I don’t know what’s worse, that I was giddy with excitement at the sight of this lionfish, while at the Shark Reef in Vegas, because it reminded me of Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo…

Or the fact that I even knew that this was the fish from Deuce Bigalow…

It’s been one of those days.

I was barfed on by my toddler in a packed restaurant today. I believe that needs no further explanation, though might be a funny post once I’ve had more sleep and feel less like a bag of smashed assholes.

I know, it’s been days. So unlike me, but also different, this holiday season. Why, with a toddler, a husband that’s never around, work and trying to shop since I royally fucked up by waiting so long how could I possibly find time to write about it, when I have little time to even complete said tasks.

Yes, I’ve FINALLY finished, as of 10am this morning I had the last of my stocking stuffer items and presents (Thank you WalMart).

Yesterday was spent driving around the entire day trying to locate a Construction City for a spoiled rotten much loved toddler.

This fuckin’ thig weighs about 80lbs and I struggled with it, ALONE, since I had depended on someone else to pick it up waited and waited until the last possible moment to get it. After driving around to three different Costco it was located and nearly left behind as I fought with it for better part of an hour trying to get it in my car. Twisting, pulling, pushing, stopping and swearing, then twisting, pulling and pushing again. Cursing children, their toys, their fathers and even Baby Jesus.

Best part? I had my passenger door open, therefore blocking the parking space beside me. You know that people would sooner drive past the spot and find a further one before helping someone OBVIOUSLY having trouble.

Fuckers.

Too bad I just look fat instead of pregnant otherwise (I’m hoping) I would have had some help or could at least justify my screaming and swearing.

But my spoiled brat beloved wonderful toddler will be so excited to see his wonderful gift come Christmas morning. Dammit, he better be after that friggin’ episode.

And in 5 days it’s off to Sin City to find me some good sin.

10 days. TEN days until Christmas.

I haven’t bought ANYTHING yet.

I am officially freaking the shit out.

And you’re wondering why I’m sitting here rather then attempting the mall, aren’t you? Well, Carter’s sick. We were home all day yesterday with a high fever and diarrhea.

[Him. Not me.]

[Be right back, he just filled a 2 minute old diaper. Again. *gag*]

So, while he’s in this condition, it’s a little hard to leave the house for fear that we’ll have a poop emergency in the middle of the mall, MILES from the nearest available washroom. But, you don’t need any further explanation.

Where’s his father? You wonder. Well, with the Christmas season so close, there is work that requires finishing prior to the break, and his site is one of them, therefore he’s out of town all weekend.

While I’m home with a sick little toddler, three days straight. Cabin fever anyone?

I’m not resentful in the least. No, no. I mean, he’s just gone all day, laughing with his friends at work, enjoying a hot coffee, meals with no interruptions, and a hotel stay with a peaceful shower and to relax and watch what he likes before falling into a peaceful slumber unaffected by snoring and kicking all night. (Hi. My name is Sam and I am addicted to run-on sentences.)

Not. Resentful. At. All.

(Okay, you caught me. I am a little resentful.)

In fact, I am filled with hatred. Hatred because I work too dammit. Since returning to work I have turned down 3 high profile projects because of the traveling required. I feel as though I am the only one making sacrifices for this family and getting slack from my husband for it. He calls me lazy incessantly because I come home, tired, and don’t feel like cooking. Yet, he comes home and expects that dinner is on the table waiting for him, requiring no work on his part.

Need I remind you that I am also nearly 5 months pregnant and tired. I am so tired. Yet, he thinks I am using this pregnancy as an excuse for my laziness.

He hasn’t always been this way. We used to have fun. So much fun. We would laugh, joke and take care of each other. We would look out for each other; and be there when needed. Now everything feels like a chore. I love him, always have, yet I feel this intense hatred for the way things have transpired in our relationship. I take that hatred out on him; and I take it out on Carter: The only person that is completely and utterly NOT at fault has bore the brunt of my anger.

I feel like an absolutely shitty parent.

I feel like a failure as a wife.

Whenever I attempt to tell him how I feel, it turns into a fight as he assumes the defensive position and feel as though he’s being attacked; so now, I keep quite. I bottle it all up; filling myself with this intense rage.

I just hope that this vacation at New Years - sans children - will do something positive for our relationship.

Do you think I still have time to shop online? Damn, I am so screwed.

Mike usually arrives home from work around the time that Carter would take a bath, so instead of running water for both, Carter typically takes a shower with his daddy while I do the after dinner blog reading kitchen cleaning . It’s a compromise that’s worked for us since I dread bath time with a passion.

Last night, Mike was home later then usual, and I - like normal - avoided giving Carter a bath. I figured it was the night that he didn’t need one. You know, to keep the schedule flexible so that it’s not a necessity in order to get him to sleep. Break up the pattern a bit so they don’t lose their shit when something doesn’t go as scheduled. *cough* BULLSHIT *cough*

Shower time used to be a nightmare ever since Carter was accustomed to swimming in the tub; having water rain down on him while he sat on slippery porcelain was typically met with shrills more like screeching monkeys in heat. Now? He can’t wait to strip butt naked and jump in the shower with his dad ever since Mike taught him how to spit water like a fountain.

Don’t ask.

Where was I? Yes, Mike home late.

He jumped in the shower while I cleaned Carter up after dinner; once clean, he waddled his way up the five steps to the washroom level. Assuming that he may be trying to get in the shower with his dad, I kept on reading blogs cleaning the kitchen.

I then heard this little squeal as Carter came tearing from the bathroom and Mike whining from the shower.

Mike: Huuuuunnnnn.

Me: Yes?

[Thinking he may have forgot to bring his towel into the bathroom again, I went up the steps.]

Mike: Carter was peaking at me in the shower.

[Holy fuck! Did I just enter a time warp or something?]

Me: And?

Mike: He looked at my penis.

I suspect the world, as we know it, will spin off its axis and cease to exist should Carter ever reach out to yank on it.