Today, I did the usual looooooooong-commute/Work/sweaty lunchhour workout/Work/looooooooong-commute, then got home at 6pm to Scott puttering around a warm clangy kitchen, deftly constructing a delicious veggie-laden chicken yakisoba from three separate pots/pans on the stovetop. While we all sat down and slurped up our veggie and noodles, Scott mentioned heading out to mow the lawn, then maybe picking up a few things at the grocery store. Was I okay alone with the boys for a few hours?
Um, duh? Some chores while the boys play, then baths/books/bedtime, BOOM. I got this, suckah. Get outta here.
Welllllllllll here is how it really went down:
- Scottie changed and headed outside.
- Pete and Linus kept badgering me and pestering while I tried to clean the kitchen.
- Ran around keeping the kids busy between bouts of scrubbing dishes in a soapy sink of water. I’VE GOT THIS.
- Pete decided to go out and play with the neighbor kids.
- Finished the dishes, wiped counters, unpacked bags, prepped stuff for tomorrow, cleaned kitchen and bedroom and etc.
- Don’t die, you will persevere…
- Hustled Linus into the bath tub.
- Started packing Pete’s lunch for tomorrow in-between running to the bath to make sure Moose didn’t drown.
- Pete bursts in the door out of breath, sobbing, with big red welts on his face.
- Hug and soothe and he tells me in-between gasps for air that the neighborhood kids threatened to beat him up if he didn’t stand still, then they loaded a pitching machine aimed at his face…*
- *Luckily it was loaded with wiffle balls, but still…
- Hear yelping from the bathroom, remember that oh, yeah, toddler is in the bath alone, stand up as Pete falls to the floor a sobbing mess and then sprint to the bathroom.
- Find the toddler desperately trying to escape the bath, then peer inside and see at least half a dozen poops floating around in there.
- Get toddler out of bath, towel him off, and contemplate bathing him again. Instead wipe him down with baby wipes.
- Hear Scott come in from mowing the lawn and yell that there are POOPS OMG IN THE BATHTUB RIGHT NOW and he yells back oh hai la-la-la can’t hear you and am leaving for the grocery store BYEEEEEEE.
- Scott is all ‘PSYCH’ and tags in and takes over care of toddler.
- Yank all toys out of tub, get OMG POOPS outta there and flush away, then drain.
- Realize Pete has decided to eat his feelings, and by that I mean he ate the lunch I packed for him for school tomorrow.
- Scrub tub. Sanitize tub. Contemplate setting tub on fire.
- Go back to a very mopey Pete and try to soothe, and explain why the neighbors are not indeed assholes but just kids being kids blah Blah BLAH and man but it’s hard to not just be That Lame Person that goes outside to go all Mama Bear on Those Punks (man, is that tempting or what).
- And lordy, but why haven’t I read up on this bullying stuff by now so I sound like I know WTF I’m talking about to him…
- He accepts my answers (really? I guess I am adulting alright then?) and goes outside to get on his bike and play with neighbor kids again.
- Start to pack Pete another lunch. He comes back in crying in about 5 minutes.
- Scott comes with baby-powder-smelling, diapered and PJ-ed and teeth-brushed calm toddler, and hands him off, then actually leaves for grocery store. Welp… I’VE GOT THIS, FOR REAL THIS TIME. I AM SURE OF IT.
- Linus chases a balloon down the hallway and runs backwards into a wall (huh?) and jacks up his back, so much screaming even though I hug. Unfortunately I am not his favorite person, dad, so I suck and help not at all. HALP. ME.
- Pete walks up to us and mournfully admits that the boys were mean to him again. Then says he responded by “doing this” (imagine your child demonstrating bitch-slapping himself on the forehead). Me: OMG YOU HIT HIM IN THE FACE??? Pete: “Uh, NO! I didn’t hit him in the face! I did this! (Repeats bitch-slapping action to forehead, as if it is totally different.).
- DEEP BREATHS OMG WHAT DO I DO HERE.
- ::Random Epiphany::
- Me: Okay well, thanks for being so honest with me, but I’m sorry that was as mean, just as bad as what they did to you, and I think the best thing to do is to apologize, because it’s the right thing and you’ll feel better afterwards.”
- BOOM BITCHES.
- Marches him outside, as if I am some kind of real grown up, down to the next house over, and stands there with toddler on hip like a real bad-ass mama that takes no shit, while he embarrassedly and mournfully apologizes to neighbor kid.
- Neighbor kid is like, DUDE WE ARE SO COOL NOW. They do that bro-hug thing and things are now semi-okay or whatever.
- Thank gawd that’s over. Except: due to all the excitement of the evening, it takes 45 minutes to read and get toddler to bed.
- WHERE ARE YOU SCOTT GODDAMN IT HOW FAR AWAY IS THIS GROCERY STORE.
- Finally leave toddler to go to bed (he is jumping on his bed as I leave him, incidentally) to realize: Pete has escaped back to outside, SERIOUSLY DUDE DO YOU NOT LEARN LIKE EVAR.
- Coax him inside after 10 more minutes, only to hear him cheerfully tell me how the neighbor kids also apologized back to him and now they are all cool again. GAWD YOU GUYS IS THIS ROLLERCOASTER MY REALITY FOR THE NEXT 12-ISH YEARS JUST BREAK IT TO ME NOW OKAY?
- Hustle him into the shower, and Scott finally arrives home.
- Aaaaaand beer me.
Or booze me, whatever. And this is why I get nothing done in my life, guys.