On one hand, he can be so sweet. On the other, he's such a guy...

Last night I was having an Episode that comes from being on maternity leave and taking care of two small children who have no concept of anyone's needs but their own and the house is in shambles and every time I turn around there's a sink full of dirty dishes to be washed and my hair is disgusting because I can't remember the last time I took a shower and the baby needs a bottle and Zeke is crying because I won't let him play in the cupboard where we keep the cleaning supplies and I feel fat and disgusting and ugly and washed up.

And truthfully, I love my daughter (and my son, for that matter) to pieces, but I find taking care of a newborn, and being home all day with children with little adult interaction (particularly during a wicked flu season -- seriously, there are entire school districts in my area that are closed because over half the student body has flu -- so I'm housebound for health reasons), to be kind of soul-crushingly tedious. Particularly when I'm getting little to no sleep because Josie is still so little that she can't eat very much at a time, so she's up every couple of hours to eat, and then maybe she doesn't feel like going back to sleep right away. And of course Zeke decides to wake up and wants to basically lie on top of me in my bed, because the more real estate on my body he occupies, the less that's available for The Little Pink Monster. So I end up yelling at everyone to go to sleep, which causes one party to start crying, which causes another party to start crying, and then I start crying because I'm so fucking exhausted because the thought of being able to sleep for more than two hours at a time is so tempting that at that point, I would sell both of my children to the first bidder to achieve it.

Anyway.

So last night, I'm sitting at the kitchen table, all weepy, and Jason says, "I've got something for you."

And he goes out to the car and ladies, he went to Jared! (And seriously, how cheesy am I for breaking out the slogan? Jared, call me. I can make you a deal).

At first I'm just looking at the pretty bag with the pretty box and I can't even stop crying enough to open it, because I'm so touched.

I finally open it, and it's a pretty gold locket, and I cry even harder because it's so sweet. And my sweet husband gives me a big hug, and my sweet son gives me another hug ("Luboo ["love you"], mama!"), and I feel loved and appreciated and all is right with the world again.


I spend the rest of the evening picking out pictures to put inside the locket and cutting them into little heart shapes. And I feel fine.

This morning, everyone is all happy and loving and sweet. Jason lets me sleep in a little while, and I get up and start to fix myself some oatmeal. It's the steel cut kind that takes approximately 7 hours to cook.

At one point, Jason says, "is your porridge OK?" because it's been cooking for awhile.

I explain that it's special oatmeal and that it takes a long time to cook because it hasn't been processed.

"But it's got alot of fiber as a result," I say.

"So does that mean you're trying to shit yourself? Is that the goal here?"

*Sigh.*