My accent isn’t that bad, CHRISTOPHER

On Tuesday Sebastian and I were playing tennis.  And by tennis I mean badminton.  And by badminton I mean each of us was taking turns hitting the birdie while the other one fetched it.  It was good times all around, until someone hit it a little too hard and it landed on the garage roof.

I’m not saying who.

…

I stared up at the garage, believing that if I thought really hard and focused it would just roll right off.

It didn’t.

I looked around for another one because surely there must be a second birdie somewhere on the premises. 

There wasn’t.

So I got the ladder.

 Now our ladder isn’t the typical ladder.  It’s lumbering and heavy and looks something like this:

Big honking ladder

The top part extends to make it even more large and awkward. 

Of course we couldn’t have a normal, easy ladder.  We had to have the terrible twos of ladders.

So I brought the ladder, still folded up, over to where I needed it.  I’ve never really used it, or if I had it was already open and ready for me to just climb on.  So I called Chris.

How do you work this stupid ladder?

What?

How do you work this ladder?

You just push up with your thumbs.

Okay?  Let me tr-OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! It’s got my arm!  IT’S GOT MY ARM!

????

Okay, I got it out.

What are you doing?

I hit the birdie on the roof and I’m trying to get it down. 

Oh LADDER.  I thought you said LIGHTER.

Spoiler alert:  I did not say lighter. 

But, in his defense (if I must) I have been having trouble with that stupid lighter.  It’s one of those big candle/grill lighters and it’s childproof and also maybe Jaime-proof.

And I eventually figured it out after arguing with Chris, who wanted me to just wait until he got home since I’m a helpless female who can’t work a ladder and needs her strong husband to do all things manly and ladder-related. 

Okay, I kid.  Really he just knows how much of a klutz I am and didn’t want me to fall off the ladder and crack my head open while our two children watched in horror.  But still.  Little faith, that one.

But all my trouble landed me a freaky bruise that looked like this right after I did it:

And looks like this today:

I’m calling it the new accessory of the season.  And possibly Charles.

Pretty much the whole neighborhood has seen his butt

Every time he gets a hair cut it takes me a few days to know how to talk talk to him again.  It's just he looks so different, so grown up.  I don't know what to do with this big boy and I miss my little baby.  I feel have to adjust myself and my mothering to the new Sebastian. 

And then he takes his pants off outside again and we're back on track.

Or as I like to call it, his man-cation

Things to do if your husband goes on a weekend-long canoe trip:

 

1. Flash the truck he’s riding in dirty looks as it drives away because you’re left alone with the kids.  Again.

2. Realize that he’s probably just as worn out as you are, what with school and work and general life stuff.

3. Resolve to at some point plan your own trip away.  With somebody.  Sometime in the future.

4. Play outside with your son, but kind of realize that you’re not as fun when you can barely keep your eyes open.

5. Curse that husband again.

6. Watch a lot of Diego.

7. NAPTIME!!

8. Aaannnnd that lasted 30 minutes.  Luckily Adele also likes to nap with me so we took one together.

9. Worry about the trend you’re starting.

10. Don’t care.  Need some sleep.

11. Pack up the kids, one of which only wants to stay home and watch Diego, and head to Target  because at this point you all just need to get out of the house.

12. Wander the aisles, picking up random things and throwing them in the cart.

13. Oh look, earrings!

14. Let your son pick up a toy motorcycle because he’s been such a good boy.

15. Refuse said son the 139 other toys he asks for on principle.

16. McDonalds for dinner.  Just cause.

17. Try to interest your son in the movie Babe because you’re certain he’ll love it since it’s got all these farm animals and he loves farm animals, plus you just spent $5 on it at Target, dammit.

18. Finally give up after 45 minutes of him asking to watch Diego.

19. Diego it is.

20. Bedtime!

21. Aaannd she’s up.

22. Crap.

23. Okay, it’s quiet.  Nobody move or breathe or say anything.

24. Ah, wine.

25. Start to have doubts about that flowered headband you just bought.

26. Take a picture (actually take 43 pictures until you get one that only looks moderately stupid) of you wearing it and ask Facebook if you’re too old for it.

27. Consensus?  Not too old. 

28. Still feel a little old.

29. Especially since after that you get another glass of wine and sit in bed watching ‘Doc Martin.’  At 9:30.

Red wine and British television.  So not old.

30. Sleep, blessed sleep.

31. 4 a.m. wake-up call from Adele.  Have decided long ago that it’s just easier to put her back in bed with me so we all get some more sleep.

32. Sleep again.

33. Back up.

34. Rushrushrush to clean the house and pack up a diaper bag to go to my parents for a few hours.

35. Adult conversation and interaction!

36. Back home, where I wake up a sleeping Christopher who came back while we were gone and was able to take a nap uninterrupted.

37. Bastard.