Manic Monday

Rules.

I am usually a free spirit and do not have ‘rules’. I mean that – I am rule free. Oooohhh, that was a lie. I have some rules: always be nice, always give to charity, always be thankful. Okay, but besides these rules – which really are mandatory so I would question if they are “rules” - I am a rule free wife.

I am always telling Tim how easy he has it and that maybe I should start bossing him around. Just for fun. But then he reminds me I have it just as easy and we call a truce on the teasing and resume our rule free life.

Pregnancy changed everything. I officially have rules and beyond that – I even label them rules. As in, “Tim, new rule: (insert new rule here). He smiles, or cringes and continues on his merry way. Life is good until he breaks a rule and then I go a little berserk. Like, did he really just break a rule? What am I going to do? How should I handle this? Is this my future or is this some temporary craziness because of hormones? Only time will tell I guess, though I can say with absolute certainty that I hope this is my crazy person hormones.

Every story has a beginning…

So I bought myself chocolate milk the other day and stuffed it in the fridge. We don’t buy milk. We are vegetarians and besides, I don’t really like the taste that much. Tim exclusively drinks soy milk (insert gag here) and/or uses it to cook. I am sure you are thinking, then why the chocolate milk? Easy, chocolate milk helps me get extra protein on days that I am concerned I haven’t eaten enough. The chocolate flavor covers up the gross taste just enough that I can down it without too much fuss.

I opened the fridge yesterday morning and the milk was gone. (I was not opening the fridge the get the milk…)

Me: Tim, where is my milk?
Tim: I drank it. Why?
Me: You know the rule. It was mine.
Tim: But you weren’t drinking it, it was going to go bad. You don’t even like milk.
Me: I don’t care. It was mine.
Tim: But…
Me: No buts! You drank my milk. ***Use your imagination for the rest of the crazy person rant***

It’s okay to feel bad for my husband. He does put up with my crazies. He married me, and then I went crazy. He may have a different opinion on when I went crazy – but this is my blog and I will write what I want.

Back on Wednesday,
Candee