Saturday morning began unlike most. I’d gone to bed hazy, tired and emotionally drained the night before. I awoke intensely angry, tired and on edge. I snapped at my son and simmered in anger. My head pounded, so I fetched a fountain soda. (It seems to work sometimes.) When I got back home, my son was upstairs talking to his father. He stood out in the hallway when he heard me open the door.

“Daddy says you’re really selfish for only getting yourself something and nothing for us,” he said.

It was the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. At that point, I felt so angry I’m surprise my head didn’t explode. Although that would have been quite messy, it definitely would have spared both men of the house the tirade I unleashed.

I stomped up the stairs. “Do you WANT to talk about SELFISHNESS?” I screamed at my husband. “DO YOU REALLY WANT TO GO THERE?”

Suffice to say, I unleashed a very strongly worded monologue in a very sharp tone about how I felt and why. Ideas were exchanged in a nonconstructive, hurtful way. Our perspectives on a number of instances were vastly different. 

You know what they say. There’s three sides to every story. There’s my side, your side, and the truth.

After a bit of time, we calmed down and really talked. We worked through the hurt and frustration. The bottom line is I need more from him — more support, more kind gestures and for him to be more emotionally involved. He’s a good man. He works hard to provide for our family. We have a comfortable home and life. Seth has some amazing opportunities. This is all because of HIS efforts, brain, ambition and talent. But most women will agree — financial support isn’t the be all and end all. We need more from our partners.

We ended our fight with concessions. We made sure to let Seth know we weren’t upset with him. We still love each other and we worked things out.

I went about the rest of the day cleaning, paying bills, running errands and feeling even more emotionally haggered than I had felt Friday night.

Then Seth’s BFF came over to spend the night. We’d promised them a trip to Seth’s most favorite place in the world - the City Museum.

“I can tell you’re tired and don’t feel good. You’ve had a rough week. Why don’t you stay home and watch chick flicks while I take these boys to the City Museum,” he offered.

I took him up on his offer. “I don’t know if I’ll even be awake long enough to watch anything,” I said. “But thanks. I need some quiet time.”

He hugged me and whispered sweet words – a healing balm for my battered soul.

I watched them leave. Relief washed over me.

We live. We learn. We love. We hurt. When we forgive, we grow. And then we do it all over again, tomorrow.

 (Click on the pic to enlarge)

While I celebrated Seth’s first day back at school by putting away Christmas decorations and reading blogs the boy’s brain was hard at work. Apparently his brain got NO “exercise” while on Christmas vacation and that first day back was a rough one. The little man fell asleep in a shopping cart at the grocery store. (He used my purse as a pillow.)

 I would have gladly forgone the trip but we were out of a whole slew of stuff. So I just got the essentials and tried to stack them around him. Hey, at least I tried to keep any corners away from his face.

(Note: This is what your grocery cart looks like when you have a husband who travels alot and only one child. Frozen din-dins for everyone! Oh and eggs and brownie mix too.)

(Now I can’t get that Aerosmith song out of my head. I’m BACK! I’m BACK! I’m BACK in the saddle agggaaaaiinnn.)

The holidays were great. We kept busy with playdates, family get-togethers and even a trip to Miami for new year’s. But that child has energy. Let’s put it this way — picture six monkeys on meth. Pour that energy into one child.

 Is it so wrong that I can not wait for this child to go back to school? Is it so wrong that I’m fantasizing about making a few pitchers of margaritas and throwing a “the kids are back at school” party with the other moms in the ‘hood? I’m pretty sure at least a few are up for it.

How did you lovelies cope? When do you expect to regain your sanity?

Pssst! Want to “boost your metabolism, shrink your appetite and kick-start remarkable weight loss”? Click HERE to find out if the promises The Ultimate Tea Diet makes can deliver. (The review was written for Parent Bloggers Network.)

(And yes, I really did keep track this week.)

“I don’t care what kind of a bad guy you are. My underwear does NOT belong on your head.”

“Abbeydog is not interested in wearing your underwear. Stop trying to put it on her head too.”

“Stop chasing the dog with your light saber.”

“Stop trying to touch the dog’s butt with the light saber.”

(While watching Star Wars) “That’s not Darth Vader — that’s his twin brother Garth Vader. Garth is the nice guy. He rides a unicorn and is friends with all of the flower people on the planet “Sissy Pants” (It really makes him angry when I say this, but I do it anyway… Just to mess with him.)

“Yes, really. Would I lie to you?” (The unspoken answer to that would be, “Yes. I would lie to you. I’m your mom. I can do that.”)

“Of course Wookies exist.”

“I see you left your homework folder AND your listening ears at school.”

“I’m sorry but I can’t in good conscious call you “Speed” when it takes you five whole minutes to put on your seat belt.”

“Its not Ollie Whine Cannoli - Its Obe Wan Cannelloni” (Yeah, I know its wrong.)

“If you use a scissor to put one more hole in any of your shirts, I’m going to start sending you to school naked.”

“No, its not funny when you pee in the trashcan, on the wall or on the trim behind the toilet.”

So what are some of the things YOU have found yourself saying this past week?

P.S. My lovely sis-in-law, Nic sent me a link to this blog. Highly amusing. Check it out.

Watch out my love,” Seth whispers softly as he maneuvers past, carrying a large cardboard box.

 Touched by his kind words I reply, “Oh, that’s a very sweet way to…”

 ”I wasn’t talking to YOU,” he interrupts, visibly irritated. “I was talking to ABBEY.”

 I make a beeline to the computer to document this moment. (Because my first thought of course is, “I am SO blogging about this.”) As I do so, this five-year-old brings his sleeping bag into my office. Not wanting to miss out on any action, Abbeydog follows. Seth drops the sleeping bag down then smooths it out. The dog plops down next to him.

“Sit here my love,” he says.

I stifle a giggle. 

Clearly he’s forgotten exactly WHO is in charge of the candy buying and cookie-making at our house.

Hopefully Abbeydog lapped up this kindness because when tomorrow morning beckons, she’ll find the boy playing with his light saber and bored. And she will get poked and antagonized — just like any other day.

Hola Isabel asked a great question recently. And I want to ask it of you all. When it comes to caring for children, finances, and home — who does what? What about weekends? Also, do you work full time, part time or do the stay-at-home mom gig? And last but not least, do YOU think the work is fairly divided at your house?

Ok. That’s alot to answer so if you can just answer the “who does what”? That would be great. Its fascinating to hear how chores are divided (or not) in most households.

This past Thursday my son offhandedly mentioned he had proposed marriage to a little girl named Taylor at preschool that morning.

According to him, not only did she accept, but they put on their wedding clothes, and Seth’s friend Owen married them. Owen did double duty as the “picture taker” too.

I asked Seth if he and Taylor were going on a honeymoon. He said, “No we can’t right now. Cause we have to get home to the babies.”

“I’m a grandma?” I asked.

“Yup,” he answered in his very serious little boy way. “We have three boys and two girls.”

“Wow. You move fast,” I said. “Where are the babies now?”

“They’re with Taylor at her mom and dad’s house,” he replied.

Seth and I made a deal at that moment. I told him that he is allowed to grow up and get married — but only if he lives right next door to me. He told me that he’d like to live with us. He plans to buy the house next to us and tear it down so that he could have some land to farm. I’m not quite sure how he’ll raise cattle as well as grow corn and beans on a .25 acre lot. And I have no clue where he intends to situate his tractors but he’s pretty confident he can do it.

That night at bedtime, per usual, he asked me to lay by him for a few minutes…

“But Seth. You’re a married man,” I told him. “You’re officially too big to have your mommy lay by you.”

This resulted in some crying and the proclamation that he’d always be my little boy and that he NEEDED me to lay by him.

Of course I caved. It won’t be too long before some girl catches his eye and steals his heart. And I have a strong feeling that in a few short years, his plans of living next door to his momma will change.