I don't know what beef ya'll had, sorry, I really don't care. What I do care about are the following facts:
All of these have been thrown up in the air and tossed about making my life miserable. So again, thanks guys =0) Hope you get what you want (really, I do, I'm just on my period, depressed and broke. And apparantly really in the mood to share waaaay too much info. Sorry.)
SO. We took the car in on Monday and just got it back today. The husband called this morning, it'll be ready by noon. Called at noon, it'll be ready in the hour. Called at 130, we'll call you when it's done. Holy shit! It's ready? You're kidding me! Ok let's go. Wait no, Peanut is sleeping. Ok, wake her up, cringe, oh we're happy? Bonus. Grab juices and supply toys. Fight nausea the whole way there. Briefly wonder if the impossible has happened. Clearly not the case since that whole period thing showed up when we got home. Anywhoo. Get to repair shop. Fight more waves of nausea. See husband off in car, get on the road home. Have Peanut screaming and crying the whole. way. home. Have Monkey Boy fall asleep at the first stop light on the 20 min drive home. Are we having fun yet? Yes! Me too. Get home, get crab ass inside, get deadweight boy in. Try to stop assault and battery by Peanut on the boy. Now who's the crab ass? Pick out of us three. No matter, they're all the right answer. This is how my afternoon went right up til Daddy got home.
And I thought I needed to go the therapist every two weeks instead of every week? What the hell is wrong with me?
My husband loves his car.
My daughter loves her naps.
My son loves NOT taking naps.
All of these have been thrown up in the air and tossed about making my life miserable. So again, thanks guys =0) Hope you get what you want (really, I do, I'm just on my period, depressed and broke. And apparantly really in the mood to share waaaay too much info. Sorry.)
SO. We took the car in on Monday and just got it back today. The husband called this morning, it'll be ready by noon. Called at noon, it'll be ready in the hour. Called at 130, we'll call you when it's done. Holy shit! It's ready? You're kidding me! Ok let's go. Wait no, Peanut is sleeping. Ok, wake her up, cringe, oh we're happy? Bonus. Grab juices and supply toys. Fight nausea the whole way there. Briefly wonder if the impossible has happened. Clearly not the case since that whole period thing showed up when we got home. Anywhoo. Get to repair shop. Fight more waves of nausea. See husband off in car, get on the road home. Have Peanut screaming and crying the whole. way. home. Have Monkey Boy fall asleep at the first stop light on the 20 min drive home. Are we having fun yet? Yes! Me too. Get home, get crab ass inside, get deadweight boy in. Try to stop assault and battery by Peanut on the boy. Now who's the crab ass? Pick out of us three. No matter, they're all the right answer. This is how my afternoon went right up til Daddy got home.
And I thought I needed to go the therapist every two weeks instead of every week? What the hell is wrong with me?
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