Isn’t it weird what can set us off?
Normally I describe myself as being pretty laid back. I have no choice. I have four kids. My life is spent going with the flow. If I didn’t, social services would have apprehended one or all of the little creatures in my immediate vicinity a long time ago.
Today I counted 9 towels on the bathroom floor. Nine. The only kid who went swimming today spent a TOTAL of 13 minutes in the pool – and I don’t mean 13 minutes each time he went out (and he went out 4 times). I mean 13 minutes in all.
And yes, as a matter of fact, I did time him each time he went out because I was trying to make a point. The point was, “That pool probably gets used a TOTAL of 20 minutes a day by all of you combined.”
Looks like I was off by 7 minutes and 3 kids.
But 9 towels! Come on, anyone would have blown their tops. He’s 6. He’s little. Technically he only needs a facecloth to dry off. Maybe a handtowel.
But I did not shit myself. Towels on the floor don’t bother me.
I find half empty water bottles on every counter top, table, shelf, dresser, and shower ledge (yes, even in the shower!)
Granola bar wrappers.
Kids, let me introduce you to the garbage can. This is where the granola bar wrappers go. But no. It’s far more fun and will test my impending sainthood way more if we stick them…here comes the list…in between the couch cushions, under the bed, in the cutlery drawer (u-huh), in between the mattresses, on the lawn, under the trampoline, and… wait for it wait for it…
…wedged inside the toilet paper roll.
How hungry must you be to be eating a granola bar while you’re peeing. Or pooping? I’m just saying…
But still, no smoke coming out of my ears. I’m good with all this.
But this bugs the crap outta me…
This is Wayne, le husband, wearing a set of headphones that I bought him for his birthday last year. This way he can hear the television, but not
me yelling at the kids kids squealing with delight, dogs barking, or the tv in the other room. He’s trying to get some much deserved peace and quiet. He works hard. He’s a great dad. He’s the one the kids go to when they want something because me, well, I’m a bitch. There’s nothing wrong with wanting some time to himself. I do it too. I go up to my room, close AND lock the door. Nobody bothers me. I catch my breath. Count to ten. Check my blog. Whatev… Then I put the crown back on my head and come out to rule my loyal subjects.
But when I see those headphones on his head, I get this urge to beat the crap out of him. Because he doesn’t just wear them while he’s watching the tv…or snoozing. He will walk around with them on his head all the time.
He’ll sit at the dinner table with them on his head. I’m like, “Take those off. It’s meal time. You can watch the game after.” And he’s like, “The volume is turned off. I can hear everything your saying.” Then why the hell are they still on your head? What is it, like a tribal head dress or something?
Or…or! He has them on his head and is listening to the tv, but he’ll be bent over the washing machine, sorting through laundry, and I’ll come up to him, tap him on the shoulder – ’cause I want to know if he’s remembered to put my Lulu Lemon bra in the delicate cycle – and when I tap him on the shoulder, he’ll jump ten fucken feet in the air, and go “OH SWEETIE YOU SCARED ME!”
I scared him? You fucken scared me buddy. Take those fucken earphones off your fucken head!
You’re probably wondering why I don’t just verbalize all of this to him, right? It’s not a big deal. An issue easily solved. I say, “Wayne, please don’t wear those headphones.”
But then, he wouldn’t hear the tv while he’s sorting through the laundry, so he wouldn’t sort through the laundry, and, well, then who the hell else is going to do my laundry?
I’m just pointing out that we all have something that sets us off. Please do share what sets you off. This I gotta hear!