Homeymoon, Here I Come!


It’s not a honeymoon, it’s a homeymoon.

I’ll explain after the bottles go in a pot.

Ok, I’m back, and you would be horrified if you knew how long it took me to chase five bottle nipples down in a milky sudsy sink, and not once in that entire time did I think to empty the sink to make it easier on myself. I am now going to apologize in advance, as I’m a) bored to tears thanks to my hubby going to bed early and b) waiting for bottles to boil and c) in a very random mood. I really don’t know how this update’s gonna turn out.

So I guess we’ll start with this morning. Riley (aka Biggest) woke up in a good mood that turned sour around 11:00. I should point out that I’d planned to go with my dad to Stuff Mart 2. It’s better than Stuff Mart 1. I should also point out that thanks to my decision to stay at home with my two boys instead of entering into the vicious cycle known as paying-daycare-to-work-so-you-can-pay-daycare, and hubby going to school so we don’t always have to live on a minimum wage salary, we cannot afford a home phone. Or a cell phone. Or anything that resembles a communication device other than my computer. So my parents show up, and unfortunately, I find out that I’m unable to go to Stuff Mart 2. If I had a phone, I may have been less freaky when I found out. I am ashamed to admit this, but I am not currently the most gracious when it comes to plans changing. I’m working on it, and I always try to talk it out so it comes across the way I want it to in the end, but it is still rather embarassing sometimes. And annoying for everyone else I’m sure. (Also, as I was proofreading I realized how ridiculously sad it is that the highlight of my social life was going to Stuff Mart 2.) Anyway, we’re gonna gloss over the gory details but I ended up passed out on my bed, (Biggest was asleep, so was Littlest) after taking a couple of ibuprofen for the random muscle cramp I’ve experienced in my back the last couple days. I assure you it has nothing to do with the 70 trips up the stairs. Nothing. I think. I woke up to hubby coming home. Yay! He then convinces me that we can still go to Stuff Mart 2, we’ll just take a bus.

We then go check the finances. Oops! Transposing error, a few hernias, triple checking the math, and… we really don’t have the money to go to Stuff Mart 2 in the first place. But we need stuff (duh, why else would you go to Stuff Mart 2?), like dishes, and spoons, and dish towels. And something to wipe the counter off might be useful too. In the end, I’m not entirely sure that we’re not going to have a late bill payment along with a ho ho ho from some call centre in December, and I am probably going to have to pull some pretty darn fabulous bread baking out of my butt this fall. But we’ll make it. We always do. But, with the stuff we got today (thank heavens for that crazy new dollar store that somehow had Betty Crocker leftovers in the kitchen section), I think I can manage to be the crazy bread-baking lady. Which calls for the proper definition of…

Homeymoon!

Homeymoon: The phase after moving in where everything is new and exciting, you get to furnish a new space, and you decide to try something new. (Like a new years resolution except a new home resolution).

The part right after the homeymoon is reserved for the point where you realize that you do have to lug the stroller up three flights of stairs all the time, not just once, and most of the time you will be alone. Also, you forgot the coins required for the laundry and are now trying to still open the bathroom door. And the third floor has the most amazing breeze, but it comes with an entire colony of some type of fly you’ve never been high enough to see before. And you wouldn’t need to have the windows open for the breeze in the first place if it weren’t for the fact that three floors up is significantly hotter than the basement you previously housed yourself in. At which point, you resolve to never leave food on the counter again so as not to encourage the new fly species. And wake up in your bed after an hour realizing that right after you resolved that, you forgot the peanut butter and the cut strawberries right next to said open window. And the fan you use to vent the steam from the bottles sounds like it’s a spare part from a wind tunnel.

It’s been one of those days. Lucky for me, I’m balancing the Homeymoon and the post-Homeymoon, because I’m awesome like that.

Bottles are done!

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