It’s looking like I may only be a weekend blogger. I had hoped for more of a daily basis, but baby has had other ideas. Even with my mom here most of the week, I still didn’t have any time. Anyway…
It’s a week today since we found out about his job loss. Although I handled it with grace at first, the last two days I have been extremely snarky and I think that is the underlying cause…mixed with a touch of PMS to fuel the fire. Life just isn’t fair sometimes.
As I said before, I would give anything to be able to stay home with Punky. He has the opportunity now, and he’s definitely not happy about it. He can’t take off whenever he wants. He can’t spend countless hours dicking around in his shed on his never-ending list of projects that must be done. God forbid a sunny day comes along and he has to be inside with the baby. I can already see that, as this situation continues, we will be fighting more and more. He will continue to get more frustrated and aggravated with having to play SAHD all day long, while I get more frustrated and aggravated knowing he gets to play SAHD all day long. It is definitely a lose/lose situation as far as our relationship goes.
I am hoping that Punky will get some benefit from a more steady routine and schedule now that it won’t have to change on a weekly basis. Of course, if she has to listen to her parents screaming at each other daily, I’m sure any benefit gained will be null and void. We really need to try to keep her out of earshot; I don’t want her exposed to that. I remember how scared I felt as a kid when the rents would fight. It was a terrible feeling.
So, another weekend, another trip to Wal-Mart, another six loads of laundry, another hour(s) doing our checkbooks, another fast shave of the legs… It is truly sad how routine and predictable life has become. Every night after work it’s the same thing: drive home, change clothes, feed baby dinner, eat dinner myself, play with baby, straighten up what needs to be, set up coffee maker for the next morning, wash bottles, bathe baby, play with baby some more, get baby ready for bed, set alarm, give baby nighttime bottle, rock baby to sleep. BAM! Eleven o’clock already. Go to bed. Rinse and repeat.
I was never spontaneous by any means. Whenever I do something spontaneously, it backfires in one way or another. I’m a planner by nature, even for a living. I like some routine built into my daily life. It provides structure, balance, reliability, reassurance…but you do need a few pockets of time available to break the monotony and flavor your day with a little something different. I am actually getting bored. With the routine, of course, not the baby! I know it’s only temporary, and as Punky continues to grow and change, our lives will grow and change right along with her. I’m excited for the next stage but sad at the same time. If she is to be my only one, I hate to see her grow up.
Well, since this has already been a pot-luck post with me jumping from thought to thought, I may as well throw this in: I have issues with minivans and I can’t control myself.
More than half of my thirty-five minute drive to work is on a narrow two-lane curvy country road with no cell phone reception. Even so, I guess partly because of the low population in this rural “hickville” area, the speed limit on this road is 55 mph. Not bad. I can go a comfortable 60 in good weather, always watching for deer of course. There are some farms along the road and my smooth travels are sometimes interrupted by a tractor going 5 mph down the center of the road. And with a meat plant about halfway in between, I get stuck behind truck traffic once in a while. Also, I find the occasional joy rider that slows me down from time to time. There are few opportunities to pass, so I take advantage of it when I can. Otherwise, I may get a bit irked if I’m in a hurry, but I’m leaps away from road rage. Until I get behind a minivan.
Somewhere over the course of the past year and a half while making that drive to and from work, I have made mental note after mental note that when I get behind a minivan we go way too slow. Damn soccer moms with the “My kid’s an honor student at Jo Shmo Middle School!” bumper stickers and faded window paint from last month’s big game “We’re # 1! Go Panthers!.” You know the type. Is there a connection between being proud of your kid and feeling the need to drive 20 mph below the posted speed limit during rush hour?
Yeah, I know I said it’s a country road, but people are still rushing either to get to work on time or home to their families afterward. Now, every time I end up behind a minivan, regardless of its driver, its condition, or the speed it is traveling, I am instantly annoyed and immediately think I will never reach my destination if I stay behind them. I need to pass them, as soon as possible, and will go to the ends of the earth to make my move. If I’m not able to pass, my blood starts boiling, the curses fly, and I experience true road rage.
I feel like one of those little yappy dogs that see a mailman, freak out, and charge to bite his ankles. That is my current relationship with minivans. Stay out of my way or I’ll rip those silly bumper stickers right off your ass. Grrr…
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