Time! There's never any time!

Sometimes I feel like "Jessie Spano" from Saved By the Bell...

Although, there are many similiarities I am lacking, but the things that stand out the most are how often I say...

"Time, there's never any time!"

Although, I never applied to Stanford... the amount of Starbucks I consume would probably be the amount of pills she was taking... I guess I am addicted to caffine.

I am constantly finding myself having to think three steps ahead because of work, school and family. It is really hard juggling everything and finding time to fit everything in...

Even finding a day to schedule getting my hair cut, having the oil changed in my car or running to pick up the dry cleaning has to be minutly scheduled due to everything going on...

I, thankfully, and hopefully, will be able to mark one off of that list come this May. I will be officially graduating from Kennesaw State University with a Bachelor's degree in Communication. It feels like the day will never get here and tonight my wife decided to be the voice of reason for me when I almost skipped my Economics class...

I sit in my chair in my Statistics class and my professer tells us all he will see us on Wednesday... I reach down to pack up by red, Northface book bag. I put my calculator in the front, zipper pocket and proceed to stuff all the notes I so dilligently took during the class. I then reach over to my gray, Blackberry smartphone and proceed to text my wife, Laura...

"I will see you shortly!"

I almost immediatley recieve a message in return - BUUZZZZZ (my phone is almost always on vibrate.)

"Why?"

I start to wonder, why am I leaving class early? But, then I know it isn't just because my day had been hellishly long, or I was tired or even that I needed to go to the bathroom... I was looking for any really good excuse to leave campus... was I feeling sick, no. Oh! I wanna see my family. I want to tuck my little munchkin into bed and rock him to sleep before he gets to big for us to do that.

I text back, "B/c I said."

"Was class cancelled?" she replied.

I thought, should I lie? Do I tell the truth? The angel and devil were sitting on each side of my Black, Calvin Klein sweater... the devil kept turning my cap backwards and the angel was tryin to fix it back... I thought...I am an honest person and don't want to lie..

"No," I typed

":/"

I went ahead and called her and she played the "voice of reason" or "the bad guy" as she would call it. I wasn't mad at her... I was disappointed. Disappointed because I want to be finished with school... I want to be home.. I am tired of the whole college scene. I am too old for this.

I mean I wake up at 6am... am out of the house by 7am with Mauldin in tow and to work by 8am. My days feel so long during the week, but the weekends just seem to fly by as if they never even happened at all.

The amount of time I am alotted with my family is such a sad amount. I cannot believe how we all do what we do day after day. If you think about it... we all work so hard during our younger years dating... trying to find someone suitable to marry... then you either both work of just one of you, but no matter what you are still apart. The hours just do not justify... however, if we didn't work we wouldn't be able to have a roof over our heads, food, etc... the essentials to survive are no longer good enough. We all must have cars, enough money to buy nice clothes, etc... The vicous cycle goes on and on and all the while you are working to survive you work even harder to maintain the relationships you worked so very hard to find in the first place. A lot of people use their weekends for "girl's nights out" or "guy's weekends" away from their wives... Why? I barely get anytime with my wife and son as it is! I added it up and right now my wife and I actually get to spend, during the five-day work week, a total sum of 22 hours, waking hours to be with each other... even less I get to spend with my child! It's insane.

Now what is my whole point in this seemingly bitter diatribe? None, none at all... but isn't that what blogs are for? Thoughts on a screen...

Well, the only solace I gain from this is I am about to go to my Econ class and learn about the economy system in India. Really? May 5th hurry... please!

Just say mommy!

Just say mommy…

Yesterday morning, upon waking up around 7:00 am (post DST), I strolled into my son’s dimly lit bedroom and saw him standing in his crib, his hair disheveled from burying his head in his bumper.

“Good mornin’ little man, did you sleep well?” I asked, as if I were expecting to receive an honest answer… I pause as I look at my little boy.

“Dada?” he says as he points at the pictures of us on his photo-memory board.

“Yes, there’s da-da…” I say. “And, there’s momma, and there’s Mauldin!”

He smiles a gummy-grin with a hint of two tiny teeth poking out of his bottom gum. "You wanna go see mommy?"

He points out the door, “Da!”

I look down and step over numerous books and colored blocks littering his bedroom floor… with Mauldin wrapped snuggly around my neck I head out the door.

As I round the corner to our room I see a light has been turned on and I hear water running…
I hear a voice and two large white doors open outward… it’s my wife!

“Good morning!” says Laura. She is wrapped in only a towel obviously ready for her morning shower.

“Did my little boy have a good night sleep?”

“Dadadadada,” replies Mauldin.

“Yes, he seems to be in good spirits despite..” I say, I reach over and grab a tissue from the box of Kleenex on our dresser.

“Here,” I say as I reach out to Laura.

“Despite his runny nose?” Laura said finishing my sentence.

“Yes, mommy, we have a runny nose.” I followed as I watched her wipe the nasty concoction of goo from our child’s nostrils.

Mauldin expressed his dislike by his face turning red and his sad pout.

We always try to occupy Mauldin with the art of distraction whenever he is upset…
“Mauldin, say mama!”

He looked at me with his sad eyes, filled with tears… one slowly moved down his cheek and he quickly responded with a coy little smile…

“Dad-de!”

One day at a time...

Ironing out the wrinkles

It is no secret that the economy has hit everyone hard in certain ways… Almost every family I know has cut back in one way or another.

We have done our share to save, for example, my wife fights her way through couponmom.com and the Sunday paper, on the weekends, to locate the different brands we buy. Luckily for us, this is the last month, for a while we will need to purchase any formula! I find it so impressive when we go to the grocery store and after all is said and done we have saved close to if not more than $50 off what our regular bill would have been.
Pinchin’ our pennies led us to forgo the fun movie channels on our Dish Network Satellite. We have since enrolled in Netflix and in doing so saved us about $60 per month.

We have resorted to ironing our dress clothes for work. I have numerous meetings I have to go to each week and so I need to have pressed and starched dress shirts readily available. We really like the cleaners we use. I drive up and they know me by name without even saying a word.
They are an asian couple, as most dry cleaners are and the wife has to be the nicest lady I’ve ever known.

“Oh hello, E-dic, how’s de baby?”

But, I certainly don’t get that type of reception when I drive up and the husband is there. I show up and he immediately goes to the cash register and heads back to get my clothes. He heads out, opens my car door (this is a drive-thru cleaners, by the way) puts the clothes in the back seat and hands me a receipt and tells me the amount I owe all without any type of salutation or greeting. I hand him my credit card, sign and am on my way. I can give “credit” he is pretty efficient without the banter of talking to customers. Maybe that’s just how his egg rolls!

Okay, I cannot take recognition doing our ironing, I have probably pressed three shirts in the two years my wife and I have been married, but I guess to her it is something she wants to do for her man. I wouldn’t want her out mowing the lawn. Don’t get me wrong, we are in no way making each other do certain duties, but this is how our marriage works!

I sit here typing this blog as my wife, so lovingly, sways back and forth in her long, gray pajama pants and blue school polo, hair twisted up in a sexy mess with her white pearl earrings still in her ears that she obviously has forgotten to take out from the work day. She painstakingly slides back and forth with her silver Shark iron in her right hand and a can of Niagara starch in her left. It seems just like yesterday that we received our iron as a gift from our wedding registry, we had no idea how much use it would of gotten.

“I like this shirt honey,” said my wife while holding a blue and white checked J.Crew shirt. “You should wear it more, it looks great on you!”

“Thanks babe,” I said. “You wouldn’t believe how old it is..”

“Well, I like it.” She replied turning and rubbin' her pregnant belly. “The bigger I get the more you should watch for this to end up on my side… Oh – Shhhed$#@!!!”

I turn and see the ironing board rocking back and forth in a swaying motion that of course set our very state-of-the-art iron Shark diving to the floor in a downward dive. Please understand we have hardwood in our bedroom and the end result to something like an iron falling on it cannot be a good one.

“Oh, are you okay?” I say while I look at Laura.

“Yes.” She replied, her face now a bit pink from the panic moment that just occurred.

I know I was hoping she was okay, but a large part of me was worried about our floor. Don’t get me wrong, I was so glad to know my wife hadn’t burnt herself, but I was almost equally curious if she had burnt the floor. The floor in our dining room has already been ruined from our dogs taking the opportunity to skip the outside pee route.

“How is it?” I carefully asked.

Laura is already sensitive from being pregnant, so I wanted to tread lightly and not make her feel any worse than she already felt. Besides, she was ironing MY shirts…

“It just left a little mark,” she said while bending down to feel the mark the Shark had gashed in our hardwood.

“Wait, what is that?” I asked.

“What?” she replied, “Oh…”

She bend down again, but this time her head went under the ironing board itself with the iron resting gingerly waiting to make another nose dive into our floor, but this time it would of gone right on Laura’s neck.

"It's just a white piece of.."

“Laura.” I said quietly and softly with my eye on hers.

“Yes?” she said while standing up and missing the board by the width of an American Express card.

“All I need for you to do is bump that, burn yourself, and we are off to the ER!”

She looked at me smiling that smile she usually gives me when she knows she has done something to irritate me.

We are certainly trying to save money, but my wife better be more careful or she may end up seriously injured from “The Shark!”