…and Mama’s following pretty close behind.
Our cat really is losing its shit. I mean, the thing has attacked both of my children. It’s eaten away a whole patch of skin at its neck and is like, “Let’s start on the belly next.” It spends the entire day racing through the house and sliding off my dining room table in a hood slide that would make the Dukes jealous. Not sure what’s wrong with her, but she’s one attack cat moment away from becoming a fur rug…patchy fur rug, but a rug nonetheless.
I was so stoked for this weekend. Stoked. Yes, I said…stoked. My parents were leaving for a vacation, the Husband got a three day weekend (Miracle!) and Saturday was poised to be a quiet day with just he and I doing our thing.
The kids with my Aunt.
The Uncle with his brother.
Just the Husband and I.
So whatever happened to me Friday when he got home that made me literally have an out of body experience, I’ll never know. I just punched him…in the stomach.
It wasn’t hard.
But I was mad. Like, really angry. FOR NO DAMN REASON.
I could see myself, yelling at him and his flabbergasted, confused face. I could see it, but I just. Couldn’t. Shut. Up.
Then he yelled back.
Fantastic idea, babe.
Now, I’m in tears, and he’s like, “Crap, I broke it. It’s leaking again.”
So I get a hug and I get this:
The Husband: The guys at work warned me you’d be all psychotic and stuff…with the hormones.
Me: -Pure raging anger in my voice.- What?
The rest of the weekend went off without a hitch. Everyone got to the places they were supposed to go. The Husband and I went on a Buy Maternity Clothes Date…whoopee.
He got the new Batman game, which is awesome, but that came with yet another gigantic sculpture to find room for somewhere in our tiny room. Gigantic. But it’s the Joker, so I’m not super mad, it just covers my entire jewelry box.
I don’t need jewelry, obviously.
I’m fabulous just as I am.
Yeah…we’re going to look at it that way. That works.