Sabotage & Other Stuff...

Yesterday I was feelin' it.  

And it all began with some new curtain panels I bought at Lowes.  Seriously, Lowes has some killa curtains for el cheapo, ya'll.  So I was moving this and changing that and swapping this from downstairs for that upstairs... you get it.  The boys were breaking records for total time played outside nicely together without flooding anything along with total number of Otter Pops consumed.  And I was SO stoked about the final product.  I was just counting down the minutes 'til RyGar got home so I could smile like the cat that ate the canary as I would tell him, "Oh this?  Yes, this little masterpiece was brought to you by moi for no more than $80 bucks dear hubster.  Do I rock your world?"  And of course he would go on and on praising my house wifery skills and my decorating CENTS.  

And then, I got stuck in, "But there is this one thing that is bugging me" mode.  And when he walked in, I fixated on it.  And this is what I said...

"I think it is high time the elk came down."  

(Oh yeah, did I fail to mention that I am decorating around a taxidermized elk?  Well, I am.)  

And I know that Ry looks at that elk and is flooded with memories about how "the elk" came to be at our house and the lovely times that were had in camo in pursuit of "the elk" and the stories swapped around the campfire after a day of chasing "the elk".  And all I can see is... well, the obvious.  I continued... "I mean, I've lived with the elk for eight years.  It's time that you compromise and let me live some years without it.  I'm sure my Dad would love to have it at the Wayne house"... and then it just kept coming out.  And out.  And out.

Ka BOOOOM.  

That is the sound of me blowing our evening to smithereens.  Nice huh?

Insert cute baby picture to avert awkwardness

Yep - Probably need two of 'em.

Do you not just HATE it when you do something stupid and you can't pull yourself out?  Literally I could see the evening spiraling down like water in a toilet bowl and did I put on the brakes?  Nope.  My friend called herself, "The world's biggest saboteur" but I think she has competition.  Dang.

Moving on.  I have put the elk issue to bed - unless we get randomly flooded with comments about how an elk should be in Grandpa's mountain house with the bears and deer and sheep and other animals - Not that I'm soliciting. (I am SOOO soliciting).  And I'm instead going to tell you the second half of the story.

I told you we're gearing up for the Olympics.

These are hernia belts.... I think.

OK, Babes are bathed and just waiting for me to get their PJs on and hand them their evening milkshakes (without the shake part).  I send them up to the playroom while I bejammy baby love and Kael comes down with what I assume is mud, or chocolate pudding or ANYTHING but poop running down his leg.

Uh HUH - It's poop. 

Again.... 

 

Cute Kid Pictures

Necessary to prevent Gagging...

Poor little watermelon lova had consumed too much of his favorite fruit of the moment.  And I freaked.  I knew what must be waiting for me at the top of the stairs in our happy primary colored play arena.  And I did NOT want to clean it up.  So I said to RyGar (again, let's keep in mind that I was ON one - usually I'm totally and perfectly SAINTly)  "I am NOT cleaning that up."  He said, "Amb, I have to go."  I said, "Guess it will be waiting for you when you return"  He said, "Amb, let's just get it cleaned up."  I said, "I'm throwing away the couch."  He said something like, "Do whatever makes you happy."  And then he had to go.  Seriously, I considered a poop stand off.  I really thought I might just leave it up there to bake and ripen all night until Ry got home.  And you know how the story ended. 

The laundromat pictures to prove it...

 Of course I got the coveted cleaning duty.  Of course it isn't fair.  Of course that is my lot in life as a mama, which I knew and voluntarily signed up for and LOVE 99.9% of the time.  Of course, I sulked even when RyGar got home from a late meeting.  Of course I bemoaned my status as the overworked martyr of this household.  Of course.

Then I went to bed and after some much needed sleep, the morning sun came in through the window and I tiptoed into sleeping babes' rooms and looked at them and realized.  I was a freakin' basket case in my quest for perfection the day prior. 

Our life is loud and crazy and silly and messy and perfectly imperfect.

(Much like my husband - the husband I love and would choose again and again.)  And I got over it.  And I am sure that he is well aware that the "Perfect decorator, wifee, maid, laundress, cook, nut job" is perfectly flawed too.  Just the way he likes her.

Keep your fingers crossed for a perfectly unpoopy kinda weekend around here.  And if you see that crazy bit@$ who occasionally poses as Martha Freakin' Stewart, kick her to the curb.  She isn't welcome 'round here.  :)