of you when I wish there was someone who would take care of me. I think of you when I am one of the only female family members in a room. I'm surrounded by men mom, and sometimes I need a woman to talk to. A mom. My mom. I need your unconditional love. I need you. I always will. So until I am on my way home to you, know that I am so sorry I wasn't a better daughter. You deserved better than me. I'm so sorry mom. So sorry.

My mom the last Christmas Eve that she was alive. She is holding S. who was 8 weeks old at the time. She gave him that outfit. My dad is next to her. She looks so pale in this picture now, but on that day we all thought she looked so good.

Understood

One day last week while Tater Tot was napping, I told S. to clean the playroom. He actually did, though that's not the best part of this tale. Nope. The good part came when Tot got up and wanted to play downstairs in the newly cleaned playroom. You can almost guess what happened, can't you? Yep, the Tot took the box of blocks and quickly turned it upside down. There were blocks everywhere! I soon heard my oldest son say,"Tot, I JUST cleaned that up!" Before something physical happened, I went downstairs and helped Tot to clean up the mess he made. S. was very upset since he had JUST cleaned down there. I told him that's exactly how I feel EVERY day. He had a look on his face like he got it. It felt nice to finally be understood. (By at least one male in my life)!

This Year's Easter Vs. Last; A Review in Pictures

Last year, Tater Tot wasn't so interested in the whole Bunny bringing baskets things.

This year, however, it seemed that Tot was very happy about not only finding a basket from some Bunny, but also the fact that it had food in it. Tot loves food. Any food.

This was the present from us that Tot got. The reason the bath toy ended up being from us is because his nosey brother saw his present hidden in Daddy's

closet.

S.'s gift from us. He loves this game. We love to read books by Eric Carle, so I felt S. would really like this game. He does!

S. this year. He really understood the whole finding the Easter basket concept this year, and was really excited when he found his. (Above, last year with his old basket. )

Last year it was very warm, in the morning. Note the short sleeves on all of us. Oh, and I am actually wearing a dress.
This year, we are all sporting long sleeves, and I am no longer wearing a dress. Every year I try to make Easter the one holiday in which I don a dress since, in theory, it should be warmer than any of the others. This year I gave up when the week's temperatures were lower than those in December. I tried to be festive by wearing a bright sweater. And yes, I made my boys wear matching outfits. They can be mad at me later. I think they look cute!

Of Which I'm Not Proud

Yesterday, I had a hard time. The day started out with all of its cold weather splendor. S. was happy that we would be able to go to his storytime class that had been on its spring break hiatus. The weather looked so bad, that I didn't know if we'd even be able to go. And we ALL needed to get out of this house! We did end up going, but it was a bad start to the day.

After lunch I went to the gym. Being that my period is due any day now, and with last month's lovely endometriosis pain looming over my head, I have decided to see if exercising intensely will provide any relief. Believe me, I will kill myself exercising if it means I can move without being in pain. It looks like Hubby will have to work the weekend and past the boys' bedtimes the rest of the week, so I need to do something to help me get through this month's bloodfest. Well, I did very well at the gym, however I ended up very tired and very sore. Who knew? Anyway, my PMS this month is just awful. I know this is largely due to Hubby working so late, but knowing that doesn't help.

Hubby didn't end up calling me in the evening at all, so I called him. I wanted to find out how late he had to work. After trying to chop up onions, green peppers, and celery, as well as browning meat all while the kids are being maniacs had tried every one of my last nerves. I was tired, sore, and pissed off beyond belief at all of my boys. Now I knew in my head that none of this was Hubby's fault. I knew that he would as soon be home than at work reworking numbers until late in the night. I knew this all, but I couldn't stop myself. I picked up the phone at 6PM, and asked when the hell Hubby's work was going to let him come home because if it wasn't soon, one of us was going to be dead when he got home. I was done. I was through with trying to make a good dinner for the boys, and having to listen to screaming and whining in return. I was tired of trying to keep the house clean, clothes washed and put away, making sure each child got time with mommy, picking up after the dogs and making sure they got fed, and so on and so on, BY MYSELF! When Hubby didn't say anything on the phone, scared of saying something to further piss me off I'm sure, I told him that since he wasn't going to talk, I was letting him go. Don't you wish you were married to me?!

All the while, I knew none of this was his fault, but I couldn't stop myself. It was like I was possessed. Possessed by the evil PMS hormones. Normally, I think very hard about what I say to Hubby when he is at work. I know it hurts him that he's not able to spend much time with the boys even on a good day. I know when S. talked with him on the phone, and said to him,"Daddy, you having dinner at work again?", it made him sad. It makes him sad to think about all that he is giving up by working a job that requires so much of his time. As we were going through some old files the other day, he found a birthday card that he had given me our first year married. In it he wrote, "I am sorry that I have screwed up your special day by having to work so late....I am going to try to find a job that allows me to make family time more of a priority." He left public accounting for that very reason: to allow more time with our family. What happened? Infertility, bills, and getting used to a certain amount of money have all added up to no time doing the one thing we wanted most of all, spending time together with our children. Hormones or no hormones, that much is true.

I can still feel those hormones churning away in my body. In 20 minutes, it'll be time to pick S. up from preschool. Great. It's not that Tater Tot is easier really, it's that he doesn't talk much. On the other hand, S. never stops talking. And he's full of attitude lately since he hasn't been able to play outside and expend some of that energy. We're like caged animals over here. Have any of you 'lost it' due to good old PMS or am I the only bitch out there? I feel so badly for my husband. I'm usually a good wife and mother, but this week I've sucked.

To Quote My Brother, "This Blows!"

Yesterday, and today as well, this is what we woke up to:

Lovely, snowy slush mix.

Our poor tree started to grow its leaves back amongst all of the warm weather of two weeks ago, but now it seems stuck, not knowing what to do.

Our neighbors beautiful smelling Magnolia tree with its dead flowers. After reading up about the effects of the cold weather, its appears that the flowers may bloom again, or they may not. I think I could've figured that one out without the reading.

Today it also snowed. I am so tired of this cold weather. So tired.

Not the Time To Try That

Hubby used to be in public accounting. After 7 exhausting tax seasons, he decided to go into the private sector believing it would give him more family time; don't get me started. The 80+ weekly hours burned him out. So today he is an assistant controller and manager of a company. The point here is that Hubby hasn't done anyone's personal tax returns in a long time. Except for Mr.K.'s.

Hubby's dad used to have him do not only their tax return, but also their friend's, Mr. K. Well, last year Hubby didn't even do his parents' return, but Mr. K. still asked Hubby to do his. Now Mr. K. has owned his own business for many years, so this is not a super easy return to do. Plus, Hubby being out of the public tax sector hasn't kept up on all the latest tax rules. It could actually be costing Mr. K. NOT to have an accountant of his own, because Hubby might miss something. Now this man also never paid Hubby to do his return, but would instead give us a gift certificate. Yah, Mr. K. definitely saved money by not hiring an accountant.

Well, we never heard from Mr. K. this year, so we figured he wasn't going to ask Hubby to do his return this year. Phew! Oh, how wrong we were! He called TWO weeks before the April 15th deadline. TWO WEEKS! He just expected that Hubby would drop whatever he had to do just to complete Mr. K.'s return. I mean, come on, the deadline is the same every year. I think it's just plain rude to wait until the last minute to ask someone to do something for you. It's like he just assumed Hubby would do it, and that just aggravates me.

Hubby got home at 9PM last night, and we were both exhausted from our days. Hubby said he didn't know what to do about Mr. K.'s return. When would he find the time? I told him not to worry about it, that I would take care of it. Now I am not a confrontational type of person, but when you upset one of one boys, watch out! I also told Hubby that they already think I'm a bitch, so what's the difference? What's he going to do, call Hubby's parents??? We're not talking to them anyway. What do we care? Hubby didn't need this extra thing to do; he's not going to see the boys this whole week as it is!

This morning I called Mr.K. and told him that Hubby is no longer doing personal tax returns, and is working too many hours to complete even his, Mr. K.'s return. I was waiting for him to say something, because I am angry about the whole situation as well as about all of the hours Hubby is having to work currently. Oh, and did I mention this is PMS week. Yah. All it would have taken was one word out of that guy, and I would have let him have it. It actually would have felt good; I have been wanting to have a fight with someone over this hellish week. To my surprise, he said nothing. In fact, I had to be the one to even say goodbye. And I did. So now Hubby is done with that return forever. Please don't think we don't like to help people out, but have some common courtesy. Don't call and just expect things. When did people get so rude?!

Single Parenthood

Hubby called early this morning to tell me he would be working past the boys' bedtimes every night this week. Oh, and it looks like there could be work for him on the weekend as well. Dear Lord, that's a lot of time with the boys ALONE. To celebrate, or to make myself feel somewhat better about being a single mom, I went to Sephora today and spent way too much money. Cuz' if I have to be a single parent, I want to look good while doing it, or something like that.

***If I owe you an e-mail, I will try to e-mail you sometime this week. I only have about five zillion phone calls to make as well as a meeting to attend Wednesday night. UGH! Did I mention Hubby is going to be home tomorrow after the boys go to bed. I cleared this with him weeks ago. I guess they'll be coming with me. Oh, goody!

Am I the Only One?

Last weekend Hubby and I had the rare treat of a dinner out sans kids. I was really looking forward to having an uninterrupted conversation with my husband which is very hard to do with the kids in tow.

The restaurant we chose had a lot of families dining in it. Our dinner was spent listening to other people's children scream, and watching one particular father look at the child's mother and shrug his shoulders, and hand said child back to her. Hubby was pissed because he said it is fathers like those that make all fathers look bad. And the night didn't get much better. To be honest, if that kid wouldn't have screamed, I don't know what we would have talked about that evening. We are so boring. The only thing that got my Hubby interested in a conversation was asking him specific questions about work. His work. When we go out, I try very hard not to talk about the kids. We need to have more in common. We used to. We used to talk about sports, art, history, and the like. Now, who has the time to go to museums, galleries or read a thick historical book?

To be fair, we were both tired. Sleep is a rare commodity around here. Let me clarify that. Enough sleep is a rare commodity. Plus, since it was warm out, Hubby decided to tear down all of our bushes on the side of the house. Yah. I guess I'm just looking for reassurance that others are at a lack for conversation when they go out with their husbands.

Tonight we are going out to dinner, just Hubby and me. I am actually thinking about having a list of topics thought up so there won't be that 'lull' in our conversation. Just think, only16 more years until the boys are out of the house. Only 16 years to come up with something besides the boys to talk about, or else I guess we'll be two old people just staring at the wall.