I've prayed for the end of a really bad day. Who hasn't? I might have even hoped a craptastic Monday would turn into a drink-in-excess-Friday. But I gotta say this is the first time I have ever been relieved to see an end of entire month.
September, or the month of in-laws as it will be forever referred to in the family history books, has come and gone. And believe me I will refer back to this moment in history for a long long long time. Just know that, husband. A long time.
It was a doozy. The Husband owes me something big and sparkly. I'd accept large, glass and full of liquor as well. Wrapped in a bow. Because anything wrapped in a bow says I'm sorry for being an ass.
I love my in-laws. I really do. Great people who would move mountains for my kid. It wouldn't have even been all that bad if life, in general, didn't give me the finger once or twice this month as well. September was like a hellacious version of the 12 days of Christmas.
On the first day of September, my true love gave to me 6 bickering in-laws, 5 to-tal meltdowns, 4 cutting teeth, 3 days of fever, 2 long flights and one freaking car accideeeeeeent.
I've drank more in the past month than in the entire year. Don't judge me. Wine kept me from banging my head against the wall repeatedly. Or banging my husband's head against the wall repeatedly.
So October has arrived. And guess what...we decided to move. Because apparently another month of stress is just the cure for this pounding, nauseating September hangover. Yay. Moving is my personal hell. I must have been a dirty hooker in a past life because somehow I got a husband who actually enjoys moving. So we move. We move a lot. And I drink. I drink a lot.
Packing has been an interesting experience this time around. Two days into packing and I've packed 5 boxes. That's progress, right? Sure, considering The Kid has unpacked 2 boxes, broken a picture frame, eaten a coffee table book and wrapped his head in bubble wrap. I'd say it's progress.
Wine glasses are being packed last. I'll see you in November for my intervention, y'all.