I just went to start laundry and found the washer full. No rhyme or reason, my husband threw in 3 towels, 4 t-shirts, a gym sock, a sports bra and his work pants in the same load.
Yesterday.
I think.
The typewriter
A husband and wife decided they needed to use “code” to indicate that they wanted to have sex without letting their children in on it. They decided on the word Typewriter. One day the husband told his five year old daughter, “Go tell your mommy that daddy needs to type a letter”. The child told her mother what her dad said, and her mom responded, “Tell your daddy that he can’t type a letter right now cause there is a red ribbon in the typewriter.” The child went back to tell her father what mommy said. A few days later the mom told the daughter, “Tell daddy that he can type that letter now.” The child told her father, returned to her mother and announced, “Daddy said never mind with the typewriter, he already wrote the letter by hand.”
Text messaging tonight between me and SugarHubs…
I’ve told him, under no circumstances should he listen to me when I request my favorite candy, Peanut M&M’s. No matter the excuse, no matter what, he is not supposed to give in.
me: hope you come home soon with m&m’s.
him: I’m not supposed to cave and bring those to you.
me: no, you’re not. so don’t.
me (again): but we worked really hard today.
him: You will kill me in the morning if i cave.
me: nah. but i’ll hate myself. but i wannnnnt them.
him: You want me baby.
me: i told you the circumstances. the ribbon is red. the letter cannot be typed.
him: …radio silence…
We’ll see if he brings them…do you make your significant other promise to keep you from doing or eating things? Does he/she listen?
Update: He did NOT bring them. I am mopey now but will be happy in the morning about this.
Tonight has been a comedy of errors. SugarHubs is out of town tonight, and has come in 1st in a poker tournament where he won a $600 coin which is a ‘buy-in’ for a larger tournament at the end of March. This ‘buy in’ affords him the chance to play against 124 other guys for a quarter of a million dollars. Totally cool, I know.
But I’m here. With two kids and two dogs.
The SugarSpawn had been sprinting from one extreme (playing loudly and screaming) to the other (fighting loudly and whining) and back again since the after school hour. They barely sat still for the dinner I made, starting by gobbling so fast and exclaiming how good it was to 4 seconds later of “We’re full, can we play Wii?”
At least Dylan read to Thomas tonight. The peace lasted long enough for MiniDog Miley to inhale a furball and choke on it. And choke and choke and choke on it.
I kept scooping up the dry heaving pup and transferring her from carpet to tile in the rec room, hoping for a positive outcome and gagging the whole time. Nothing was coming up but the noise made me really queasy.
You wish you were me at this point, right?
While shuttling The Pukey Little Puppy across the room, I lost sight of my sanity and allowed the offspring to get a little rowdy. Next thing I know they’re wound like little freakshows for the 47th time and I’m wishing I could pick them up by their heads and let their bodies jiggle below them like our characters on the Wii.
I snap out of my parenting fantasy as the MiniDog heaves up the most disgusting mound of GOD-KNOWS-WHAT on the carpet. Ugh.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Thomas smack Dylan and just as quickly, Dylan smacks Thomas’ backside.
I glared at them both. “BED.”
“But he…”
“WE. DON’T HIT. IN. THIS. HOUSE. BED. NOW.”
Thomas was already up the stairs and gone and Dylan started to protest more only to be met with, “BED. DYLAN. NOW.”
He pounded up the stairs like a 15 year old girl. Sigh.
Yes I speak in staccato when I’m frustrated. If I don’t, I turn into the unlikable Yelly Mom. You might have heard of her.
Alone in the rec room, with puppy under my arm and a curious horse (Ruffy) sniffing the air, I crate the dogs so I can clean up.
*gag* *gag* *gag* *I wish I had a HAZMAT suit. *gag* *gag* *gag*
Feeling like I (desperately) need cool air on my face, I take the dogs out front for some fresh air. There’s more snow in the sky than oxygen, but the kids are in bed and it’s only 7:50. That’s kinda good. It’s peaceful outside as the snow falls in big fat flakes on my jacket and mitts.
I love the quiet of a new snowfall and tonight is no exception. It’s lovely.
Inside, back to Calm Mama, I kiss the kids goodnight and head downstairs.
I curl up in the recliner with my laptop and MiniDog jumps on to the footrest. She gently paws at my legs so I’ll open them, crawls between my knees and sticks her head under the laptop.
Yes, right into my crotch. She’s been sleeping there for 3 hours.
That’s why I wish I had a camera. Nothing would top this evening better if I could take a picture of my warm crotch for you.
SugarHubs and I often text back and forth throughout the day. This morning was… colourful:
Me: Paying overdue Union Gas bill - okay?
Him: Thats awesome baby …..and I am so in love with you.
(Uh….okay. Doesn’t take much eh? Maybe next I’ll impress him with my mad toilet scrubbing skillz.)
Me: Love you too. Paying cell bill & throwing $100 at the credit card, okay?
Him: Lets go over it all tonight, baby.
Me: Okay sweetie. Talk to you later. xoxo
Him: There is no heat in this outdoor Shitter …..brrr!
Me: You’re texting me while pooping? Are you kidding me? RO-FREAKING-MANTIC.
{radio silence the rest of the day. hope he didn’t fall in and freeze to death in arctic poop.}
**********************
EDIT: I just installed a new stat plugin here and noticed this search string come up:
“text messages a women would love 2 wake up 2″
I can’t help but picture a young teenager searching for that online. How freaking cute is that?
Any ideas, ladies?
So it’s de-lurking day or something and I’ve commented on several blogs who are participating but whatever.
I know who’s here for the most part…I invited all yo’ asses - say something! Entertain me, circus monkeys! (Oh I kid.)
Okay, let me help you. Gosh, do I have to do EVERYTHING around here?
There are 3 Major Things happening to the Sugarpants Family in the next little while.
I’ve canceled my trip to BlogHer (sorry Sarah!) and my trip to Texas (sorry George! Jenn! Penny! Ang! and Sassy!).
Daren’s been neutered so it isn’t that pesky pregnancy bullshit that’s been happening all over Hollywood as of late. GOD FORBID! I would have serious explaining to do if it was that!
Can you guess?
If you guys guess all 3, I’ll tell you EVERYTHING.
I can’t wait to hear your answers.
I have irrational fears, SugarHubs tells me. I hold my kids hands in the grocery store and they are not allowed to walk even 2 feet away from me or the cart - ever. Apparently, I’m not alone in this. I have visions of my kids being scooped up by a mess of strangers and I look at every single person in public as a possible abductor.
Some of my fears are not so severe. They really are, well, rather ridiculous.
Case in point: I have had some lower back pain since about Friday and my appointment with the chiropractor isn’t until Wednesday afternoon. So I just deal - I know it’s just an adjustment I need after too much hunched-over-designs-time.
Last night I had the heating pad on my back while I sat in the recliner with the laptop but nothing was working.
So I took the heating pad with me to bed and since Daren was still awake, I said, “Make sure you turn this off when you come to bed, I don’t want to wake up on fire.”
He laughed.
“No seriously honey,” I explained. “It says not to sleep on this thing. You could burst into flames or something.”
He laughed again.
“I’m serious! Waking up engulfed in flames would really suck.”
He laughed yet again (and lived), “well maybe you should put it on low, you know, so your kidneys will be okay.”
“What?”
“Your kidneys. They might boil.”
I laughed, “Yeah and then I’d be a mess of kidney stew in your bed.”
“Ew,” he grimaced. “Kidney stew wife. Blech!”
“Well at least you’d have a hot lunch to take to work.”
“Yeah, if you don’t spontaneously combust.”
“Meh. That would be more like soup. Nite!”
This is an edit just for Gorillabuns:
It’s back to work for most people today, myself included. I worked through the holidays at Famecrawler, but Swank clients need my mad design skillz too!
It’s not, however, even remotely close to the day Daren goes back to work. Nope. My Union-Boy is home until JANUARY SEVENTH.
You would think this would be a great opportunity for me to get more work done here, you know with the extra pair of hands around the house and all.
You would think we could knock a few things off the Honey-do List.
You would think he might want to take the kids somewhere and have some father-sons time.
Yesterday I had big! exciting! plans! to put the house back together, take the tree down, put away toys & gifts, re-organize the kitchen a little and tackle the mountain of laundry that is threatening to bury us alive.
You would think that a grown man, sitting on my couch, would clue in to me running up and down the stairs, hauling ass and doing chores, and maybe, just maybe, offer to pitch in.
Um, no.
Every time I glanced at him, my loving husband would grin at me, and lift his robe to flash me. Occasionally I would get the added sound effects of ogre-like farts or open mouth wet belches. If that wasn’t enough, when I did sit down to tackle a bit of coding for a couple of friends, I was treated to the seepage of toxic waste that had fermented all morning in his colon, the smell creeping through the house in a green fog.
Dear Husband,
The Febreze is under the bathroom sink. IN THE EVENT OF A CONTAINMENT BREACH, PLEASE SPRAY IT.
Love,
The Woman Who May Never Sleep With You Again If You Don’t Stop Acting Like a Primate.
So yesterday I got Thomas back into his own room (Sarcastica is not coming to live with us after all), most of the laundry done, all my new dishes washed and put away (Thanks Granny!), and some of the gifts under the tree put away. I also looked after these rugrats, cleaned the house and worked.
SugarHubs accomplishments for New Years Day?
Nuts? Scratched.
Poop? Flushed.
Wife? Flashed.
Butt? Showered.
Movies Watched? Two.
Sport Highlights Watched? Sixty-Seven.
I have FIVE more days of this to look forward to. It’s 10:53 a.m. and where is my gorgeous, hard-working man?
In BED. But at least it smells nice in here, for now.
I told Sarah last week on the phone that I was trying ‘learn football.’ See, Daren is a big Dallas Cowboys fan, and I would love nothing more than to throw back a coupla wobbly pops with my man and enjoy a football game without having to be all girly and questiony. Further to that, I would really like to enjoy it, you know?
Now while this lovely lady surely makes her mother proud with her Dallas Cowboy Body Paint, if I did something like that for Daren it would come off like I was going for the Smurfette look or trying to join Blue Man Group.
A couple of weeks ago I surprised Daren by offering to make sure dinner was done and over with so “we” could watch the New England game. He was surprised I knew this information, but I couldn’t resist making him think aliens had abducted me and planted a football chip.
“Well they’re playing the Baltimore Ravens,” I began, “and seeing as the Pats are 11 and OH, and the Ravens are 4 and 7, I don’t think the Ravens stand a chance!”
The look on his face was priceless.
“WHO ARE YOU?”
I giggled. (I only had memorized stats, and really didn’t have a clue what the hell I was talking about.)
He loved the fact that I was trying to learn something that he loved, but I have to admit my interest has since wavered completely. Except on the weekend I noticed the Pats were still undefeated and I was quite impressed.
I even surprised myself tonight when I looked up the Pats to see that they are now 14 and OH. That is cool! (Think he’d be upset if I liked the Pats more than the Cowboys?)
And here I thought my interest in Cowboys would be limited to this little piece of hot, sweet, sugar:
The 1972 Miami Dolphins (Daren’s best friends’ favorite team - ha!) are the only team in NFL history to go through a single season undefeated. However, they lost their second game of the 1973 regular season and wound up with a winning streak of 18 games.
Photo Credit: Sports Illustrated
Thanks to my cousin Jessica for the video!
“So if you could re-write our vows, what would they say now?”
“I don’t know but ‘obey’ would definitely be in there.”
Feed Yourself Sugarpants!
