Marriage, Pregnancy, and Cadbury Eggs

For the last six or seven years, life has happened so quickly that I haven't really had time to process it. This has caused me to recall strange but recent memories in the same way I remember random things from my childhood. I will be cooking dinner and have a wave of nostalgia, then remember I already cooked dinner two hours ago and now it's time to put the kids to bed.

Last night was the Easter Vigil, and I'm sure I have written (and many others have written) lots of stories about taking small children to midnight mass. Instead, I'll sum up. Taking small children to church for three hours in the middle of the night and expecting them to be still and quiet is like - well, exactly how it sounds. You may as well just lay in the dirt and TELL your kids to kick your butt.

So late last night, driving home with blessedly sleeping kiddos in the back of the truck, I remembered that my sister and I used to go the week before Easter and buy a Cadbury Egg to have when we got home from midnight mass. It was our favorite candy, and we had always given up candy for lent - the perfect way to break the fast was middle of the night chocolate, filled with straight sugar. Yum.

After I dragged the kids to bed, waited for them to fall asleep, and played Easter Bunny, I sat down and reveled in the memory with a Cadbury Egg. Dee-licious.

But it brought back another memory. Twelve Easters ago, I was newly married and pregnant with my first baby. My mom had given me a Cadbury Egg, and I put it away in the freezer to await my late-night Easter tradition. My new husband, claiming starvation, left me to claw my pregnant self out of the car while he ran in the house to make a sandwich. I will never forget the pure hatred I felt when I finally made it into the house and saw him standing with the freezer door open, torn colored foil in one hand, and half a Cadbury Egg in the other.

"What in the HELL do you think you're doing?" Imagine if I'd seen a stranger in there, holding a knife to someone's throat. That is the exact intensity of my question. "You did NOT just eat my Cadbury Egg."

He held the uneaten half toward me. "Want it?"

"Are you KIDDING me? That is disgusting! I will not eat after anyone who is horrid enough to sneak into a pregnant woman's house and eat her Cadbury Egg." And then I started crying.

"I'll get you another one," he offered. Sick, right? I mean, get me another one???

"Just where are you going to go at 2am on Easter morning to find one? NOWHERE, that's where. You ate it, and I HATE YOU."

"What's the big deal? You can get one later. I didn't know..."

"You didn't KNOW? I'm carrying YOUR BABY and you ate. my. egg."

Things continued in this manner for about a week. This was the first of two times I lost my temper during my marriage. I got pretty upset at other times, but there were only two that I can honestly say I lost all control of my behavior. The other one was over tater tots. (You don't eat a pregnant woman's food, is my point.)

Hello, World

Hello, Interwebz.

I know my last post was all about Christmas, and it's been awhile since I've been here. I'm assuming that, because my Christmas tree is still standing proud in my living room. It seems the rest of the world has moved on?

Easter is here (almost), so I've decided to leave the tree up so the Easter Bunny has another place to hide eggs. What's so wrong with that?

I've been very busy with work and with raising my kids, and it seems that the whole raising kids thing is really best done by two parents. Who knew? Donovan (age 4) is grounded for eternity because he said "butthole" to the neighbor boy, and the other kids are grounded on general principle because Donovan knew what "butthole" meant.

With my schooling being finished, I've found that I have less patience with my kids' school. Huston is now scared to take notes back to his teacher because we are equally sarcastic.

Teacher: Huston got a zero on his pre-COGATSJGSG test, because it was turned in late.
Me: So....he got a zero on a fake standardized test?
Teacher: Yes.
Me: So....I can't care less if I try.

Teacher: Huston told me he doesn't like hard work.
Me: Um...neither do I. Do you??? Is he doing his work?
Teacher: Yes, but he has a "bad attitude" about it.
Me: Is the attitude directed more toward school or to you?
Teacher: How 'bout I just write you notes and you don't answer them.
Me: Um, sounds fantastic.

Huston: Mom, I'm not taking these notes to class anymore.

And I've decided to marry a chiropractor, because they rule the world.