sick

love is...sleeping in an upright position so that your infant can breathe, because she is congested and too little for pillows or medicine. (and by sleeping i mean not sleeping.) this is how i spent most of my night last night. propped up with pillows, child in the crook of my arm...neck in a weird position. both kids have been sick with colds for a few days, and last night the unicorn shed her horn and decided it was her time to rage against the machine. she was seriously pissed off that she couldn't breathe out of her nose, so just went ape shit about 11pm. i was just crawling into bed at that time when i heard her losing her mind on the monitor. why does it always happen that way? i mean, she was quiet up until the point of me wanting to lay down...and then magically she woke up and was like, "hell no mother, no sleep for you." butch was scratching his ass asleep at this point, so there was no movement (or help) from that side of the bed. (no worries, champ...i got this.)

after a restless night, at 4:30am she woke up for another bottle and i "woke up" as well. (i was awake the whole night.) before this, with my free arm...i was playing games on my phone, checking email, reading a book...and plotting butch's death. he was snoring, laying on his side, (peacefully) and everytime i would look at him...i wanted to bend my leg violently and jam my knee into his ball sack. so anyways, at 4:30...carrie started crying and i leaned over to make a bottle on the nightstand. (at this point, i can do this task with both eyes closed, one hand behind my back.) warren awoke from his slumber and stared at me, then said, "wow! it's 4:30! she made it really long without a bottle." (i hope you are wearing a cup, butch.) she wouldn't go back to sleep after this, so i said, "listen, i'm going in the other room, you can have her for a few hours so i can try to rest." (i felt like throwing up at this point. i was physically sick from being so tired. dramatic? yes. true? yes.) i went over to carrie's room, curled up on the futon and fell asleep. at 7am, i heard butch sighing loudly and stomping around. i opened one eye to see carrie's legs flailing in the air, heinie out on the changing table...and no butch. i sat up. he came into the room and said, "no wipes! there are no wipes anywhere!" (exasperated.) ella woke up around this time, too, and was complaining that her "ear hurts." (SERENITY NOW!)

and so, around 8am this morning (with one eye open and a large coffee in my hand) i went to urgent care with ella. ear infections and i do not play. (one time i didn't know she had an ear infection and ended up with a 105 fever. i almost shit my pants.) these urgent care places are convenient, but borderline creepy. the two secretaries eyeballed me as i walked in the door with ella in my arms...her hair looked like she just came off the stage of an 80's rock and roll concert. (mine looked the same.) we both looked rough. (but not as rough as the two behind the desk.) i filled out the paper work and we sat and waited...until an extra large (probably about 3 bills) and tattooed man with a lip piercing (aka...the "nurse") strolled out and called for us to come back. ella looked frightened. (i put on a brave face...but i was also concerned.) the nurse (using the term loosely, again) took her temperature and asked me 238 questions (including, "does she do drugs and alcohol?" i replied without missing a beat..."only on the weekends.") he smirked and said apologetically, "sorry, we have to ask everyone..."i've been up all night pal, i'm in no mood for games, or stupid questions...get your shit together. i was thinking, she's two...i assure you she was not smoking a bowl in her carseat and slamming vodka out of her sippy cup on the way here. (idiot.)

 it's like every medical school reject was employed by this place...and exhibit C was the doctor. this guy did not walk into the room...he bounced. i'm a bad judge of age...but i'd say he was a few over 50. he was bald on top, gray hair on the sides, a disney tie, and a molesterish disposition. he was a like a cartoon character wearing khaki pants, weird shoes, and just so happened to have a medical degree. i think you can tell a lot about people by how they treat children and animals. while we were waiting (and waiting), i had taken out two tongue depressors out on a stool for ella to "drum"...and i had also blown up a glove to make a hand balloon. he was not amused. he said to ella (but looking at me?), "hellllooooooooo beauuuutttiifullllll....can you tell the nice doooccttorrr what is wronnggg???" i made eye contact with her and i kid you not, if she could've verbalized it, she would've said, "get me the eff out of here...what kind of clown town did you bring me in to here!?" (i had to bite my lip to stop from laughing.) i said, "tell the doctor what hurts you..." she said, "my froat, my ear, and i toff." (my throat, my ear, and i cough.) he was still staring at me, not her. staring at me like a CREEP. i mean, i'm in sweat pants, a jean jacket...no makeup, wearing my (hot) glasses and he was eye eff'ing the shit out of me. (for the love of...) as if laverne and shirley the secretaries and mr. T the nurse weren't enough...now we have a goofy guy my dad's age wearing a mickey mouse tie...and a hard on. (get me outta here.) anyway, he examined ella and came to the conclusion that it was just a cold. (her ear was slightly inflamed, but didn't think she needed antibiotics.)

i left urgent care and hour and a half later with a (still) sick kid, a piece of paper explaining it was just a cold...and a plethora of material to write about. if i don't get a nap this afternoon, i may puke or pass out. (i'm that tired.) if that saucy bitch (hurricane) sandy blows into town and knocks out our power in the next few days, i will flip shit. (laura ingalls wilder, frontier woman i am not.) on the other hand, even though my children are sick...i know things could be a lot worse. (i'm lucky that they just have colds.) i'll continue to laugh at their antics, and try not to cry when they are crying in the middle of the night. (even though i sometimes want to.) at least i know i can always head back to urgent care for a laugh when needed...i can only hope mr. T and company are on duty when i go.

monday

if monday had a face...i'd punch it in the mouth. furthermore, after an especially fun weekend with amazing people...it makes it that much more unbearable. i have also found that the older i get, the more time it takes me to recuperate from a night (or in this case nights) of fun. i'm talking days. i'm talking i may feel like a normal human on about wednesday. (this is not a joke) this morning i woke up and my motor skills were barely back in order, let alone my mental ability to process things that you need to do...simple things, like brush your teeth and wash your ass. everything was painful. oh, and not to mention the physical pain that i was feeling as well. i'm no spring chicken anymore...so dancing my ass off for 3 plus hours led to pain in muscles that i didn't even know i had.

butch also thought it was a good idea at one point to put me on his shoulders. (i apologize to whomever got the ass show this small feat created.) short dress and shoulders are a bad idea in the first place..when there is booze involved, all bets are off. (ass cheeks were OUT.) after he paraded me around (it was more like him stumbling around like a circus clown), he ever so "gently" put me down on the (hardwood) floor...which made all of my weight impact my left knee cap. in that moment, i swear i smashed that bone. (my knee cap bone. awesome.) i pulled his hair and smacked him in the ear. (expletives flew out of my mouth.) no one cared at that point (even if i had needed an ambulance)...because there was a vat of boilo and everyone was pretending it was christmas eve. boilo is trouble, any day of the week. at a wedding it's super bad news, because people have been drinking since, like, daylight. christmas eve played out in the minds of many, i'm sure...it got ugly. (ps. if you don't know what boilo is, here ya go...click here. it's mighty delicious, especially this time of year.)

so anyway, this morning was not good. however, i didn't have to worry about getting the kids out the door to the sitter, because butch's car still wasn't out of the shop..he decided to take an extra day off. so what was the diagnosis of the car you ask? he BLEW the transmission. BLEW IT. (the car is not a 1988 ford tempo...it's a 2010 mazda.) the mechanic told him that he had a "faulty" transmission...i asked him if he told the mechanic he was a "faulty" driver. (he laughed.) he truly believes (deep down in his soul) that he had a faulty car part, and that his mario andretti mentality on the way to the bachelor party had nothing to do with his car needing a new transmission. (yeah, okay.) luckily, it is still covered under warranty. (thank god.) anyways, he was off today with the kids. i was so jealous as i walked out the door this morning. i had visions of him playing with carrie and ella, cleaning up around the house (which was a mess), napping when the kids were napping...and making dinner. none of the above happened. i came home at 4pm...he was on the couch (shirtless) and i'm not kidding you, he looked terrible. carrie was in the excersaucer, ella was eating a cookie and she smiled sheepishly at me. (uh oh.)

i then made the mistake of saying, "so how was your day?" he. went. off. "we don't pay the sitter enough! we don't! SHE (pointing at carrie...a baby) crapped her pants THREE TIMES and two of them WENT UP HER BACK! THREE TIMES out of that little body!" i said, "yeah, she poops a lot somedays." (trying to defuse him.) it didn't work. he kept going, "and THAT ONE (pointing at ella) crapped her pants TWO TIMES and you know what it smelled like?! it smelled like DEATH." (i was laughing on the inside at this point, but didn't want to push it.) i said, "yikes, that's a lotta poop in one day...sorry about that." (hahahaha...) he went on, "and ella didn't NAP...AT ALL. not one wink! carrie napped like 30 MINUTES the whole DAY." (i found that hard to believe, she is 4 months old...but whatever, i let it go.) there was shit all over the house. i mean everywhere. carrie was covered in her own spit (no bib) and lovin' life with her smelly self. i looked at ella and he said, "i figured i better change her out of her pajamas or you would yell at me..." the funny thing was, SHE WAS IN PAJAMAS. not the ones that she had on from the night before...but different ones. he changed her out of one set of pajamas, into another set of pajamas. (i just shook my head.) he then said, "we need to go get my car. it's done. and i'm done. get me outta here." (at this point i couldn't hold it together and LAUGHED. laughed loudly.) he did not appreciate my joy in his pain.

we climbed into the SUV and i drove him to the dealer to pick up his car. ella was so overtired at this point and kept asking, "cause why!?" to everything...she was also whining, a lot. carrie started crying about half way home. (and i had a massive headache.) we got home and i thought...eff this noise, i'm going for a run. (with them of course.) the fresh air would do us all good. (or so i thought.) i got out the door and started running...and ella started talking. (and talking. and talking.) i love the phyllis diller quote that says, "we spend the first twelve months of our children's lives teaching them how to walk and talk and the next twelve telling them to sit down and shut up." (so true.) we wanted so badly for ella to start talking, and now she does. not. stop. she is also curious about EVERYTHING. (she's two, i can't blame her...) "what's that?," "why that?," "what doing?," "where going?," and on. and on. and on. question after question...after question. she also loves to name things. (everything.) so on the run i heard from the stroller, "look mommy! tree!" "look mommy! mailbox!" "look mommy! house!" after about 2 miles, and 20 minutes of this..i said, "ella, take a break..." she said, "ohhhhhhttttaayyyyy!!" and then proceeded to turn to carrie and "sing" to her. her singing consists of a loud yodeling sound that was echoing out of the stroller throughout the neighborhood. no real words, all sounds. all highly annoying sounds that are equally ridiculous. (the thing is...she knows she is being ridiculous.) i stopped the stroller. she looked up through the peep hole in the visor...and started losing it. laughing hysterically at my annoyed facial expression. (i'm in for it with this kid, i'm telling you. she is so much like me, it's scary.)

after our ever so peaceful run...i came back, fed both of them, did a load of laundry, unloaded the dishwasher, bathed them, and they are now (thankfully) asleep in bed. (i love my children, but bedtime is such a sweet time in my house.) i had just started typing when fen blew in the door to borrow my crock pots for an upcoming party...and tell us how she just got lost leaving her new place of work. (are you surprised?) let me just say that i am glad this MONDAY is over. i am glad this day is over. although, i am seriously hoping by wednesday that my motor skills, brain function, and broken kneecap are back in order. also, if anyone snapped pictures this weekend of me teetering ever so gracefully on the top of my husband's shoulders with my two ass cheeks hanging out...i'd appreciate it if you would send them to me. i need the laugh.

lies

so friday during the day, fen texted me and let me know that she was severely hungover from her last two nights in florida (for "business") and she would not be going out. she also asked me if i wanted her to watch the kids so butch and i could go out for a little bit. (umm...does a bear shit in the woods?) yes, i will take you up on that offer fen...yes i will. i decided to go through the whole bedtime routine with the kids, so that they would both be sleeping when she came. after bedtime, we really just need a warm body in the house in case of fire or other natural disaster. both kids go to bed around 7:30pm and carrie usually doesn't wake up until around 2am for a bottle. (usually.) anyway, they were asleep when she arrived at 8pm...we had a beer with her and then we skipped out the door. (fingers crossed.)

butch had my keys (to the suv mommy mobile) in his hand and said, "i'll drive." i said, "why don't we just take your car?" he looked at me weird. "is that a problem?" (still looking at me weird...) "no...not a problem, i'll get my keys." now he knows damn well my car is all crapped up, and bitches about it all the time. there are 2 car seats in the backseat...a stroller in the way back, binkies, blankies, diapers, and all sorts of other baby paraphernalia. (fen was in my car yesterday, opened the glove box...where she found: a teacup, a medicine syringe...and a thong. she was flabbergasted.) it's a royal mess. alright, so after that 5 minute debate about whose car we are taking we climb into his car and pull out of the driveway. i noticed right away that he was being easy on the gas pedal. (not his style.) i cranked the radio and danced ridiculously in the front seat to "girls just wanna have fun"(one thing i do miss about driving, now that i usually have kids in the car...is blasting the music.) i tried to ignore the fact that he was driving slowly...and then when he accelerated after a stop light, i felt the transmission slip. (like the car bucked a little bit.) i ignored it...and then it happened again. (and again.)

i said, "do you feel that?" he kept his eyes on the road.."feel what?" i said, "the transmission is not acting right when you accelerate." he nonchalantly said, "oh...yeah...it's been doing that for about two weeks." i then immediately had a flashback to him telling me about 2 weeks ago (when he got back from the bachelor party) that he and one of our friends (a cop) were driving exceedingly fast and he made "excellent time" going to the poconos. the pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together here. "does this have anything to do with the fact that you were driving like a maniac to that bachelor party?" he turned and said, "umm...yeah, well it started after that trip." "JESUS CHRIST, BUTCH WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME!!!!" he was startled, "i thought it was just going to go away." "GO AWAY!? this isn't a cold or the chicken pox...this is a car transmission! they don't just fix themselves." he started to laugh. i said, "not funny, mario andretti. not funny at all." and so...the rest of the ride my blood boiled as the car bucked out of first gear into second. he's lucky i didn't karate chop him in the jugular every time it happened...because i was close. we arrived to our destination, and realized that the bar we wanted to go to was completely shut down. (when did this happen!? go figure.) so we just decided to drop by my uncle's house instead. i was rather salty about the car at this point and was in no mood to drive around in a bucking bronco of a vehicle looking for a bar.

so at this point, it was around 8:30pm. we walked into my uncle's house, bellied up to the island in their kitchen, and i dumped about four miller lites down my chops before i could speak of the car. i told the story. they laughed. (i was not laughing.) and then about 9:02pm...fen texted me. "someone is wide awake..should i try the swing or bottle? oh, and she keeps farting." (jesus christmas.) i said, "bottle." another text at 9:33pm.."SHITTIEST F'ING DIAPER EVER!!" the thought of fen changing a shitty diaper sent me into hysterics. then at 9:35..."if ella shits her diaper, i'm out." (oh good, glad this is going well...) at 10:40 my phone rang and it was fen, i could hear carrie crying and fen sounded like she had been through the ringer. i made the executive decision to head home. as butch was driving back (easy on the gas), i was thinking about how no matter what you "plan" on doing...kids will always change the game. your plans are always epically messed up. if you don't know how to go with the flow, you would surely lose your mind.

when we got home around 11pm, carrie was fast asleep in her crib (of course)...and fen looked like she had been through a war. (kids are the best birth control ever.) "i don't know how you guys do this day after day! it's crazy! also, she wouldn't stop crying...so i was singing her the national anthem. (huh?) it was one of the only songs i knew the words to. i was also singing her 'baby got back' because it was another song i knew." (out with mother goose...in with sir mix a lot. awesome.) we said goodbye to fen and thanked her. ironically, carrie ended up sleeping straight through the night (until 6am) for the first time ever. however, our three hours out on the town were ruined by lies: a transmission full of lies and lullabies with the lyrics, "i like big butts and i cannot lie." butch's car goes in the shop today, and i'm sending fen a cd of children's songs tomorrow. i am mentally in need of a ridiculously long run today, i hope my body cooperates. however, i won't be wearing my new (anniversary present) running shoes...because although my they are not used, they are definitely not the right size. (fail.)

next weekend, we will both be away the entire weekend for a wedding in pennsylvania. my parents will have the kids one night, and my uncle will have the kids the other night. i expect a plethora of shenanigans out of both of my children. however, i will be balls deep in a plethora of shenangians myself...a wedding that includes good friends, fun music, dancing, free booze (oh, and no children...) is a lethal combination. godspeed grandparents and great aunt & uncle. don't expect to call or text me about crappy diapers or lack of sleep, for i will be busy shaking it on the dance floor...as sir mix a lot is serenading me with his (not fen's version) of 'baby got back.'

magical

this is how ella left the house this morning...because she refused to go any other way. i pick my battles these days, and this is one i was not going to fight. (especially at 6am) if you want to go the sitter looking like wonder woman, you rock those panties on the outside of your footie jammies girlfriend...rock on. i always used to see children (mainly toddlers) dressed in ridiculous outfits and think, "how embarrassing!! how COULD those parents ALLOW their CHILD to dress that way!?" you know the ones...a little girl dressed in a pink tutu, snow boots, a turtle neck and a witches hat...or a little boy dressed in sweatpants, a collared shirt, topped off with a superman cape and a pair of sunglasses? (i know you've seen these kids out it public before.) things (such as clothing) become trivial in the grand scheme. this underwear ensemble is due to the beginnings of potty training. ella is at the point where she doesn't want to sit in a wet or shitty diaper...but she still doesn't want to go on the potty. it leads to her peeing or pooping (in a diaper)...and then demanding that she be changed now! (now, now, now!!!) it's lotsa fun. sometimes we catch her in the act...because she will suddenly disappear and create her own game of hide and go shit my pants...we literally find her in another room hiding somewhere pooping, and if we call her out on it she usually exclaims, "DOE AWAY!!!" or "OUTTA HERE!" i usually ask her if she wants to sit on the potty at that point and she acts as if i asked her if she wants to stab dora in the eye with a pencil...'NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!" is a typical answer. (it's a real blast.)

prior to captain underpants waking up, my husband muttered, "i have a sore throat"...five little words that mean for the rest of the week i will be taking care of 3 babies, not two. (men are such goddamn sissies.) you know what i wanted to say? "listen pal, i have cramps, i'm bloated, i feel an axe murderer, and oh.....i'm BLEEDING FROM THE VAGINA. tell it to someone who cares!" luckily it didn't fly out of my mouth, but it was close. i just said, "oh yeah...i wasn't feeling great last week either, you'll feel better soon." (i tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice...but i'm telling you, it was quite difficult.) plus, tomorrow is our 4 year wedding anniversary, so i feel like i need to make a valid attempt to be nice. but hell, we already know what we got each other...because we are at the point in our relationship where we have already bought all the "normal" stuff that you get each other on these occasions, so now we just get each other stuff we need. (or think the other person needs.)

he asked me what i wanted and i told him a new pair of running shoes...so naturally, coupon bob went on ebay to get the best deal. looking over the computer one night last week he said, "so how do you feel about "pre owned" shoes....?" (excuse me?) i said, "like USED running shoes? like someone already put their sweaty ass feet in them? how do i feel about them!? i feel like if you get me them for our anniversary i will punch you in the dick. that's how i feel about them!!" he lost his shit laughing...and laughed for about 10 more minutes. (he was doubled over.) then said..."but trish...they are $120 shoes for $16 dollars!!" i screamed, "THEY WERE ON SOMEONE ELSES SWEATY FEET!!!!!!!!! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!" after glaring at him  (he was still laughing), i then asked him what he wanted...he said (and i quote), "dr. scholls insoles for my shoes. that's it. nothing else." (um, okay, mr. rogers.) turns out though on sunday, he had a coupon for them and in turn told me not to get them because he would just get them himself and save some money. (he knew i wouldn't use the damn coupon, i bet.) so i got him a beard trimmer instead. (in preparation of the upcoming winter, and his upcoming snowbeard.) nothing says i love you like a pair of (used) running shoes and a beard trimmer. we are so very romantic.

at the end of the school day i walked over to the other (fresh out of college) teacher's room to deliver some papers that had to go home with the students. on her desk was a dozen long stem red roses in a vase. this is the second time this year that she has gotten flowers from her significant other. the first time, we were planning together after a school one day, and in walked a delivery man. there were three of us sitting around a table. we all looked up and i knew damn well the flowers weren't for me. (flowers aren't my jam...they are expensive, and they die. plus, do you really think butch is going to fork out $50 for something that dies? yea, right. maybe he did that in the beginning when he was trying to get laid...now, not so much.) the other kindergarten teacher my age (who has been married a coupla years) looked expectant....and then the man handed them to the new teacher. she. was. beaming. (and kinda shocked and embarrassed, too.) i made a big deal of it to embarrass her further.."well loooook at you miss fancy pants!!!" and said other stupid shit. so when i saw another set of flowers on her desk today i gasped (loudly) and wondered if she had a magical vagina...and then out of my mouth flew,"gees girl! do you have a magical vagina or what?!" (whoops.) she thought it was funny...thank god. i never want to offend people with my ridiculousness...well, actually, i really don't give a shit. (whoops, again.)

and so, at the end of the day, i realized something...when you are in your early twenties, you can relax while enjoying life...with your magical vagina and long stem roses. then your thirties hit and you suddenly have a husband that wants to buy you used running shoes for your anniversary and a two year old that starts her day with her panties on the outside of her pajamas. i don't know how i got here in life, or exactly how it all happened...but i do know that laughter (and alcohol) has played a large role in my ability to deal. i sit here now with a glass of cabernet and my computer...and all is just as it should be. however, if my husband really did get me the USED running shoes for our anniversary...he better fully expect to have a fist shot to the cock come morning.