Dillierama

I'm married to a 7 year old

There are many things John does that bug me.  I know he'd say the same about me.  But one of the things he does, that he thinks is endlessly hilarious, I find endlessly annoying.  Here is a sample conversation:

Me:  What are you doing?
Him:  Changing out these sprinlker heads
Me:  Why isn't this project ever finished?
Him:  Why aren't you ever finished?
Me:  Huh?

Later in the house

Me looking at all the crap he's piled all over the counter:  If you don't put this away, I'm going to throw it in your office.
Him:  Throw you in the office
Me:  What?

Downstairs watching TV

Me:  Will you take these dishes up to the sink?
Him:  Take you up to the sink
Me:  Ok, you've got to stop that now
Him:  Stop you now
Me:  I'm serious knock it off
Him:  Knock you off
Me:  Honey, it's getting annoying
Him:  You're annoying
Me:  Ok, at least that made sense
Him:  You make sense
Me:  Stop it
Him:  Stop you

and on, and on, and on....

Daddy's home!

Well, John's home,  and none too soon, because all of this quality time I'm spending with The Boy is great and all, but 72 hours of nothing but me and the kid just about did me in.  It seems Alex had had enough of me as well because as soon as John walked in the door Sunday night, he was all about Daddy.  He ended up sleeping with us last night because he just wanted to cuddle in his daddy's arms all night long.  We tried several times to put him to bed, but he just ended up hysterical in his crib.  It really wasn't fair, because I wanted some cuddle time with John myself.  But with those big blue eyes, huge smile and saying nothing but "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!"  I didn't stand a chance.

Proud of his genetics

"Did the baby poop?"

"No, that was me"

"Really, that was a fart? Because it smells like a dirty diaper"

"I've noticed that sometimes, and I have to say, I like that I've passed some of my genetics on to him"

"Genetics?  You're happy that your fart smells like baby poo?"

"No, Alex's poop smells like my fart"

"Like father, like son then huh?"

"Yep"

Why won't you just fight with me?

So I've been a huge whiney boob lately due to the almost unbearable pain in my back that started five days ago and since then has gotten worse AND moved into my hips.  On Sunday I was so cranky I tried to pick a fight with John.  He wouldn't bite.

"Why are you watching golf? Golf is stupid"
"I TOLD you the mall would be closed early on a sunday!"
"Why won't you spend time with me? WAAAA!"
"Go away, you smell"
And so on.

I don't know why I thought picking a fight with John would make my back feel better, but after applying pressure, using a heated massager, icing it, laying on the floor with my legs on the sofa... I was cranky and tired and miserable.  As we were driving to dinner for my sister-in-law's birthday, I was crabbing at him about how he didn't know where the resturaunt was.  He still didn't let me ruffle his feathers.

"I'm sorry, I'm just sore, and I'm cranky when I hurt"
"What have you taken?"
"Taken?"
"Yea, like Tylenol, Asprin...You know, pain medication?"
"Nothing."
"You're in all this pain and you haven't taken anything?"
"It didn't really occur to me"

It really didn't. During my pregnancy and while nursing, I took Tylenol all of three times, one of which was when I was in labor but didn't know it yet. I took Ibuprofin right after I had The Boy, but other than that, I was medicine free.  I think that after 18 months of not taking anything, I guess I just forgot it was an option.  Of course, in my still crabby mood, I tried to blame it on John for not reminding me I could take pain medicine now that I'm no longer nursing. 

I ended up taking a leftover Ibuprofin from when Alex was born last night and slept like a baby.  I forgot to bring anything to work with me today though so I've been miserable all day, but at least now I can look forward to my date with a big IB tab and my big heated massager tonight.  I have no idea what caused this pain in my back. It's probably John's fault.  just kidding :)

The Dillier's go to South Park

South Park John (He has more hair than this in real life.  He really does)
 

South Park Jamie (John made this picture of me.  Notice the ample boobage)

South Park Alex - Awe, he's even cute SouthParkified :)

Five things I love about him

In honor of John's birthday and Father's day this weekend, this five is about him:

 

When I was single I literally had a list of all the things I wanted in a mate.  Mostly they consisted of things that were opposite traits my ex had, like "not gay" and "not a complete turd".  There were other basic things; he has to be nice, he has to love me, he has to want children, he has to be smart... John has all of those things and much more to offer me.  He has qualities I never knew I'd want in a husband and these are some of the things I love most about him.

1) He always thanks me for everything I do for him.  Things I wouldn't think deserve the appreciation.  "Thanks for doing the dishes Honey", "Thanks for telling me to go golfing, I had fun", "Thanks for getting takeout", "Thanks for washing my boxers", "Thanks for letting me watch Deal or no Deal"...  I have never felt more appereciated.

2) He makes me believe that I'm pretty.  Just the other day he said "I was checking you out in the rear view mirror on our way home from the game.  You're pretty and I'm glad you're my wife"

3) He is funny.  That was on my original list, but I never expected this level of funny.  John is a born entertainer.  He's goofy, he's silly, he's really good at physical comdedy.  I can't even count the number of times he's kept me up laughing hysterically in bed when we really should be sleeping.

4) Living with John is like living in a musical.  He could break out into song and dance at any moment.  It really makes things more interesting

5) He's a hottie.  I think John is the most attractive man to walk the face of the earth.  I love his hair, I love his eyes, I love his build, I LOVE his butt... Most people know about my mad crush on Derek Jeter.  Well, #2's got nothin' on John.  I'd pick John over Jeter any day of the week.

The things I do because I love him

I’m still trying to redeem myself with John after having been so bitchy. John, being the sweetest husband alive, has already forgotten that I was bitchy and hasn’t asked even once for me to make it up to him. But my conscience keeps telling me that I was mean, so I have to be extra-special nice to him.

Yesterday I think I may have redeemed myself for any wrongdoings I’ve ever done in my life. I participated in an activity that I feel is wrong on so many levels. I put aside my squeamishness and did something with John that he’d always fantasized about. I still feel a little dirty.

I watched Deal or No Deal.

The Season Finale.

With…

Wait for it…

Special guest Celine Dion.

Oh, the humanity!!

I don’t think I can adequately express my hatred toward the game show Deal or No Deal. I hate it. Oh, I hate it bad. It makes me feel all angry and prickly inside. I end up yelling obscenities at the TV the entire time.

When a contestant is hemming and hawing about how tough it is, and they don’t know what case to pick, “maybe 17, or 3, oh, what to do, what to do!” I scream:
“JUST PICK A DAMN CASE, IT’S RANDOM! PICK A CASE, IT DOESN’T MATTER!”

When Howie Mandel is about to have the busty blonde open up the case after all the buildup of what case to pick and he says “Ok Candy, open the case…when we come back!” and points at the camera, I scream:
“HOWIE, YOU BASTARD, YOU RAT BASTARD!”

When the banker calls Howie, and he actually acts like he’s having a conversation about an offer, I scream:
“HE’S JUST TELLING HOWIE HOW GOOD HIS MOTHER WAS IN BED LAST NIGHT”

But last night I wanted to make my husband happy. Last night I offered to watch Deal or No Deal with him with minimal screaming, fully knowing that it was the season finale and Howie-no-hair-but-the-fluff-under-his-bottom-lip Mandel would stretch it as far as it could go and try to create some sort of suspense each time the show would break for Viagra ads. I knew they’d pick a contestant that would be annoyingly perky and indecisive about her case picking. What I did not know was that they’d pick Casey the perky school counselor who’d given the entire studio pink “Team Casey” towels to hold up. What I didn't know was that Casey's husband was so excited about his wife being on this stupid game show that he was in constant convulsions and all he could say was "I love you Casey" while looking like he was about to pee his pants. What I didn’t know was that they’d pick Casey, who despite her cute shoes, is a huge Celine Dion fan. I didn’t know that Howie would, on at least 3 occasions, ask Casey to serenade the banker with crappy Celine Dion songs a cappella. I did not know that they’d actually have Celine Dion participate in the show via satellite from her

Las Vegas

show.

By the end of the show I was exhausted from holding in all the snarky comments I could have been screaming at the TV. But it was worth it, John was happy, smiling and satisfied and really looked like he could use a cigarette. Sometimes, you just gotta take one for the team.

Five useful things John brought with him when we moved in together

1) A bath mat
2) A clothes hamper
3) A dry erase board
4) One frying pan
5) Several boxes of Listerine