No Rest For The Weary Or The Wicked
2005-05-12
9:49 p.m.

Finally! The day is over and I'm back in my jammies, sitting in my bed with a sleeping baby beside me. She was still rocking on at midnight last night, so after her bath this evening I gave her a dose of B*nadryl. I know, I'm a monster, but she's teething and I'm so tired that I don't want to try handling her waking up every hour again tonight. So.

I added a few things to my list, such as returning the diffuser which broke after its second use and picking up another flatiron accompanied by an obscene amount of hair products. (It's the price my husband pays for being so stingy with those X chromosomes.) All of the older daughters new dos require the aid of a flatiron, and since Shau is going away this weekend that would mean that someone would have been left flatironless for over a day. I know that most of you probably aren't ready for the world to end, so I went out and purchased a second one. I purchased the one that cost $30 more and they lopped off $10 because I had my discount card and then gave me $60 worth of the flatiron company's products. Normally I'm not suckered in by those types of ploys, but I was too tired to say no to anymore employees, and besides, Shau's hair is beginning to look like it could use some Infra this and Silk that.

Tomorrow I need to bake something for someone who asked me to donate baked goods for their bake sale. I tried to just give a donation, but that didn't fly. I got the "We're all busy but we're baking" look. I wanted to tell them that my Saturday starts off with a soccer game at 9:00, followed by picking up flowers and a cake for a recital, followed by making sure the children are fed their lunch, followed by getting the children bathed and ready for the recital, followed by french braiding Sof's hair, followed by packing everything up in the van and driving to the recital venue, followed by braiding more hair and making sure that things are ready for the show, followed by the actual recital where I will have to make sure little girls are on cue as well as start and stop the music, followed by a reception, followed by making sure everyone is fed dinner, followed by making sure the three teens get to their youth group 2nd Saturday Slam, followed by watching a friends child, followed by going into a coma. I hate bake sales. If I'm going to take the time to bake I want to bake for my family. I hate taking the time to bake two dozen cookies that will sell for ten bucks, IF they sell at all. Call me persnickety, but I can't really blame anyone for not wanting to buy baked goods that are made in the kitchens of folks whose standards of cleanliness may not be quite up to par. I remember an old gentleman who loved to bake bread for bake sales. He had a kitchen full of lovely little poodles and hands that were eaten up with oozing eczema. The thought of him kneading the dough just about did me in. *Pet Fifi, Fifi licks sore-encrusted hands, hands dive back into dough* I will never buy anything at a bake sale and I despise baking for one.

Well, well, well...guess who's awake. Not even a Tylen*l/B*nadryl cocktail can keep my Lil Pil down. Well, you know what they say, "There's no rest for the weary or the wicked." That'd be me!

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