There’s something about my personality that drives my loving husband insane. Though I am the only one on crazy meds in this household, it’s debatable on whether he may need them in the future if my actions continue.
I’ll just start out with this screen shot.
The Christmas tree used to be in the left corner. NOT ANYMORE.
See the misspelling? I was already starting to have seizures due to the lack of space and cleanliness our sitting room was suffering from. I had been home for too long with too many children, and not enough wine for me to control my animal instincts to rearrange furniture.
The Christmas tree had to go. I did the only thing I knew as a Christian woman to do. I blasted Beyonce and sent my children upstairs. I beasted that thing right out the back door, and I had me a beer. I sat there and examined the pine needle mess and seriously contemplated just leaving it until my husband returned home. Only to show him that he was right, taking the Christmas tree outside was too much work for one person.
Then I remembered I am a woman, and women can do anything. Especially when they are trying to prove a point to a man. So, I beasted on.
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I actually wrote that blog two months ago, and ended up saving it in my drafts. I thought I would get back to it later, and so tonight I did just that.
Lets discuss other things I take into my own hands ( literally ) without asking for help. Because I am not stubborn. Like, at all.
Today I took the girls to get new shoes, and on the way home we stopped at the local pets store to get our puppy some dog food. Mind you, sweet readers that the dog food we buy Bear is like 40 pounds of pure heaviness and defeat.
While I could have just asked Matt to stop on the way home to get this food, I decided to just get it myself. I need help from no one. Except when I need his help to open really tight pickle jars and wine corks that hate me.
I got to the check out counter, knowing full well I would have to escort our new adopted obese child Purina and my two very intellectual yet uncoordinated children to the van a few rows down from the shop.
” Do you need any help out Ma’am?”
Said the friendly lady at the counter. She was only trying to help me. I only cut her off ever so gently.
” Oh no, I’ve got it . Thank you!”
And off we went into the cold. My fat child and two other normal sized ones. The fat one kept slipping from my grip, so I would stop every few seconds to situate the difficult one. It just wouldn’t stay on my left shoulder long enough to wrangle my three year old from getting hit by a car. I contemplated leaving the fat heavy thing in the middle of the road, loading the girls up and doing a drive by. Casually opening my door, reaching my left hand out like a bad ass and retrieving the food.
The only issue was that the left side of my mini van door won’t open and close correctly. By correctly I mean never. It is possessed by all the powers against me. Such as decaf coffee. Non alcoholic beer, and virgin daiquiris.
I ended up dragging it, yes dragging it across the parking lot with Adah on my hip, and Rhema holding the bag. While I was there, alone.. the only adult… I knew this could’ve been avoided.
I should work on this area of my life. I should let people help me.
Maybe next year or something.
Right now I’m busy.
