The Great Domestic Expedition of 2009- Day #3

WEDNESDAY MORNING 9:01 a.m. : Base camp is running slightly behind the times this morning- I was up for an entire hour before I was allowed the simple luxury of a cup of coffee for crying out loud. The headache I experienced yesterday proved devastating for my day,and no shopping trip was ever made. Late last night, I was reminded of the impending visit of my Mother-in-Law to base camp today. I still need to endure the trip into the jungle for supplies, especially if I don't want to be washing all my dishes by hand today because the base camp manager is a total slacker and still doesn't have dishwasher detergent. And although my Mother-in-Law isn't one of THOSE types, I still draw the line at having a sink full of dirty dishes upon her arrival. So, as the first part of my morning agenda, I will traverse to the grocery store while Mount Laundromonjaro looms ominously in the near distance. I wonder what kind of tow rope it would take to move a mountain...

11:48 a.m. : Domesticity sucks.

12:54 p.m. : Have to wash my outdoor gear because the expedition leader spit up all over them while we were grocery shopping. I am truly stunned by the ability of the little guy to spit up on average of once a month at home, while managing to spit up every time I take him into a store. I have also spent considerable time pondering the possible answer to the question, "At what age does it stop being spit up and start being considered throw up?"

1:55 p.m. : Just got word that Mother-in-Law just morphed into Mother-in-Law AND Father-in-Law. ETA is in about 2 hours. It is official: There are now not enough seats in my living room for every one. Maybe I should move back in some of Mount Laundromonjaro to be used in bean bag fashion.

3:50 p.m. : Base camp has almost pulled it together. The floor has been vacuumed, the kitchen table has been cleared, the dishwasher again tamed for the time being. The great In-Law caravan is set to arrive in T-minus 28 and counting. The 7 year old scout has just made his Kramer-esk entrance and I must go procure after educational sustenance for him. Bonehead scout was close behind. Base camp is officially feeling much louder and more crowded.

The Great Domestic Expedition of 2009- Day #2

TUESDAY MORNING 8:00 a.m. : I did not spill my coffee all over my leg this morning, which is a good sign of the day to come. I had planned to climb the mountain of laundry that lies at my feet, but I did not foresee the poor planning shown by the people running the base camp operation. Base camp appears to be run by imbeciles who didn't think planning for the week ahead before Tuesday was really all that crucial. I will clearly have to spend today foraging for supplies and postpone the ascent up the laundrigal mountain until tomorrow. I can't help but feel a deep sense of accomplishment that I'm a step ahead of the game this morning. My son is already wearing pants.

8:17 a.m. : My need for a shower is overwhelming. Having sipped on 1.5 cups of coffee, I am off to find the local watering hole and pray that the expedition leader doesn't scream too loud from his bungee throne.

10:51 a.m. : Made an executive decision to forage for sundries after morning nap. All attitudes are markedly improved after napping, or at least that is what I have been told. I have opened my mouth (through google chat, so, fingers?) and inserted my foot with one of my scouts, so I fully anticipate not feeling too great for the duration of the day. It makes me want to crawl into a cave and hide- now where is that spelunking gear I had to get my hands on yesterday? Apparently it will be in high demand this week.

1:07 p.m. : Having obtained a rather severe headache, I am trying to squash the urge to go on a canibalistic rampage. Am taking medication and closing my eyes and hoping it goes away before the little expedition leader wakes up from his nap and I have to brave the jungle that is the grocery store. Today is turning out to be a fairly rough one, and the mountain still awaits me.

3:37 p.m. : Headache has finally started to go away, but is still under the surface. The scouts will be home shortly, and with a headache that could show its ugly face again with little to no prompting, I am considering waiting by the door with strips of duct tape. It does sound tempting. I'm counting the day as a loss at this point, and will make additional attempts at domesticity and climbing Mount Laundromonjaro tomorrow.

The Great Domestic Expedition of 2009- Day #1

This week I will be conducting an experiment of the Domestic Engineering type. I will be performing a weeks worth of domestic duties with an open mind. It will be an exploration of the inner mind of the average stay at home mom. Call it a social experiment, if you will. I will be keeping a journal of my expedition this week, and updating several times throughout the day.

MONDAY MORNING 8:28a.m. : I have had an hour sucked from my veins, and spilled 1/2 cup of fresh brewed coffee on my leg. I am taking a survey of the domestic duties needed to be performed today. My home appears to have been attacked by hoodlums. I'm not sure there's a clean dish left in my kitchen, the laundry hamper threw up in my bathroom, and my living room has been littered with stray belts, hangers, and DS games. But first things first: The baby needs pants and breakfast.

8:39 a.m. : Baby. Pants. Now.

8:43 a.m. : Seriously. Quit typing and go feed your child.

10:06 a.m. : Dishwasher is purring away. My little expedition leader directed activities from his booster seat with efficiency. When faced with the beast of the dishwasher we teamed up to tame it with a mighty rhythm: Dish, dish, pick up toy. Dish, dish, pick up toy.

10:41 a.m. : Had a rare sighting of the Wifus Domesticus. She appeared wild and unkempt, her eyes a bit manic. She got a glimpse of me and was gone in just a fraction of a second. It's a good thing too, she scared the crap out of me. The expedition leader has grown tired and shall now be laid down for a morning nap. It is up to me to carry on without him.

11:24 a.m. : Things are beginning to get rough. I'm finding that I must buckle up and push through the need for a nap. With the expedition leader napping I should move on and begin cleaning the bathroom. Is there a category on Craig's List for Spelunking gear?

11:49 a.m. : I am beginning to realize how unprepared I am for this journey. I clearly needed a haz-mat suit to handle my son's skivvies. Also, there was gum adhered to the bottom of my bathroom garbage can. Some questions may be better off left unasked.

12:42 p.m. : The journey in the bathroom was more exciting than I could have imagined. After getting over the disappointment that I had clearly just missed a pack (herd?) of spitting camels, I found the fortitude to continue on. I discovered fossilized toothpaste which I have carefully packed up for future analysis at the lab. On a different note, base camp has run out of paper plates and dishwasher detergent, which can be a fatal combination. I've been informed that base camp has also run out of toilet bowl cleaner. That, my friends, is catastrophic.

3:39 p.m. : With the return of the family scouts expected soon, I feel the need for a late afternoon pick me up. I will soon be expected to answer a large daily quota of questions, none of which are actually about me or my day. It takes energy to know exactly what the ninja skill limitations of Scooby Doo are. Should I go with additional coffee, or prop my eyelids open with a toothpick?

I Dream In Sound

I don't think I've ever asked anyone this question, but do you dream in sound?  I do.  Quite frequently, in fact, some obscure song that I haven't heard in years chooses to play itself over and over in the background of my dreams. It's almost a nightmare, the never ending Muzac loop of the same darned song.  It doesn't matter if my dream is of hunting baby eating alligators or being chased by tornadoes through farmer's fields, it will play itself like there's no tomorrow until...well...tomorrow.  The kicker is that once might be a trip down memory lane.  523 times in 7 hours is a nightmare of its own. Here's the music from last night's dream sequence.  Enjoy, even 523 times if you'd like, but I wouldn't recommend it.

Steve Winwood - The Finer Things

The Coup

WARNING: ACCORDING TO BONEHEAD THE FOLLOWING POST IS "A LITTLE FUNNY, BUT GUYS DON'T WANT TO READ ABOUT THAT STUFF." Which prompted me to promise him a disclaimer-So- if you're male, you may want to skip the post today and visit again in the near future. Sorry 'bout that, dudes.

In order to explain where I've been for an entire week without so much as a sneeze on my blog, I feel I must tell you a story.

I once cried so hard I lost a contact. Not rubbing my eye and oops it fell out, but cried tears copious enough to wash it out never to be seen again. I was newly pregnant with my firstborn son, and tried to take money out of the ATM so I could stop at Subway for sandwiches on my way home from work. I was denied cash, meaning at that particular moment in time, there was not a spare 20 dollars to my name. After the machine yelled,"Denied!" at me, I continued my drive home and began crying a torrent of tears that only got worse as I started telling Bonehead we couldn't eat Subway. The world was ending because I couldn't have the sandwich my pregnant butt had been craving all day. I lost the contact sometime during that meltdown, never to be seen again. I'd like to say that the meltdown was all about the stress of being pregnant with your first child while being the only source of income because my husband was a full time student and wondering how on earth we were going to feed, diaper, clothe, and nurture a child, (and maybe subliminally it was) but it all came down to one thing in the end.

Hormones.

My hormones had screamed mutiny, leaving my sanity no choice but to jump ship.

My pregnancy with Critter was no better. In fact, my hormones did a switcheroo and I was no longer a sobbing mess. I was officially a snarling, snippy possum on a rampage for no good reason under the sun other than the fact that it may have been shining wrongly in my direction. It prompted my older son to tell me one morning, "I know why you're so grouchy, Mom, it's because you're pregnant." To which I inquired how he knew that and was promptly informed, "Daddy told me."

Upon confronting Bonehead with the statement, he shrugged his shoulders and said, "We boys have to stick together. You're a walking emotional bomb, we have no idea what to expect from you, and he needs to be prepared for that."

I counted on the fact that after Critter's birth (Since we knew that Critter was the completing member of our family long before he was born) I would never have to be such a hormonal mess again. I had no clue whatsoever how wrong I was. Apparently, my hormones have decided to turn that second mutiny into a coup.

Back in the day, it was so simple. Exactly 24 hours before the dreaded monthly event, I would have a mental breakdown. A personal little Nobody Likes Me, Everybody Hates Me, I think I'll Go Eat Some Worms moment or two, and that was it. I could see it for what it was and know that I need to be prepared in the next 24 hours.

Now, apparently, all bets are off. I could turn into a weepy mess as early as a week before, and channel Jekyll and Hyde even as long as 3 days after.

So to sum things up, the answer to where I've been the last week, is that apparently I've lost my flipping mind and have been trying my best to stomp the hell out of Jekyll (and anyone else lucky enough to be in my way) in a coup of historic proportions.

But now that the stable Jekyll has gained the upper hand and I am once again stable emotionally, things are good. You know, for another 25 days or so. I hate hormones.