Still here, just in limbo...

Reno limbo, that is. That's right, our little "kitchen project" has turned into a 5-month long nightmare that doesn't appear to have an end in sight. See, the hubs has been extra-busy at work and traveling more than usual, which cuts back on weekend renovation time. And, since he refuses to pay anyone to help us out, we're still in sawdust-everywhere-disaster-zone hell.

At least the weather is getting better, but then there's our backyard that he dug up in the fall with the intention of planting new grass in the Spring. But it doesn't look like that's going to happen for a while, either :/ In related news, our wonderful new neighbors now hate us.

Despite everything, I've managed to hold on to a few shreds of sanity. But it's wearing very, very thin. Thank goodness for in-laws that take the boy every once in a while, even if they do stuff his little face with way too much candy. If not for them, I wouldn't have even got this wee post in. So at least I have that.

I've been itching to get some posts up - I've got some good stories I haven't gotten around to writing - and I want to get them out before I forget in my old age!

Anyway, I'll do my best to pop in a bit more often, hopefully once I get my living space back & can actually sit down without becoming covered in dust, plaster or paint...

Pushed to the Edge

Just when I thought my stress levels would start evening out a bit after the holidays - guess what? Surprise, surprise - they haven't. If anything I may have hit a new high on the old stress scale. What with our current kitchen reno situation and - gasp! not having a dishwasher for like 3 weeks now - things (my patience, namely) have been quickly falling to the wayside.

We've been holed up in our (yikes! unfinished) basement until the renos are complete, speaking of which, seem to be taking waaay longer than anticipated. But I did anticipate this, actually. These projects always take twice as long as you originally plan. Especially when your husband insists on doing all the work himself.

I'm trying hard to keep my mouth shut until things go really wrong. Should it come down to it -  I have Mike Holmes on speed dial, but for now, I'm zipping it. Hubs has been getting enough hassle from my mother-in-law, who insists on telling him her dreams of beams falling down and killing him instantly. At least I'm not that neurotic.

Also, being off on "vacation" this week with a very bossy, constantly-needing-to-be-entertained 4.5 year old, hasn't helped matters. Its bad enough I feel as if I've been abducted and forced to live in someone's creepy basement (without having "Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs" playing repeatedly on a dusty old tube television and a kid yelling "Draw a skeleton, mouse, snail, insert random animal or object here picture, Mommy!").

After a few days of this, I've lost whatever reason I may have started out with. Like yesterday for example. In a desperate attempt to flee from the hammering, drilling & welding sparks seen flying from my home, I grabbed Ciaran and dragged him to the nearest mall, which happens to be the size of an entire city block. Not exactly clear thinking on my part. True, it wasn't boxing day, but in these parts "boxing week" gives half the city the idea to mill about aimlessly, looking for so-called bargains.

Normally, I wouldn't have braved that crowd, but my dear, delusional hubby, obviously blinded by his love for me, purchased a beautiful sweater gift for me...in a size 4!! I am definitely not a size 4 - to be honest, I don't think I ever have been.

To make a long story short, we didn't return the sweater. There was a huge lineup and I don't do well with lineups - especially with a kid in tow. But we did end up taking this beauty home:

Ciaran enjoying his latest toy catch!

There was no logical reason for me to buy this for my son. He'd just gotten a sh!tload of toys for Christmas only days before. Strangers walking by the lineup to pay were looking at me like I'd lost my mind. The thing is bigger than he is.

I suppose I had gone a little insane - at least temporarily. I was tired and sweaty and I really needed the whining to stop. Also, I felt guilty because earlier that day he wouldn't get in his car seat and I said something to the effect that if he didn't I'd beat his ass. Oh, I didn't mean it. I never even usually talk like that, but I had that anxious, over-whelmed feeling I get when I'm being pushed to my limit.

A woman getting out of her car next to us gave me a really dirty look after hearing me. But she had the privilege of going shopping with her male friend without any kids tagging along. I'm sure I've given that same look to frazzled mothers back in my know-it-all pre-child days. So I didn't take it all that personally. One day she'll understand. And maybe even end up lugging a giant fish pillow home with her.

Anyway, Ciaran thinks it's pretty cool that I bought him a giant catfish at the mall. And I decided I'm not going to live my life with regrets anymore. Besides, it kind of goes with the psycho / abductor decor we have going on right now.

I'm (Trying to be) Mrs. Bright Side

I recently blogged about being abandoned - albeit unintentionally - by my husband while he was away on business. Yes, it was tough, stressful and very tiring. But, in my typical Libra fashion, I must see both sides of every situation and I've come up with a list of things that were not all that bad about holding the fort on my own.

To keep what's left of my sanity and to avoid that horrible feeling that everything is falling apart at the seams, I've been really striving to think more positively about things. Otherwise, I'll drive myself crazy just thinking about everything that's beyond my control. I'm trying to "go with the flow" as the saying goes. To live in the moment and enjoy the little things without obsessing over the dishes in the sink. It's hard as hell, let me tell you but totally necessary if I don't want to wind up in the mental ward.

So, without further ado, here are some of the things I embraced about being a single mom for a two and a half weeks:

• No dirty socks under the sofa.  No matter how much I bitch and complain, my husband has deemed it his manly right to roll up his dirty old socks and shove them under the sofa. It's not uncommon for me to find 4-5 pairs as I'm dusting beneath the furniture on a Saturday morning. So, it was nice not having to worry about clogging up the vacuum with smelly socks. 

• Whole wheat carbs!  I'm a bit of a health nut. Ok, not always, but I was raised by parents who brainwashed me into thinking white bread was "poisonous", so I'm all about the whole grains. Hubby, on the other hand, loves his squishy white bread & pizza dough and while we buy separate loaves of bread for our individual tastes, the dough and pasta is always a battle. I've made him whole wheat versions on numerous occasions, but whenever he does the grocery shopping, that damn bleached crap is the what winds up in our cupboards. 

• No snoring. Ahh, the  pleasure of sleeping in my cozy bed without hearing those freight train-like sounds was pure bliss. I'm not sure if it was due to sheer exhaustion or having peace and quiet in my bedroom, but I slept like a champ. 

• No opening & closing drawers at ungodly hours. There is nothing more irritating than to be awaken by the sound of dresser drawers repeatedly being opened and closed. I don't mean just once, twice or even 3 times to get socks, underwear and whatever else he frantically searches for at 6:00 a.m. It's not like there's even all that many drawers. He just keeps opening and closing the same ones. Over. and. Over. I definitely did not miss this, nor his "closing" the front door much harder than what surely is necessary.

•  After Dinner Dancing. This was my favorite part of the 2.5 weeks. No, I did not sneak in a boyfriend after my son went to bed (how could I, the kid doesn't go to bed until 10:00, sheesh)! Lately, whenever Ciaran hears a good song, he jumps up and "shakes his feather tail" as he so adorably puts it. So while Tony was away, dancing before, after and sometimes even during dinner became our ritual. We'd hop up from the table, grab each others' hands and get our grooves on. After a few minutes he'd insist that I pick him up and dance with him in my arms, which is not an easy thing, with a 40+ lb child. But, with my new "enjoying the moment" mentality I told myself it was a good workout for my arms. Sure, I lost all feeling in them after like 10 minutes, but hey, no pain no gain, right?