I really do work, ya know...
2003-10-09 at 8:13 a.m.
I went shopping all by myself last night. I was out of detergent, so I ran to Target when K came home from work. I had to sneak out of the house to do it. Normally if the kids see me leave, there's a big fight about them wanting to go with me. I waited until K was putting them into the shower and off I went. I didn't even bring my cell phone - I just wanted to be totally alone. I browsed through the clothing deparment and found a cute pair of pink nylon jogging pants (not that I'd be caught dead jogging or anything) and was on a quest to find a shirt that matched. The shirt that came with it was a tank top and I didn't particularly want to spend $12.99 on a tank top in the middle of October. After perusing the store for an hour or so, I finally found a matching shirt in the mens department! It's maroon and matches the stripes in the pants perfectly. I felt so proud and resourceful.
I bought a new bra. Bra shopping has never been fun for me. It started back in third grade when I noticed the first "bump" in my shirt. I hated being the only one in my class with a training bra at age eight. It's gone downhill since, wearing scratchy, confining methods of torture that ride up my back. After breastfeeding two and a half children, it's only gotten worse. In order to button my pants, I have to lift my boobs out of the way first. You may have seen my latest spread in National Geographic...
As if that wasn't bad enough, I have a very hard to find bra size. As big and saggy as my boobs are, I have a very small cup size. Do you know how hard it is to find a 44B??? And when I do, it usually involves the "U" word: UNDERWIRE! I don't do underwires. I managed to find a bra last night that seems soft enough, although I've yet to try it on. Trying them on in the store is far too frustrating. I'd rather scream and throw things at my own mirrors at home.
I bought some new socks and some new underwear (grannypanties) for my trip. I always treat myself to new undies before a trip.
I bought some various toiletry items for my trip and of course, the detergent for which I came shopping in the first place.
On my way out I found a disposable camera marked down to $3.00. I picked it up so I could leave the digital for K when I go to sun my fat ass on the beaches of sunny California. Not bare, mind you... it's just an expression. I wouldn't want to frighten the other whales.
I came home to a quiet house. G was asleep and E and J were quietly watching TV in their room. I need to go out by myself more often.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
K has another job. In addition to working at GMAC, Crew Chiefing a race car and playing Santa in December, K is now a grocery checker at one of our local grocery stores whose employees have gone on strike. He's making pretty good money working part time. M and S also got jobs there, at a different location. K really enjoys it and says he'll stay on part time if they offer him a position, post-strike.
One of the women at K's office really pissed me off. She mentioned to K, "You got ANOTHER job? Why doesn't your wife work? Don't you work hard enough so your wife can stay home?"
Don't even get me started.
Typing a diary entry every day or so is the absolute only thing I do for myself all damn day. I'm up at the crack of dawn. I bathe, dress and feed three kids. I clean. I cook. I pay bills. I run errands. I play with and teach my children. I run an escort service. I pick up toys, videos, books and clothes. I do twenty loads of laundry a week. I doctor boo-boos, dry tears and take kids to doctor's appointments. I dust, vacuum and scrub toilets. I wash dishes and mop floors. I wipe snot and fingerprints off of windows and mirrors. I solve problems and break up fights. I grade homework after fighting with a child to get it done. I never get time to read, sleep, eat, pee, shower or watch TV, unless I have three screaming, demanding chldren at my feet.
I get no sick pay or personal paid time off. Yes, I have two weeks vacation every year, but I'm made to feel like a villain when I willingly take that time. I do have wonderful benefits, like dandelion bouquets, sleepy smiles and sticky kisses, but I have to work right through my lunch hour and I seldom get breaks. Come to think of it, I have no salary! I have no union negotiator, nor do I have the option to strike. If I did, the authorities, after laughing their asses off at me, would have me arrested for child abandonment. I wipe other people's butts and clean up messes that would make most people gag. I have the most wonderful, yet thankless job there is.
Whew! Didn't mean to get up on a soapbox there... just wanted to prove that I do indeed work.
Gotta go... my employers are calling.
DON'T FORGET TO WATCH CLAY ON PRIMETIME TONIGHT!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
8 days until my vacation!
I'm wearing: mint green shorty jammies
I'm listening to: The Teletubbies theme song
I'm eating/drinking: I have a cup of cold coffee around here somewhere...
Current weather conditions in St. Charles, MO: pouring down rain and 66 degrees