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| Both had late nights this weekend. |
I feel like today is the first day of a new job that I’ve really wanted for a super long time…and for which I may or may not have padded my resume a tad.
In a nutshell, I am alone with my children for the first time ever. EVER. Which is a truly bizarre thing to say.
We have had nonstop family and friends are constant helpers/personal slaves for the past three weeks. (Which is also bizarre. Yet wonderful.) I miss our Moms/my sister/Bethany already. But, strangely, I’m also looking forward to the end of the “newness.” It’s hard to have something feel like your day to day life if it also feels mildly like a vacation. I guess I need it to feel less nice so that it feels more comfy.
I swear I am not depressed.
Also, I’ve been looking forward to mopping and wiping things down so that they feel like mine again. Yes, I miss cleaning up my household messes.
I swear I am not crazy.
I am, however, rather tired. For longer than my semblance of normalcy will allow me to admit, I’d been planning a small shindig for P.J.’s upcoming 30th birthday. I knew I wanted a Guys’ Night Out- and I knew that I wanted it free of Guys who would turn it into A Night In Jail. Plus, there was the fact that I’d be 2.5 weeks postpartum and completely unable to ring in his new decade the way he thoroughly deserves. So. Yes. And since he’s UTTERLY impossible to buy for or plan for without the dollar bill signs over his head or the wad of coupons in his pocket warring with any type of romantic gesture I’ve got cooking…I thought it might be nice to surprise him with this little gathering.
Arranging for a handful of his closest friends (one whom flew in from NYC for the weekend!) and a couple of cases of Shiner Bock to be at a divey pool hall in our ‘hood on Saturday night was pretty easy. A little tougher was the flying leap I needed to take every time my phone buzzed for the past month. Not really sure how I would have explained the nonstop texts and emails from his pals…although he was too tired to notice how often my phone was pinging in the middle of the night. (Don’t you people sleep? Go to bed!) It’s pretty safe to say he would have laughingly ruled out an affair- although, pal, some people LIKE girls in sweatpants. A LOT.
I thought I was in the clear until, oh, the night before the party, when two of his closest friends TEXTED HIM AT 2AM FOR NO REASON WITHIN ONE MINUTE OF EACH OTHER. P.J. had just changed Suzy and had handed her to me when he saw the blinking light on his phone.
“Oh,” he said. “Neil and Nate both just texted me!”
Ever seen a girl lunge across a bed with a baby actually attached to her? It’s not for all viewing audiences.
Realizing I couldn’t nonchalantly bat his phone away, I went for uber-casual.
“Oh yeah? What did they say?”
“They said hi. That’s funny.”
“IT SURE IS!”
“I wonder why they both texted me at the same time?”
“Honey,” I told him. “They’re drunk.” (Prove me wrong, Nate and Neil.)
He was satisfied with this answer, and- even though his curiosity was piqued- I rested assured that P.J. had no idea what was coming the following night…when I promptly thwapped the guys upside the head for choosing the night before a surprise party to be all nostalgic. AND DRUNK.
That said, he was surprised- or played the part convincingly- and now we can all go back to our regularly scheduled 10pm bedtimes.
Even planning other people’s late nights wears me out. Heck, even remembering the planning wears me out.
Hence, the sweatpants.
Which may just be my favorite typed sentence EVER.
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