Mom, I'm bored....I need a snack...I'm hungry...no one's out to play.....Pucker ate my sandwich...why won't you make me a bowl of cereal......mom....mom....MOM! Every sentence began this way, including:
I need to replace the seal on my outdoor freezer - and while I'm at it, clean out all the freezer burned stuff living inside it.
I need toilet bowl cleaner.
Fox decided he was so bored, he'd throw an egg, to see how long it took it to freeze - oddly enough, I was totally okay with this... Til I realized that he'd thrown it at the deck wall so now, eggshell, bits of egg yolk, and ickiness are frozen in a line down the wall. Pucker ate the part she could reach as well as the bits that reached the snow. Ew.
I'm not thrilled.
The hem of my jeans are sopping wet, Pucker won't go potty unless we're hip deep in snow. I'm putting on my After 5's, the fact that it's only 4:30pm be damned. Also? Mag's will be swinging by for tea, and to pick up the doggie biscotti I baked this afternoon- but she's seen me in my jams, so, you know, whatever.
Foxy's watching FlapJack, the MOST ANNOYING show on tv - no, wait, it's a direct tie with that and Spongebob. I detest Spongebob.
I think? I'm having a day.
Why is it only I can hear the damn dog clawing at the door to come in, and I'm four rooms away, whereas Fox is right fucking there and he "didn't hear her".
The little heart shaped biscotti turned out soooo cutie - soothingly sweet, perfect little hearts, as well as the regular shaped kind, as I only have two heart shaped baking tins. At least for now - I saw mini ones, (ohmigod so adorable) but I'm not at the point yet where buying new baking pans is an option. I've no where to house them.
See? And here is my point...as I'm sitting here, surrounded by warm, pumpkinny goodness, doing that zen breathing thing I've read about, Fox has spilled yogurt, on a priceless silk persian rug, the blanket I just pulled out of the dryer - he's yelling at me to come clean him up.
I don't give a shit about sex; I don't care about deep communication, hell - I'm good if someone doesn't even touch me, like ever - but please, please can't someone else get the dog, clean the child, make the dinner, put new sheets on the bed? Run the errands? Move the goddamn last third of the Xmas tree from the top of the basement stairs to the storage unit - because when I went to do it today? I tripped over Fox's shoes in the middle of the doorway, caught my shoulder on the door frame, and just said, fuck it.
Can't someone else answer the 23600 questions he asks me every day - sometimes, the same damn thing four or five times, as he's not LISTENING TO ME the first three times.
AAAAARRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
Deep breath.
Maybe.......five deep breaths.
Okay, better. I've been doing this single parenting thing, for years - really since the lines turned pink if I'm going to be totally honest - all I have to do is get through the rest of a cold, wet, icky winter day, so I can climb into bed, cuddle up with my dog, and a trashy book - she at least, doesn't care how I look, or what tone of voice I use, or whether or not the Xmas tree stays up til next year.
Fox will fall asleep, look angelic with his eyes closed, and his mouth shut.
It'll all be okay, because tomorrow, he goes to school. He can ask Mrs. P all the questions he wants.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment