So sick of this shit. Only took a few days to realize that I would have to do a lot more to get The Boy even close to as much exercise as he’d had at daycare. We live in a little suburb that is unofficially called Park City. There are parks all over the place. Most of them have no dogs signs so I can’t kill two birds with one stone by walking them at the same time as The Boy. Then The Great Bitch Mother Nature goes and does this to me (and everyone else) again. For the third or fourth time now. So any trip out with any level of short beasts is bound to be an ungodly mess. So you’d think, “just let them play in the loverly little yard you spent all that money to have grassed and stuff.” Well, due to family shit and job losing and not having enough me to go around, I was negligent on my keeping up cleaning up after the dog, then dogs. We got one nice stretch and I picked up the half of the yard that had dried enough and needed one more good day to get my little slice of grass spick and span and ready for boys and dogs to play to their little hearts content. Then this. It melted. Got nice out again and to the point where I said tomorrow it’ll be dry enough and…she shits all over us again. And again. And again. Always with just enough time in between to let me think I might just accomplish something. Sigh. Now I’m stuck with Captain Iwanttogotothepark!!! and working to convince myself that I don’t care that I’ll end up with wet feet and a wet chill and have to clean up the incredible mess he’ll drag home with him.
As far as accomplishing things goes, I’m doing okay but it often seems like the world is hellbent on impeding me sometimes. I try to set up a schedule to keep on top of the house cleaning while teaching The Boy about that stuff too and the Powers That Be throw a defiant phase at me. So instead of the happy mother son teamwork and learning I’d envisioned I end up with twice the cleaning to do because the tantrums usually include spreading chaos far and wide. I’m trying to keep on top of food costs and making sure we always have some good stuff to eat but apparently I’m the only one who’ll actually write up a menu. I’ve asked for help but it’s easier to whine about what we’re having than to sit and pay attention for ten minutes while telling me what we’d like to eat for the week. I do get a lot of compliments on some of the stuff I’ve been cooking so there’s that at least. Part of the defiant stage also appears to be freaking out about having to eat even our most favorite of meals most of the time. Makes my head ache.
Then there’s this…
This is a miraculous find I came across for a price I had to afford. Seriously something like 85% off what it should have cost. With summer coming (please silly Nature Bitch quit dumping snow on us so we can have a little summer sometime), big, thick afghans and cardigans and scarves and mitts aren’t my favourite things to work on. Light shawls, doilies, jewellery and such are perfect projects for warm and hot weather and now I have a ton of stuff to make all that with…if I ever get a chance to even go through the bag let alone sit and crochet anything. It’s sitting on my comfy chair pretty much screaming at me to sort through it and enjoy all the gorgeous colours and plan out what I want to make with it. Alas, I had to make soup this morning to use up some chicken while The Boy decided it was a great time to just up and pee on the carpet and keeps insisting we must go to the park. While I have a large chef’s knife in my hand. Needless to say he’s still alive and we will have soup for dinner and I’m working up to going out in the snow. Perhaps I’ll give up on cleaning anything for the day and pray that he runs himself out at the park so I can have a little quietish time to look at some of my new goodies.
Oh God!!! Just kill me now!!! While trying to take a few minutes to type out some probably less than coherent thoughts, he’s managed to mess up the tv and gaming system pushing random buttons screaming that he HATES MARIO!! (what horrible thing did I do to deserve a kid who won’t play video games!?), smeared whatever is on his hands all over his favourite DVD to the point I doubt it’ll even read if I can get the system to decide to let me play it. Then managed to scour out the upstairs bathroom drain with his toothbrush in the mere moments I was working to fix the disaster up till then. Now he’s in the process of singing Fucktown punk you up! Fucktown punk you up. I actually think my brain short circuited at the thought that while he didn’t add the f-bomb where you’d think he’d stick it he still managed to stick one in there. Whatever. Now I’m laughing at how ludicrous that is. Let’s go to the park.