Grown Up Stuff
As we wait. And wait. Annnd wait…
This post is brought to you by Grown Up Stuff. Like shelling out hundreds of dollars to get the dog’s teeth cleaned. Tomorrow, I get to shell out more money for my own teeth, thankyouverymuch. And making an appointment with my “financial adviser” (my what?) to discuss my “retirement plan.” And the ridiculous amount of excitement that I have when I use my new (re-used) cabinets and countertops that my father in-law installed next to my washing machine and clothes dryer. I HAVE SO MUCH SPACE TO FOLD LAUNDRY!
This was my revelation last night. Surely I thought having another kid was a good idea a few months ago. Sure, I thought we were capable to take this on again. But last night, as I folded our clothes on this, seemingly, vast landscape of counters, I thought, HELL YES, we can do this again. LOOK AT MY COUNTERSPACE, BITCHES!
Right. I didn’t say I was being sane about it.
This weekend, we cleaned and then cleaned some more. I took a nap on the couch at some point. And RR and the dog teamed up on both of us and bossed us into walking them, by dragging the backpack out of the closet (RR) and wagging his tail at an alarmingly fast speed (Moses). Just when we thought we were leaving to go to the grocery store… ohhhhh, no. Here comes Bossy Boots and her sidekick Mr. Unreasonable Demands.
This was, of course, after I scrubbed cat vomit off of the basement stairs. Please let it be known that, whenever I die, I want it to say in my obituary that I died slipping on a patch of fresh cat vomit on the slick wooden basement stairs. Not because I actually DID. But because it should have happened already. And that should certainly be the way I should leave this world.
It’s even better, though, to be scrubbing cat vomit and then be hit in the head with dirty laundry that RR is throwing down the cat door. “Here, Mama!!”
The final grown-up moment of the weekend was my wife and I muting the television as we listened to the rain pouring down on the roof last night. Less in that romantic pitter-patter way, and more in that I-hope-the-roof-isn’t-leaking-do-you-hear-that-dripping-noise? kind of way. (It wasn’t – phew.)
Annnnnnd now, back to waiting…