Friday, April 16, 2010

Truth Be Told

Big V didn't have to work yesterday. Instead of the usual humdrum he hung out with Cletus the Used to be Fetus. They were so busy visiting friends they weren't able to do any housework. No dishes. No laundry. No sweeping. That was all lovingly left for me upon my return of my busy day.

Big V didn't have to work today, either. Instead of a repeat of yesterday he decided to spice things up a bit. Super Nanny hung out with Cletus while V went visiting his friends. But I know Super Nanny will do the dishes, probably some laundry, and most definitely will sweep. There's also a strong probability that dinner will be waiting. This is why I love her more than Big V. Don't feel bad; he's completely aware of my feelings.

Of course, V is also incredibly competitive and doesn't like coming in second, so he tried to woo me this afternoon by asking me out on a lunch date. I like lunches, so I said, "yes." Reminiscent of my high school days he showed up giggly and sweet, offered to drive, and then left me to foot the bill.

"You asked me to lunch but you're making me pay? Wait until I update my blog!"

I was told if I do blog about this I have to promise to explain that it's not like he didn't have any money, it's just that he only had a one hundred dollar bill, and he didn't think the little Mexican restaurant we dined at would have change for a hundie. I told him to leave a big tip but he didn't think that would be possible, since we weren't provided a never-ending mountain of tortilla chips. (He believes that's why the salsas are so hot now; so people don't eat as many chips and that way the restaurant saves money. He's clever like that.)

Anyway. Big V didn't want the web world to think he can't control his vicious dog AND that he was cheap. I promised I would clarify, so here it is: While it is true Big V cannot control his vicious dog, he certainly is not cheap!

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Budget Woes.

My mother taught me quite well. Financial security is a must. In order to obtain financial security you must simply live below your means. Work hard, earn money, save money THEN buy whatever it is you were saving for. No money? You don't buy it. Need money? Get another job. Don't want another job? Stop spending on things you don't need.

She taught me well.

I just haven't learned very well.

I've got the budget thing down. Our budget, it's like a work of art. The columns, the categories, the totals - it brings tears to my eyes it's so good. If we follow this budget to the letter we will not only have all the debt paid off in two years (including vehicles; excluding mortgage), we'll be able to ship both of the older children off to week long camp this summer. And that is much more motivating than having the car paid off.

But, of course, we don't follow the budget to the letter. It's treated more like wall art than a working document. "Hey! Look at this great table saw I picked up. I wasn't planning on it, but it was such a great deal I just couldn't pass it up!" Which essentially translates to, "Hey! Either we don't pay the heat bill or we shrug off groceries for the family this month - you pick!"

I'll be looking for a second job today....

Monday, April 12, 2010

Cletus on the Crawl

Cletus the Used to be Fetus can crawl. I am the exact opposite of ecstatic. Coincidence? I think not.

So it's not really a full blown crawl yet, but it's a hand, hand, hop-through-with-both-legs-like-we're-vaulting kind of thing. Really pretty cute, except that means he's mobile. When you're the first child mobile is awesome. "Six and-a-half months and crawling?! He's an absolute genius!" When you're the third child it's more like, "Crap. Now the kid is crawling. That means I have to actually sweep the floor on a regular basis. And probably mop."

As Cletus grows it means I lose more freedom. No more plopping the baby on a blanket in the middle of the living room floor and walking to the bathroom. Now it's a choice: Bring the baby with and tell him no every time he tries to open the cabinet under the bathroom sink, or speed pee and hope to be back before he's pulled down the dvd player.

I ran down to throw a load of clothes in the washer. Came back upstairs and could hear the baby, but couldn't see the baby. He had managed to wedge himself between the couch and chair. Great. Now I've got "possible child misplacement" to worry about.