Greetings from Hell. Adam’s been out of town for two weeks. We still have a week and a half to go. As per the laws of by-myselfness, an appliance kicked it and the kids are sick. I’m trying to keep the house livable and occasionally eating not-pizza and planning August’s third birthday and getting everything in order for him to start preschool . I’ve got beer in the fridge. I have not had time to drink it.
Almost immediately after Adam left, I was heating up some broccoli in the microwave when I heard a ZAP sound. I look over to the microwave and it looks like there is fucking FIRE in there what the shit. Turn it off and open it up, and the broccoli is scorched black in places and smoking. It was in there maybe 10 seconds. Then something shocked me in the lip so I cut off the power supply to the whole damn thing. I felt like Carol Anne was hiding in there and trying to get me to sell my house.
So we have been without a microwave the whole time. I did not realize how heavily I relied on that stupid thing until we didn’t have it. I think the new one is finally coming today so at least I can heat shit up in a timely fashion again. Weirdly, it’s had the biggest impact on me eating healthy. I’m lazy and turn to junk when I don’t feel like putting much effort into cooking for myself. But even at my laziest, I can throw some of those steam-in-bag vegetables into the microwave and eat the whole thing and feel like I did one kind of adult thing that day.
Then a few days ago, we were staying with my grandparents for the weekend and August was throwing way more tantrums than usual. Whoever said two was bad was an idiot because two was a cake walk. I’m staring down the barrel at three and it makes me pee a little just thinking about it. I can already tell three is going to be straight bullshit. My happy, chill little weirdo has turned into this giant turd that goes from sweet to primal screaming on a dime.
Anyways, way more tantrums and a giant grump over the weekend, then a complete slug on Monday. Took the kids to the doctors and August has an ear infection and Halligan has a stomach virus. The good thing is that August’s body is busy fighting germs and it kind of sedates him. Tantrum-free for a couple days. Amen.
So on top of that nonsense, I’m trying to prepare for August’s birthday, which is the day after Adam gets back. His party is the day after that, but all I need to do is bake cupcakes. We are having it at a kid place so he and his friends can climb shit and go nuts and eat pizza and pee on things and I don’t need to abuse Xanax because at the end we just go home. The only part Pinterest will play in this party is helping me choose a cocktail to hide in my thermos.
That cocktail will have lots of friends in the coming days, because August starts preschool a couple days later and I’m already having nightmares where he’s going off to college and marrying an evil idiot and leaving me forever. He was born three days before the cut-off, so he’s the youngest in the class and it feels way too early for him to be big enough for school. Granted, it’s only preschool and it’s only for a couple hours, two days a week. But shit. My baby. My whack job little goob is heading out into the world.
Once it sinks in that his school is across the street from where I get my nails done and that I can finally have some time to get my nails done again, I’m sure I’ll cheer up. And I will especially cheer up once Adam is home because all this is such a shit on a shit-stick. I’m just going to snuggle up to some Ben and Jerry’s and watch Nurse Jackie and figure out which pills sound the best. I’ve never missed my Adderall more in my life. Cheers. Barf.