Wine & Cheese

I keep trying to write one of those posts where I vent some minor frustrations without sounding like I am whining. It isn't working.

I was going to tell you about how my dishwasher died, which is incredibly stressful because being home with a baby and toddler means TONS of dirty dishes. Not to mention it is financially stressful to replace a dishwasher. This situation was exacerbated by the lawnmower blowing up--leaking oil, smoke and all. We joked around wondering what would be a third thing to go. Turns out the joke is on us because one of B's balloons is now wrapped around the ceiling fan in our bedroom.

The lame train continues...

Yesterday morning B trips and falls, which is nothing new except for the fact he is carrying around a mini hockey stick in his mouth (you know, one of those novelty ones kids get at hockey games). Luckily it doesn't kill him, it just cuts up the back of his throat. After throwing up blood, making our bathroom look like a crime scene, he requests five minutes of cuddling and is then off and running again (without the hockey stick in his mouth). I spent two hours in urgent care until I find out that we were never signed in.

Hold on, almost finished...

Poor baby Cash is sick--again. Not anything like last time, just man-sized boogers and sneezing. And now, I think I am getting sick, but I have committed myself to a meeting this afternoon and tomorrow for a board I am serving on. I normally wouldn't have any problem saying, "Sorry, can't make it." Except for the fact these people have changed their schedules around three different times for me and it's the first time I am meeting with them. I hate flaky douche bags and I refuse to be one. Instead, I might be the inconsiderate ass who gets everyone sick. We'll see, I loaded up on Tylenol, vitamins, and hippie juice (essential oils my mom swears by).

Okay. Yeah, that's about it.