Randomettes... Ummm...

Think, think, think...

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock...

I fear I've lost the will to rant.

I thought I'd have something to go on about after tent camping for 3 nights, but not really.

I didn't love sleeping in a tent on an air mattress or that the bathrooms were so far away, particularly in the middle of the night. Not that I walked to the bathrooms in the middle of the night, but my ass got rather cold while I was squatting in the bushes down wind from the tents. 

I also didn't love that the boy had a middle of the night, hour long, pain induced, freak out that damn near sent us searching for an ER at 2 a.m. (he's fine, we think it was gas. horrible, painful gas), but that wasn't because we were camping. That would have sucked at home too. Also the girl had a meltdown, mainly due to too much fun and lack of sleep (this we can blame on the group party camping), but all was well after a nap. 

Otherwise, the whole thing was pretty good. Fun even. The food was fantastic, thanks to Double D Moma and her mad menu planning, food & drink purchasing, and cooking skills. The company was fabulous. The setting was beautiful. The kids had fun. Scott had fun. I had fun. The dog seemed to like it and only wandered away from camp to be brought back by a ranger once. 

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After many, many games off having my ass handed to me, I finally beat Blondie in a game of Scramble. So the score is somewhere around: Lil Tirade- 1, Blondie- 93. It's a very small victory and I will cling to it. 

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I've been teaching the kids to do their own laundry. The boy is into it. He's 6 and loves to help around the house and do things on his own. Today he said, "I'm doing my laundry Mom". And he did. All by himself. Hamper-washer-dryer-dresser. The girl, age 11, is totally capable of mastering this task, but is way less enthusiastic. I told her that she is lucky because she got 5 more years of laundry service than her brother. The eye rolling and sighing leads me to believe she does not concur.

peace & love ;-)

My Scott Is An Awesome Scott

This morning as he's getting ready for work:


Scott: "Is there a pile of clean underwear hiding somewhere?"


Me: (Seriously contemplating if there could possibly be a pile of his clean underwear somewhere as on occasion clean clothes live in baskets in the laundry room for days on end.) "I don't think so. I remember feeling so proud that I finally got all the clean clothes put away yesterday." 


Scott: "This is my last pair."


Me: "Well I guess I'll either do laundry today or buy you some new ones."


Scott: "Fair enough."


How awesome is that? Seriously! It didn't even seem like he was trying to stifle the urge to say "What is it you do all day while I'm at work and the kids are at school?" He has never once said anything of the sort. 


While at times over the years, I've felt frustrated that he doesn't lavish compliments on me, I will say his easy going personality and ability to go with the flow and not sweat the small stuff is really really fantastic. I've given him ample opportunities to demonstrate frustration and overreact, but I can't remember him taking one. Not that we've never fought, just not about me being a bone head.


Like the time I dropped the lap top and he didn't say out loud what an idiot I was. He laughed, got me us an iPad, and got the laptop fixed.

Then there was the time I booked our vacation for the wrong week and he laughed and poured me another glass of wine. 

Additionally there was the time 13 years ago when I knocked the side mirror off the car as I backed out of my own garage. He laughed then too. Although, I believe he called me a dumb ass while he was laughing. That was less awesome. I think replacing the dumb ass comment with the glass of wine was a move in the right direction.

Also, there was the time when our youngest was 3 months old and we were flying to Mexico on a 6 a.m. flight. We had been dropped off at the airport and I only brought a photocopy of the baby's birth certificate (this was before a passport was required to go to Mexico) instead of a certified copy. I distinctly remember choosing to bring the photocopy so that there was no danger of losing the certified copy. Very flawed logic. A mother with a 3 month old probably shouldn't be allowed to make important decisions like that. They weren't going to let us on the plane. Meanwhile our then 5 y/o started puking. I was ready to lose my shit and Scott calmly worked with the airline people to call a notary to rush to the airport to notarize the photocopied birth certificate and we made the flight. I don't think either of us was laughing until the next day over margaritas, but he never so much as gave me a dirty look about my potentially disastrous blunder.

I'm not really a big hot mess, I just play one here on the blog for your amusement. I'm actually rather competent. Too competent in fact. I really need to stop it. It leads to people asking me to do stuff and high expectations. 



Peace & Love :-)