Saturday, March 17, 2007

7 weeks.

I think I'll cry.



Yeah. So, Stinkerbell was out of school Friday. I don't know what the "holiday" was. Just no school.

And Thursday afternoon should have been her first tee ball practice. But it rained. And they cancelled. And cleats remained clean. And faces frowned. And kids pouted.

But the parents did recover - oh! the desperation of the parents. Because tee ball is a wonderful outlet for toxic kid energy, there was a dire need for diversion. And also entertainment for the next day's holiday from school.

So a friend who will be on the same tee ball team as Stinkerbell came home with us and spent the night. Whch was fun. Except for the competitiveness and "I wanna do/be/say this" and the "no you're not playing the princess/snow dog/rock star/momma/sister/teacher/boss/homeless person - I am!" and the pouting and foot-stomping and flowing tears. But once the girls calmed me down and let me wear the Cinderella tiara it was a lot more fun.

So we ate pizza and made gooey chocolate chip cookies and stayed up reeeeeeally late. Like 10:30!

And then The Mighty Hunter finally got home from work. My 27 phone calls to him, pleading for him to 'HURRY THE CRAP UP!!!" with the sincere sounds of terror, fright, frustration, fatigue dripping from my voice - they didn't encourage him to finish his work any earlier.

jerk.

The girls were in bed but still awake.

Lucky had been fussy and doing his dog-whistle-pitch scream and NOT nursing. And NOT taking a bottle. This is sOOOOO out of character for my good-natured little boy. He wil squeal when he's really hungry or cold, but that's about it.

But The Mighty Hunter comes in and is "Mr. Good Guy". He tiptoes into Stinkerbell's room and scares them - because that's his job. They squeal. He tells them to go on to sleep and shuts the door. He then walks over to Lucky, who is still screaming.

"What's the matter with my bubba?"

silence

coo

gaaaa

I flop my body onto the bed in exhaustion and defeat.

jerks

big jerk

little jerk

Mommy's the milk maker and diaper changer and the one who sticks the pappy in his mouth. Daddy's the hero.


whimper



So, he's 7 weeks old. He loves his daddy more than his mommy. I can't handle the company of two 6 year-old girls for 24 hours. I've eaten more sharp cheddar cheese than is healthy.

And my cholesterol is 202.

Do you think I'm gonna eat oatmeal? Nasty mushy oatmeal?

Only if they stop making Cheerios!

And I lose the use of my jaws and my taste buds stop working.

Nah, I don't think I would even then.

blech!

3 comments:

WillBlog said...

YOU are hilarious! You blog the same way I think!

Glad to meet you, neighbor!
Can't wait to read some more!
bee

Wendy said...

Thanks for stopping by my blog! What a great post:) Too funny! I can't wait to come back and read more! ~Wendy from Wesnlani

Qtpies7 said...

I stopped by because of your hilareous comment on Boomama's site. LOVED IT!!! Now I may be hooked on your site, too. Goofy! I need goofy in my life, thanks! I have a little baby boy, too, and he is a happy, joyful, smiley clown, and when he fusses, it breaks my heart. But I'm the hero, I carry the milk. I call it my superpower. I make milk, what's YOUR superpower?