I realize that living in a house with three to five people
at any given time its going to be hard to get that essential alone time,
quiet. Since my daughter turned 2…she’s 7 now…all personal
space and modesty has gone out the window. In the last 5 years I’m not sure I’ve had one bath or toilet
time to myself. And she doesn’t
just have a question, sometimes she does, but for the most part she wants to
come in sit down and have a full-blown conversation about something called a Shopkins. At any time you can hear
my yells through out the house…FOR THE LOVE OF GOD CAN I JUST POOP ONCE BY
MYSELF???? I haven’t been regular
in months and using my best friends method of what is acceptable and not…apparently
I’m pooping Cheetos so this can’t possibly be good.
I wish I could say this was just the kids, but even the man
wants to come in and conversate.
Our new bathroom in this new house is the biggest one we’ve ever
had. It has one of those big
garden tubs with a huge ledge on it and there’s mood lighting. I’m not sure why, believe me when I
say, there’s no mood I’m interested in that’s going to happen in there. Its always fun to be in the
middle of washing my hair and shaving things when he wants to come in and
discuss the next month’s budget.
Look, even Dave Ramsay would tell you that you can wait 20 minutes on
the envelopes and spreadsheets.
Sometimes I try to escape while I’m in the kitchen
cooking. They won’t suspect
anything if I’m actually working, they’ll be too scared I’m going to ask them
to participate. WRONG!!! No, that’s when everyone is going to
stagger through in 5-minute intervals and ask you what you’re doing? I always answer that question with
“running a marathon”. Two of
them are still trying to figure that out.
The third usually just walks away and mutters, “I hate you” under his
breath.
Today the boy slept til almost 2pm and the girl was
entertaining herself with the new bribe doll I bought her for jumping in the
deep end of the pool and not dying, so I had me time. Netflix it is!
I was all settled in with my Spark and salad (because I’m back on the
brown box of despair, advocare). I
had just hit play when of course there was a loud knock at the door. The repairman for the dishwasher. Of course it is, I just loaded it 20 minutes
prior and it was smack dab in the middle of washing. After I was ridiculed for using Cascade pods in the
actual dispenser and not the silverware holder and then chit chat about how his
wife wants to move to Ft. Drum and he’s all excited so he can see snow and be
country again, I was ready for him to go. I was not prepared to entertain Troy while he replaced
a gasket. As soon as he was gone
back to the ugly brown chair. 10
minutes in…”Mamma, can I have queso???”
