So in case you missed my post on FB yesterday, here’s a recap.
Each night, we take turns putting Sawyer to bed. Putting Sawyer to bed entails a few things:
1. Dressing him in PJs appropriate for weather. I say this and some people would wonder why I added the part about weather but his father sleeps ass naked every day of the year and doesn’t seem to understand why sending Soy topless and in shorts to bed in January isn’t a great idea, even if he thinks our 2 year old has the body heat and metabolism of a 200 pound man. Seriously, if he didn’t think he’d wet the bed, I’d have three naked wee wees in my bed all week long and I never thought I’d say this but that is too many wee wees for me.
2. Wiping his face and brushing his teeth– unless he is in a snappy mood, in which case, just put him to bed dirty because it’s either that or risk him biting your wrist, something no one wants to deal with at the end of the day. I would say I don’t feel bad about this but I got drunk recently and then cried hysterically stating something like, “(insert wailing) I’m a terrible parent. I can’t get him to eat his food or like to take a bath or brush his teeth that are going to rot before he’s five and he hates me. He HATES me. Why would he chase me and slap me otherwise??? (continue wailing for five minutes)” I don’t feel as bad about my parenting when sober, though, and I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.
3. Cuddling, reading and watching “yellow trucks” videos with him on youtube for 30 minutes. We made the mistake of showing Sawyer youtube videos of contruction vehicles one night when he was being an especially big dick and we wanted to go to bed and from then until present day, all he wants to do is watch “yellow trucks.” He thinks every kind of truck is a “yellow truck”, though, so there are lots of videos to choose from. Also, luckily, most ARE yellow for some reason.
4. Playing dead and getting the early shift (7pm – 1am) to sleep. If you take Sawyer up, you know that the other person doesn’t expect you to make it back down. If you stay downstairs, you get to watch TV and fuck around while Sully sleeps his normal nighttime shift, which is 7pm – 1am. If you’re with Soy, you seem interested until you think he’s close to sleep and then you play dead to get him to stop poking you in the face.
So basically I was upstairs, in bed with Sawyer, getting ready to play dead and sleep when the Mr. texted me from downstairs.
I had bought a very large and delicious canister of cheese balls for Sawyer’s birthday party. We cancelled his birthday party when he came down with kid swine flu ebola and so Mommy had been dipping in to them from time to time.
I obviously knew exactly where those cheese balls were. I had been eating them drunk one night the weekend before while the Mr. was out having a boys night. After knocking back 1/4 of the jug, I had hid it on myself on a shelf up in the spare bedroom.
I could smell his desperation and I could hear him stomping around on the first floor, slamming cupboards and doors. For whatever reason, he thought to look outside, which is fucking foolish because i’m not going to hide my snacks amongst the animals or Germans.
I thought the girl offering up some puffs from the tub was a perfect response.
I honestly have no idea why he thought telling me slamming back an entire box of mac and cheese would help his cause. Now I felt even less badly for him and didn’t think he even needed a snack. So then he sends me what he considers is a peace offering, one of Adele’s latest hits on video. He knows I’ve been singing Adele dramatically since HELLO came into my life. Wasn’t going to work, though.
And yes, I won that 2012 Wife of the Year Trophy, fair and square. Why is a whole other story.
So just when I think the battle of the cheese balls is over, I get this today while I get to sit at work:
You would not understand what I’ve (WE’VE) been going through all morning… It’s been hectic. Rainy and cold out so we’ve been forced inside to watch MORE 80’s karate films, Sully was timed at 47sec. as his best time before Finch bucked him off, I fit a record 25 Cheesy Balls in my mouth, he only fit 5 (!!!!) and at 1100 we’re doing a Power Hour before second nap time.
God I hate staying home.
If that crib is filled with cheese powder, I’m going to fucking kill him.