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Can I Go Back To Bed Now?

I’m just having one of those days where I’d have been better off staying in bed. Never mind that I was in bed til almost noon. You’d think that would save me some trouble. But, apparently not.

First order of business, I discovered the cat chewed my headphone cord. I assume it was the cat. I don’t think my husband got hungry in the middle of the night. And I’m pretty sure the kids know better. She didn’t just lightly mangle them. She destroyed them beyond repair. Because that is what she does. Tiny Cat is more evil than the red headed 3yo. And that’s saying something. No offense to the red headed 3yo who I’m sure will grow up to be sweet. Probably. Maybe.

This is the same cat who runs head first into the glass back door. Repeatedly. Because she sees her reflection. I mean doing it once and learning from it would be understandable. Maybe even forgetting it a month later and doing it again. Fine. But multiple times in the same night every night? I can only assume that the first few times gave her sufficient brain damage and well, it’s only getting worse.

So apparently the request, “Can you turn on the dryer while you are down there?” wasn’t specific enough. What I needed to have said is, “Can you leave the wet clothes in the washer and the lump of wrinkled clothes that have been sitting there for 2 days now in the dryer and turn on the dryer so they can dewrinkle for me so I can go down in an hour and fold them and then switch out the loads.” See, I was about to go down into the basement to do it myself when dad mentioned he was about to go down there. So I’m like, score! Fat pregnant chick can avoid a trip up and down the stairs! Turning on the dryer is no big task so while it’s a huge favor for me, it’s a simple one that won’t take much effort on his part since he’ll be right there anyways. 5 minutes later he comes up and tells me the clothes that were in the dryer are now on my bed and the clothes in the washer are in the dryer. Sure, enough there was a lump of wrinkled clothes on the foot of my bed. So I took the wet clothes out of the dryer and put them back in the washer and put the wrinkled clothes back into the dryer and turned it on. While he looked on confused. I explained that the whole point of turning on the dryer was so I could dewrinkle those clothes before I folded them. He’s still confused. BTW, simply doing it myself the first time would have taken A LOT less work. Lesson learned.

Yes, I sometimes have clothes that sit in the dryer for a couple of days before I can get to them. It happens.

Oh, and on the subject of dad. Apparently he isn’t moving out. There was a long talk and things are going to change and yada yada yada. Which is fine. Until his next temper tantrum next month. But whatever. It isn’t that I want him kicked out, per-say. I’m just getting sick of the constant drama over bullshit. Because that’s what most of this is: bullshit.

It’s currently snowing. Or at least it was last I checked. And I realize, this isn’t the end of the world. Won’t cost me time, money, or energy. But it’s been snowing for 6 months now since it got started early last fall. And it’s suppose to be spring. And well, I’m sick of snow. Though I am grateful it’s not ice. Or hail. That was freaky.

One day last week, when Thomas was home sick from school, he and I were cuddled up in bed. We spent much of last week like that, actually. Out of the blue, Pat sent Luke down because a storm was coming and the tornado sirens were going off. I set the boys up watching cartoons and came up to investigate. Pat checked the weather report and saw the storm was still a half hour out, so we let Luke come back upstairs. About 5 minutes later, a brand new storm formed literally on top of us and the heavens broke lose with hail the size of golf balls. Luke, who was on the sofa, looking out the back door, stood there frozen in sheer terror. I grabbed him up and raced him back down stairs. The entire trip down he clung on and thanked me profusely for “saving him from the scary outside.” BTW, the initial storm that caused the sirens missed us by quite a bit.

So Sunday was fun. I had to work 10:45 to 6:15. But when I got there at about 10:30 and went to the bathroom, I discovered I was bleeding. And more than just spotting. Paired with the cramping I’ve been having for the past few weeks, I wasn’t taking any chances. I went up to the front of the store, told them what was going on, and then left straight for the hospital. 4 hours later I was pronounced fine. The bleeding was indeed coming from my uterus but there are no clots, and everything seems to be in order so they are pretty sure it’s just my placenta implanting on the uterine wall. Which can cause bleeding. But they were glad I came in because there are lots of things it could have been, most not so routine. Plus, because my blood type is A negative, I had to get a shot of Rhogam just in-case my blood mixed with the baby’s blood. (I get this shot with each pregnancy about 2 months before delivery.) I’ll tell you, of all the shots I’ve gotten to the ass in my life (my ass being the preferred place because well, there is a lot of muscle and fat so I generally don’t feel a thing) Rhogam is the worse. That shit burns! I didn’t feel the initial poke but once it started spreading my right ass cheek and hip were on fire for HOURS. Which is totally normal. And something I get to look forward to repeating in a few months because we aren’t close enough to time of delivery for this shot to cover that. Joy.

It is really snowing out there.

Since I’ve already brought up the pregnancy on my non-pregnancy blog, I might as well add in this little tidbit.

Remember when I was saying sleeping pill dreams (don’t remember which one specifically) were messed up? Well, they have nothing on pregnancy dreams. I’d forgotten how completely deranged these dreams can be.

Thomas (as a 7yo) committed murder in my dreams Friday night in a really bizarre way that I don’t remember. I do remember that he hid the body in a tree. How he got it up in a tree (it was an adult) is beyond me. And yet, if it had been Luke in my dream who did it, I would have found none of it odd.

Ok, this post started out being about my day so far (the whole 3 hours I’ve been awake) but apparently it morphed into something else. Go figure.


  1. Ping from firstsoprano:

    Ok, the thought that I'm admitting this is a little scary, but I MIGHT have done the same thing your dad did. BUT, I THINK I would have hollared back up the stairs for clarification. It's just that people like your dad and I don't leave clothes in the dryer (rarely) so we don't remember the dewrinkle thingy. It doesn't really dewrinkle them too well anyway unless you throw something wet in there with them. Oh well.

    Sounds to me like the cat REALLY wants out. Any reason why?

  2. Ping from Walkingborder (Karen):

    Retumbling it gets the wrinkles out fine.

    She isn't trying to get out, with running into the door. She is literally attacking her reflection. She only does it at night when she can see her reflection. She is just that dumb.

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