June 26, 2013

My Husband Went to Paris

And all I got was this lousy T-shirt.
 
Just kidding. The t-shirt is pretty awesome. The week, however, was lousy.
 
I'm not posting this to be Debbie Downer, but more Realistic Rosie.
 
I'm sure that one day I will look back at the past week and laugh. However, it's going to take several more glasses of wine and a few cups of coffee to get there.
 
Chris left Friday June 14th just one day after our fourth wedding anniversary. That night I drove to Pickwick to spend the weekend with my parents. The weekend was fine. It always is when you have help. After Sunday things just went downhill.
 
It seems like Murphy's law only applies to me when Chris is out of town.
 
The dogs always misbehave the entire time he is gone. Last week alone we lost four bags of chips, one container of chewing gum, two avocados, one loaf of bread and a bag of chocolate chips. This all resulted in oh so fun upset dog tummy issues that I had to clean up. All with a toddler letting me know very loudly that there was, "Poop, Mommy! Ewww! Yucky! Poop, Mommy!". They also escaped our yard no less than three times while Chris was gone. Reily managed to get in a can of paint and get it all over her and the couch. They were generally just terrible. Le sigh.
 
The dogs were just the tip of the iceberg though. The toddler suffering from temporary insanity and general chaos made for the week from Hell an interesting week. In no certain order the following occurred:
 
Evie was being an angel so I took her to Wal-Mart to pick out a new toy, where she melted down because I wouldn't buy her a broken toy out of the sale bin, and then again because I couldn't give her the new pacis I bought right then!
 
While carrying Evie I slipped in a puddle of boxer drool (gross, I know, but it's life with a boxer), fell down and busted the crap out of my knees to keep her from busting her head.
 
I LOST MY KID. Read that again: LOST MY KID. One morning Peyton, one of my miniature schnauzers, got out of the yard. I told Evie to go play with her puzzles and ran out of the house to go look for the dog. When I came back with Peyton (less than a minute later) the garage door was standing open. I figured I had not shut it all the way. I took Peyton inside and couldn't find Evie. I freaked out, ran outside and she was standing on the front lawn. She looked at me and said, "I lookin' for Peyton, Momma!". Longest forty five seconds of my life. Ever. In other news: my kid can open doors now.
 
I took Evie to Chic-fil-a for dinner. The cow was there. The cow terrifies her. As soon as we walked in the door she started howling, "No! Noooooooooo, coooooooooooow, momma! Nooooooo!" so loudly that an employee actually pulled me aside and said, "Ma'am I noticed how scared she was of the cow, so don't worry he won't come over to this side of the restaurant." She was totally nice about it, and I really wasn't embarrassed but man toddlers are total divas.

Then there was the horrific spider explosion of 2013. Let me preface this with this: I hate spiders. Not only do I hate them but I am also deathly afraid of them. They are soul sucking, evil creatures. I don't care that they eat mosquitoes and flies. Do you hear me? I. Don't. Care. They should all be eradicated. I'm sitting on my couch watching LOST when out of the corner of my eye I see something skitter along the floor. I look over and it is a spider the size of Texas. Not. Kidding. Now if Chris were home I would have screeched and hollered for him to come kill the damn thing. I'm traditional like that. I firmly believe that spider killing falls in the domain of Husband Duties. I creep over to demon spider and chicken out of stomping on it (after all it might jump and attack) so I grab the baby gate raise it high, smash down and succeed in killing the PREGNANT spider. All the spider babies gushed out and I flipped my shizz. I almost wish I had it on video. After stomping and screaming and crying I got them all killed. Then I disinfected the area with rubbing alcohol. Twice. Just in case.

It wasn't all bad though. There were some really bright moments.

Evie told me she loved me several times (with no prompting) and started saying "I love you, too Momma!" before bed.

We went to dinner at the local pizza joint and I got so many pizza sauce hugs and kisses I lost count.

Then there was the time I forgot to put Evie's breakfast on her tray and Evie said ever so sweetly, "Breakfast, momma?". I burst into tears because I was tired, I had just fallen down, my knees hurt and I was so frustrated. I looked and Evie and said, "I'm so sorry baby. Momma's just very very tired." Then this happened:

Evie: Momma very very tired?
Me: Yes, baby. I'm very very tired.
Evie (after a big sigh): Evie very very tired too. ::pats my cheek:: I love you, momma.

Then I melted into a giant puddle of mommy love and things didn't seem so bad any more.

Needless to say we welcomed Chris home Saturday very very happily. I think he liked the part when Evie bolted off the escalator to run to him. Then we had a really yummy breakfast and dinner on Sunday.

My husband is home. My daughter is home. All is right in my world.

Now a picture of the Eiffel Tower because, Paris.

 
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