I came home last night aggravated at my husband for not picking up the phone when I called him from the station. Half-soaked, I trudge through the door a half an hour bus ride later than usual to see mostly frozen uncooked meat sitting on the stove, and a conspicuous absence of anything else on said stove. Walking through the kitchen and venturing forth to the dining and living rooms, I trip over the occasional toy. This obviously screws my radar because coming at me at high speed are the pygmy natives, otherwise known as Alex and Sebastien. I waddle through a river of legos and lite-brite pieces with my newly acquired toddler-legwarmers. There, on the far side of the river is my beloved, in work clothes and work boots.
I begin to play the wife: “Why didn’t you pick up the phone? I had to wait for the bus in the rain with no umbrella, there’s nothing cooked, it’s 6:45 pm now we have to pay for take out, everything’s on the floor, the kids are dirty, Willy hasn’t done his homework, one of my legwarmers are sniff REALLY ripe, and the other is mildly squishy!” Or at least that’s what I would’ve said if I were the typical wife. Things went a bit more calm, like this:
Me: [smooch] I’m wet.
Mr. Mouse: Um-Hm.
Me: You didn’t answer the phone.
Mr. Mouse: Sorry, I was [doing something miamouse could have done while making sure the kids didn’t make a mess, and cook dinner at the same time].
Me: You going to work?
Mr. Mouse: Yep, The neighbor is holding the key and will let me in. [Mr. Mouse is a Handyman/General Contractor currently in the hell of “while you’re here could you just…” ]
Me: Um… The meat is still frozen.
Mr. Mouse: I know. I know it doesn’t look like it, but the kids have been bathed.
Me: Yeah, well, I know how that goes. What’s with all the toys on the floor?
Somewhere in the next two hours there’s a whirlwind of: ordering, eating and cleaning up after dinner, Mr. Mouse leaving for work, homework supervision, compressed baths (simultaneous baths for 3 boys in 4 inches of water),…
:: interrupting self ::
“Willy, I’m going to go dress the baby, don’t push Alex, and don’t make a mess. Water stays in the tub.” OK Mama! Mama goes, dresses baby, comes back to The Flood That Would Make Noah Proud. Mind you, it has been two minutes. “I was gone for two minutes! What are you doing! Look at this mess!” [innocent little boy voice]We’re not making a mess, Mama we’re just wasting it![/innocent little boy voice].
:: back to your regularly-scheduled gripe ::
… attempting to dress a toddler who crawls up the wall as if the diaper is trying eat his hiney, dressing the other toddler without losing more teeth to an accidental headbut, stories, toothbrushes, kisses, rocking chair, songs, bottles, bed.
It is now somewhere between 9:30 and 10:30. If I’m not too pooped, Willy’s uniform for school should be ironed for the next day, the toys still need to be picked up, I might throw a load of laundry in the wash, or maybe I could even enjoy gasp A BATH!!!
Nah, I’ll do it in the morning…
:: Yawns and crawls in to bed ::