Used to

I finished my History class last night. The final document assignment is turned in, the last quiz is taken and it is finished. One down, three to go.

Last night I went to bed at 11.

As in, before Midnight.

As in, I didn't fall asleep at the keyboard.

As I crawled into the bed where he was already half-asleep, Paul opened one eye and said, "Who are you and why are you in my bed? My wife's not gonna be happy you're here."

He also looked around the living room last night and said, "This. This is bad. Real bad." And it really is. The man is not lying and/or exaggerating.

We haven't sat in the big chair in weeks because it still has the kids' winter bedspreads and flannel sheets folded and sitting in it, awaiting storage God knows where. I truly believe that every shoe in the house is in the living room and I'm too tired/distracted to harp at the kids to put them up. Add about 4 billion toys to the shoes, too. Then this morning Princess got hold of some drawing tickets from the casino and has effectively strewn them about so it looks like a slot machine threw up in here and I honestly could care less. It made her happy to do it and she was so proud. She came up to me, patted me on the leg and said, "Titi? Titi? Ook!" (Kiki just doesn't quite come out right, so I've become Titi for the time being.) And I said, "Oh Princess that is wonderful! Go do it again!" and man, did she run as fast as her stubby little not-quite-two-year-old legs could take her to do it all again. Yeah, Queen Tammy is probably not getting her money's worth on childcare these last few weeks. It's a good thing we're friends.

Last night I went to a Pampered Chef show (my 4th since February - my kitchen is stocked) and twice the Consultant had to say, "Wake up, Kristin, you're dozing." Once when she asked if we had any questions I asked, "So what impact do you think Reaganomics had on the 1980's?" In my defense, she didn't specify that it should've been Pampered Chef questions. She is trying so hard to get me to sell PC again and oh how I want to, but . . . . Oh, I don't know. On the way home I called Paul and asked, "So....would you kill me if I started selling Pampered Chef again?" His answer: Yes. I told him it was more flexible than a casino job, but he said there was more work involved with running a home business than there is to going to the casino to wrench around on slot machines for 8 hours. He has a point.

I used to be in a routine of running the dishwasher before bed and unloading it first thing after I got out of the shower in the morning while my coffee brewed. Now, I run the dishwasher when we're out of forks or bowls. Mrs. Coach admits that has become the norm at her house, too, so I don't feel near as bad.

I used to do a load of laundry every day so I could keep up. Now, I do it all on Sunday. I usually throw a load of Paul's uniforms in mid-week, but the kids are on their own. By Friday they're going to school in jeans with holes in the knees, mismatched holey socks and a sincere apology from me, their guilt-ridden mother.

The kids probably need a Flintstone chewable vitamin or a PediaSure or NutraPal or something. Not only have I not fixed actual food in two weeks, but I haven't allowed anyone to sit at or eat at the kitchen table either. I normally do all of my school work in my office at my desks, but since I had research stuff and notecards and paper clips and 4,000 bags of empty Quakes bags to aid in my studies, I haven't allowed anyone near the Shrine of Insanity in my dining room. Wednesday night after gymnastics I stopped at Nott's grocery for some lunchmeat (the best lunchmeat EVER) and Abby said, "Wow. Something besides peanut butter and jelly!" and Sam chimed in with, "Or EasyMac!" Okay, okay, so I have been a little distracted. Kady and Paul are the only ones who haven't really complained about the lack of food. Kady has discovered the power and magic of tortillas. She will put the most horrendous things on a tortilla and eat it happily because she can do it herself - pb&j, carrots, Fun Size Snickers bars and the traditional ham and cheese, although not all at the same time, thankfully. Paul is content with sandwiches most of the time, especially when it's hot. Of course, it hasn't really been hot......but he hasn't complained, bless his heart.

Last night, before the Pampered Chef party, I decided last-minute to throw on some makeup. My face actually screamed because I think it thought it was being poisoned or smothered or something.

And while I did wear makeup to the party, I did not change out of my sweats. In my past life, I never would've gone to a party in sweats. Especially sweats that had baby spit-up on them, which I did not notice until I pulled into her driveway. But last night I did. So while I was moderately embarrassed at my attire, I was really comfortable while I slept through the demonstration.