I yelled at my husband yesterday, in the Taco Bell drivethru.

Not my finest moment. But it’s ok, I’m starting a new diet tomorrow. Oh and the yelling was sort of unnecessary too.

But sometimes I wonder if he will EVER understand what my days are like while he’s at work talking to people who know how to wipe their own butts and don’t smack him in the face when they have a difference of opinion.

We were at Taco Bell and I was making E read all the menu choices out loud, because a) the writing is TINY b) I was in the passenger seat and it’s an awkward angle for seeing the board and c) I always hope they’ll have something new I haven’t heard of before that might delicious instead of ground mystery meat covered in fake cheese sauce. What can I say, I’m an optimist. E was getting frustrated with my squinting and my indecision and in his most exasperated tone said, “If you can’t read the board, WEAR YOUR GLASSES.”

FIRST of all, we have this discussion at least once a week. My glasses are scratched enough to be mostly unusable. My older, slightly wrong prescription glasses give me a headache. My even older, extremely wrong prescription glasses don’t help at all.

SECOND of all, I don’t have an eye doctor here, and I need to see one for a new prescription before I blow any money on new lenses and frames. But seeing a doctor takes free time and there seems to be a shortage of that in my life.

THIRD of all, my eyes aren’t actually that bad. I passed my driver’s exam without the glasses so I don’t HAVE to wear them. I just squint a lot and can’t read medium-small words on the tv.

But the argument isn’t really about whether or not I NEED the glasses – because if I am honest with myself I do, and ought to wear them regularly – it’s how my ability to GET the glasses is hampered by wrangling two children all day. It makes everything HARDER and he doesn’t understand.

E thinks that because he’s capable of caring for both kids in the house doing it elsewhere would be almost the same.* AHAHAHAHAHAHA. Do you know what happens in public? ANYTHING. Anything happens in public. Dogs the toddler can’t touch. Wind that blows on the baby in a way that makes her scream with anger. Food that belongs to people who don’t feel like sharing. Poopsploded diapers and nowhere to change them. POWER OUTLETS. DIRT. TRAFFIC. YELLING. STRANGERS TO JUDGE YOU. And no where safe to just leave the kids while you walk away for a minute and regain your composure.

Take the post office for example. Our post office is a NIGHTMARE – no parking, giant stone steps, no ramps for strollers (or handicapped people for that matter – I’m sure they’re violating about a zillion Americans with Disabilities Act provisions). I was in a town with a better post office so I decided to go there. I park somewhere out of the way so we’re not in the busiest part of the lot. Open the toddler’s door. Unstrap toddler. Fight with toddler about holding hands in the dangerous parking lot. Pick up screaming toddler. Walk around van. Open baby’s door. Pin toddler against the van with my knee while using both hands to get the baby seat out. Get slammed in the shoulder by the auto-closing door the toddler has activated. Hold baby seat in one hand and drag toddler with the other to the building. Fight with toddler about who gets to open the door even though it is too heavy for him. Herd toddler into line. Get out of line to prevent toddler from doors to the mail room. Feel like a terrible parent as he slams his head against a counter because he’s angry. Mail packages. Repeat in reverse back to the car. And I consider that a SUCCESSFUL trip.

E suggested I just use the stroller. All that does is add 10 minutes to a trip that now involves a screaming, thrashing 2 year old and getting stuck in three different sets of doors. It is also impossible for errands that involve: stairs, buying anything bigger than a breadbox, tiny doctor’s offices, places I have not been before and can’t judge for stroller-friendliness beforehand.

Now try that same scenario again only with a doctor’s office full of things Little Evan can’t touch and people who don’t necessarily like children. Oh and depending on the kind of doctor you might get to do it with your pants off. IT IS THE EXTREME OPPOSITE OF FUN and so far down on my list of things I’ll enjoy I’ll take any measures necessary to avoid it. So all my errands and appointments have to be done while E is home AND the offices are open. Not an easy feat.

Because E’s in the military, being healthy is actually PART OF HIS JOB and not only is his medical/dental/eye care provided, they schedule the appointments during work hours and make him go. My bosses aren’t quite so flexible. I don’t have family in the area to leave the kids with. And as much as my friends offer to help, asking them to watch my kids for every appointment would probably get me uninvited to playgroup pretty quick.

How do other people – or people with MORE kids – do this?

Maybe E can just keep reading menu boards for me and I’ll get new glasses when Caroline goes to preschool. In 2015.

*For the record, E is very good at parenting and sharing parenting responsibilities. But without the ability to lactate he can’t comfort and/or feed Caroline so the amount of time I can be away from her in limited. And now I need to write a WHOLE OTHER POST about my expectations of my husband (and men in general) as a father and how I feel both guilty and not at all guilty for asking for help. I need to go back to stupid craft projects before my brain explodes.

I’ve been having really bad luck lately, which all seems to be car related, which also all seems to be somewhat my own fault. OK, maybe entirely my fault – this pregnancy brain thing is REAL, no matter what “science” might have to say about it. “Science” also says alcohol is bad for you and we all know THAT’S not true. But seriously, pregnancy brain plus bad luck is the worst thing ever.

On Wednesday, I did my daily morning juggle of baby-water-bottle-purse-yoga-mat-stroller out to the car minivan only to discover the doors were locked and my keys weren’t in my purse. I dragged everything back inside and spent 10 minutes tearing apart the kitchen to find my keys before I remembered I put them in my other purse. THEN I remember I had just seen my other purse. On the floor of the car minivan. The locked one. So instead of a morning workout followed by an hour or two of playground time followed by a nice afternoon nap, I spent my day trying to entertain Screamy McScreamerson, King of the Split Personality who thinks smacking you in the face just so he can kiss the boo is HI-LAR-I-OUS.

Thursday was better. Besides the screaming match E and I got into about what the definition of “on top of the stroller” is. True story – we might be the first people to ever put “irreconcilable differences re: stroller anatomy” on our divorce petition.

On Friday afternoon I needed to run to the post office and finally mail those Lbaggies to my giveaway winners (sorry it took so long guys, they’re on the way!) so I left E with a napping baby and hopped in the van. As I was backing down the driveway I thought I felt a little…lopsided. Normally, being the super-responsible very automobile knowledgeable person I am, I would have convinced myself I was imagining things and run my errand anyway. But this time I got out and looked at my front left tire. My totally – TOTALLY – flat front left tire. Flat like a pancake. Flat like a board. Flat like my chest in the eighth grade when I bought that bathing suit with the built in cups and then couldn’t go in the water for fear they might collapse.

It was really flat. It sort of looked like it might have been flat for a while.

And then I remembered how the car scraped on the bump pulling into the driveway.

And then I remembered how the car scraped on the bump pulling out of the Wendy’s drive thru.

And then I remembered how the car sort of…pulled to the left on the way TO playgroup.

And then I remembered the “low tire pressure” light that’s been on pretty much since we bought the car.

I am a genius. And pretty lucky I (probably) didn’t permanently damage my axle. Or cause an accident.

In my defense, the light was on when we actually bought the car and the guy said “Oh it’s just because of the temperature. Once the weather cools down you’ll be fine.” Which is why I yelled “The salesman said it was OK! Tell them he’s a lying liar!!” in the background while E talked the dealership into replacing our OBVIOUSLY PREVIOUSLY PATCHED tire for free. I’m going in at 8 am today to sit in the waiting room with a hyperactive toddler for probably several hours until the mechanic tells me they don’t even have that tire in stock so they’ll have to special order it and can I come back in two weeks? And bee tee double-you, that’ll be $150.

Did I mention the part where the van FELL OFF THE JACK while E was changing the flat and I had to call AAA to come with their special heavy-duty jack? Or the part where the van FELL OFF THAT ONE TOO? Apparently the jacking mechanism is all…jacked-up.

Maybe the universe is telling me to just stay home. Which is the kind of advice I think I should follow – as soon as I go to the store for chocolate ice cream jelly beans milk and bread.

It’s sort of ironic to use “At Last” as your wedding song when you’re only like, 8 years old when you get married. Ok, I was 22 but I might as well have been 8. I think the only reason my mother didn’t run screaming in terror when her 21 year old came home for Christmas with a diamond ring and a bag full of bridal magazines was that she and my dad also got married at the ripe old age of 22, exactly 30 years and 3 days before I did. And they’re still going strong.

Lucky for you my external hard drive is STILL at the computer doctor on life support so my 2000+ wedding photos are unavailable. It’s a shame really, since I could have easily posted all 2000 of them today for the wedding blog hop. There isn’t a single one I don’t absolutely love.

But since I’m working off of just a few I stole from myself on Facebook and a few I scanned in from my album I’ll try to keep this short. Short-ish. Medium length. Not ridiculously long.

I was the kind of girl who had (has) a box of stuff labeled “For My Dream Wedding” and kept a running list of which color flower/cake/bridesmaid dresses/bubbles/carpet runner/butterflies should be used for whatever month my current dream wedding took place in. I was basically Monica from Friends, although I like to think my crazy bridezilla moments were limited to breakdowns at work behind a closed office door rather than screaming fights with my bridesmaids or vendors. But who knows, maybe EVERYONE knew I was crazy. It may have been a good thing that E was deployed for 90% of our engagement or he might have called the whole thing off when I made him go to the FOURTH cake tasting because I couldn’t decide between the lemon curd or the raspberry filling.

I absolutely ADORED obsessing over those details and I happen to think everything worked out as perfectly as any wedding possibly can, from the inexplicably gorgeous weather (August in Charleston is NOT supposed to have 0% humidity) to the surprise fireworks during our rehearsal dinner cruise (put on by the city for something else but that I claimed were for me) to the leisurely carriage ride around the city between the ceremony and the reception so E and I got some quite time together before the drinking reception started.

Sometimes I remember every detail so well I can’t believe 2004 was 6 whole years ago and not yesterday. And sometimes it feels like the whole day was just something I saw in a movie once. But either way it was totally amazing.

Our church, on the corner of Queen & Church St, Charleston SC

Going to the chapel

And we got married

My dress tried to eat the flowergirl

My girls. Their only request was that my wedding colors NOT be blush and bashful.

The pattern on the cake matches the lace on my dress. The photos on the guest book table are from our parents and grandparents weddings

My aunt caught us on the street to take a picture. It's one of my favorites from the whole day - the driver's face, my laugh, and Sticky Fingers in the background!

We had an open bar. I think that explains the dancing.

 Now it’s your turn! Link up all the pictures of your own wedding you want!