Category : candy, celeste, Charlotte, chocolate, dentists, family, Friday bitch, ghost, Surreal, Television, Thanksgiving 2010, Winnie, workplace
Is it to much to ask that when mom is down and out for the rest of the family to step up and perform a little? Why must every little chore be so damn hard to get them to do? Just because I am a stay at home mom does not mean that I am the only one capable of doing any work around here! And offering to order pizza or telling the kids to pick up is not "helping". Trust me.
So, no, I am not going to brave the crowds and go Black Friday shopping, dear.
I am thankful that I didn't freak out (visibly) on my family during this week. I'm way bent out of shape over the self-entitled exwife and the way that the holiday "visitation" with the boys is going. But, with the help of venting to friends, venting to my mother and liberal doses of happy pills - I made it. Maybe Husband got to feel the full force of my wrathful yelling a few times since the exwife isn't handily around to verbally abuse.This morning before the boys went to their mother's for dinner? They had a full Thanksgiving meal for breakfast. They were also allowed to stay up as late as they wanted the past two nights since they're out of school for the holiday. They were a wee bit cranky and full when we dropped them off. (insert evil chuckle here) If she didn't want them fed - then she should have drove her happy ass to our house to get them!
Now I have a whole month to get myself good and lathered up over Christmas! Wheeee! *whimper*
I spent this week in a state of stress over work. Nothing makes working in a food supply store as fun as anal sex as the week before Thanksgiving. Not even Christmas is as bad, because Christmas is about gifts and greed, while Thanksgiving is all about the food.
I loved having people, who had been in the store six times already, ask me where the cranberry sauce was. Or where the milk was. Or where the Whipped Cream was. It's all the same place it was thirty fucking minutes ago, douchenozzle, and the same place where every goddamn store keeps perishable items like milk and Whipped Cream.
I was more than happy to lock the doors at closing time the day before Thanksgiving, smiling as I twisted the key in the lock, shrugging my shoulders at the people pulling up to the door because, of course, I'll postpone going home to help YOU because you didn't make a list of things needed for your family gathering. I don't care that you need the Green Man brand of corn/green beans/broccoli, use the cheap versions you bought and deal with the fall out.
I spent my day shoveling snow, and pretending I was happy to spend the holiday alone. Truthfully, I was damn pissy about it. I spent the day in my pajamas (which is always something that cheers me up) with a long list of Ghost Hunter episodes I had DVR'd and a stack of new books from the library.
I didn't read. I didn't watch the shows. What time I didn't spend shoveling, I spent in bed, lamenting about moving to the wrong side of the country in my journey from Married to Newly Divorced.
I didn't cry, which is a source of pride, as my period also came today. When my period shows up, I cry over coffee commercials (you know the one, where the son comes home Christmas and manages to surprise his entire family? Que Niagra Falls) and start looking at Dove chocolate like Jenna Jameson looked at an erect penis.
(By the way, girls, how the bloody fuck could we NOT have a 'chocolate' tag? I fixed it.)
I love having a Friday bitch especially the day after a family holiday. You know you are supposed to focus on the warm, fuzzy feelings and the good times and memories and shit but in the back of your head you have some bitches milling about that you feel would be completely inappropriate to air.
At least I have Friday bitch session. I was up Wednesday until almost 2am prepping a ham, duck, and turkey for Thanksgiving so my husband could drop it into the deep pit, put the lid on and go to bed. He spent Wednesday evening around the deep pit burning down logs into a fat bed of coals while drinking beer with his buddies. It's a tradition and I wholeheartedly support him because I know how much he loves it. What I don't love is when I get called out at midnight to help prep all the meat and wrap it in foil.
I was up Thanksgiving morning at 7am cooking. His royal highness stayed in bed until 11am when I woke him up to get ready to go to my dad's house for Thanksgiving. We came home around 2pm and he promptly started nagging at me for the apple pie I made that morning that was meant for dessert AFTER DINNER - the dinner I had been up since 7am prepping for. Then he fell asleep and slept until almost 6pm. While he napped I finished up cooking and cleaned the kitchen. Thank God for my oldest daughter because she is always right there next to me helping out in the trenches without a single sigh, whine, or complaint.
After dinner I started cleaning up the kitchen and actually had to ask my husband to help out. I finally made my way upstairs leaving my son, three cousins, one friend, and one of the cousin's two buddies from the marine corp. in the family room with my husband. Did I take a long hot shower and climb into bed? Nope, I started doing laundry and cleaning the bedroom. At one point I left the bedroom to switch over a load of laundry and returned to find my husband plopped on the bed changing the channel from the show I was watching because I "don't own the television or the bedroom!" and complaining about the channel being changed is "shitty and just picking an argument."
Drop warm fuzzies into the toilet and flush. Rinse/Repeat.
This morning I'm adding my bitch here at 10am - and his royal highness is still up in bed asleep. Must be fucking nice. If I hear ONE slight HINT about how "tired" he is I'll fucking jab his eye out with a rusty spoon.
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