You Mean I Can Leave My House To Get Away From My Husband And Kids And Get Paid For It???

In other words I went to work today. Don't confuse this with me getting a job, but Roy hasn't been working this week and I mentioned this to Andrea and she said that she needed some help in the office. Which coincidentally is my old job, so I already knew the job and most of the people.

So this morning I got up and got ready to go to work for the first time in a year and a half. The kids cried when I left, but I knew they would get over it. It was after all only one (tomorrow will be two) day. And they were with their Dad.


I really haven't had any desire to work since Carter was born, (mostly because I don't know what I want to do. I don't want to go to work every day but I want to make some money. I am looking at home party businesses right now, but you need money to invest in those and we are currently broke) but I had fun. It was nice to be someone other than a Mom for 7 hours today.


And then I came home. And the house was a mess (which it wasn't when I left), and the kids started whining and everybody was hungry so I had to get something out of the freezer and defrost it and put it in the oven, both the kids needed diapers and seemed to need to go to bed (at this time only one of them is in bed) and I had to pee. And you know what? I was irritated by all of this.


I am not saying that one day of working means all of this is not my real job, but I guess I just expected that someone who has been watching me clean the house up all week while I take care of the kids could have picked up everything before I got home. I called when I was on my way. That will teach me to have high expectations.


My friend said she could use me anytime so I might consider working a day or two a week to make some extra money (and get out of the house) if I can find someone to come over and watch the kids for me. My Mom volunteered Matthew and Krystal (probably to get them out of her house for awhile) and I might have to talk to them about it.


On a totally different note here are some pictures of poor Carter's eye taken yesterday and today.

He still thinks he is a puppy

He really likes to yell at me

He was really ready for bed when I took this one

Look at that shiner!!

I am going to hang out and watch One Life To Live (shut up) and Two And A Half Men on dvr and then go to bed. I have to work tomorrow!!!

She Stabbed Me!! She Stabbed Me!! Maybe it's just a scratch.

So. Like most 2 year olds, Morgan loves everything that isn't a toy that was purchased for her playing enjoyment. Anything from the kitchen is always a big hit, the bathroom is a great treasure chest as well, my bedroom, PERFECT! Today's tale is from the kitchen. She wasn't in to anything she shouldn't have been today. But apparently danger lurks EVERYWHERE.

In my kitchen I have a drawer full of straws (the same drawer that holds the temporary tattoos), and for the past few days Morgan has been getting the straws out of the drawer and insisting they are flowers. I tell her to put them back, she screams no and runs away, I tell her, again, to put them back, finally, after a few minutes of this, she listens. The other day while she was carrying the "flowers" around, I had this horrible vision of my eye getting stabbed with a straw, and it sticking in there (gross, I know). I though , "what would I do, pull it out myself or wait for an ambulance to get here?". I resolved this thinking by making Morgan put them away and deciding that I would move them after bed time. Of course I forgot. Little did I know, the regular bendy straws were not the ones I should worry about. Today, Morgan took a (too short) nap. She woke up because Carter was climbing on her. She woke up happy, but that was short lived. She quickly grew tired of her sweet baby brother using her as a jungle gym and came whining to me wanting to sit with me. She started to climb up on my lap and I felt the sharpest, quickest pain in my eye that I have ever felt. Unbeknown st to me she had a straw from a Capri Sun in her hand. The pointy end that punctures the pouch, scratched my eyeball. No it did not stick in there and an ambulance was not needed, just a tissue and the ability to calm a freaked out, apologizing 2 year old, and to be able to change a diaper while holding a tissue over on eye was needed. I of course was not mad at her for it, but she still freaked out when she realized I was hurt (because of her) and apologized a million times. I guess now I have to make sure the straw is attached to the pouch when she throws them away!!

Notice the sharp pointy end at the top of the photo.