Worst Case Scenario Kind of Girl

Thoughts that roll around in my head at night…

What did Mark have in his hand earlier? And why couldn’t I find that big butcher knife at dinner?




*Checking under his pillow* Nope, not here. Remember to check his closet in the morning.




While I am firmly against Ella dating (as in EVER), we must be on the lookout for those boys that want to murder parents in their sleep. Keep a sharp eye out for that kind.




Hmm…sure he says he is going to fix that hole in the garage with the duct tape and tarp he bought at Home Depot but what’s his hidden agenda? Lets just remember to throw ‘em in the trash on Wednesday.




So, I may spend a bit too much time watching real crime dramas. Dateline, 48 Hours, Investigation Discovery, you name it I watch it.




Clearly, they have an impact. Good and bad, I suppose.




For instance, midway through a normal dinner, I may happen to blurt out strange things.




For instance...




You know you'll never get away with it. I am much too smart to be murdered!!




What ARE you talking about?




*Silence*




Ummm...




You've REALLY got to stop watching those shows.



Admittedly, I get a bit “Worst Case Scenario”and freak myself (and my husband) out on occasion.




But, on the bright side, my many hours staring into Stone Phillips’ pretty face listening to his deeply hypnotizing voice will probably, maybe, one day save our lives.




So Mark is just going to have to deal with the occasional outbursts. And the checking for wayward weapons.




Also, if you’re in the market for a never been used tarp please see my trash can on Wednesday. You’re in luck.

I'm Calling Her Grandma Ghost or G.G. for Short

We have a ghost.

I’m totally down with having a ghost. I mean, it’s like the next best thing to having a pool, right?

I know, I know. It’s obviously not as cool as a vampire. I WISH!

The ghoul hierarchy being what it is: Vampires, Werewolves, Ghosts; I think top 3 is pretty good.

Weird things started happening a few months ago; things that are clearly the work of the supernatural.

Case in point: last week I went up to get Ella. She was squished into the corner of her crib, like she always is, but this time the music on her mobile was playing.

She was still dead asleep. Her little pudgy-wudgey arms and legs could not have reached over to the far side of her crib to accidentally turn it on. And the remote has been out of batteries for some time (us being the lazy parents that we are). This has happened a few times.

Obviously, work of a ghost.

Secondly, Ella is a talker, like most 9 month olds

She jabbers away. You just know she’s giving you some good stock tip or a new healthy recipe she learned through the endless hours of Food Network we subject her to.

(If only we could understand her! We’d be rich AND healthy! )

But she’s taken to looking up to the ceiling and jabbering like she’s talking TO someone. It’s kind of creepy, really. She stares right up at the ceiling and relays all of her get rich quick schemes.

Obviously.

The husband really doesn’t want to encourage this ghost talk, so he likes to tell me that the noises I hear is just the house ‘settling’.

Fine, Mark.

I guess the ‘settling’ sounds EXACTLY like someone is walking down our stairs? And the house knows which floor boards make the “I’m walking across the room RIGHT NOW” sounds?

We either have a really smart house or a ghost.

Clearly Mark is wrong. Sorry, babe.

I might be more upset about this were it just some strange spirit talking to my baby.

But I know who it is.

The people that we bought the house from casually mentioned that they had moved in Grandma a few years before selling, in the bedroom right next to Ella’s.

Grandma wasn’t around by the time we bought the house. The bedroom had been turned into a sewing room.

I’m just saying.

Clearly, it’s a kind, loving ghost. I mean, only a Grandma would turn on the mobile and jabber to a 9 month old.

And we're keeping her, no matter what Mark says. Imagine the resale value!

I just wish we could get her to babysit.

Home Alone

I admit it. I’m one sloped forehead away from a Neanderthal.  If it weren’t for my husband I’d be in my sweats, on the couch, slurping butter noodles, switching between Bravo and E every night.  Mark is the more civilized one in the relationship.   He cooks.  And not just man food.  His dishes are plate-licking good.  He makes meals that I am way too lazy to even read the recipes for.  And ladies, don’t get too excited, but he also washes the pans!  I HATE washing pans.  This translates into “rinsing” them off before using them again.   And on occasion, when he guilt trips me into it, he makes me watch some really interesting shows on TV. Granted they are all nerdy but I do feel a bit more educated when I turn off the TV than after my shows.  

So when he travels for work it’s like the wheels have come off the bus.   My life becomes one huge, complicated mess.  Add Ella to the mix and I need a stiff drink before 9:00 am.    Its only Wednesday, but I’ve already eaten way too much fast food (no leftovers for lunch so I guess I have to eat Chik-Fil-A again, twist my arm…), the dishes from this weekend are quietly taking over the countertop (plans for total kitchen domination are in the works), the clothes pile on the couch will not be touched until 10 minutes before he comes in the door (and then it will be thrown on the chair in the bedroom).  

I have two more days of this.  I’m tired.  I want him to come home.  I want real food again.  I’ll even watch the History Channel without complaint.  At least until the Kardashians come on.