i assume you’re referring to the Tater Tots?
<rimshot>
I’ll be here all week…
When I was a child, my mother used to go visit her mother for about a month every year. (She was essentially doing respite care for her sister. It wasn’t a problem, but it happened.) Every year, she would fix a month’s worth of meals, freeze them, and put them in the freezer with instructions taped to them, complete to the date on which they should be eaten. She prepared grocery lists, similarly dated, so that we would always have milk and eggs and other basics. Then she would leave.
Every night, my father would come home, open the freezer, look at the stack of meals, look at his offspring, look at the meals, and finally ask us, “McDonalds or steak on the grill?” He would stop at the store on the way home every night and get steak, but never thought to get the milk, or anything else on Mom’s lists.
At one point, we demanded breakfast. Up until then, he hadn’t been making us anything. We had no milk, so cereal was out. We told him that Mom made us fried eggs. Miraculously, there were eggs. He deep-fried them for us. We all came home from school sick, whether from bad eggs or an escess of grease I don’t know. One of the secretaries at his office came over and stayed with us, ran the laundry a few times, got our digestive systems straightened out, and went to the grocery store. (I think she got paid, but she may have just felt sorry for us.)
Every year, when Mom came home we had a huge party. We danced and sang, gave her presents and raved about how she was the best mom ever. We were angelic and affectionate for a good 24 hours before we reverted to normal. Looking back, I wonder if that isn’t at least part of the reason she did this.
Anybody else get the image of the great eye over Mordor bopping to Dancing Queen?
I’d feel far sorrier for you if I weren’t in the middle of Spring Break week with Mr. Legend off on a business trip. I have enjoyed the constant company of no fewer than two children since Sunday, and I’ve had as many as seven of them running through the house, descending on the kitchen like locusts, playing video games instead of letting me watch my shows in peace, and sounding like a herd of elephants upstairs. We have had other people’s children sleep over twice so far, and no one’s shown any signs of reciprocating yet. We have had four craft projects in the past three days, none of which has been cleaned up properly. We are out of juice and fruit, almost out of cereal, baby carrots, and milk, and someone ate the last Girl Scout cookie just before I made the cup of tea I was planning to drink with it.
It’s Wednesday, right?
Stop right there, madam! You are libeling me shamelessly!
Note, in the OP, that I spent four hours doing laundry. (It would’ve been three hours, but one load – naturally, the first one – took two cycles in the dryer to get that fresh, fluffy, ready-for-a-walk-in-Mordor feeling). Note, also, that I did NOT wimp out and get fast food for the Minions; I fixed them dinner, breakfast and lunch before my wife arrived home. True, I honestly cannot remember what I fixed, but I did fix something. For some reason, chicken nuggets for Sunday lunch rings a bell. It’s possible that was breakfast. I dunno.
As punishment for your libel … well, I can’t come up with anything worse than going to Fort McCoy, Wisconsin. Consider it karmic justice.
Odinoneeye: Not “Dancing Queen”! “Does Your Mother Know”! Sheesh.
InternetLegend: I am in awe. You are a far, far better person than me.
Ah, but Sauron, while you might have done the laundry, you had to tell us all about it. We wives, just DO it and don’t expect accolades for doing so. 
As to cooking, well, alright, I’ll give you that one…for now. However, even YOU must concede that you didn’t prepare a full on, from scratch meal.
Finally, as to Ft. McCoy, IS it that bad?? I am probably being punished, but not for gently ribbing you! I just haven’t figured out what I’ve done to deserve this.
Well, actually this is the final thing: ABBA //!! Noooo! I think you must cede your crown as Dark Lord. This is just not appropriate music (if it can be CALLED music) for a Dark Lord.
Y’know, I’m sure that kids are the best thing ever to happen to parents, but everyone me and MissusJockey ever talk to always relate stories like The Dark Lord, and finish them off by saying “so when are you guys having kids?”
This question, when not answered by booming guffaws and out-of-breath giggles, is usually “we’ve got dogs”.
So my yesterday with the dog…
I loaded JockeyMutt into the family car. Missus Jockey and I took him to the dog park to get some much needed fresh air (for all of us), we stopped at DQ on the way home, split some ice cream, went home, watched a little tv, I did some writing, killed a few cops and hookers in Vice City, MissusJockey read her book and we all went to sleep.
Granted, it’s not as funny, but there’s much less to clean up.
Bravo on the story Sauron, Bravo indeed.
Oh, yes, those people who don’t have kids, but have dogs…they have it sooooooo hard.
My neighbor has 4 dogs. The youngest is a whopping 13 weeks. He is pissing and moaning about how hard it is to get this dog to housebreak.
WAH WAH WAH.
Sometimes, I feel like sneaking up this door and ringing the bell and running just so I can set off a 4 Dog Alarm in their house.
Sauron … once again I have to ask … may I use this for Teemings Extras?
Also … please e-mail me at Eutychus55@cox.net. I have something else I’d like to talk to you about.
Yeah, funny as the OP reads, there is something about this overall phenomenon that is not at all funny. A dad alone with his kids is a situation on the brink of disaster. A mom alone with her kids is no big deal. Hilarious in the 1950s, maybe, but today it doesn’t make sense.
My friend’s husband took their 4 year old and 1 year old, solo, on a plane trip to see his grandparents. Wanted to give his wife a break. I was marveling at this, as was everyone else, when I realized I was being a sexist asshole. I see moms traveling solo with kids all the flipping time.
In the spirit of equality I tend to freak out a bit if my husband leaves. He’s been away on only a few business trips since the Little Crankster was born. I was quite the martyr, because I’m not used going without his steady help. So I even things out a bit, I’d like to think, on the sexist notion that moms can do fine on their own.
As always, I would be honored. Thank you.
E-mail on its way to you.
Actually, I wrote the OP as an indirect compliment to Aries28. (And, if I had to guess, I’d say she’d write the same type of thing about me.) When you’re partners, and you’re accustomed to the other partner taking on a share of the load, you tend to forget how much they actually do until they’re not there for a while.
My wife and I split household chores (including watching the kids) fairly evenly. But because we both do so much, if one of us isn’t there, it becomes a hassle for the other partner.
My biggest problem is my inability to multitask. Aries28 can juggle four things at one time (such as making supper, doing laundry, watching the boys and cleaning the kitchen). I can do all those things, but I have difficulty in doing them simultaneously.
Not even Lance, the imaginary boyfriend?
Shhhh, Ginger! Don’t want Mr. Perfect knowing the Real Me, now do we?
I understand perfectly. As I said in my post, my husband went out of town last week and I was utterly out of sorts. It’s the overall societal idea that chaps me. Like (as has been discussed to a tiresome degree before) when a father watching his children is referred to as “babysitting.”
I am so lucky because I have two girls. I once offered to watch my nephews for the day. Those 8 hours lasted an eternity. While I was explaining to the 6 year old that while Uncle T really appreciated the offer to cut the lawn with the 48 inch Scag, he really didn’t need any help, and to PLEASE. STOP. TRYING. TO. START. IT., the 4 year old grabbed the crocquet set. I walked out to see him throwing the crocquet balls straight up in the air and then trying to dodge them before they cracked him on the head.
Testosterone kills brain cells.