I love my husband and children. I get reminded fairly often that I could have it worse. I am just tired of getting settled into things going well and then having something blow up. I woke up tired. I couldn’t even take a ten minute shower without hearing “mom” about 20 times (yes, that may be a little exaggerated, but not by many). #4 had a physical therapy appoint ment and a doctor appointment. She finished her antibiotics about 3 days ago and now she has croup (with 3 days of an oral steroid).
Things started going well. I exchanged my jeans for a smaller size (from an 18 in January to a 16, but almost small enough for a 14!!) Enjoyed a walk around the mall with #4 and a visit with an old friend. Then, the bank called. They want more proof of my self-employment income for the truck loan. I gave them all I have. We have had the truck for almost a week and now we might not even get to keep it. How embarassing would that be?
The older three kids had choir and went the Maundy Thursday service with my MIL.
Then, my instructor called. I was supposed to call and talk to a professional for a presentation I have to do. The guy was on vacation when I called so I left a message. Luckily I told him who’s class it was for because I did not leave my phone number. Wow, that was embarassing.
On a more positve note, our business seems to be picking up. We have gotten a few more calls and have a bigger job to do next week. I would have scheduled it for this week, but between #4’s appointments today and the older three getting out of school at 11:30 for Good Friday…
This week has not been my favorite. On Tuesday, Husband decided that I needed to take the van to school instead of the truck. All well and good, but a) I was already late and b) the van was between his work truck and our new truck in a difficult position to back out of. He got pissed because I asked him to back it out for me. Seriously?? I had dinner made, the kids fed, kids’ homework done, and dishes (his chore) done for him when he got home (from a 3 hour shift, yes he only works 15 hours a week). He knew I was mad. By the time I got home, he had done 3 loads of laundry (my chore).
I know this had a little bit of everything in it tonight. I am sorry for the rambling, but sometimes I just need to type what is on my mind.