Archive of ‘Scott’ category

Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies.…

There is one house­hold chore that I hate. No, not like I hate to do the dish­es, or I hate to pay my bills, or I hate to make din­ner for the­se kids that will like­ly look at it and say, “I HATE this!” No, I would glad­ly do any of those things before I have to change the sea­sons in my children’s clos­ets. I would rather clip their toe­nails with my teeth than take their itty bit­ty shirts, off of itty bit­ty hang­ers and put them in giant rub­ber tubs and then unpack oth­er giant rub­ber tubs filled with things that make me won­der why I ever saved this $h!+ in the first place. How many moms have pulled out one­sies from baby 1, 2, 3 etc. to use on the new child and found them rid­dled with holes and poop stains?  I look at this crap and think, “You are a moron. You would nev­er put this on your sweet baby? Why did you save it?” But as I am fever­ish­ly throw­ing dozens of shirts, shorts, pants and mis­matched socks into a new bin, it is very clear why. If it is locked away in an opaque bin, it is out of my face and I can for­get about it for a num­ber of years. I can stuff it fast, put a lid on it and Scott will glad­ly take it down the steps and hide it so that I quit cry­ing. Yes, there is cry­ing and scream­ing, but no one puts me in time­out for the after­noon and lets me fall asleep just to make me shut up. Oh no, I have to keep work­ing.

Please send the TLC truck away, this is not Hoard­ers. This is just and episode of ” Hey Guys, noth­ing to see here. I just wan­na kill some­one and am cry­ing in the cor­ner.”

While work­ing on my kids’ room this past week­end, I had my iTunes on ran­dom and “A Spoon­ful of Sug­ar” came on. This is quite a change from my nor­mal house-clean­ing sound­track, but the iPad was too far away to press next, so I fig­ured I would give Julie Andrews a shot. As the upbeat tune blared through the speak­er. I was sud­den­ly a bit more cheery and trans­port­ed back to being a kid. As chil­dren, we were all mem­o­rized by Mary Pop­pins. Her sweet smile, beau­ti­ful voice and quick-snap­ping fin­gers made clean­ing your room a game. Remem­ber how the toy sol­diers walked right into the toy box and the blan­kets flew up in the air and land­ed per­fect­ly fold­ed on the bed? Why, just a spoon­ful of sug­ar will make it all bet­ter, right Mary? Wrong! You lied Mary Pop­pins, not a damn thing was going to make this job a game! I could have downed a 5 pound bag of sug­ar this week­end and still need­ed a half a dozen Zoloft to take the edge off. The more I lis­tened the more infu­ri­at­ed I became. No mag­i­cal bird was appear­ing on my finger.No cute lit­tle boys is short sets were there to help? I would have set­tled for filthy Bert com­ing in and toss­ing crap in a bin with soot-cov­ered hands. But, nope, no one came to the res­cue. Sure, peri­od­i­cal­ly I would hear Scott down the hall warn­ing the boys not to come near the bed­room or they may not be seen again…ever.….But that was as much human inter­ac­tion as I saw for days.

It took me what felt like 72 hours to com­plete this one god­for­sak­en room, but when it was fin­ished, I had made a large pile of clothes to give to char­i­ty. But as I was on my way to the Good­will bin, I had the bril­liant idea to take the clothes to a children’s resale shop to see what I could get for them. Most were is good con­di­tion, but old­er styles that I like­ly won’t put on Hand­some #3, and I was tired of stor­ing them. I went to the store and was offered $43 for the haul, which seemed fair. I head­ed to the ATM at Schnucks to make my deposit, feel­ing like a big shot with a cou­ple of Andrew Jack­sons for my trou­bles. I made my deposit and grabbed what I thought was my receipt, but sud­den­ly my big score at the resale shop didn’t seem so great when I saw that the per­son who had vis­it­ed the ATM before me, and left their receipt,  had a mere $24,000 in their check­ing account.

Well look at you Mr. Big Shot! $24,000 in the check­ing, huh? I bet you can hire Mary and her team of snap­ping clowns to come over and clean your house every week can’t you? You think you are so great with your pin­striped suit and mono­grammed cuffs, don’t you? Your fan­cy spec­ta­tor shoes that you wipe off on your wel­come mat before you walk on your fresh­ly-shined wood floors that glow just like that bald head of yours? I quick­ly real­ized that this pompous jerk, who I made up com­plete­ly in my mind and was hat­ing because of his ATM slip, was built in the image of my own hus­band, right down to the lack of hair on his head. Well, except for the actu­al ATM slip and hoard­ing of $24,000. That and the shined floors. That doesn’t hap­pen unless he shi­nes them him­self, I am not a floor per­son. And he does that…pretty much every time that I ask him to. So in actu­al­i­ty, he is a fair, good guy, who I real­ly love, but some­times I need to direct my frus­tra­tion and he is an easy tar­get. Per­haps I had some deep-seed­ed resent­ment for the fact that I cleaned the room alone, and the remark, “You did this to your­self, quit buy­ing them all of this crap.” Some­how in my rage I had made my way through the store and picked up a gal­lon of milk, bananas, a pack­age of tor­tilla wraps, two cans of black beans, an avo­cado and a half gal­lon of ice cream. Whether or not I had a full-on con­ver­sa­tion with myself about the a$$hole who left the ATM receipt or just thought it is unknown.….I did how­ev­er pol­ish off half of the half gal­lon when I got home.….but that can be our lit­tle secret.…..

The Bird is the Word

This is an actu­al con­ver­sa­tion that just took place at my house

Scott: Do we have any tape?

Me: Yes, in the draw­er. What For?

Scott: This (hold­ing up a then uniden­ti­fi­able bunch of con­struc­tion paper)

Me: Oh, who made that?

Scott: (Look­ing at me like I was a com­plete idiot) I did. I am now doing a lot of arts and crafts at work.

 Well, aren’t you hilar­i­ous. You look real­ly hilar­i­ous now.…      
Here is the real artist, Hand­some #1
My pre­cious love, Hand­some #3

Sad­ly, Hand­some #2 could not be reached to show his Car­di­nal pride, he was think­ing over the deci­sion to chuck train tracks across the room nar­row­ly miss­ing his infant brother’s head

Go Cards!