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Yeah. Well. Since I don't really curse (at least not out loud), that's the title I've got. Because that's pretty much what's going through my brain right now.

Today, I went out for a Dr's appointment. I purposely made it for a day that Brad would be off of work. That way, he could watch Noah, and although this isn't quite considered a fun day out for me, I'd at least have an hour completely alone. I could listen to whatever music I wanted. I didn't have to worry if I had enough diapers or snacks. Nobody but myself to worry about. I shut my phone off and tried to enjoy the drive.
After the appointment, I turned on my phone. I called Brad to see how Noah was doing. Brad answered and asked, "Are you just now getting out of the dr's?" I said yeah.
He responded with, "Get the H home now..." My heart dropped. I panicked and wanted to know what was happening. I'd pictured Noah with a broken arm or his head bleeding profusely or something terribly dramatic.
He then answered in a completely freaked out tone, "We have cockroaches in our house."

Um? What was he expecting me to actually do once I got home? As if my being there would magically make the big bad bugs go away?
I mean, yes, it's flippin' gross, and I know had it been me, I would've panicked too. But compared to the previous image of Noah in a cast? This was nothing. Bugs? I can handle. I don't like them, but I never saw Arachnophobia, so I don't have any horror movie images running through my head when I see them.

So I drove home, with him periodically calling to give me a play-by-play on if he saw another one and "we're not staying here tonight" and "What the blankety blank is this blankety blanker doing in our house..."

*sigh*

Is this what happens after you get married and have kids? Like, you get 45 minutes to yourself only to find that the house is completely caving in and being overthrown by rodents and insects? That your kid hasn't been put to bed yet, because your husband is too freaked out to leave the room, so your toddler has been quarantined with crackers and water until mom gets home? Really?

And what the heck is happening to our home??
Y'all ready for the story on how he found the nasty boogers in the first place? He was going to do a massive cleaning for me while I was out (best of intentions). He moved the china cabinet in our dining room back, so that he could vacuum behind it. Only to find a hole in the wall. With a roach in it. BLEEEEEECH. Yeah, total horror flick scene. And there was more than one. There were three.
He freaked and called an exterminator, promising to pay extra and donate a kidney if he'd just get here tonight. Unfortunately, it was already 2:45, and there's no way that was happening. While he was on the phone, he let out a nice girly scream, along with a "HOLY CRAP, THEY'RE COMING OUT OF THE WALLS!!" The guy on the other line was all, "Sir are you alright?!?" Good times.

Here's the thing. We're not dirty, filthy people! I swear. I know I posted a couple of pictures last weekend of a messy house, but that was mostly toys. And a few dishes. And Noah throwing his lunch on the floor. Our house is not regularly atrocious, nor does it resemble anything you'd find on that Hoarders show. I have a thing with dirty floors. I hate walking barefoot and feeling crumbs, so I vacuum daily. If not twice a day. I mop once, if not twice, a week. We're often the first choice of out-of-town relatives to crash, because we keep things clean. So why are we being overrun by vermin???

Brad is so freaked out by this whole situation. The man does not do bugs. Mice, sure. Spiders and roaches and all that? Nope. Not his thing.

So thank goodness, the exterminator is coming in the morning. Let them handle it.

Ugh. Homeownership is overrated.