Tuesday morning Chris called me to say he had spent some money from our joint account. Honestly, I think he was just calling to be sure I was awake. I wasn’t, but normally he’ll call in the mornings for some reason, it’s different every day… and I’ll be awake enough by the time our conversation is over that I do get out of bed. I asked him what he spent money on… Robitussin and Snicker bars. Alrighty, you really called to tell me you bought candy and more cough medicine? I figured he was joking, since we’d spent a solid $30 on cold medicine already…

I was wrong. He came home that night with the bottle of Robitussin, over half empty. I’m still not sure how he drove home, he was drunk. His voice was gone, he couldn’t form an entire sentence, and he sounded worse than he had to begin with. I was freaking out a bit, knowing he’d taken way more medication that the bottle said he should. After a long chat with my mom on the phone, we headed off to the store (me behind the wheel) and spent another $30 on medication. Once we got home Chris insisted on dancing in the kitchen, and making random phone calls. He’d forget what he was saying half way through a sentence, and finally lost his voice and had to start writing things down.

It was annoying, alarming, and somehow charming all at the same time. The next morning we went to the hospital, did the whole waiting around for 3 hours, only to wait some more, and finally… walked out with a diagnosis of bronchitis, prescriptions for a steroid, antibiotic, advice to continue with the Mucinex, Albuterol, and various Quills. He’s sounding a bit better now, not breathing so heavy, or snoring near as much, which means I’m actually awake when he calls in the morning because I was able to sleep the night before. Having to borrow money from my Mom to fill his prescriptions sucked though. We paid her back today, but Chris gets insurance in like… 3 weeks! I wanted to shake hm and say “why couldn’t you get sick in a month, dang it!?”

The worst part of the whole experience was when the intake nurse opened her mouth and asked if he’d been exposed to MRSA, or if he’d ever had it. It sounded like she was implying it was a possibility. Respiratory MRSA is a bitch, and it’s not something you just bring up idly during a conversation in a hospital. I actually complained to the doctor about it. He was all, well we need to rule things out (because Chris had a dry cough and good oxygen stats). I understood his point, I guess most people wouldn’t have had a clue what the nurse was talking about… but it still completely freaked me out, and I’m not quite sure the way she addressed it was appropriate.

I guess that’s what you get for going to the ER for a cold.

Mia was sold today. I am… well, I just don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it. And yet, here I am blogging about it. It’s difficult to think about never seeing her again. She went to a family with 2 fenced acres she could run on, and I know I should feel good about the fact she has a good home… but damn it, she was my favorite pet. She was MINE, and I don’t even get the money from her sale.

Chris agreed to baby-sit tonight, against my advice, because I was secondary editing a pod cast and could not watch the kids. He agreed anyways. For a while the youngest slept, it was actually quite charming to watch him hold her and sleep. Then she woke up, and he didn’t. So guess who’s babysitting now? That’s right!

PS) New About Me page… thanks Kelly for editing it!

I bombed in the kitchen today, trying to make Steak and Potato Soup. It was… gross. I’m still depressed about the waste of a good steak.

I have to post today… duh!

I’m tired, achy, and ready for bed…

I leave you with a good idea of what our rings look like. They aren’t 100% the same, but close enough.

Of course, we got them at a pawn shop not realizing it’s going to take over half of what they cost all together, to get them resized.

So as of now, we will be putting them on our pinky fingers for the ceremony… and getting them resized some time after.

Mine - His 

Last night I was in the kitchen making Polish Cabbage Rolls (thank you, for the recipe, butterfly…I can’t believe how well they went over) and I was asked to baby-sit. My roommates kids are generally well behaved, and easy to deal with… 1 and 6 year old girls… A few diaper changes, a stint in time out (which the 6 year odl had never been put in, and after her first three times, she was doing things just so she could go back!), food, and cartoons… not much of a challenge. I agreed, since the adults assured me they would be back by 9pm. I figured this would give me some time with Chris once they got back, and I’d have some extra cash.

They didn’t get home until after 9am this morning. Not one phone call from them to us, either. Luckily we knew they weren’t dead or stranded somewhere because one of them is Chris’ boss, and he called their work to let them know he’d be in around 10am this morning. I didn’t find this out until 8am though. I’d been struggling with sleep all night, a child who is used to co-sleeping curled up on me… I can’t move, she’ll wake up… but my arm is numb… I have to use the restroom (it’s that time of the month, there is no holding it)…so I shift her off, she’s awake… she wants her Daddy… I want to be in my bed, not on the couch… the 6 year old is on the other couch because they lock their downstairs area when they leave the house… Poor girl slept in tights, a skirt, and a thin shirt last night… covered up in as many blankets as I could find.

How is this responsible parenting? I know, I’m not a parent, I don’t have the same perspective, things will be different when I have my own… but leaving your children with a sitter, without giving them a way to prepare for bed, not letting them know you’re going to be 12 hours late? Letting your sitter sleep fitfully, wondering if you are ok, wondering what she’s going to tell your kids when they wake up, and you’re not home in the morning? I’m pissed. It’s not the fact I didn’t get to sleep in my own bed, it’s not that I only got paid $30… It’s the look in those children’s eyes when they realize Mom and Dad didn’t care enough to even call and say goodnight before the mean old babysitter finally made them go to sleep at midnight.

The worst part is, this isn’t the first time this has happened. They do this every time Chris or I say yes…I don’t know why we do. It’s not about the money, it’s not about keeping things harmonious in the house… I haven’t figured it out. I guess it’s for the kids. Or maybe it’s hope… I hope one night it will be different, and I won’t feel so sorry for those two little girls…but I’m not sure, and right now, I am so tired, and still angry… so I don’t care. I’m not saying yes again. I mean it.