It’s official, The King and I are lazy. Not we hate to go to work-lazy, or we hate to do the dishes-lazy. Mostly it’s the can’t get up off the couch to put a DVD in the player-lazy.

Our copy of Arrested Development Season III arrived in the mail yesterday. We had been waiting for this for a long time. It was pre-ordered weeks ago. I’ve been dreaming of it since the Season Finale aired. Friends and coworkers have been e-mailing me on a daily basis wondering has it arrived yet?

The King got home last night from working over at the new house, we hurried and bathed Babboo, put him in bed, ate dinner, sat down on the couch, turned on the TV…..and nothing. We had both sat down before actually putting a DVD in the player. And since neither one of us wanted to actually get back up off the couch we watched 101 Crap on TV That We Can’t Stop Watching.

Now is it just me or does it seem like the only thing on VH1 and E! these days are some show with commentary by Hal Sparks?

And who are these people who are commenting? I totally enjoy Hal Sparks and Mo Rocca and am happy anytime I see them. But who are the rest of the commentators? Are they famous or do they just go from studio to studio making outrageous remarks about the 80’s and the Wackiest Red Carpet Disasters? Do they write their own jokes? Are they given the material before hand? Do they have to get their jokes approved? And do you love it as much as I do when they are totally making fun of something like big earrings, but yet they are currently wearing big earrings. This happened yesterday and it made me so happy. Especially the one where Cybil Shepard was dissing shoulder pads and then realized she was wearing shoulder pads! (Shoulder pads, really?)

Dude, how many times can I hear about how embarrassing the 70’s were? People dressed funny. The toys were wack. The music was silly. I get it. I get sort of sick of the whole “it’s funny ’cause it’s true” jokes. Blah.

And now I will stop talking about that. Ahhhh.

Tonight we will watch George Michael and I will be happy.  George Michael, I love you.  And I’ve missed you.

And we will not watch anything with gossip or commentary.

(What we should be doing is packing for LA. But why? Let’s just leave that until the last minute. Because we’re cool like that.)

I’m home from work today and Babboo’s home from school. Why? Because I got crap for sleep last night. Why? Because the horrible person who lives above us was up at 3 am with her music cranked up. I’m also pretty sure she was crying. I kept hearing what sounded like marbles on the floor but what I later figured out was her dropping her shot glasses. I was so tired and so pissed that I put my pillow over my head and willed her to just jump off her balcony. I become an extra mean person when awaken to parties at 3 am.

Then Babboo woke up from all the music and crying. I was able to get him back to sleep, but I never fully went back to sleep myself. When the alarm went off, I decided I was calling in sick today. I needed some sleep and some quiet time.

I got up long enough to e-mail my boss then I called Babboo’s school and excused him for the day. We said goodbye to The King and plopped down on the couch to watch some TV.

(I know, I know I should be packing for our trip. Or looking up all of your fabulous suggestions for LA. But first I need to watch TV and snuggle Babboo.)

Guess what we watched? The Color Purple, which is an awesome movie. I hadn’t seen the movie since I was about 13 years old. And I admit, I didn’t really understand it back then. Today, it moved me to tears multiple times. There is nothing I can say about this movie to express how it made me feel to watch. I did remember that it was originally a book that they made into a movie. Now I haven’t read the book, but I imagine it is also amazing.

Which made me think about all the books that are made into movies and how mostly they suck.

The King and I just finished watching In Her Shoes last night, and while the movie was good, they sure did leave a lot of stuff out. I mean, entire plot lines. It’s was so weird to watch it and be like; what happened to the part where Maggie lives at the university?

Plus I don’t remember Rose liking Maggie so much? And wasn’t she fatter in the book? Toni Collette was way too hot. Which is like the movie Circle of Friends where Minnie Driver got all fat, but really wasn’t fat. Mostly her hair was just bigger. That movie left a ton out from the book.

And don’t even get me started on A Walk to Remember, which is pretty must not even the same story as the book. I’m not even sure how they can call it the same story. Yes, there is a girl that dies in the end of the movie, but that is about the only thing that’s the same as the book. I loved the movie, I liked the book. But they really aren’t the same story.

I love Nick Hornby. But really, how is the movie High Fidelity like the book? It isn’t even based in the same country for crying out loud. In honor of Rob, the lead character in High Fidelity, I present you with my top 3 movies that were bases on a book:

1. About a Boy
2. Gone With the Wind
3. Lonesome Dove

So tell me, what are some other movies/books that I’m forgetting about? Are there any others that you thought shouldn’t even share the same title? Or where the movie was actually tons better than the book.

Or are there any books that you’re just dying for them to make a movie out of? For me it would be The Drifters by James A. Michener.

I’m not really sure why we decided to go to LA over Labor Day. It’s not like we can take him to Disneyland. He’s too small to ride any of the rides, and I’m pretty sure that The King and I don’t want to take turns holding him while the other person rides Space Mountain. Yeah, that’s not happening.

And it’s not like we can spend hours sunning ourselves on the beach whilst reading the latest Harry Potter ala our trip to Mexico last summer. Nope, we have to keep the baby covered from the evils of the sun at all times.

Um yeah, so why did we decide to go to LA this weekend?

Right, to get Babboo used to traveling and to figure out if we can handle it.

But still, what were we thinking? There isn’t anything to do in LA with a 4 month old baby. At least not the stuff we usually do while in LA.

And now that we’re traveling with a baby, and there are heightened security in the airport things are a little more hectic when it comes to prepping for this little trip. Dude, I just know I’m going to have to pack more luggage around then when we went to Europe.

I’ve starting making lists of what I need to do before this Saturday morning. The King sent me an e-mail list this morning also.

We are being taken over by lists.

• Buy sunscreen (because I heard sunscreen expires and ours is over a year old)
• Buy new shorts for The King (since he just found out all of his summer clothes are in storage-along with all my clothes)
• Taxi or park at airport?
• Buy swim diapers (even though we aren’t going to take Babboo into the ocean?)
• Pick up travel stroller from The King’s parents house
• Find someone to look after our furry orange kitty
• Pay rent for September
• Pay for Babboo’s school for September
• Decide if they are serious when they say you have to drink some of the formula before they’ll let you take it on the plane
• Look online for anything to do in LA with a baby
• Look online for any suggestions for traveling with a baby. (I hear Liza has some good ones)
• Print out paperwork for the plane, the car, and the hotel

And really…what in the heck are we going to do in LA for 5 days??  Especially since The King said we shouldn’t just read books while we’re there.  Nope, we should actually hang out as a family.

CRAP.

Story told to us last night by my friend May’s husband:

“I was getting off the bus the other night and some dude asked me to buy him some beer. Apparently he was so drunk that the convenient store had cut him off. I shook my head and just kept walking. The guy said he’d give me the money for the beer. I just kept walking. Then the guy said he’d perform a sexual act on me if I would just buy him the beer. Yeah, I kept walking.”

This story frightens me on so many levels.

First, who would agree to this? I mean, what has to happen in your life for you to hear this request, stop to think about it, and then agree?

Second, what has to happen in your life to offer your services in this manner?

Third, if you were to get this request, would you share it with your friends? Becuase I’m pretty sure I’ll never be able to look at our friend the same again. I guess a part of me will always wonder if he did buy the guy his beer.*

Has anything like this ever happened to you?  I swear, I never get good stories like this.  Never.

*of course, I know he didn’t. But it’s an awesome story.

Nobody ever wants to admit that there are gender roles in marriage. Actually, I don’t know if that’s true. Let me rephrase that; I don’t want to admit that there are gender roles in my marriage. I like to think that The King and I are equals. That we both pull our own weight. That he does just as much laundry as I do. And that I use a hammer just as much as he does. Or something like that.

Lately I’ve realized that things have changed for us. Drastically. And I don’t have to like it. But I do have to acknowledge it.

Okay. Let me back up a few years.

When The King and I were just about ready to get married we had a counseling session with one of our church leaders. I’ll be honest and tell you that I only remember one thing he said. He said that we shouldn’t have kids until I was ready. He said this was because I would be the one with majority of responsibility of taking care of the kids, so I would have to be ready for that.

I remember talking to The King about that and telling him how silly I thought that was. I mean, it was the year 2000 where women and men were equals in the home. I knew The King would be a hand-on’s Dad. It was one of the reasons I was marrying him.

We took our time to have kids. We decided early on that we had some other things we wanted to do before we added to our little family.

First and foremost, we decided we needed a house. Since we couldn’t afford to buy a house, we decided to build one. And since we couldn’t afford to have someone build it, we built it ourselves.

The King and I were pretty equal in the amount of time we spent working on the new house. He was rarely there without me there with him. While he was running electrical wires, I was painting doors. After he installed windows, I caulked them. He held the insulation in place. I stapled it. We made a good team.

After we got into our house we continued to split the “house chores” right down the middle. He put the clothes in the washers, I folded them. He loaded the dishwasher, I unloaded it. I made the bed, he cleaned the toilets. Even stephen.

We both were working full times jobs, while working on finishing up the house, and also spending a lot of extra time volunteering at our church. We were like a well oiled machine. We got things done and nobody complained that the other one wasn’t pulling their weight.

The last few months I’ve noticed a drastic shift. And it ain’t pretty.

I feel like I’m raising Babboo alone. I know I’m not raising him alone. I’m just telling you how I feel. Bear with me.

I’m the one that gets up with Babboo during the night. I sit with him on the side of our bed and feed him. I’ll look over and see The King with the pillow over his head and try to not get mad. I chose to breastfeed (against his wishes), so I know that there isn’t anything he can do to help. I’m the only one that can feed Babboo. I know that.

But it doesn’t make getting up any easier.

I’m the one that has to wake up earlier every morning in order to have time to get myself ready for work and Babboo ready for school. I dress him, feed him, get his bottles ready and pack whatever else he may need. I also try to make the bed and pick up the toys that took over our apartment the previous evening.

I’m the one that calls the school during the day to check on Babboo. I’m the one that goes there on my lunch to feed him. I’m the one that picks him up and walks home with him. Stopping to run the errands that needs to be done, like going to the bank or the post office. Or even the library. (Okay, I’m not so good about the going to the library part.)

On the two days a week that I work from home, I do my regular full time job as well as take care of Babboo. Which is getting harder and harder to do. But which I choose to keep doing because I know it’s best to be home with him. And because I don’t want to give up my chance to work from home for fear that I won’t get it back.

On my days at home I also have to do laundry, dishes, clean up the place, as well as field the calls from The King in which he adds to my all ready full plate. Yesterday he asked me to go down to Pike Place Market to get some fresh rolls for dinner. And to call the property managers to tell them our kitchen sink was leaking.

I flipped out and told him I couldn’t just run to the market. I was busy working my full time job. My job which I hadn’t been able to do yet because Babboo wouldn’t stop crying and demanding I hold him at all times.

What makes this even harder is that The King is working at the new house every night during the week and every Saturday. He has to work that much or we won’t get into this house. We don’t want to stretch that out since we’ve been paying the mortgage on the house we tore down (for almost 2 years) and we’re paying for the construction on the new house. We are not made of money. Far from it.

But still I feel like it’s just me. Like the brunt of the whole baby thing is mine. Plus all of my previous responsibilities. I feel like I’m the one that picked on.

But guess what? The King has a full time job to. Plus he’s building this house. Not only is he building it, he’s doing all the design work. So when he’s not physically there working on it he’s reading magazine to get ideas for the bathrooms or the kitchen. When he’s not doing that, he talking on the phone with the framers or the metal siding supply company, or fighting with his Dad over what to pay the framers.

So even though I feel like I’m pushed to my limit, The King feels the same way. But on top of him feeling that way, he doesn’t get to see Babboo. He races home each night from the new house in hopes of getting there early enough to give Babboo his bath or to give him a kiss before I put him in bed. He cherishes his time with him in the mornings when he drops him off at school. Every day saying that today is the day he’ll call in sick and just spend the day with Babboo.

What am I saying here? I’m not really sure.

I guess I’m saying that I’m tapped out. And I know The King’s tapped out. And he’s sick of hearing me whine about how rough my life is. Because his is just as rough.

I don’t know how you people do it. I mean, we just have the one kid. The one kid who is actually quite enjoyable and pretty easy to take care of. And when he laughs, he makes me the happiest I’ve ever been. And we’re fortunate enough to be able to be building a new house. And we’re fortunate enough to both have good jobs.

But still, I could use a nap. And maybe some alone time.

And maybe a maid.

Sorry about the last few totally lame posts.  Since I’m stuck either at work, or at home (alone) with Babboo I don’t have the chance for much blog fodder. 

I’m taking today’s post from one of my favorite blogs, Love is Blond. Janet, I hope you don’t mind.  I’m pretty sure you won’t-since you’re too busy planning your wedding.  Hooray for weddings.

Hate: When Babboo wakes up to eat an hour before my alarm goes off.  What’s the point of going back to sleep?

Hate: Recipes that say “prep time-15 minutes”, when in reality I spend 45 minutes just chopping the friggin’ vegetables.

Love: The new hat I bought for Babboo for .97 cents.

Hate: The 5 poopie diapers I changed yesterday. 

Love: The sound of Babboo farting.  I listened to it all day yesterday.  And every time I heard it I smiled.  So did he.

Love: My white pinstriped pants from Gap that I’m wearing today.  (that’s my view of them right now at my desk)

Love: Having soda for breakfast.

Hate: All this crap going on with planes, as of late.  Especially since we’re flying next week.  With our baby.  Gasp!

Love: Tom Cruise getting fired.  It’s about time, dude.

Love: The fact that most of my team at work won’t be here today.  Party day!

Hate: Making phone calls today to post offices in Montana.  This is my least favorite task at work.  Good thing I only have to do it twice a month.  (Good thing I went to college.  Yes, Making Phone Calls 101 sure has come in handy…)

Love: The free brownies and muffins at work today.  This is a great place to work after all.

Anything you’re loving/hating today?  Please feel free to share.