A Post With Substance

I have been a little blog lazy and here are my reasons (excuses)

1. The hubby has been working nights and nothing good comes from him working nights. I will touch on this in a minute.

2. Both chillens are sick. They are coughing, sneezing, snot dripping, greasy little yuckos.

3. My lap top is out of commission so I am using the tower dinosaur with a broken keyboard and a space bar that sticks.

4. Jackson's first birthday is two weeks away and I am busy with the preparations. Yes, I begin birthday preparations early. For those of you who know me, I am a crazy perfectionist and preparations include an awesome DVD of Moose and Zee, Yo Gabba, Happy Monster Band and other favorites; which will be playing on the TV for the kiddo's entertainment. Along with a Moose and Zee mural on the outside closet door (for all the kiddies to beg their mommies and daddies for one) and a number of other party to-do’s.

So on to the hubby working nights...

When he first told me I had a bit of a temper tantrum and I broke the refrigerator. Well not the entire frig. Just the most important part. The Beer Drawer. Yes we have a beer drawer. It is the convertible vegetable/meat drawer with the temperature gage. It keep the beers ice cold, the perfect temperature. So cold that a small layer of ice would form on inside drawer. Fuck. No more beer drawer. I slammed the frig door when trying to get Jackson a bottle and a Tupperware of grapes toppled spilling out all over the floor, the door flew back open so I slammed it harder with the Tupperware stuck in between. Apparently it was just enough to shatter the beer drawer.

You would think I would like having the house to myself. No, I hate it. I hate being home alone at night with two babies. I morph a into a paranoid freak. It is like a terrible low budget horror movie in my head. I worry about everything. I cringe when I hear noises, the babies refuse to sleep for me, the dogs go into protective mode and bark at any little sound thus waking my finally sleeping babies. I hate being home alone.

I refuse to walk the dogs at night (because of the giant spiders that have decided to make their homes in massive numbers on our street).

There are no benefits to being alone. It is not like I get a vacation and can lay around the house in my own filth watching whatever I want. Instead, I will worry about my responsibility to prtect my precious babies in the event anything horrific happen during the middle of the night. Besides, I am a mommy of two so I usually don't have much time or energy to shower and it’s not like I will spend the night staying up watching movies... I will try to get whatever sleep I can because the morning is just around the corner and I will be up and going with my two little monsters children.

Night shifts do not benefit the hubby either; it is not like he is making overtime. In fact, he loses hours and a full Saturday. He has to get his sleep in the late morning and tries again in the afternoon. Do you know how difficult it is to keep an almost one year old and a temper-tantrum throwing almost three year old quiet? Impossible. Especially when both are sick.

Another bone with him working nights is that nothing and I mean NOTHING gets done around the house. When the hubby is home our whole daytime routine is, well, fucked. I now have animal hair tumble weeds blowing around the house from the lack of vacuuming. Plus our white tile floor is now speckled with trails of orange juice, ginger ale and a number of other sugary drinks. I have quit. They are all lucky I feed them dinner.

Thankfully the hubby‘s last night shift was Wednesday. However, we now get screwed out of him working Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Good times when we are planning for Jackson 1st birthday party in two weeks.

See nothing good comes from him working nights.

I say this while NOT so much enjoying my slightly chilled beer.