Seeing as this is the least read blog on the internet, I suppose I can vent a little. My wonderful, beautiful, doting husband is busier than I, the college student. If he's not working on a Saturday this month, he's doing Warsaw stuff (either at the event or fundraising). Warsaw will also take up a Sunday, as will the road rally. Normally, I don't mind when he works on weekends. We need the money, plain and simple. HOWEVER, when he says that he wishes he had more time with us and then chooses to do events (like Warsaw and the road rally) that keep him from us, I kind of get upset. Now, I'm not about to tell him what to do; he's a big boy and he's my husband. And I do not mind at all about Warsaw; it's quality time with other godly men. I love that he gets time like that. But, honestly, I do not give a rat's tail if he has done the road rally for the past 10 years or the past 50 years. That is one thing that he could have dropped off of his schedule in lieu for time with me and Moose. If for nothing else, time so he could be with Moose while I do homework...much needed time doing homework. I guess I'm just mad because it's almost 2am. I haven't spoken to Moose in about 5 hours...not even a "I'm busy, I'll call you when I leave."
Tonight I got mad at Moose for not being ready for bed when I wanted him to be. My plan was to work out after he was in bed. Then I realized how utterly exhausted I was from being at softball all day and even just the hour or so we spent at Mrs. Spiderlegs's. Just everything was exhausting today. My back hurts horribly, let me tell you, from toting my 24 pounds kid around. I love Moose, I do so much. I just need at least an hour a day where I'm not 100% in charge of him. I have a project for class that I've known about all semester...I've been putting it off so I could spend time with Moose, time with Big A, go to bed the same time as A....I know right now I'm just tired. Our apartment creeps me out...a lot! It's so windy outside, it sounds like what I image a hurricane sounds like. Probably not. but our apartment with its thin little walls and thin thin windows...it's just creepy and I don't want to go up to our seemingly small queen sized bed...and have it feel empty and a big queen size. Mostly I am upset at how mad I got at Tristan. I felt so awful, yelling at him, telling him to be quiet, just stop crying. I held his little face and yelled at him. How awful is that? As I fed him his bottle...I just cried. Cried at how horrible I am, how impatient, how mean I was...I apologized as he just looked at me, like ok you're feeding me, I'm fine now. I know he doesn't understand my tears or apologies. I just hope he forgets my anger, my frustration. He's such a sweet sweet boy. Those chubby little cheeks, those big blue eyes with tear-darkened lashes blinking nice and slow at me. I'm so lucky...how do I forget that?