When I’m stressed or upset, I like to sit in our master bathroom and just, think. The bright bulbs reflecting off the bathtub, the cool tile underneath my feet, and the bathtub against my cheek. I like to sit in there to take a time out from everything from time to time, whether it’s a fight, or just stress, I sit in there and relax. Breath. After a few minutes I dry my tears, practice a smile in the mirror and then I’m on my way. The bathroom is my safe spot, no matter what is happening, I can retreat there and feel okay.
Chris and I were laying in bed, just talking. I talk to him easier about some things under the cover of darkness, so the safety of the bedroom, helps us communicate our fears from time to time. So we’re talking. It’s been a stressful day for me, in between the baby being sick and because it’s Friday. I tell him my fears, he tells me we have each other. It’s true. He tries to cheer me up…and he starts talking about his thumbs. One of them getting removed, to be exact. Apparently, losing your thumb is enough cause for disability. But he tells me he wouldn’t want to lose his right, it would need to be his left. That way he can hold a pen/pencil and he hits the space bar with his right thumb anyway. He doesn’t use his left. So it could absolutely not be his right. But I wouldn’t want him to be thumbless, because I have a thing with missing digits. So we agree, his thumb going missing is not worth $100,000, it’s a bad idea. I tell him I’m stressed, it’s been along day. He agrees and gets up to go watch tv. We don’t wanna talk anymore tonight, so I follow, then backtrack into the bathroom just for a minute. I feel the cool tile under my feet and the porcelain tub against my cheek. Dry my eyes, smile, and go into the living room, where he is waiting for me.
So we sit and laugh, make birthday cards and watch “From Dusk Till Dawn” which is by far the weirdest vampire movie ever. And we count our small victories and be thankful for each other.
How pathetic is this??
Our hall bathroom has been out of toilet paper for, like, four days now. We have toilet paper, but we store it in the closet in our bathroom, so there is no spare rolls in the hall bathroom. And instead of just grabbing a roll out of there when I’m leaving there anyway, I choose not to. So when I really need to pee, I waddle the extra 20 steps to our bathroom. Why? BECAUSE I’M NOT THE ONE WHO EMPTIED IT DAMMIT! It’s a matter of principle. Chris emptied the roll, so he needs to replace it. Eventually, one of us (95% certain it’ll be me) will give in and replace it, but until then, I’ll continue to waddle those extra 20 steps.
But I’m going to leave you with more pictures, of my model baby. Because I know you guys just can’t get enough of her silliness.
Ignore the towel that is laid down as a bathroom rug. Linux got a hold of ours and this is just a temporary solution until I get our new bathroom decor up. Anyway, I was sitting on the couch and started yelling “I’m gonna get you!” And she ran into the bathroom and hide behind the shower curtain. Is she smart or what!?