The winning weekend
I hate John Mayer.
Since I’m firmly planted on Team Aniston, he is dead to me. But I have kept him as a Twitter-pal, simply because I want to be the first to HUNT HIM DOWN if he dares to say anything about Jen.
And the other day, he actually Twittered something that made a lot of sense …
Damn it. The man has a point. OK, let’s pretend he stole it. It’s a quote from someone else, and he is just repeating it. There, that’s better.
I adore weekends — who doesn’t? But lately, I have been feeling conflicted about how I’m spending them. They are just going by way too fast, and I feel like I’m not using them to their full potential.
To me, the ideal weekend is …
- Relaxing – a respite from the crazy week you just had.
- Productive – a time to catch up on the housework, so you feel prepared to handle the upcoming week
- Fun – a time for enjoyment (especially stuff you don’t have time for during the week)
The problem is, my weekends only ever seem to be one of these! It never rains but it pours, when it comes to the scheduling of social events, timing of Hubby’s overtime, etc. I either have all the time in the world to myself, or none at all.
On the “relaxing” weekends where I am totally lazy — watch movies, watch the backlog of shows on the DVR, make crafts, write — I feel relaxed, but frustrated that I didn’t accomplish anything.
On the “productive” weekends where I’m a total warrior — do loads of laundry and dishes, scrub the bathrooms, vacuum, organize, clean closets, etc. — I’m happy I got it all done, but feel exhausted.
On the (rare) weekends when I’m Miss Social — go out after work on Friday night, shop on Saturday, have friends over on Saturday night, family dinner on Sunday — I’m glad I saw everyone and had fun, but cranky that I didn’t get any time alone to relax or do things I needed to do.
I think I need to make more of an effort to have balanced weekends. A bit of social, a bit of relaxing, and a bit of productivity.
Because let’s face it — Mondays are not cool when you have no clean clothes, are totally exhausted, or are ready to kill for five minutes alone.
Hypochondria is hitting hard
I’m trying not to be paranoid …
That is quite different from someone in the same city having it. He is right here.
I am a hypochondriac in the best of times. This is not the best of times, and I’m freaking out.
He is claiming that the contagious period is past, and that he feels fine, but ohhhhhh. I hate this.
Just last night, Darling Husband was asked to do something that would require going into a virtual “it”-zone — germs a-plenty. He refused, not sure of how serious it might be if he got it — knowing how soon we are going to be trying.
And now, after his heroic efforts, I am back in the danger zone.
I’m going to go wash my hands again. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. EW!
Bye-bye, baby tees
When we got engaged, I stopped wearing graphic tees.
Just stopped completely, even though I had about a million of those American Eagle suckers.
The reason? Well, it didn’t seem right to wear a gorgeous sparkly engagement ring with the graphic tees that I wore all through university. I also stopped wearing cords and cargo pants — too sloppy for the presense of a diamond.
My new ring was an accessory that I would never take off — so my wardrobe automatically re-formed around it.
When we got married, I stopped wearing hoodies. Same reasoning. It just didn’t “go.” It was not wife-ly. In fact, my wardrobe has changed a lot in the (almost) one year we have been married …
- The graphic tees have been replaced by plain long-sleeved tees or button-down cotton polos.
- My hoodies have been replaced with cardigans (oh, so many cardigans) and thin-knit sweaters.
- I have blouses — a totally new item.
- When I decided last summer was “the year of the dress,” I bought about ninety.
- I started wearing a watch. No, not my pink Baby G — an actual watch “with sticks,” as I still call it.
- I have started buying Hush Puppies (instead of Payless BOGOs)
- I own two sensible trenchcoats — one black, one beige with Burberry lining (stolen from Mom)
I realized that I have slowly been creating not only a “wife” wardrobe, but a “mom” wardrobe, without even realizing it. I’m wearing clothes now that I know I will be wearing when I have kids. It’s a weird feeling, like stepping outside my body and watching myself grow up.
But even though I may be wearing a blouse, dress pants and a grown-up watch, you can bet that I’m also wearing Happy Bunny underwear, glitter nail polish, and Hannah Montana Collection heart-shaped earrings. Some things won’t change.
The anti-social butterfly
I disobeyed the internet.
It told me to go, and I didn’t.
I told a little white lie to get out of the social event I mentioned yesterday — the one I really didn’t feel like attending.
As soon as I bowed out, I felt so relieved. I was free, free, FREE! Free to spend my Friday night doing anything my selfish little heart desired.
The old me would have went reluctantly, and felt awkward all night. But I am not a social butterfly (go Google “understatement of the century”), and I’m sick of putting on a happy face and going to events where I feel miserable.
What’s wrong with me?
I get lonely in a crowd,
Everyone is smiling,
But I made myself left out.
I have reached a point where I just don’t want to be forced into things. So now that I was free, what was on the agenda for my exciting Friday night? It had been an insane week, so I just wanted to relaaaaaax.
Darling Husband was working (unhappy sigh), but Little Sis had been kind enough to loan me her car. So I had a lovely dinner downtown with her and her bestie, H. Then I drove myself to The Happiest Place on Earth and stocked up on glorious art supplies (until they kicked me out at closing). Finally, I trucked home and had a super-long bath in the jacuzzi. Ahhhhh.
As I learned last week, it’s all about taking a stand and doing what you want to do — not what you feel forced to do. I lied this time, because a flat-out refusal would have insulted someone specific, but next time I think I might bow out honestly.
Three cheers for choosing sistas and art-supply-shopping over smelly bars and expensive cab rides!
My husband rocks
Dear Darling Husband,
I am blown away. You just completely surprised me!
In the middle of my chaotic afternoon, you strolled into my office, holding coffee, tea, and chocolate-chip cookies. You were able to stay and visit with me for 20 minutes before dashing out into the rain to Job B.
You joked that this would make a perfect blog post for “My Husband Rocks” Friday. You were absolutely right. I am so glad you started reading my blog at work in secret, on the tiny screen of your BlackBerry.
Thank you for giving me a surprise date with you, in the middle of my workday. I can’t even begin to tell you how much it meant to me.
Love, your wife
xoxo
xoxo
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