Chad turned 30 yesterday. Only 16 more days until I pass through those days as well. God may not be getting my house sold at the moment, but he is damn sure making sure that I have more than I need on my plate so that I can (barely) obsess about that fact.
Chad is also, conveniently, out of town. Until late Thursday night. And we move on Monday. Lucky dude, hey? He has yet to pack a box. Is it only fair that I do all of that, since I don't work? Should I shut my inner voice off about how I get all the grunt work, and he all of the paid work? It was a lot easier to be indignant when I had a (meager) paycheck coming in, but that isn't the case anymore. Talking doesn't seem to help, either. Progress really is slow.
Due to all of these things, the boys are driving me batty. I am fairly certain that Charlie is getting molars, so he is just a barrel of laughs. I long for him to be able to tell me what is wrong (so I stop confusing teeth pain with needs a nap) but the talking stuff is over-rated. Jack is incessant with the talking. Actually, with the demands. Juice, milk, kisses, pretzels, cookies....AHHHHHH! 5:00 comes around and I am ready to stab hot pokers into my eyes. I am sure that one day I will look back and wish I had these days back. I wonder which part exactly I will want back!
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