Never-ending nose bleeds!
Seriously, my nose is a bloody faucet! Is it stress? Is it allergies? Who knows. Who cares. Just knock it off.
All I know is that I am thoroughly unimpressed with my husband right now. I love him through and through but he needs to leave. I dreaded this mini-vacation of his but now I need him to take it for my own sanity. I crave a quiet, peaceful, clean home at least for a week. And while he's gone, I'm gonna dump all the beer stock-piled in the garage down the toilet with a bitter sweet smile on my face. Then he can come back and do what ever it is he feels he needs to do. Me, on the other hand, I will be just fine. For the first time in this very short-lived marriage I told him exactly what was on my mind and then watched him melt. I refuse to do this again. Til death do us part, sucka.
On a much lighter note...only 34 more days until I get to meet the man of my dreams. Ahhh, how refreshing. This whole experience has brought on a new meaning to the word "mother". I used to think that being a mom meant that I'd have a little thing to hold and feed and clean and love forever. Unconditional kind of shit. Now add equal amounts of sacrifice, discomfort and fatigue to the mix and we have a healthy dose of reality to swallow. Maybe "mother" is the wrong word. Maybe it's "wife". Maybe I'm just in a bad mood. Maybe I need a nap. Maybe I need a cigarette, or a drink. Maybe I need a mini-vacation. Maybe I'm sick of this journal. Maybe.
All I know is that I am thoroughly unimpressed with my husband right now. I love him through and through but he needs to leave. I dreaded this mini-vacation of his but now I need him to take it for my own sanity. I crave a quiet, peaceful, clean home at least for a week. And while he's gone, I'm gonna dump all the beer stock-piled in the garage down the toilet with a bitter sweet smile on my face. Then he can come back and do what ever it is he feels he needs to do. Me, on the other hand, I will be just fine. For the first time in this very short-lived marriage I told him exactly what was on my mind and then watched him melt. I refuse to do this again. Til death do us part, sucka.
On a much lighter note...only 34 more days until I get to meet the man of my dreams. Ahhh, how refreshing. This whole experience has brought on a new meaning to the word "mother". I used to think that being a mom meant that I'd have a little thing to hold and feed and clean and love forever. Unconditional kind of shit. Now add equal amounts of sacrifice, discomfort and fatigue to the mix and we have a healthy dose of reality to swallow. Maybe "mother" is the wrong word. Maybe it's "wife". Maybe I'm just in a bad mood. Maybe I need a nap. Maybe I need a cigarette, or a drink. Maybe I need a mini-vacation. Maybe I'm sick of this journal. Maybe.