Happy Birthday, Blog!

I can't believe it's been one whole year since I began this blog. A whole year since Hubby went to the Napa Valley for a work trip full of hot air balloon rides, wine tastings and dinners at five star restaurants leaving me with my then five and three year old daughters, an eleven week old baby recovering from a cold, and, developing the very morning he left, a horrible cold myself. A whole year since I was a sleep-deprived, raving lunatic spilling her guts into cyberspace in an effort to regain her sanity.

One year later, at least the sleep-deprived portion has improved and Hubby left yesterday for the yearly junket, this time in South Beach, Miami*. I marveled the night before he left how much had changed in just one year. How confident I felt having the kids all to myself for four days, day and night, compared to last year when I broke out in a cold panic-induced sweat when Hubby sheepishly told me what a good sign it was he had been chosen to go on this trip.

Fast forward to the pre-dawn hours of Saturday morning and Little Man awakes crying. He has a fever and a cough. Hubby tried to sleep through it, but I kick his ass out of bed telling him he's high if he thinks I'm getting up and to think of me as he naps on the plane. There go my plans for a fun-filled weekend at the aquarium and various child-centered fun spots. So I spend the morning tending to a sick, cranky baby and as my brother and sister in-law come over to mercifully take the girls to the movies for me (I had to get them out of the house at some point or it was going to get ugly fast) and my sister in-law is petting the dog, she notices his ear is bleeding profusely. Christ on a bike! Now I get on the horn to my fabu mother and father in-law who, of course, rush over to help, since I have already spent forty-five bucks on movie tickets for the kids and I'd sooner inflict my cranky-ass baby on my young brother and sister in-law than I would a case of small pox, and I can not haul said baby with me in the rain (of course it rained this weekend, did you doubt fate has it out for me?) while trying to drag my hundred pound, terrified yellow lab through the doors of the emergency vet (since, of course, our stupid vet is already closed).

The kids get off to the movies, my in-laws stay with Little Man, and I take Reilly (aforementioned, vet-phobic, obese dog) to the vet. Two hours later, I return home covered in dog hair from an examining room wrestling match, three hundred dollars poorer with a dog wearing a cone on his head and a yeast infection in his ear (see above). With the help of the gods (my in-laws) I get all three kids in bed and collapse on the couch.

So really, not all that much has changed after one year of cyber-emotional vomiting. Sure, I'm getting more sleep, my kids are older and more independent, but the big things remain the same. I'm still crazy, life is still unpredictable, and when I write about it it makes me feel a thousand times better.

Thank you, dear readers, for your hilarious responses (except for my sis, K - seriously, dial back on the funny, you make me look bad), and most of all for reading. If I didn't know there are some people in the same boat as I am or at least getting a good laugh from my Titanic of a life I wouldn't find the energy to do this one little thing for myself each day. Here's to another yer of Mean Mommy. Now let's have a drink! I think I deserve one, don't you?**

* Not much of a dancer, despises hair products, Hubby in South Beach=Fish out of water.
**Sadly, I can't as I am the only responsible adult in the house and I have visions of a paramedic having to show up to the house because I can't drive my kids to the ER since I've had half a glass of wine - past my three-babies-in-five-years limit.