Tuesday, 2 October 2012

How could Nutella ever be wrong?

I know, I know. I've been a bit of a shit with the whole blogging thing. It's really hard to be an amazing wife, mother, friend, and co-worker while simultaneously writing a witty blog about my parenting misfortunes. Give me a freaking break here. Cripes. 

Anyway, another reason why I haven't really been clipping away on my little white laptop (aside from the fact that my life isn't all that interesting now that I'm back to work), is that my life got insanely busy the week I started back to work. Insane as in Brad comes home one day and says, "I got a new job. It's 2 hours away. The house is going to have to be put up for sale and you need to start looking for work out there."

I guess I should clarify first that my husband's present position is in a field of work that will no longer be going on in the province. This bomb was dropped on us in April. He's pretty specialized, meaning that there's not a lot of work out there for him, but he managed to find a job (causing a great sigh of relief for both of us and our families) in another area of the province. An area that is too far away for me to commute to my beloved job in the city. 

He didn't just randomly show up one day, morphed into a gigantic douchebag with a cape on, and demand we leave our home and careers to move 2 hours away. Just so ya know.

And so it began. The meetings with the real estate agent, the repairs in the house, the appraisal, the sign on the lawn (the tears about same), and now the constant requirement to live in a clean house as there are strangers traipsing through every few days. 

Just in case any of you weren't aware yet, I am not a tidy person. I have clean floors, I dust, the bathrooms are cleaned on a regular basis, and there are no dishes in the sink, but there are shoes all over the front porch, there is folded laundry all over the house that hasn't been put away in a thousand years, and when I get home from a 12 hour shift, my lunch bag, purse, coat, etc, stay where they land when I come through the door.

I know. It's shameful. But this paired with living with a one year old, a 70lb boxer who sheds, and a husband who has a serious condition whereby he removes his socks and then leaves them all over the house is cause for great concern. 

On top of all this, Avery managed to figure out how to walk and how to open all of the cupboards within the same couple of days and so now my house looks like a little three foot terrorist came through and bombed the place, leaving Tupperware and little pink Mary Janes in her wake. She also has an uncanny ability to unroll toilet paper and rip it into confetti in 2.3 seconds flat. She's like a kitten with thumbs.

This has resulted in the hiding of all toilet paper rolls, and many an awkward moment when I find myself mid pee with no TP. Brad has seen me in that position way too many times lately. I think he missed that part in the vows, "I promise to Love, Honor, and Cherish you... and bring you the toilet paper that I hid from our Mexican Drug Cartel leader of a child who silently terrorizes all of the bathrooms when you turn your back for just a second... all the days of my life."

So basically, my life is a state, my house is on wheels, I'm trying to work a full time job, build a new house in another town, and deal with a baby that is now vertical, but in reality all I want to do is sit on my ass and eat Nutella with a spoon. Is that so wrong? I wish life would just give it a freaking rest for a change! I'm exhausted! 

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