June 19, 2010


I am one dirty diaper away from commiting myself to the looney bin! Adam has worked the past 11 days straight, and I'm not talking a normal 9-5, no, he's been leaving here around 9 and not returning until midnight! There have been days where he doesn't even lay eyes on Jovie because she's still sleeping when he leaves.

Why is he working so much, you ask? Well, let's see.....first he had an employee who got wasted then owned himself on a curb, resulting in having extreme brain bruising. His doctor won't release him back to work until next month. Then another one of his employees picked up a fun little heroin addiction, obviously terminating his position.

Lesson 74: learn to handle yourself in a professional manner!!!

Adam also lost his Sous chef, who was the only other salary paid employee, so Adam has to do all morning and afternoon parties by himself, but because they are terribly understaffed he also has to stay for dinner business.

Yes, Adam has it hard, but my life hasn't been a cake walk. (Even though Adam tells me I'm on a pemanent vacation.)


Did I mention that on the last day Adam had off, we started some home improvements? They're only part done. Stone's dresser has been in the middle of my kitchen, backwards, for the past two weeks. There's boxes of flooring and floor padding piled beside it. I can't get to my island. I can't set up my ironing board. I've bruised my hips trying to walk by this ridiculous heap.

Outside is embarrassing. There's chunks of plywood everywhere, and the yard needs trimmed (I mowed, but I'm terrified of our weed wacker. It's impossible to start, vibrates profusely making my arm fall off and spits out more smoke than the industrial park on the other side of the Ohio River.)

Lesson 76: having a weed whacker that is solely responsible for global warming = white trash

I can't even enjoy my front porch. My rocking chair is buried beneath planks of wood with nails sticking out! LORD HAVE MERCY! I think my brain is hemorrhaging.

As I've said before, my kids are extremely moody when they don't get to see their Dad. (after reading this blog, I'm sure you can see they aren't the only ones). There's been more whining and fighting than ever before. One night I went up to yell at the boys, who were determined NOT to go to bed, I opened the door and Jet started to cry, "I miss Daddy." As soon as he mentioned their father, Jagger started to cry too, "I need Daddy to come home."

"I know. I miss Daddy, too." I reassured them, trying not to cry myself.

Looking at Jude as he climbed the ladder up to his bed, I waited for him to break out in tears like his brothers. All that came from my child's mouth was, "Daddy has a peep like me."

Wow.....what a tender moment! Thanks Jude for keepin' it real.

I'm just tired. I'm used to having a few hours in the morning to do what I need to do. Now I don't even have that. I've done all my grocery shopping with the kids, gone to Walmart with all the kids, and I've even managed to take all the kids to the park alone (I was tired of being stuck in the house, and the kids needed a little pick-me-up). I look ridiculous when we're out. Stone has to be held all the time. If he's not, he's screaming his head off. I let him scream at home, but strangers in stores really frown on it. I found that if I put him in a sling he's completely happy, and I still have the use of both my arms. The only problem is I've been wearing him constantly. He's so heavy that when I lay down at night I still feel like I'm wearing the sling!

I wish Adam could have just one day off, he'd actually be able to sit down, and he could hold Stone. It's a win-win. That way he's relaxing and I can do chores without having to hold that 5 million lb. lump. No seriously, he's like a lump. The child doesn't hold any of his own weight. It's like Weekend at Bernies...baby style.

This too shall pass.....this too shall pass......

WHEN?!!!!! As of right now there's no end in sight! Even my dreams have had enough!

Lesson 77: Dreaming several consecutive nights in a row about the Time-out chair = one tired white trash lady

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