Today my four-year-old beat me at three hands of Crazy Eights.
We only played three hands!
Suddenly I feel very old.
In other news: The kids trashed my living room, and I only half care, because I'm still exhausted from last week. I made Gina pick up all the paper Easter basket grass that she and Sia spread on the floors of every room in the house.
I am fat, after a lifetime of being thin. And I don't care. Much. Except for the part where my old dresses no longer fit, I don't know what my dress size is anymore, and I wonder if I should go to the store and try on stuff until I figure it out, or if I should just dig out my old maternity clothes and see how they fit. I recall my aunt gave me some really nice maternity clothes.
This Easter I did not have a nice, pretty, light-colored dress. See above re: dress size issue. I wanted to buy one, but Wal-Mart apparently has stopped selling full dresses and only sells expensive separates. And really, I felt like there wasn't the money for a dress anyway, especially with all the other stuff in our cart. So I told myself I just couldn't get a new dress. Then my husband put a new pair of shorts in the basket for himself, even though he just bought new clothes two weeks ago. I tried very hard not to cry. But I still let him buy it, because I knew that he really did need some new shorts. I'm not the only one putting on weight.
Maybe today, if there's time, I'll go to the thrift store. They have a dressing room there with a curtain for a door. I'll try on a bunch of size 12s and 14s and see if any of them fit. I can probably get something cute, or at least comfortable, for five bucks.
I love my husband. But he really is clueless.
I am tired of asking for help and not getting it. They tell you, "It's not healthy to take on more than you can handle. So if you need help, swallow your pride and ASK for it." So I ask. But when it comes time for the help to begin, my helper has gone to sleep, or has forgotten that his help was needed. It doesn't happen this way all the time. But it happens enough to frustrate me.
So here's another secret for my collection:
When I ask you to help me do something, but you ignore me or "forget" that you agreed because you're too busy playing a videogame...
I cry into the dishwater as quietly as I can.