Lights and parties

I've been pretty 'bah-humbug' so far this season...but I'm coming around.

It's hard not to be feeling warm and Christmasy when you are putting up lights.  Over the weekend, we finally got around to it.  I made the kids all help, because I know part of the reason we didn't have lights is because Mr W was dreading it.  Which is funny, as he hates getting started, but once he's out there, suddenly he's Clark Griswold...and strings are shorting out, amidst a lot of swearing--it can get ugly.

We were out there, and he'd gone up the ladder a couple of times when I saw a brainstorm cross his face--"Ben, climb on up here."

Normally, I'd be a little freaked out at the prospect of my baby up on a ladder, but we spotted him and guided him through it, so it was fine.  Ben was proud that he strung up the lights on the house, and any time you can have bragging rights over the older brother is a good time. 

In the end, it looks nice and we all love it.

It almost makes me want to stomach the after-Christmas sales, if only to stock up on more lights for next year, maybe an animated figure or two...almost.

That evening, I attended a post-elopement bridal shower for my friend, Jen.  (I know.) 

It was a small party, and I got to meet some ladies that she's mentioned from work, you know, put some names to faces.  One of them asked me, "So, what do you do?"  I was so surprised, that I could be me first, and not rattle off names and ages! 

I resisted the urge to say:

"I am the Mommy.  Keeper of clean laundry.  Cook.  Chauffeur.  Doctor.  Teacher.  Baker.  Personal shopper."  
Instead, I told her about my work.  And she listened, then shook her head and apologized as she asked me to repeat myself, "It's the wine."  She was so cute about it, I didn't feel to badly about going over it again.  Twice. 

Later, I was quite taken aback that my drunken friend took me to task, as she pointed out that to recall any scandalous dealings in regards to me, she has to go "all the way back to our senior year of high school."  Um, okay.  She loves to tell the story of the first time I got drunk, as it involves me peeing my pants, and getting all hyper that I was dropping the f-bomb in front of the boys.  Whoo-hoo, there's a scandal.  It kinda made me feel bad, that I haven't been the wild woman I guess I could be, that she misses, but at the same time, you know, I can't do anything about it.  The choices I've made, I've made, and I stand by them. 

It's not my fault that under all my swaggering talk, I'm just a good girl.

And really, it's exhausting, it's not easy, being the good girl.  I hate it sometimes.  Besides...ah, forget it.

She accepts me, for me, really.  I just think she gets frustrated with me that given the option of a night on the town, or a night at home with the little ones, I'm going to choose <more than likely> the little ones.  She gets the brunt of my complaining when the homelife is swallowing me whole, so I think she feels it's all guts--no glory, and tries to rescue me from it; then gets a little irritated when I resist.  I love her, though, for trying.  (I have been working harder on trying to meet her halfway.)

When I left for the party, Audrey was sleeping.  She woke up shortly after I left, and here's where I get to laugh...at Mr W's expense.

Little did we know that she sleepwalks.   Oh, I had my suspicions, but wasn't quite sure...  She got up, and started crying for me.  She went down the hall, and Mr W was waiting for her to come back, like she always does.  Suddenly, he hears Nolan yelling "No!  Audrey no!"  and then Nolan comes running down the hall to our room to get him: "Dad, she's trying to pee in the garbage can."  Mr W said to me, "I had to get up and see that.  I didn't believe it, until I heard noises in the kitchen."

(This is where men differ from women.  A Mom, hearing the kid crying upon waking up, would be scooping up said child and doing the comfort thing.  He, being a guy, was waiting for her to come back to him, once she was convinced that I wasn't home...even if she was upset about it.  Then he'd comfort her. lol )

So Mr W gets to the kitchen, and sure enough, there sits my little Princess, with a puddle, a huge puddle, of pee on the floor.  Britches around ankles, soaked, of course.  He said he cleaned her up, cleaned up the mess, and still, she cried for about half an hour.  He thinks Nolan startled her when he yelled, and that is what woke her/upset her more.

Poor thing. 

Yup, Mr W was me all day Saturday.  He took Ben to a birthday party.  He had the kids all day (while I was working), and then again that night.  He survived. 

As I drove up the driveway, admiring our lit front yard, I was wondering what I'd find inside the house.

There were still four of them, all happy to see me.

Mr W was the one in time out.

Now he knows where my peculiar eye-twitch stems from, and why I'm so relieved when he walks in the door.

While SAHM is not a scandalous job, unless you are on Oprah, it is a job.

And sometimes, you just need a break.