Good: Two birthday parties on Saturday. The first for my 3-year-old niece (Happy Birthday, Niece!), and the second for my 40-year-old Ex (Happy Birthday, Ex!).
Bad: Nothing got accomplished. Sunday, I had a to-do list with six things on it. I managed to complete one (“Balance checkbook”). I feel as if I am just getting further behind. Weekends are not catching me up.
Good: The Babysitter is coming along nicely. To get your very own babysitter, take a 14-year-old neighbor girl and send her to the American Red Cross baby sitter training classes. Saturday was her second night (so we could attend the second birthday party at the Sharp Edge), and she did a very nice job: Monkey bathed (not sure why Bun wasn’t — must make note), kids in bed, sleeping, in pajamas, AND house straightened. (She needed this explained to her: after kids are in bed, straighten house. This means: put stuff you and kids used/played with away, not clean/dust/vacuum my house. Although I would pay her extra for that. Then watch DVDs!)
Bad: Poop on both kids’ couches. Admittedly, Bun does have some messy diapers. This was much less damage than, say, having the digital camera dropped in the sink on your watch, which is what happened last time she baby sat. And poop washes out. Digital cameras, not so much.
Baby steps, people.
Good: Uh, two birthday parties. I know, I’ve already mentioned these. They were both really good times, though. And they illustrate my next point.
Bad: Driving all over Pittsburgh. From our house to Dormont for Niece, then back to our house, then out to East Liberty/Shadyside for the Ex, then home again, home again, jiggety jig.
Good: The lovely fruit salad I made for Niece’s party — cantalope, watermelon, and organic strawberries, all perfectly ripe and sweet.
Bad: Forgetting said fruit salad, which was so frustrating for so many reasons. First, I had to go to the store to buy the fruit. Then, it took me a long time to make it because I had no kid-free time Saturday before the party (DearDR had to work, and Bun DID NOT NAP). Something that should have taken about 20 minutes instead took the better part of an hour (possibly an hour and a half), stopping and starting. Then, realizing half-way to Niece’s party that I had left my lovely fruit salad sitting on my counter. DearDR asked if he should go get it (after dropping us off), and I said no. Then I said it was totally up to him. We didn’t get it. (Earthmother and Niece did not seem to mind.) We’ll be eating a lot of fruit salad this week.
Good: The Steelers beat the Texans, 38 to 17.
Bad: I did not actually get to watch the game, per se. It was on the whole time, and Bun did nap. However, there were chores, and Monkey. We played Checkout, which is a weird little game, but okay to play with an almost-4-year-old.
Good: After we were done playing Checkout, Monkey decided she was a dog. We played fetch in the living room, which made it easier to pay attention to the game. And I told her to stay off the couch.
Bad: As a dog, her name was Gusk.
Good: The Ex’s 40th birthday get-together. Last time I got together with these people, it was weird. But this time, it wasn’t.
Or at least, not so much.
I have to recognize that I spent a lot of time with these people. Some are still close and dear friends, especially the ones that carried over from college (see Girlie Weekend). Some are dear acquaintances. And I must say, I didn’t see anyone at the party that I wished I hadn’t seen.
For better or worse, I learned a lot about myself in the company of these people. For that, I am grateful, and find a certain fondness in my heart for them. They taught me a lot about what I wanted and who I was. The Ex and I moved on to find spouses much better suited to us. I hope that his wife is grateful to me the way DearDR is grateful to the Ex. “He did me a favor,” DearDR says. I hope the Ex is happy in his life, in his love, the way I am happy. Because he deserves it, too.
And, hey, I got to see this guy again, before he becomes really famous. He was the “young, hot guitar player” in the Ex’s band, Kill Bossa (ya gotta say it out loud). If I recall correctly, at the time he joined the band, he was only 20 and not legally allowed to drink in the clubs in which they played.
Anywho, he could be big. I’m certainly rooting for him.
Priceless: The Ex is not taking turning 40 with good grace. He’s all itchy and restless. “You need a new band,” I told him. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I’m bored.”
To which I replied, “Have a baby!” The look on his face was, as they say, worth the price of admission. “Uh,” he said, “I’m pretty sure a band is a more manageable proposition.”
I never said he was dumb.