Silence is Golden.

I am not speaking to my husband. At all. Not even so much as looking at him if I can help it. I can hold a mean grudge if I want to.

I am going about my usual routine. I made supper and cleaned up. I even made enough spaghetti for him. I'm not 100% sure that if his brother wasn't here that I wouldn't have let him fend for himself. Let's pretend that as passive-aggressive as I can be I wouldn't begrudge him a meal. At least not in front of the kids.

They already heard the argument. In the car. Where it started. And it would have ended there if he would have simply acknowledged he was wrong.

I hear giggling from someone. Maven, perhaps?

Here's how it started.

About a week ago I mentioned to hubby that the front tire is making a noise and could he check it. He says, "I already did. It's fine." Not Fine!! Here we were driving to my parent's this afternoon when the *noise* gets progressively louder. and louder. and louder. So I pull over. We get out. He takes off the hubcap. Along come two of the bolts. So he tightens them up. All is well now. As I'm closing the trunk, I say, "Not to say I told you so but I did ask you to check that tire." That did it! He says he did and it was fine. I reply, "When? Last month? Because I asked you last week!" So I go on about how wouldn't it have been great if it had happened while I was alone with the kids and the whole damn tire fell off? blah blah blah

So then the silent treatment on our way home. Followed by more fighting. Someone saying stuff he probably shouldn't say to his wife who has been feeling sick and tired and sore all day. You know like how the house certainly isn't spotless and crap like that. (This came after me pointing out what his responsibilities as *The Man* are.)

Oh Fuck! I just spoke to him. Dammit! I was all distracted by typing. Crap! That ruined my whole evening now. And he smiled about it! Fuck!

Ode To My Littlest One

Coco, you are my third~born child, my second son, my little shadow. From the moment you were born you've been my mama's boy, even more so than your brother whose youngest baby boy status you stole. I spend most every minute of my day with you. You are the last thing I see before I fall asleep at night and the first thing I see each morning.

And boy, it's getting old!! Even as I sit here trying to type this out you are pinching my arm. Why? Who knows? So long as it entertains you, right? I have sacrificed my bodu in so many ways for you already why not be your personal pin cushion as well.

You have entered the terrible twos with a vengeance. I hope that you are like the month of March. In like a Lion out like a Lamb. I can compromise. You take this year to get it out of your system and then we won't have to revisit any bad behavior until your late teens, if ever.

Coco, my perfect little man~in~training, you will make a great husband one day. With the way you leave your socks wherever you happen to rip them off, the way you insist on wearing your boots in the house, and the way you play with something then drop it and walk away. The fact that you have a hate on for any clean room in the house and how everyone in the house has to tread carefully around your moods. Your future wife will love me so much for the job I have done raising you.

You know what she will thank me for, though? The way you cuddle and give Eskimo kisses out of the blue. The way you are always more than willing to *help out* when I am in the kitchen.

Coco, you spend a good part of each day terrorizing me, the dogs and the cat, and most of the evening doing so to your brother and sister. As we speak you have journeyed to the other room and are yelling at them. Even though they are asleep you are trying to get their attention. How sweet of you.

I think it is so stinking cute how you are obsessed with ladybugs, books and baths. You bring a smile to my face as you scream cutely at the ladybugs on the floor and window.

But soon you will fall asleep and as I gaze at you I will forget everything except how much I love you.

deja vu

Ever had that feeling that something is awfully familiar? Like you've lived through something already or imagined it or dreamed it? Well...I have been having dreams that occur many years later since I was a child.

The first one I can remember was talking to my Grandma while my Grandpa carried furniture down the stairs. I couldn't recall the conversation though. The reason the dream stood out was because it was so un-dream-like. It was too realistic. And yet it wasn't. It wasn't because things were different. The wall color and carpet were different. And so was Grandma, but just a bit. Fast forward a few years and it happens. Just like in the dream. I mean right down to the minute details. I don't understand why I remembered even the most random details but I did. Maybe because it was a "different" dream. But this time I knew what I had been talking to my Grandma about. Any idea? Yeah, the dream, or deja vu, which she thought was strange too.

So this has happened many times since. And it's so not like a prediction. Too bad though. I only realize it's what it is after it has actually happened.

Like tonight. Just now. Which prompted me to write it down. Or type it out as the case may be. So there I was (or here, whatever) changing Cohen's diaper. Carrying the foulness into the kitchen to throw it out when it hits me. This has already happened. Yes, I change him a gazillion times a day and yes, I walk in and out of my kitchen even more than that, but I knew "this" had happened. At least in a dream.

And I know when I dreamed it, too. For once I can pinpoint the exact timing. Why do I remember it? Because at the time of the dream I didn't live here and I didn't have a baby. I had a 4 yr old and a 6yr old. Neither in diapers. (thankfully) So, I remembered this totally random dream.

And the only other dreams I usually remember are the ones where I have been less than faithful to my husband. And I know those won't come true unless Brad Pitt tires of Angelina some time soon.

So, here I am carrying this rotten-ness into a kitchen I didn't recognize. And to say I didn't recognize it is an understatement. It isn't even a finished kitchen. A wall framed in but not finished, looking into a room stripped to the studs on one side. So not even this house when we moved in.

There was the dream. Totally random. Me, in a house, not mine (at the time) cleaning up after a baby, not mine (at the time).

Oh and did I mention the cat sleeping on my table? The only familiar aspect from my previous house and this one. No, not the cat. The table. It was the same table in my dream that I actually owned. But not the cat. Nope. My cat was white. The cat in the dream was an orange tabby. At the time I thought I was dreaming of our cat from years back. But I guess not.

Now, next time I dream of numbers I will play them faithfully for a few years and see if anything pans out.

Sweet Dreams!!