The Suicide Hours
August 22, 2007
Jason is in Chicago for the rest of the week. A last-minute business trip. I am not a fan of the last-minute business trip.
I am a fan of my husband coming home at a reasonable hour, preferably right before the hour when I lose my flipping mind over being cooped up in the house all day with only a toddler for company, a toddler who is pulling out the measuring cups and spoons for the millionth time and yeah, it was cute this morning but it is NOT CUTE ANYMORE ARGH STOP WHINING STOP CLIMBING ON ME STOP HEAD BUTTING ME WITH YOUR GIGANTIC HEAD ARGH OH LOOK IT'S DADDY HOW WAS YOUR DAY, DEAR? WHAT? SORRY, I CAN'T HEAR YOU I AM ALREADY UPSTAIRS CURLED UP IN MY CLOSET AND HAVING A NICE CONVERSATION WITH MY SHOES.
(Yes. He really does sort them out like that.)
The god's honest truth is that by 6 pm or thereabouts, my patience is pretty much tapped out. Noah's running around like a spaz, hollering for DADA DADA DADA DADA and there are chicken nuggets in the microwave that I know he won't eat and I'm rubbing my temples while spooning applesauce into a Dora bowl that I KNOW will end up upside down on top of the dog who is YAP YAP YAP YAPPING because OMG, THERE'S SOMEONE ON THE SIDEWALK ACROSS THE STREET and the cat is underfoot begging for food that I KNOW he'll sniff and turn up his nose at, and then the dog will eat it and puke it up in our bedroom later and all I need in the world is for Jason to walk through the front door and...I don't know. He doesn't really DO anything, except maybe temporarily distract me from my very mean thoughts about a matching set of dog/cat/toddler crates.
That, and he speaks English.
(This photo should be accompanied by the sweet EH EH EH EH EH sounds of a tantrum windup.)
(Beware the edible-looking feet: they are filthy because I don't bathe my child much sometimes.)
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to retrieve all the parts to my KitchenAid mixer from in between the couch cushions while Noah naps, and then perhaps I should just go ahead and stick some Pinot Grigio in the fridge.
Well, I don't understand...I mean, MY children are just so PRESHUS and DEAR that when dinnertime rolls around I am just renewed in my love and amazment for their little selves. OH, the OPPORTUNITY to lovingly prepare them food that will make them look like someone is slaughtering a baby lamb on the table in front of them! The honor! The joy!
Hee. I kill myself.
Hang in there.
Can't you trick a lowly but responsible college student to give you a few hours of relief? I'll lend you $30 if you need it!
I tout myself as the sole person keeping several families together while I was a babysitter. Mom = sane, kid = entertained by someone fun, dad = happy that mom isn't pissed, and babysitter = happy about $$
Lure them in!
Vodka freezes well, Bossy hears...
My mother had 5 kids in 6 years and at this time of the day would put us all in the playroom and go upstairs to put the hairdryer bonnet over her head, turn it on, and read magazines while waiting for my father to get home. She says the roar of the dryer drowned out the screams of the children.
wine is a must when da-da is out of town! Noah is so adorable---I love the feet!!!
Well that certainly nails toddler care on the head. Cheers.
Oh LAWD do I hear you. And I'm glad my kid isn't the only one who thinks he's a goat, what with all the headbutting.
Hang in there!
Okay. So, a surprise business trip to Chicago? Sucks eggs. A surprise business trip to Chicago when all flights out are cancelled because of 80-mile-an-hour winds and the thunderstorms from hell? Sucks eggs with tartar sauce on them. Take it from me. Instead of cuddling with Mr. Hot in my own bed? I'm in another hotel (and a non-smoking one at that!) hoping to get on a flight in the morning. Chicago? Sucks eggs with tartar sauce and ketchup.
You know what really blows? My 5 year-old has started telling me it's unhealthy to drink beer. It's hard to explain to him the truth: that it's the only thing keeping me from KILLING HIM when I'm at my wits end at 5pm. In fact, I'd like to beat the child at the playground that managed to lecture my child about the health risks of beer. The nerve!
ha! I just read this and busted out laughing. My husband is away for 5 days, across the country, looking for a house for us to move to in less than a month. I'm at home, sorting through our belongings, with 2 young kids. Ahhhhhh! While my kids are just past the toddler stage, I still feel your pain. I loved this post. Too funny.
Thanks for letting me know I'm not the only one who goes through this on days I am at home with the baby! I was beginning to feel a little loney and crazy!!
I literally had to get up from my seat and drop to the floor laughing . . .I have a 14-month old and TOTALLY identify with this post. Sometimes I feel like I want to run after my (almost) toddler and imitate whatever he does so he can see how annoyying he is being- actually i tried that once and he feel down in mid-stride laughing. That made me love him again ;)
Ariella
Dude, the wine, the wine. Wonderful stuff. Totally been there, I turn into a raving lunatic if my husband's bus is like 10 minutes late. And don't even get me started when he calls at 6 and says he's going to the gym before coming home. But anyway, check out your kid with the sorting! You should hire him out, slobs like me would pay good money to have things organized around the house.
so just last night, at what I call "the witching hour" (also about 6pm) my husband calls to say he will be late. Fuck. Fine. whatever. he gets home at 715, just as I am taking "princess screamsherheadoff" to bed, and the first thing he does, aside from tell me how tired HE is, was rile her up. Then I couldn't get her to bed. So, stupidly I asked if he could go comfort her...he was passed the fuck out! Sometimes, it's easier when they are away.