Tom is sick.
It sure is fun to be around a grown man who whines about not being able to breathe out of his nose.
It’s just a ball of laughs to hear “I’d love to, but I’m sick,” for every request I give him.
For example: I asked him to entertain Natalie while I made dinner.
“I’d love to, but I’m sick,” he replied while stretched out on the couch. Which is another thing: I never get to stretch out in the couch when I’m sick.
“Tom, give the cat some food,” I said.
“I’d love to, but I’m sick.”
I was close to smothering him with the couch pillow, let me tell you.
He’d also stretch out his words in this horrible whine. Like when we were eating dinner (which, by the way, he made a big show from getting up from the couch—he lifted his body up and made this loud moaning sound) he was all, “My throat hurttsssss so muchhhhhhh.”
At this point, I had enough. So I said, “I imagine your throat does hurt Tom. You know what also hurt? When I felt as though my stomach were about to rip apart and I pushed out a HUMAN BEING.”
This shut him up for a little bit.
Then he shuffled to the computer to play his game. He speaks to other plays via a headset and he sounded perfectly fine to me.
I was grateful when he announced he was going to bed around nine. Finally. Some peace and quiet. I went upstairs to say goodnight and his hands started to roam over my body.
“Excuse me? I thought you were sickkkkkk,” I said, slapping his hands off my breasts.
“I’m never too sick for sex,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.
I can’t believe he didn’t even worry that he’d pass the germs onto me. If I’m sick, I don’t get to lounge on the couch. I still have kids to tend to. So I can’t afford to be sick.
So I looked at Tom and just said, “I’d love to, but I’m sick,” before rushing out of the room.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Would the Real Me Please Stand Up
I was raised in a house by a mom with a mega A personality. I am a B. I hate conflict and will do anything to avoid it...(a carryover from childhood). I grew up with a miniscule amount of self-esteem. I never felt I was good enough, just could not measure up, was a failure, was not important, had nothing to say that anyone would want to hear. One day...when I was pregnant with Kathryn our preacher at the time, Rev. Mike Jones, told our Sunday School class that we were all going to teach a Sunday School lesson. "Not Me!" I thought silently to myself. I am not speaking in front of anyone! You are looking at the girl who used to throw up in a garbage can before singing a solo in CHURCH CHOIR! Well, as luck would have it I drew number 1 and was to teach the first lesson. I grumbled all week and honestly only gave it about 50% effort. I had not desire to teach Sunday School. I taught that next Sunday and then Brother Mike critiqued my lesson, pointed out its flaws, and told me to try again the next Sunday. Well...he made me so mad...I went home and thought, "I'll show HIM what a lesson looks like!" I worked all week on my lesson and gave it about 150% this time. On Sunday I delivered a great lesson, and during the week learned that I was selling myself short....I was supposed to be a Sunday School teacher...I have taught ever since...BUT...in this process, I found out that I was supposed to TEACH period. The next week I applied for a student loan...got it...and two weeks later started college to be a teacher. God certainly has a way of working things out. I was still terrified to speak in public...but my first instructor, Mrs. Barbara Campbell, made me feel so at ease...and then before I knew it...I was teaching....and loving it. I had a last found something I was good at, could succeed at, was meant to do...and no one else could make me feel less because of it! What a boost to my ego and self-esteem. I still had a lot of hurdles to overcome...and overcome them I have. I still have moments of self-doubt...but you know...I AM SOMEBODY! I have learned over the past ten years that I AM WORTHY of respect, I AM SPECIAL, I AM LOVEABLE, and I AM GOOD AT WHAT I DO! People listen to me...and God opened that door when I entered AUM. People who did not know me then...cannot believe me when I tell them how whipped I was...but I know what I used to be...I am living proof of the old me dying and the new me coming to life. Sometimes I can't imagine that I was once shy and introverted. Introverted? Me? Get Out of Here....but there once was a time I was...I was the queen of introverts....and sometimes...when I am feeling kind of vulnerable...the Introvert gets a hold of me and only then do I remember...that that was once me. I thank God daily for sending me Frank, who allows me to shine; for giving me Still Magnolias, who allow me to sing my heart out; for giving me the Arbor Praise Band, who allow me to sing my praises to A God who knew I could really be all I could be. My God truly is the Wind Beneath My Wings...and I love this feeling of soaring!
Fashion Shows R Us
So it's no secret that I love buying cute outfits for my kids.
I can't help it.
Some people are all, "I don't bother getting the cute outfits because my kids outgrow it in a month." Not mine. I gave birth to incredibly skinny children who can remain in an outfit for over a year. Heck, my daughter is 2 and she can still fit into some 12-18 clothes.
Anyhow, I have some pictures. It's getting chilly over here which means it's time to break out the fall clothes!
I fell in love with the owl vest and had to have it.
How do I get her to laugh? I jump around and sing creepy Yo Gabba Gabba songs. Yes, my neighbors think I'm crazy. They've walked by several times. One guy shouted, "Nice song!" when I was singing about not biting your friends.
My neighbors also think I'm nuts because I do things like this:
What? So it's not normal to pose in sixteenth century clothing in your front yard? I once went outside and attempted to tend to the plants that I attempted to grow over the summer in this dress hoping that it would make gardening more exciting. It didn't. I was still bored and still wonder what people see in it. I suppose the outcome is nice but the problem is, I can't GET to the outcome. Oh well. And yes, I will be wearing this dress on Halloween. Maybe I'll even curtsy to the kids who come to the door and be like, "How does thou do this evening?"
Then Natalie started a conversation with a stick. Should I be concerned?
***Cue Muzak for the outfit change. La la la why do birds, suddenly appear....***
This would also be perfect for Valentine's Day.
Love this picture even though she seems really attached to those stick things..
She's all, "Yo. If you like these clothes, shop at Crazy8."
Her reaction when I told her we were out of Hershey Kisses. She's all, "WTF woman? You best be getting me some more chocolate."
She's all, "I know. I don't get the purpose of Dancing with the Stars either. If the show went away, there could be so many other shows in its place. It's on the air too much!"
I can't help it.
Some people are all, "I don't bother getting the cute outfits because my kids outgrow it in a month." Not mine. I gave birth to incredibly skinny children who can remain in an outfit for over a year. Heck, my daughter is 2 and she can still fit into some 12-18 clothes.
Anyhow, I have some pictures. It's getting chilly over here which means it's time to break out the fall clothes!
I fell in love with the owl vest and had to have it.
How do I get her to laugh? I jump around and sing creepy Yo Gabba Gabba songs. Yes, my neighbors think I'm crazy. They've walked by several times. One guy shouted, "Nice song!" when I was singing about not biting your friends.
My neighbors also think I'm nuts because I do things like this:
What? So it's not normal to pose in sixteenth century clothing in your front yard? I once went outside and attempted to tend to the plants that I attempted to grow over the summer in this dress hoping that it would make gardening more exciting. It didn't. I was still bored and still wonder what people see in it. I suppose the outcome is nice but the problem is, I can't GET to the outcome. Oh well. And yes, I will be wearing this dress on Halloween. Maybe I'll even curtsy to the kids who come to the door and be like, "How does thou do this evening?"
Then Natalie started a conversation with a stick. Should I be concerned?
***Cue Muzak for the outfit change. La la la why do birds, suddenly appear....***
This would also be perfect for Valentine's Day.
Love this picture even though she seems really attached to those stick things..
She's all, "Yo. If you like these clothes, shop at Crazy8."
Her reaction when I told her we were out of Hershey Kisses. She's all, "WTF woman? You best be getting me some more chocolate."
She's all, "I know. I don't get the purpose of Dancing with the Stars either. If the show went away, there could be so many other shows in its place. It's on the air too much!"
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The Cheese Shirt
Okay, so I admit it. I probably don’t dress like a typical Mom. A lot of my shirts depict funny sayings on them which apparently is a big no no to wear if you’re an adult. The people on What Not To Wear claim that worded tees are tacky. Tacky or not, I love them. But at the same time, I don’t want to embarrass my kid. So before we left for Parent Information Night at his school I asked Tommy if I could wear this:
(And if you can’t read backwards, the words say “You Monster!”)
“You can wear that. I like cheese,” Tommy said cheerfully.
Thankfully we didn’t have to take Natalie with us since Tom got home in time. Natalie tends to get insulted whenever we go into Tommy’s classroom because she assumes she’ll also get a desk and a chair. She’ll shout, “Where’s MY chair? WHERE’S MY CHAIR?”
She’s also going through a shy phase. If an adult speaks to her, she’ll instantly cover her face because if she can’t see you, you don’t exist.
Weirdly, she’s not shy around other kids. No, with other kids she marches over and says, “Who you?” to the startled child.
Well, that night I wouldn’t have to worry about Natalie frightening the kids or dodging the adults because she was staying with her Daddy.
“Remember to cut up her hot dog and give her some ketchup,” I told Tom as I grabbed my purse.
Tom rolled his eyes. “You act as though I don’t know how to take care of my own kid.”
Well. Maybe so. But he once stayed home with Natalie and when I came home, the house reeked because Natalie had pooped and he had claimed not to smell it even though his eyes were watering. He says that changing poop diapers makes him gag. I always joke that he’ll risk his life for his country, but heaven forbid a poopy diaper comes at him. It just doesn’t make sense.
Anyhow, Tommy and I went to his school and found seats in the auditorium. The Principal was going to speak before we were able to go to the classrooms. I had sat through this same speech twice before. A lot of people don’t bother to show up until a half hour later when the classroom visits begin—I’d do this but then there is no parking which means you get to park on the dirt and get boxed in.
The thing is, I’m awful at backing out and if you park on the dirt, people practically park on top of you and I know I’d hit something.
So I always come early which means I get to sit through a speech about responsibility from the Principal. She started her speech and I started to find ways of entertaining myself. Sometimes I’ll play Count the Gymboree. This is when I take note of the kids wearing the clothes. I had spotted two and then, oh my God, a family with five kids walked in all clad in Gymboree! Do you want to be my friend? I wanted to call out to the woman.
When the Principal was done, we were able to go to the classrooms. As we walked down the hall, Tommy waved hello to a lot of people. He’s well known because he’s a great kid. And, okay, because in Kindergarten he totally screamed. I’m proud to say he does not do that anymore.
Thank goodness there were adult chairs set up in Tommy’s classroom. It’s a little uncomfortable when the miniature chairs are set up—I mean, I can’t get my entire butt on that thing! I get one ass cheek on and the other hangs off. It’s especially comical to watch tall men sit down on the tiny chairs—their knees are practically up to their cheeks.
“Big people chairs!” I blurted out as I settled down. The woman who sat down beside me raised an eyebrow. Apparently she’s never had the misfortune of sitting in a munchkin seat.
I learned all about the expectations of second grade. When the teacher went over the discipline method—it’s a traffic light and if a kid gets a warning, they go from green to yellow and if they are really naughty, they go to red. Tommy whispered to me, “I’ve only gotten green lights since school started.” He nodded his chin to another little boy sitting with his Mom. “That kid always gets red lights.” I pressed a finger to my lips and Tommy was all, “I was just SAYING…”
Tommy is doing well in school. I’ll find out more during the Parent/Teacher conferences next month but for now, there are no issues which is always a plus. In Kindergarten I dreaded the sound of the telephone ringing because it was usually always the school telling me that Tommy was crying again.
So far, so good…
(And if you can’t read backwards, the words say “You Monster!”)
“You can wear that. I like cheese,” Tommy said cheerfully.
Thankfully we didn’t have to take Natalie with us since Tom got home in time. Natalie tends to get insulted whenever we go into Tommy’s classroom because she assumes she’ll also get a desk and a chair. She’ll shout, “Where’s MY chair? WHERE’S MY CHAIR?”
She’s also going through a shy phase. If an adult speaks to her, she’ll instantly cover her face because if she can’t see you, you don’t exist.
Weirdly, she’s not shy around other kids. No, with other kids she marches over and says, “Who you?” to the startled child.
Well, that night I wouldn’t have to worry about Natalie frightening the kids or dodging the adults because she was staying with her Daddy.
“Remember to cut up her hot dog and give her some ketchup,” I told Tom as I grabbed my purse.
Tom rolled his eyes. “You act as though I don’t know how to take care of my own kid.”
Well. Maybe so. But he once stayed home with Natalie and when I came home, the house reeked because Natalie had pooped and he had claimed not to smell it even though his eyes were watering. He says that changing poop diapers makes him gag. I always joke that he’ll risk his life for his country, but heaven forbid a poopy diaper comes at him. It just doesn’t make sense.
Anyhow, Tommy and I went to his school and found seats in the auditorium. The Principal was going to speak before we were able to go to the classrooms. I had sat through this same speech twice before. A lot of people don’t bother to show up until a half hour later when the classroom visits begin—I’d do this but then there is no parking which means you get to park on the dirt and get boxed in.
The thing is, I’m awful at backing out and if you park on the dirt, people practically park on top of you and I know I’d hit something.
So I always come early which means I get to sit through a speech about responsibility from the Principal. She started her speech and I started to find ways of entertaining myself. Sometimes I’ll play Count the Gymboree. This is when I take note of the kids wearing the clothes. I had spotted two and then, oh my God, a family with five kids walked in all clad in Gymboree! Do you want to be my friend? I wanted to call out to the woman.
When the Principal was done, we were able to go to the classrooms. As we walked down the hall, Tommy waved hello to a lot of people. He’s well known because he’s a great kid. And, okay, because in Kindergarten he totally screamed. I’m proud to say he does not do that anymore.
Thank goodness there were adult chairs set up in Tommy’s classroom. It’s a little uncomfortable when the miniature chairs are set up—I mean, I can’t get my entire butt on that thing! I get one ass cheek on and the other hangs off. It’s especially comical to watch tall men sit down on the tiny chairs—their knees are practically up to their cheeks.
“Big people chairs!” I blurted out as I settled down. The woman who sat down beside me raised an eyebrow. Apparently she’s never had the misfortune of sitting in a munchkin seat.
I learned all about the expectations of second grade. When the teacher went over the discipline method—it’s a traffic light and if a kid gets a warning, they go from green to yellow and if they are really naughty, they go to red. Tommy whispered to me, “I’ve only gotten green lights since school started.” He nodded his chin to another little boy sitting with his Mom. “That kid always gets red lights.” I pressed a finger to my lips and Tommy was all, “I was just SAYING…”
Tommy is doing well in school. I’ll find out more during the Parent/Teacher conferences next month but for now, there are no issues which is always a plus. In Kindergarten I dreaded the sound of the telephone ringing because it was usually always the school telling me that Tommy was crying again.
So far, so good…
Life Goes.....and it Sucks!
Just when I thought I had it all under control again....the rug was pulled out from under me. We had to take my dad off of Hospice care when we put him in assisted living...because that is assisted living rules. They cannot be part of Hospice upon entry...and after 30 days they can be placed on Hospice. So...we had to cancel Hospice....and pick up Home Health. What a pain. It is all the same building...just different parts....but all new paper work...what a headache. Anyways...today the Cancer called to tell me my dad had an appointment to discuss his P.E.T. scan and C.A.T. scan from last week...at 10:00...talk about lousy timing...if Peggy (the manager at the Meadows) could not take them....I was going to have to take yet another day off to deal with this. Sigh! I am glad I have a real understanding boss. An hour later the Cancer Center called back...after I had stewed about this new development for an hour...and told me we did not have to come. That depressed me tremendously....because it means there is nothing more they can do. They just wanted to make sure we went back to Hospice at the end of the 30 day period. My mind is racing....will we make 30 days? Are any of us guaranteed 30 days?....are we guaranteed one day? Sigh...I had a butt kicking reality check....my dad is dying and there is nothing I can do about it. We are all born to die....I know this in my head....but my head and heart are not on speaking terms at the moment. My heart is hanging on for that last little glimmer of hope. My head is taking this all very clinically....we are born, we pay taxes, we die...the end. Somewhere in between head and heart...is a wonderful path that I have walked with a very special man for 55 years. It is a path I have loved every step of. For those of you who are out there...hug those you love really good today, and be so grateful you have them with you....no matter for how long. If I have learned nothing from this experience I know now that life is what it is. It is not always good yet how you handle it makes you who you are. I went to see my parents at the Meadows today....just like I always do. My dad seemed out of sorts. He held my hand like a person who is drowning and needs to hang on to something. He kept looking me in the eyes...like he was trying to tell me something. I kept searching his face...looking for a clue. When I got ready to leave....I kissed him...twice today...and told him I would see him tomorrow....his response today was, "maybe." It took my breath away from me. I barely made it to the door befor I came unglued. I realized today...that he needs me to tell him it is ok for him to go. I cried all the way to the house. I don't want him to suffer...but I don't want to live without him either. One of my wants is not going to happen...and the bigger person would let him go...so I am practicing with you guys here tonight.....ok...here goes...."Daddy, I love you with all my heart...and it is ok to leave us when you get ready. I promise to take care of mama." Whew..that was hard...not as hard as telling him face to face is going to be...so please keep me in your prayers and thoughts that I can let him go without him knowing it is killing me inside. I love this man...I wish my own daughter had had a father like him. I am fortunate. God sent me Frank...who is the closest thing I have ever known to my father. NIght all and God Bless!
And I Sat Down and Started Writing.....
Ok, I have big news. I am working on a book. I am so excited about it. I have actually sent a sample to a couple of publishers and they seemed interested. Can you believe it. Have I Got a Story for You....might actually be in print in the next year. I have about 20 chapters down and with the new episode with the ancients have enough material now for a series. On Monday night I was the guest speaker at the Business and Professional Womens monthly meeting. I talked about storytelling and writing, and gave them a small smattering of my quick wit (LOL) and writing styles. It was so much fun just sitting there doing something I love....telling stories. My Uncle Cecil would be so proud of me. I even shared some poetry with them and then finished up with a sample of the 48 hours from hell chapter. All of them wanted to preorder their books last night. My friends Kathy and Carolyn have been after me for a couple of years just to compile my Sunday School lessons into a book for them. I had thought about self-publishing several and just spiral binding them....but for this project...I want it to be done right. Keep your fingers crossed...I doubt I will ever be a New York Times BestSelling Author...with a book tour going...but I do truly believe that I Have Got a Story for You....and you might actually get a little treasure from something I write. I have discovered that there are a lot of people out there...in the same boat I am in...with aging parents, or having lost a sibling, or dealing with a terminal cancer patient, who need to hear that there is someone out there who understands and cares. That Would Be ME! I am on fire now...and can't wait to be signing autographs at the local library someday. How cool would that be? So...since you guys are my audience...you will be my story test audience. I will be watching for you responses....so keep them coming! Love You All....Happy Tuesday!
Monday, September 21, 2009
Natalie is Part Animal
“Your daughter is part animal,” I informed my husband Tom. I had rushed upstairs and found him emerging from the bathroom because he had just enjoyed a leisurely PIP (poop in peace.) I suppose I should at least be grateful that he had done it upstairs so we wouldn’t have to smell the wafts of his creation downstairs. Of course it would be nice if I could enjoy a PIP but whatever, beggars can’t be choosers right?
“Huh?” Tom replied, scratching the side of his head. I really hoped that he washed his hands when he was finished using the bathroom. I read in a magazine that 86% of men admit to not washing their hands after using the toilet. I find this disgusting. Do they not realize that URINE can transfer to their fingers? And thus, if they touch other people or FURNITURE in the house that said urine will get on that? This is why I try not to think about it.
“Your daughter is part animal,” I repeated. “Do you know what she did? I was on the computer writing my novel and all of a sudden I heard this dripping sound. I assumed she was dumping out her sippy cup again and I swirled around and was in the middle of asking her to stop it when I saw her standing over a VENT and PISSING INTO IT!”
Tom started to chuckle.
“It’s not FUNNY!” I shrieked. How could he be laughing? Did he not hear me when I said that his daughter peed into a vent like a common vagrant? How could that not bother him?
Tom quickly wiped the smile from his face for fear of my wrath. “Well,” he said, struggling hard not to laugh. “Why did you take her diaper off?”
I threw my hands up in frustration. “I didn’t! The little minx took it off herself! You know she’s been stripping these days. Which is another issue: should we be concerned? Is she starting to practice early for a future job as an exotic dancer?”
Tom smirked. “I doubt that.”
“So anyhow, you get to clean the pee up,” I added casually, heading downstairs.
Tom was at my heels in an instant. “What?”
“You get to clean the pee up,” I said again. “You got to enjoy a PIP, thus you get to deal with the pee.”
Tom seemed genuinely confused. “That doesn’t seem fair…”
I got to the bottom step and whirled around. Tom nearly collided into me. “Jesus! Don’t just stop like that,” he complained.
“Tom, it’s only fair that you take care of the mess,” I said sweetly. I went into the kitchen and picked up some paper towels and the carpet cleaner.
“But..But..” Tom sputtered as I placed the towels in his baffled hand.
I pointed out the vent that Natalie had mistaken for her potty. Maybe she needs glasses?
“I peed,” Natalie told us grandly as we entered the room. She was sitting naked in the living room, coloring a picture.
“Natalie peed in the vent!” Tommy tattled.
“Make sure you get all the pee. I’m not sure if the liquid will like, cause the house to blow up when the furnace kicks on,” I told Tom. Obviously I’ve been watching too many action movies. It’s not my fault. Tom always puts on True Lies whenever he sees it on cable.
“This is so gross. Ew, there’s pee surrounding the vent too!” Tom whined. “Natalie, sweets, what were you doing, writing out a signal?”
Natalie looked up and grinned. “I peed!”
“Maybe she was trying to spell out her name,” I said jokingly.
Tom was not amused. “Oh, laugh it up.” He made a face as he started dabbing the pee with the paper towel. “This is so gross. It’s still WARM!”
Please. How can he find that disgusting? If he wants disgusting, he should try cleaning a diaper where the poo has gone up the back. THAT’S disgusting because you’re not quite sure where to start when that occurs. But sopping up some pee? That’s nothing.
Tom opened the vent and stuck his hand down to scrub off the liquid. “When I pictured myself as adult, I never pictured doing this,” he fumed as he struggled to wipe up everything.
“Welcome to my world!” I said sweetly. When I pictured myself as an adult, I never thought I’d utter phrases like, “Penises belong in your pants,” (spoken to both my son and husband, I’m sad to admit..) and “We don’t suck on rocks.”
Children definitely bring plenty of surprises, that’s for sure.
But I don’t mind.
It gives me something to write about, after all.
“Huh?” Tom replied, scratching the side of his head. I really hoped that he washed his hands when he was finished using the bathroom. I read in a magazine that 86% of men admit to not washing their hands after using the toilet. I find this disgusting. Do they not realize that URINE can transfer to their fingers? And thus, if they touch other people or FURNITURE in the house that said urine will get on that? This is why I try not to think about it.
“Your daughter is part animal,” I repeated. “Do you know what she did? I was on the computer writing my novel and all of a sudden I heard this dripping sound. I assumed she was dumping out her sippy cup again and I swirled around and was in the middle of asking her to stop it when I saw her standing over a VENT and PISSING INTO IT!”
Tom started to chuckle.
“It’s not FUNNY!” I shrieked. How could he be laughing? Did he not hear me when I said that his daughter peed into a vent like a common vagrant? How could that not bother him?
Tom quickly wiped the smile from his face for fear of my wrath. “Well,” he said, struggling hard not to laugh. “Why did you take her diaper off?”
I threw my hands up in frustration. “I didn’t! The little minx took it off herself! You know she’s been stripping these days. Which is another issue: should we be concerned? Is she starting to practice early for a future job as an exotic dancer?”
Tom smirked. “I doubt that.”
“So anyhow, you get to clean the pee up,” I added casually, heading downstairs.
Tom was at my heels in an instant. “What?”
“You get to clean the pee up,” I said again. “You got to enjoy a PIP, thus you get to deal with the pee.”
Tom seemed genuinely confused. “That doesn’t seem fair…”
I got to the bottom step and whirled around. Tom nearly collided into me. “Jesus! Don’t just stop like that,” he complained.
“Tom, it’s only fair that you take care of the mess,” I said sweetly. I went into the kitchen and picked up some paper towels and the carpet cleaner.
“But..But..” Tom sputtered as I placed the towels in his baffled hand.
I pointed out the vent that Natalie had mistaken for her potty. Maybe she needs glasses?
“I peed,” Natalie told us grandly as we entered the room. She was sitting naked in the living room, coloring a picture.
“Natalie peed in the vent!” Tommy tattled.
“Make sure you get all the pee. I’m not sure if the liquid will like, cause the house to blow up when the furnace kicks on,” I told Tom. Obviously I’ve been watching too many action movies. It’s not my fault. Tom always puts on True Lies whenever he sees it on cable.
“This is so gross. Ew, there’s pee surrounding the vent too!” Tom whined. “Natalie, sweets, what were you doing, writing out a signal?”
Natalie looked up and grinned. “I peed!”
“Maybe she was trying to spell out her name,” I said jokingly.
Tom was not amused. “Oh, laugh it up.” He made a face as he started dabbing the pee with the paper towel. “This is so gross. It’s still WARM!”
Please. How can he find that disgusting? If he wants disgusting, he should try cleaning a diaper where the poo has gone up the back. THAT’S disgusting because you’re not quite sure where to start when that occurs. But sopping up some pee? That’s nothing.
Tom opened the vent and stuck his hand down to scrub off the liquid. “When I pictured myself as adult, I never pictured doing this,” he fumed as he struggled to wipe up everything.
“Welcome to my world!” I said sweetly. When I pictured myself as an adult, I never thought I’d utter phrases like, “Penises belong in your pants,” (spoken to both my son and husband, I’m sad to admit..) and “We don’t suck on rocks.”
Children definitely bring plenty of surprises, that’s for sure.
But I don’t mind.
It gives me something to write about, after all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)