I Wanna Live In His World
Nicholas turned three today. Wow. It seems like only yesterday when... (flashback comes into focus here) I was big as a house, in my third trimester with Nicholas, and I found myself shopping at Walmart one evening. I was very happy, because I was all by myself, having left Gabriel (two at the time) at home with his dad (probably the ONLY time that ever happened). I was shopping, which is different from running through the store replacing what you've used up. You see, you get to "shop" when you don't have kids with you; you simply "replace", as fast as you can, when you're towing kids. Anyway, I was really enjoying this, though exhausted, because it was a true luxury to get to shop. So, I called Craig, to ask his opinion on a purchase I was considering, and the exchange went something like this:
"Hey, Honey I just --"
"I CAN'T TALK! OMIGOD YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE --"
"What's wrong?!"
"GABRIEL JUST SHIT ALL OVER THE PLACE! HE GOT IT ALL OVER THE CARPET! IT WENT ALL THE WAY UP HIS BACK! UP TO HIS SHOULDERS! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT -- IT'S EVERYWHERE --I GOTTA GO!"
"Wow, sorry --"CLICK.
At this point I found myself grinning from ear to ear. I continued to stroll ever so leisurely through the store, sighing happily, truly in ecstasy, knowing that my dearly beloved was suffering what I had come to know as EVERYDAY LIFE. I even found myself laughing aloud, while taking my sweet time. No, I was in no hurry to get home.... yeah... Let HIM handle it.
Well, I arrived at home only to discover how well he "handled" it. As I approached the back door, the smell of shit smacked me right in the face because Gabriel's pants had been tossed outside. That's the way my husband "puts away" everything -- he just lets go of it, and it ceases to exist in his world. Well, in my world, there was a small pair of pants full of shit at my feet. I stepped over them and went inside only to find the smell was in there as well. "I was afraid to clean the shit off the carpet because I don't know how to," Craig offered. My head began to fill with raging blood at this remark, and I began to yell. "NOBODY JUST KNOWS HOW! YOU JUST DO IT! THAT'S HOW YOU LEARN! YOU'RE NOT BORN KNOWING HOW TO CLEAN SHIT OFF THE CARPET! YOU JUST DO IT!" I was ready to pop a vein. "YOU JUST LEFT IT FOR ME, DIDN'T YOU! WELL, YOU CAN JUST FORGET IT! I'M NOT CLEANING IT! AND I'M NOT CLEANING THE PANTS!"
My words were still hanging in the air when Craig said "Call Ralph." Whaaa?... Ralph is our carpet cleaning guy. You see, if Craig doesn't want to do something, he just throws money at it. Of course, that's only after he can't get his wife to do it for free. Nice world he lives in. Ralph said he'd do it for forty dollars. "Just keep it moist with wet paper towels." Ewww...
And the pants? Craig told me to just throw them away. End of story. Wow. I like his world. If I behaved like that in my world, we wouldn't have anything left and I'd have to go replacing all the time with the kids. No thanks. In my world, I clean the shit off pants with no help from anybody. And that is true to this day.
Today, Nicholas turned three and gave me a present... A large, stinky piece of shit in his pullup. Happy Birthday.
8 Comments:
OMG!!!
She speaketh the trutheth!!
SO how it all goes down in our house too - thank GOD I am not alone.
Women who clean up shit - UNITE!!!
(fyi - I am related to Booray. I know - I am sorry too...)
NAWWCUPS -- National Association of Women Who Clean Up Shit... hmmm...it's got a nice ring to it. And Cousin Boo? You should meet some of my cousins. Hold your head up and be proud. (Easy for me to say -- I didn't have to grow up with him.)
ROTFLMAO!!!! You are hilarious! What a great story!
Okay, I'm not even going to address the "sorry to be related to Booray" comment except to say that we aren't actually related by blood, which is why we can have a torrid, one-time sexual affair (call me...)
I will say this, as a stay-at-home Dad who hates doing any kind of work, buy a Green Machine. Fill it with anti-pet-smell solution and keep it in the garage. Anytime there is shit anywhere, plug it in, spray, scrub, suck, BOOM.... you're done.
BOORAY!!! I was wondering when you were gonna show up at the sandbox :>
Boy, don't I know what you mean. At midnight last night, having stayed up long enough to get one more load out of the wash and into the dryer, I was heading upstairs to fall into bed, when my oldest son came out of my room and stopped me on the stairs. "I just threw up." He said. I'm thinking he meant in the bathroom (he's thirteen so I assumed he made it to the toilet), so I tell him to go on back to bed and to let me know if he gets sick again. He proceeds to inform me that he can't because it is all over the floor in his room (yes, the carpet I paid to clean just two days earlier). I asked him why he was in my room. He said that he told his dad, and that he said to go tell me. My husband merely turned over and went straight back to sleep. As I was scrubbing the carpet, literally peeling the skin off my knuckles to no avail, I looked up and noticed it was now 2:00 in the morning. I sat there looking at the persistent stain, I recalled when my daughter had thrown up on the stairs. My husband asked me to clean it because I was better at it than him (no kidding, he really said that), and because it made him gag How unusual). When I complained, he suggested that we just cut out the stained carpet and replace it with a scrap piece. (Wouldn't work anyway, since this was old carpet in a rent house). I looked back at the large orange stain looming in my son's bedroom and I recalled a commercial on T.V. of a carpet cleaner that you simply set over the stain, and it is suppose to do the rest. I decided I should think like a man, and buy the machine tomorrow. The smell was gone, so I set out a fan, put in another load of wash (the gross rags from cleaning the throw up), cleaned myself up and fell into bed at 2:24. In the morning, just as I was stepping out of the house on my way to work, with bags under my eyes, fantasizing about going back to sleep, my husband came out of his office (he works out of the house), and with a proud look on his face for remembering, wished me a "Happy Birthday... and oh, by the way, Storm mentioned something about throwing up last night." Was I wrong for wanting to punch him??
Murr!
This story still makes me laugh....I remember when this all took place. It was soooo great having my pregnant buddy to be pregnant with. (I'm still laughing!....)
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