I got a dishwasher...

It's still in its box, and sitting in the middle of my livingroom floor, but

I DON'T CARE!

I got a dishwasher!

AND...

There is framing going on in the basement today.

The plumber is coming to fix the sink in the kitchen, attach the dishwasher, and finalize all the plumbing on Wed/Thurs this week.

The mason is here doing the steps and he's assured us they will be done BY THE TIME THE BABY COMES IN TWO WEEKS.

Maybe, just maybe, things are finally looking up.

More paper...

I wrote about the amount of paper that comes into this house before.

Yesterday in my car that hubby drives more than I do, I open the glove box to look for something.

It was JAM PACKED FULL of receipts.

Gas receipts.
Restaurant and deli receipts from places in the US that he accumulated while still an airline pilot.
Candy bar receipts.

That kind of thing.

I think there were maybe a 100 little pieces of paper in there...and I'm NOT exaggerating.

Why does he keep those?

Even if he needed them at some point ever again, how long would it take him to find a particular one?

Especially since there are several places in the house that look similar to the glove box.

Running around first thing in the morning

I was hoping I didn't have to run around this morning, first thing.

I had to run around this morning first thing.

Why?

Oh....I could go on.

The gist is the difference between men and women. Or more precisely, between him and me.

I am the kind of person who wants things to run smoothly, and without stress or the potential for delay.

He is the kind of person who either relies on someone else to deal with the details, or then waits until the last minute to get something organized or done.

The fact that less stress would appear in both of our lives with a little bit of advanced planning seems lost on him.

Case in point.

Nick, our duct guy, said on Thursday he was coming by Saturday morning early, like 8 am, to finish up a couple of things and to collect the money.

He's been on time and proactive in getting the work done, and I believed him.

Besides, I like early.

So Friday afternoon arrives and there is a big fat last paycheck sitting in our mailbox from hubby's previous job. Attached to the paystub there is a printout of how the calculations were arrived at.

I ask hubby to give it a read through so I can deposit the check and take some cash out to pay Nick on Saturday morning.

I even open the paperwork for him and leave it in a place where it is not likely to be misplaced.

For some reason, between that moment and the moment we leave for a dinner invitation, there was no time to deal with it. Although I suggested that getting it done prior to leaving for dinner might be the proactive thing to do since the bank is on the way to their house.

But it didn't work out that way.

We come back from dinner and I handle the toddler's bedtime. I remind hubby, prior to turning in myself, that maybe he could review the paperwork prior to going to bed so that one of us can do the bank run and have enough cash on hand for when Nick shows up.

At least sign the check so I can deposit it first thing.

Nick did say he would get here early.

Saturday morning, I notice the paperwork still in the same place.

While hubby's priority is to figure out why the newspaper wasn't delivered on time, I ask him to review the paperwork since Nick is coming early.

Hubby isn't too interested, but reluctantly starts reviewing the papers.

I'm standing in front of him with my jacket on, keys in hand, and he says "I'd be surprised if he shows up at 8".

Hm.

Apparently hubby's plan is to go to the appliance store at 9 when they open and do the bank run at the same time. He is convinced that Nick won't show up at 8.

At this time it's ten to eight.

I say "we need X amount of cash to make up the difference, and if you are not ready to deposit the check, I need to move money from the line of credit into the account so we'll have enough to withdraw for Nick".

Whatever. He's not stressed about it.

I'm getting stressed about it.

I take off my jacket, continue feeding the incessantly noisy child breakfast, and pour a second cup of coffee.

I'm just about to sit down with my own breakfast when the dog starts barking like a maniac.

Can you guess who's here?

So hubby goes down to talk to Nick in the basement, and I run around looking for the check, follow hubby downstairs, make him sign the back of it, run back upstairs, pile more food on Ben's plate, order him to stay seated while I run to the bank, yell downstairs to hubby that the toddler is alone upstairs, drive 3 minutes to the bank, do the banking, come back, count out the total amount of cash we need to pay Nick and make notes as to who got paid what amount on what date.

Then I leave the envelope at the side door and come to the computer to blog about this.

My question to myself is this: WHY does it have to be this way?? Who exactly is stressed now? Me, or hubby?

It frustrates me to no end.

But, I have to keep telling myself that this is how it's been for eight years, and likely it will not ever change.

But neither will I.

Toddler's say the funniest things

Scenario
Mommy stands in the doorway of toddler's room. Toddler is in room emptying out baskets of toys.

Mommy: What are you doing?
Toddler: I'm making a big mess.
Mommy: Oh no!
Toddler: Don't worry mommy, I'll clean it up.


Scenario
Daddy is working on something on the laptop. Toddler is playing with something he shouldn't be.

Daddy: Don't touch that, it's not a toy.
Toddler: Don't worry daddy, it's ok.


Scenario
Mommy is sitting in the driveway on a plastic chair, watching toddler play with sidewalk chalk. Toddler sees a ball.

Toddler: Wanna play ball mommy?
Mommy: Ok.
Toddler: You stand right here mommy.
Mommy: Ok.
Toddler kicks the ball in mommy's direction.
Mommy kicks the ball back in the toddler's direction.
Toddler: Very good, mommy!

Good, better....getting better...

Pooping has come to a complete halt. That is, unless it ends up in the diaper. AND, he then wants to flush the poops down the toilet. AND, before the flushing happens, he wants to PEE in the potty and then have ME pour it in the toilet so he can flush AGAIN.

He is absolutely terrified of pooping in the potty. Doesn't matter that he's done it before.

Rationalizing that the poops end up in the toilet whether he makes it in the toilet, the potty or the diaper is completely irrelevant to him.

So we let him poop in the diaper.

At least he allows us to watch again.

***

There was a guy in my basement yesterday. He was supposed to come today when hubby specifically booked the morning off. Took a bit of panic about what was said to whom and why he's coming now instead of when it was scheduled, but at least the guy came and moved the gas pipe.

Hubby also manages to show up prior to the basement guy leaving. They talked, and MORE progress happened. We now have a hole in our livingroom floor where the new vent/duct will go.
See it? between the randomly placed pieces of furniture that WILL EVENTUALLY end up in the basement?

Trust me, this is progress.

AND, today, another guy is coming to move the AC unit outside away from underneath the porch to the side of the house. That is, his boss said he was coming. He's not here yet, but he will come, dammit.

AND, Bob is coming all next week to put walls up. AND, a couple of other guys are coming to finish the duct work downstairs that yesterday's guy started.

Could this be happening? Am I dreaming? Will the bulk of the dirty, dusty work be done prior to the baby's arrival?

Sure would be nice.

***

Took my crockpot out. I LOVE MY CROCKPOT! It's so easy, what with all the interruptions and toddler not napping and the dog freaking out at every noise coming out of the basement and what not. I stick the food in, I turn it on, and I forgetaboutit.

Made enough spaghetti sauce to freeze two jars for afterbabytime AND have enough for supper for all three of us.

YUM.

Positive karma

I'm TRYING to stay positive. Really I am. But it's not easy.

So here I'm going to attempt to rationalize my complaints in a different way, instead if just listing the issues:

- no activity in basement renos
+ but the mason showed up in late afternoon, after his union-job, to continue with the steps

- contractor/friend called to ask what the scoop is about the basement while not coming to work on some of the simple things that could have been done
+ contractor/friend shows up at 8 pm with the electrician to get an update from hubby, promises to be around next week

- no duct work is confirmed
+ hubby took morning off on Friday to meet yet another guy who will come to move the gas line and discuss our wish list re the ducts/vents etc

- hubby is still working long days and continues working when he gets home
+ hubby made attempt to not only be home for dinner yesterday, but he stopped off at the butcher to pick up meat, AND did all the dishes after supper on his own accord

- baby in womb is still hickupping regularly, causing me insomnia between 3 and 5 am.
+ I'm beginning to feel a bit more excited about the reality of this baby being born in less than a month

- toilet training the toddler is an on-again/off-again saga
+ he makes an effort which is all I can ask

- my friend's baby was born recently but swallowed some meconium which was in the amniotic fluid, which ended him up in the intensive care for a little while
+ my friend's baby was born, one week overdue, which means both our second babies will be less than a month apart in age!

So how's that for a start?

Traumatized

He whined and absolutely insisted on a diaper this morning. Especially after I took the soaking wet one off.

Then he hid behind the doorframe, while I lay in bed with my first cup of coffee, and peeked around the corner every few seconds to see if I'm watching.

He was pooping.
Into the diaper.
He insisted.On.Wearing.

Trust me, I tried. I offered him a Smartie if he peed in the potty. Peeing doesn't seem to be the issue. Although it was one today. He ate the Smartie and didn't pee in the potty.

So I showed him the other Smartie and said that he could have it after he made poops in the potty.

No poops.

So I put the Smartie on the shelf, and he wandered around whining.

Insisted on having the green Smartie.

I stayed firm and said no.

He then wanted me to put it in a little bowl, which I did.

The single Smartie in the bowl went on the shelf. Where it will remain for now.

Perhaps he's traumatized from the trail of poops that happened yesterday?

Who.
Knows.

Pooping and peeing update

This morning we took off his wet diaper and let him run around until he at least peed in the potty.

This is fairly standard, normal procedure these days.

We ask him if he has to make poops and he always says no. But of course most of the time he does have to poop in the morning. It's just a matter of being proactive and having an eye on him during that inevitable time.

He continues to pee into the potty fairly regularly. If he is wearing no pants or diapers.

The pooping is a hit-and-miss situation.

Although he pooped in the potty before...

So anyway, I go about my morning, as does daddy, and Benjamin is running around with his bare bottom.

At one point, he approaches me and says "I made poops on soor". (He can't seem to say floor)

I walk into the kitchen and notice several things:

• a big pile of poop near his chair
• a somewhat ripped piece of paper towel next to it
• a smaller pile of poop a little further away toward the hallway
• a yet smaller pile of poop close to the potty which is in the hallway opposite the bathroom door
• and several smears of poop along the potty

He seemed a little perplexed when he told me about "poops on the soor".

I however, despite the mess, encouraged him and praised him for at least trying to make it to the potty, and on top of it all, try to clean up the mess himself (papertowel!!) before even telling me about it.

What a smart boy!

I'm not sure how he felt about the poops on the floor though. We talked a bit about where the poops go (in the potty mommy!) and despite my efforts to praise him for trying, he did harp a bit on the fact that most of the poops were not in the potty.

We had a little shower to wash off the smears on his legs and bum, put on a diaper, empty the pee out of the potty (that part worked fine!), and then we cleaned up the mess together (well, sort of, I did most of the work).

So how am I supposed to analyze this? Is this progress?

* * *

A few days ago I decided to get back into the whole Curious George underwear thing. It was summery and we were outside, and I figured if he pees through the clothes, at least there won't be much to clean up.

He did pee. He just can't seem to figure out that when he wears something on his bottom, and feels the urge to go, he has to either say something or go to the potty and pull the pants down.

I only noticed the wet spot when I wanted to move the car a couple of meters back on the driveway. Ben, being car-crazy, wanted to sit in the seat next to me while I backed up, which I only allow while moving the car within the limits of the driveway.

Scott, our mason, and I noticed that he was all wet. I said "What happened? You're all wet?"

He said "I peed on Curious George".

So he KNOWS that he did it. I wonder if he KNEW he was about to do it though...

Gosh...

Confusion

I'm confused.

I thought that when the furnace guy was here, he said that we could move the ducts closer to the beam. That was one of the options.

Apparently I misunderstood.

Hubby spoke to the guy on the phone today and now the Wed-Fri work is no longer happening. Since what they spoke about is different from what I thought I understood.

Now the only thing that's happening is that the gas line will be moved.

We were supposed to have a whole shitload of other stuff happen, like a new vent, a plugged vent to accommodate a new built-in dishwasher, and the consolidation of the rest of the duct work.

I don't understand why nothing is happening.

I don't understand what has changed.

I don't understand why I have to talk to people and make decisions if they just get changed later.

I refuse to deal with any renos anymore. The baby is due in less than a month and I'm simply not in the mood.

* * *

And while we're on the subject of confusion, I made granola today. Used what looked like a fairly simple recipe from a Parenting magazine.

The granola tastes ok, but it looks crumbly, and doesn't stick properly.

Not sure what the problem was. Not enough honey maybe?

Will have to try again.

No more junk mail or flyers

Yes, that is the note I have placed on the mailbox.

I hope the mail person respects my wish and does not drop off the crap she has to carry around with her on a regular basis.

Like today. The mailbox contained two preordered magazines (Today's Parent and Harrowsmith Countrylife), one flyer (Mark's Work Warehouse), a quarterly newsletter by a local real estate person, and about six or seven pieces of junkmail which I barely glanced at.

The only thing I really looked at was the two magazines, and the flyer and newsletter. But if I had not received the flyer or newsletter I would not have missed it. The Mark's flyer sometimes shows up with a newspaper (duplicate) and the newsletter by the real estate person is nice and well done, but I have her website and can visit the identical information anytime I want without generating more paper-garbage.

I'm overwhelmed by the sheer amount of paper that has accumulated in our livingroom:

• receipts, some as old as 2003
• notes, from personal ones to phone numbers to messages taken by someone
• printed stuff from the computer that was once used but now either needs filing or chucking out
• flyers, some duplicates
• paperwork generated by hubby's new job
• paperwork generated by hospital for impending birth
• bills, paid and unpaid ones (most of our bills are now electronic, but not all)
• papers in binders, mostly for hubby's job
• newsletters and forms from the daycare
• old pay stubs
• newspapers (daily National Post, semi-weekly local Gardian)
• clippings of recipes or articles I saved for some reason or another

Given that the filing cabinet had to be moved during the renos downstairs, I have a pile of crap that needs filing up here in the livingroom. It gives me hives to see it grow. And misplaced. And blown about by the wind coming in from the window.

So enter the shredder. This is my big plan for this afternoon: shred stuff. Get rid of it. Out of my sight.

And hopefully I won't get any more junk delivered by Canada Post personnel.

Morning routine

I have a very thoughtful toddler.

Most mornings, when he wakes up, he gathers up his two Bellos, his lamb and his baby lamb, and wanders over to my bedroom.

First, he drops his toys on daddy's side of the bed, then wanders over to my side.

He then places imposter Bello (aka mommy's Bello) on me and whispers "here you go mommy".

He then tiptoes back over to the other side of the bed, climbs in, and snuggles for a bit.

Depending on how early it is (anytime after 6 am is not considered early by him), after several sessions of tossing, turning, twitching, sucking on soother, and other acrobatic activities, he gets up again, and wanders into the kitchen.

He then returns with an empty bottle which he tosses at me. He stares at me until I stir or open my eyes, and proclaims: "I want milk".

If I don't get up right away he says "Time to get up now mommy, time to wake up."

That is my cue to get up and get him his milk ready, which he likes lukewarm.

When I return to where he wants his milk (could be in my bed, in his bed, or on the couch in the livingroom) he removes his soother, Bello and whatever other toy(s) he's gathered in the process and starts giggling out loud. I hand him his milk and he smacks his lips JUST SO, then commences drinking.

Some days I try to snuggle back with him on the bed, with a coffee in hand, and I get one of two responses:

1. no mommy, go away
2. giggle, smile, smack smack smack the lips

Immediately after the bottle is finished, one of three things can happen. Either he hands me the bottle and says "put it on shelf". This happens if I'm with him at the time.

If I'm not with him, he either whines loudly "I'm aaaaaaalllllll finished mommy!" and the repeats this refrain until either I, or daddy, get fed up and tell him to put the bottle down or get up and take it into the kitchen but to STOP WHINING ALREADY WE HEARD YOU THE FIRST SIX TIMES!

Or, he gets up, wanders back into the kitchen, and drops the bottle into the sink which he can just barely reach if he stands on his tippytoes.

Then we have to play.

"Mommy, do you want cars?"

Depending on what day of the week it is, (he's in daycare three mornings a week), he may bring me a specific car, and then proceeds to direct my play. Although he pronounces the car to be "this is mommy's car", I can NOT play with MY car the way I want. No no no.

"You park it here, no mommy, put your car here now."
"Move your car now mommy."
"I'm going to work, your car is going to vacation".

Sometimes he decides that my car has more fun, and he switches, without my permission, the cars. I try to argue: "this is mommy's car, you play with your car, didn't you say this was mommy's car?" but it's in vain. Eventually he manages to take the car he wants, and continues with his instructions to me.

He's very particular.

He's also very gentle. He does not smack the cars together violently, or throw things around, although sometimes he jumps up and down or has limbs flying around resulting in kicks in my belly or what not.

But for the most part, this morning routine is actually quite relaxing.

Portable dishwasher

We are seriously considering a portable dishwasher.

Theoretically it would be better to have an installed one, but the kitchen would require some remodeling. Since there's aleady construction going on downstairs in the basement, and the baby is coming in a month, and a toddler lives here, and the husband has a new job, and I would go INSANE at the sheer suggestion to have another room in the house disrupted, we're considering the portable option.

But for now, we continue washing by hand. Just like both of our mothers did for all these years...

Rearranging furniture and associated dilemmas

I measured the crib today. And the dresser that fuctions as both storage for kid(s) clothes and diapers and change table.

Benjamin accompanied me to the basement to measure the crib where we are currently storing it, amongst all the construction down there. He has his own measuring tape. Afterwards, he imitated me as I used painter's tape to mark down where I want to place stuff up in his room.

The kids will have to share the only other bedroom in the house. Since that room presently functions as both Ben's bedroom and playroom, I would like to have minimal disruption to this arrangement. Meaning that when the crib goes back in there, I would still like for him to have access to some of this stuff that he uses fairly regularly (as during naptime when he doesn't nap). Like books, cars, some other toys. Keeping it organized and clutter free will be the challenge.

Hopefully people will respect my wishes to not bring the baby, or the toddler, any more stuffed toys. I may have to shove those up their uknowhats if they do...

Theoretically, it should work. If I keep decluttering, getting rid of outgrown things quickly, focusing on cleaning up before taking out more stuff...seems a prevalant theme in the MomBlogWorld out there.

Trying to keep it together is going to be interesting considering that the basement is nowhere near complete.

I'm sick of complaining about this. So I will stop here. For now.

Gypped?

The guy with the truck tried to gyp me.

How do you spell gyp?

Anyway, when hubby talked to him about what rubbish there was to pick up on our driveway he was quoted about 250 smakeroos. He said it goes by weight at the depo where he dumps the stuff, they charge by the tonne, and we knew that already.

Actually, I knew there was a charge by weight, I didn't know what the charge was. Would have been nice to know this info prior to the guy showing up here. Hubby knew the amount...

We had a lot of crap piling on the driveway. Basement floor, drywall, old wood, and a bunch of cement blocks from the ripped out porch. Seems he told my hubby that he can take it all.

Good news was the guy was available to come that same day, between 3 and 4 pm.
Bad news was that hubby was at his job at an afternoon shift, leaving me to deal with it.

So I had to run around and get some cash into the house.
Stay awake myself during nap-time so I can direct and supervise the clean-up. (Didn't end up being a problem since some people who shall remain nameless didn't feel like napping that day.)

Ok, so around 3:30 pm Ben and I go outside to hang around, watching and talking with our mason, and waited for the truck.

Ben's excited. He has his loader and shovel handy and wants to help.

Suddenly, my neighbour appears on the driveway. Her hubby is stuck in traffic, her preschooler's stuck in school, her toddler's napping, could she borrow the car....

Yes. She took the car, I took my child, stayed in her house sitting with her toddler who was still napping, and waited for the truck.

She comes back 20 minutes later, all is well, but there is still no truck on my driveway.

By 5:30 pm I have to do two things: stick the overtired toddler in the bath and get supper prepared for the eventual return of hubby from new job.

Of course the minute the kid is in the bath, we hear the beep beep beep of the pickup truck backing into our driveway.

Out of the tub comes the child, back on go the dirty clothes along with some pull-ups, and we go meet the little Caribbean man.

The truck looks suspiciously small.

The pile he has to take looks suspiciously big.

First thing he says is "I don't take the concrete, you have to get a bin".

I say "fine". Just take the wood. At this point, any reduction of rubbish is a relief to me. Let hubby hash out the details later.

We do some small talk while Ben hovers nearby with his loader and shovel, and eventually I tell the guy I gotta get inside to start cooking.

I can see him and the truck from the kitchen window.

I stick the overtired child back in the bath, throw some organic chicken, potatos and tomatos in a casserole dish, work on some dishes, and bring the guy out there a glass of water. It was a stifling day out there.

He ask me "do you have cash in the house".

I say "yes. How much do you think this will cost?"

He tells me - are you sitting down? - $450.

I must have hidden my dismay but I'll tell you, I was not impressed. What is he, Jamacian or something? Back in my flight attendant days, the Jamacian's were the ones that tried everything to get what they wanted, including haggling over prices that are quite obviously completely insane. $450 for a pile of wood? We got a construction bin filled with heavier items for less than that before....

Geez.

Luckily, hubby calls from the college. Not that I had a) a phone number to contact him. Or b) where it's deserted and the phones weren't manned by anyone anyway. And c) he misplaced his cell phone. Again. Fine time for him to be unreachable what with me 8+ months pregnant.

More grief.

Anyway, he called and I answered. I tell him the guy outside wants $450 and I am inclined to give him what he quoted originally ($250) and deal with whatever consequence that may come up.

We agree to give him $350 cash, since he was labouring himself that huge pile in that heatwave.

Hubby refuses to talk to the guy on the phone. I'm not impressed.

So I go back out and tell the guy "my husband left me $350 cash, can you manage with that?" expecting him to take the $ and leave part of the pile.

I excused myself to go check on the wet kid and promise to come back out in a few minutes.

Shortly after, I noticed that he's climbing all over his truck, tying all the loose boards up.

I go back out and tell him in my nicest voice "you are a miracle worker, I didn't think you'd be able to fit all of it on your truck"!

He smiles, and hands me 50 bucks back.

He says "the wood won't weigh that much".

Now...what was that? Was he feeling guilty? Was he afraid that we would complain to Tony, the electrician, who recommended this guy to us?

Or did he just feel like I saw through him and decided that hey, I'm a nice lady with a huge belly and a cute toddler, I shouldn't try to gyp them?

Either way, we parted professionally.

Frankly, I still think he made a good profit on the $300 he got from us, but at least now the weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

Took a meltdown in front of hubby and a long argument to get him to arrange it to begin with and then I still didn't have all the info I needed to make an educated decision about the situation...which is why I would prefer he handle it alltogether...

Whatever. It's done now.

The saga continues.

Better day

Sick and tired...

...of all this whining.

Mine, although I don't whine to THEM about anything. I do blog about it though...

HIS (mostly hubby) for various reasons lately. New job, allergies, crappy afternoon shifts, studying, chaos due to stalled renos, pregnant wife, active toddler...

Insomnia is preparing me for the days of night-waking that are sure to occur when newborn arrives. Might as well get used to it.

Stress....is likely to remain for the forseeable future. Renos are the main source of stress for me right now mostly because I have no place to LIVE in this house without seeing lack of progress in every single flippin' corner.

Like I said....sick. and. tired.

This and that

I cleaned. Disinfected. I just couldn't take it anymore.

This is not a big house. It is a two-bedroom bungalow with a HUGE basement that is bare down to the studs due to renovations.

But the dirt that migrates upstairs, or through the windows from the dismantled porch at the front door (an extension of the basement) has finally reached the point of no return.

Cleaning and mopping and dusting with a big pregnant belly isn't very fun.

But I do feel better today. Sort of.

Tomorrow Benjamin starts daycare again. I will have a few toddler-free hours for the first time in a long time, and I have a long list of things I want to accomplish, most of which probably won't get done. I may just end up sitting on this couch blogging, or doing email, or something of that sort.

* * *

We applied for short-term health insurance since hubby's new insurance won't kick in till October.

Problem #1 - we can only apply for two months, not one, since we have to pay first and last, like rent.
Problem #2 - entire process requires 5-7 weeks to be complete, something I found out today in an email. Nowhere on the application did in mention that this was the case. We thought it worked like travel insurance, you know?
Problem #3 - I can't cancel it because the guy at Customer Service said I need the new ID numbers to cancel the policy. I said I didn't want them to go to the trouble of even processing the policy. He insisted on explaining to me how it works anyway, which I didn't really care about, and then, when I suggested that in 5-7 weeks I'll be in the hospital busy giving birth and I won't have an opportunity to deal with "welcome packages" and "ID numbers" and what have you, he said there was nothing he could do.

I'm debating if I should write a letter, or drop the whole thing on hubby who will not be impressed to have another thing on his list of things to do to deal with.

* * *

Pregnant people can be quite clumsy.

Last night, when I dropped, for the upteenth time, something I was washing at the sink, I got so pissed off I threw the salad spinner on the floor. It broke.

This morning, when I was looking for the 2% milk for the toddler, I had to move some stuff around to get at the container. As I reached for the milk, which is in a bag, I dropped the entire thing on the floor and the milk spilled all over the kitchen. Including beneath the fridge, which then required hubby to get up out of bed on his first day of his new job, wipe up the spilled milk, move the refridgerator, wipe up the milk there, then open the door and wipe the inside of it as well.

I stood there with the toddler, not enjoying my first cup of coffee, listening to Benjamin repeat over and over again "the milk is soaking wet!".

* * *

I hope things are looking up tomorrow.

The difference between boys and girls

My toddler boy accompanies his toddler girl friend up to her bedroom to look at her toys.

The boy starts rummaging in her toy box, and the girl starts rummaging in her dresser drawers.

All is quiet.

At one point, the toddler girl's daddy goes up there to check on them, and notices that his daughter is standing in the middle of her room, stark naked. She is in the middle of changing her outfit (for the upteenth time that day).

Both kids look up to him.

The girl says "I'm changing my outfit".

The boy says "look, I found tractor".

Countdown

There is 1 day left before my hubby starts his new job in the world of Aviation Academia tomorrow.

There are 2 day left before my toddler starts his second year of daycare on Wednesday.

There are 43 days left until the birth of my second child.

There are 83094884737283929430249302483284 days left until the renovations are anywhere near complete.

Thank you.

When I'm not pregnant...

I'm going to have wine with my meals...regularly...

I'm going to bend over and pick up stuff that I've been sick of looking at for weeks/months now...

I'm going to pee less...(ha)

I'm going to sleep more... (double ha)

I'm going to sleep on my stomach again...

I'm going to stay up past the toddler's bedtime to encourage him to fall asleep in his own bed as opposed to mine...

I'm going back to my routine of sweeping, swiffering, and mopping my floors at least every week once...

I'm going to brush the dog...

I'm going to walk the dog more than 20 minutes per day, on new (old) routes through parks and trails and mini-forests, as opposed to flat sidewalks around the block and back...

I'm going to not be irritated and annoyed at every little thing as of 4 pm every afternoon...(ha?)

I'm going to keep my garden in better shape...

I'm going to stop panting everytime I walk up or down the stairs, hallway, driveway...

I'm going to clean underneath the toilet...

I'm going to paint the ceiling in the bathroom that has been chipping paint off which has provided an endless source of bitchiness everytime I visit the bathroom, which is too numerous to count...

Blah.