Sunday, December 23, 2012

What the hell?

I think I've figured out why the hubby left the permanent birth controlling to me. He has balls the size of coconuts, and damaging them would be like spitting on a national treasure.

4 days ago, I had a tubal ligation and endometrial ablation. Short story, standard laparoscopic incisions and recovery pain, plus equivalent of a second degree burn covering the entirety of the inside of my uterus. Add in a compromised immune system and a two year old who doesn't get why mama is moving slowly, can't pick him up, won't get on the floor to play and keeps saying "be careful!" during schnoooo-goooo (snuggle) time, and you've got a recipe for slow recuperation.

Last night, hubby was bitching about how much work it is to take care of our son, and how we should cancel Christmas, since he hasn't done any shopping. He suggested I take care of the boy while he made a last ditch assault on the mall. I countered that he should call our sitter to come over while he shops.

Time passes, he makes no call, and I suggest again. Excuses and procrastination, so I call the sitter and arrange a time. I purposefully completed my Christmas shopping and gift wrapping in advance of surgery, so I opted to take advantage of help and I laid down to rest while baby boy napped, sitter watched tv and daddy shopped.

Hubby came home, baby boy woke up, and I made my way upstairs. Then hubby informs me since I "wouldn't take care of the boy, I needed to pay the sitter." 1) I CAN'T take care of our son fully right now. I had SURGERY and have restrictions 2) I had to PAY someone to take care of our son, so he could go shopping and complain about how much trouble Christmas is for him?

Balls the size of coconuts. A man possessing normal sized balls would not have the chutzpah to charge me for recuperation time.

Bah fucking humbug.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Sunday, December 2, 2012

"Me Time"

After waking up early with BabyBoy, making him breakfast, and playing for a couple hours, Hubby crawled out of bed.  We took the boy to the zoo for a run in the crappy weather (That sounds like we're taking the dog to the off-leash park, which is kind of exactly how it is).  After the zoo visit, we got some lunch, and I put him down for his nap.

I emptied the dishwasher, setting out bottles, sippy cups, and child plates to air dry, loaded the dirty dishes in, and asked for some "me time" to go to a craft fair at Seattle Center.  A particular vendor was there, and I wanted to take advantage of the show discount to stock up on soap for the shower.  Hubby agreed, and went downstairs to take a nap while BabyBoy slept.

After the craft show, I was walking back to my car in the rain.  I saw an older lady, skipping hand in hand with a young girl who was wearing and elaborate feathered mardi gras mask and a tutu.  They were skipping right through the cross walk, in the pouring down rain.  I wished that my eyes were a camera so I could save that image to share here.  Unfortunately, I can't translate an image from my head to the computer, so this will have to capture the mood.

My first thought was "sometimes I wish I had a little girl", my next thought was "I hope I can still skip when I have a grandchild."  Lastly, I thought "I want to skip with my son in the rain." 

Frivolous part of "me time" was done, so I made the practical trip to the grocery store.  Milk, Toilet paper, food for dinner, and a few other staples for the house were all on the list.  When I got to the checkout stand, I handed the checker my bags.  I had an Oscar the Grouch bag, and a Thomas and Friends bag that happened to be in my car, so that's what I brought in with me. Apparently, I was also wearing my "please poke fun at me" face.  The checker inclined his head toward my bags of groceries and said "You don't get out much, do you?".  He was right, I don't.  I laughed a little ruefully and said "What was your first clue?"  He said "We don't get a lot of Thomas bags on Lower Queen Anne."

When I got home, the dishwasher had finished it's cycle, and the sink was full of dirty dishes.  There was a bag of garbage blocking the door to get into the house, so I took it out to the garbage cans before I could get in, put away the groceries, unload the dishwasher and put the dirty dishes into the machine for the next load.  Hubby and BabyBoy were in the living room, sitting in the middle of a pile of toys, and watching "How to Train Your Dragon" for the third time in 24 hours.  All nice thoughts from 90 minutes to myself were completely washed out of my head by internal grumbling about delayed chores.

I want to skip in the rain, holding hands with my son.  I'm going to hold onto that for tonight.