At What Point…

…did I turn over in bed, look at the clock… say, oh…it’s only 4:45… and go back to sleep until 7:00? Yes, I was late to work this morning. Good thing I don’t have to punch a time-clock! Damn, that bed felt good.

(Yes, I was up with the puppies… at 3:45. Plenty of time to fall back into snooze-land.)

Only Child Syndrome

Today my husband took me to lunch. He was in a hurry, as was I, so we just did the Mickey-D drive thru. By the time he called to see if I wanted to go to lunch, I was 3/4 of the way through my sandwich I was eating at my desk… my usual lunch habit, but I agreed to go along with him and keep him company. I, of course, was tempted and had a hot fudge sundae. Mmmm… I open it, and Hubby says, “Can I have a bite?”. No biggie, right? Ah… but you forget my greatest disease. Only Child Syndrome. I hesitate. I look at the ice cream melty on the top and the chocolate fudge swirling on the sides…. I scoop up a spoonful… of… vanilla ice cream.

“Can I have some fudge?” He asks innocently.
“Uh…sure” I answer, scraping a midge of fudge off the side.
“Boy… I could write a book about your Only Child Syndrome” he says.
“What??” I ask innocently… quickly scarfing down the rest of the thick chocolate.

Yes. I’m awful. I have a hard time sharing. It isn’t that I don’t love the people I’m sharing with. I love my husband and my children and my critters. It’s a disease, I tell you… a real disease! There is something in my brain that says “NO” to sharing.

This includes time sharing. I get selfish. I need alone time or I go a bit ga-ga. (Shaddup – Iheard that. No one asked for input from the peanut gallery. ) I have so many different interests that I can’t find time to do any of them… (even before blogging became a part of my life.) I don’t have just one or two interests, but many. This can be problematic when you are trying to share your life with a husband and children and critters. So, I spend a certain amount of time alone. Hubby is very understanding. Kids are off and grown and on their own now, so it isn’t as much of a factor where they’re concerned. Critters? Well, it’s hard to turn critters down but they more or less just take whatever you can give them.

Sigh. I look at myself…Hubby’s right. I know he’s right. He knows he’s right. … as long as he doesn’t know where my chocolate is…

Enough to Make You Sick

Okay, I’ll admit, we’re getting a little sickening. Hubby reminds me that we are beginning to sound like the annual photocopied Christmas Letter that goes around saying how wonderful everything has been and how lovely our children are and how perfect our lives are. This is just a reminder that despite recent posts, we ARE human. We are NOT perfect. Our family is just as fucked-up as yours in many respects.

Get over it.

Would Someone Please Take the Voodoo Doll Away from the Nasty Person?

I don’t know about you, but I’m really getting tired of this. Not this this… not the blog… nor am I technically speaking about myself. I’m getting tired of the really nice people I’ve met out there in blogland (yes, YOU) who are going through the most shitty times right now. It’s not fair. ::stomping feet:: It’s really not.

I would venture a guess it’s something in the water, but you’re all in different parts of the country – hell, in different parts of the world! Somehow, the holder of The Doll has figured out just what to do to make you miserable.

We range from health and family issues with Livey, to lots of house-selling-moving frightful tales from Becky and Jade. Darrell has been battling health problems for so long I don’t think he even knows what “healthy” feels like. We have kids going through one thing after another with Mom and job craziness with Manda and Jon. We won’t even touch on how ones’ integrity can be smashed to bits with all poor Sizzle had to go through this week. Money? Thy name is mud. Jules can tell you that… and from across the pond we have Helen. That beautiful, intelligent, talented lady has her hands full with “all of the above” and then some.

I swear… if I knew where he kept The Doll I’d find it and get rid of it.

Suffice it to say, I hope that all of these people I’ve mentioned (and probably some I’ve missed) know that they do have other people in the world who care about them and who, though we may be hundreds to thousands of miles apart, feel in some way we know them. We send virtual hugs and prayers to the gods and nightly wishes on stars that things will get better for them and they will become the happy, healthy, well people they deserve to be. Everyone deserves to have a dream. Everyone deserves to have a dream come true. As much as I bitch, I am so blessed. Blessed with family, a nice home, a good job, sweet critters, and you. My blog-friends.

I’d make it better if I could for you. Honest.

In the Dead of the Night

Hubby wakes me. He tells me I woke him. How? I was giggling in my sleep. Giggling. I can’t possibly think of anything these days to giggle about. I’m glad my inner child is being entertained, even if it is in the dead of night.

He then proceeds to tell me – in a rather loud tone of voice (the man can NOT whisper…it’s a known fact) – about the strange dream he was having when I woke him.

Of course, my constant readers know what’s coming next. Yes. He woke up the puppies. It’s now 1 a.m. I’m outside in my jammies, hoodie, and tennis shoes watching two black and white streaks charging around the yard. The scent of skunk is in the air. The rattle and bang of a nearby train is shuttling along. The neighbors dog is woofing like he means it. I’m sitting in a lawn chair on the porch wishing they would hurry up and do their ‘thing’ so I can go back to bed.

Back inside. Hubby’s snoring. I wonder whatever made me giggle in my sleep. How’s your night going?