Monday, February 3, 2014

Fire Bad, Beer Good

My husband has been on a business trip...for almost four weeks now. He has been able to come home on the weekends (arriving late Friday night/early Saturday morning and then leaving again on Sunday afternoon.) If you have read any of my past posts, you know that when Bruce leaves for more than a day it is the equivalent to what happens when the mogwai eat after midnight in the movie, "Gremlins"...everything turns ugly and chaos ensues. I also start monologuing about depressing stories from my past like Kate. Like the time I had to drive up north with all five kids without Bruce and...oh wait, I already told you that story. Did I tell you about the time I fed the kids after midnight?

While Bruce was home briefly for the weekend he did something crazy. Now, let me preface this by saying my husband NEVER does anything crazy. He is afraid of anything new or different...or new. He likes routine...and avoids change at all costs. This is why I had no concern with sending the boys with him to get haircuts. I'm not sure why he did what he did...maybe because the stylist was cool, decked out in tattoos and a rockin' beard. Maybe he figured, "what the hell, I'm out of here this afternoon, so I can't get in TOO much trouble." Maybe he just wanted to make sure the boys were happy before he had to leave again. Maybe he was drunk. Whatever the reason...he decided to let Owen get a mohawk. He did tell me that the stylist offered to fix it for free if I was upset. My baby boy, who had long, shaggy hair, came home looking like this:

Owen was so happy, I didn't have the heart to tell him that I don't know what we would do for school...because in Michigan right now we are going through a bit of a deep-freeze where you HAVE to wear a winter hat. So, unless we find some wrap-around ear muffs, the kid is going to have a floppy mohawk. After dropping off the boys (Connor also had a tiny faux hawk, but it could easily be a normal haircut once washed,) Bruce promptly left for Ohio.

Today the kids had no school. This is becoming the norm here, because with this crazy winter they have had eight snow days in the last month. Today was not a snow day, though, just a "Professional Development" day. What it really means is one MORE day that the kids are home and driving Mom crazy because they are bored and miss school. 

The morning began with me waking up to find poop...all over the bathroom. Owen tells me that he "tried" to make it to the bathroom, and didn't quite make it in time. He "finished" in the toilet, but had to clean up afterward. So...there were about fifty poop-smeared wipes in the trash...poop smeared on the seat of the toilet...and for some reason, poop smeared on the floor. This conjures up a mental image of my son doing the butt scoot on the floor to try and wipe off the a dog. I'm not sure that is an accurate interpretation of what happened...but it seems like the most probable explanation. 

Shortly after the massive bathroom clean-up, we discovered that a cat had vomited in the hallway. Luckily the dog helped clean some of it up, because what could be better than eating cat poop? Eating cat vomit. This is why I do not like it when dogs lick me. So, I cleaned up what Onyx didn't, and made sure my coffee was extra strong. 

Later, I sent the kids up to clean their bedrooms. Irelynn told me she needed a trash I went to get one from under the kitchen sink and realized they were all wet. The pipe was leaking, and everything was soaked. I sopped up the water, and promptly called someone to come take care of it, because we have dealt with this on and off for awhile now...and Bruce always temporarily fixes it and tells me NOT to call a plumber. Well...Bruce isn't here...and I need a working kitchen sink. Luckily someone came and it was fairly simple. This, as it turned out, was actually the least frustrating part of the day.

Remember the trash bag I sent up with Irelynn? I remembered later, too, and went upstairs to get it and gather up more trash to put in it from upstairs. Not too long after I was cleaning up, Irelynn came upstairs.

"Mom...I kind of dropped a tissue in the candle."


"Um...I dropped a tissue in the candle."


"Not anymore."

I ran downstairs to find a tissue...all black, laying in the center of a huge, round scorch mark on the carpet. Irelynn was fine, thank goodness, and needless to say we had a very lively discussion regarding fire safety. I asked her why she would have had a tissue near the candle to begin with (the tissue box is no where near the candle,) she replied, "um...I was trying to clean the black part off of the inside of the candle." While it was lit?? I'm guessing it was actually that she was curious about the flame and was messing around to see what would happen. My mom asked me if it was difficult to be angry knowing she was trying to "help." Actually, it was not difficult to be angry. Especially after seeing the carpet. I was thinking, "you're one of my 'smart' kids! Seriously???" I didn't say that, of course, but I really was shocked that of all the kids, she was the one who stuck a tissue in fire. The kid with the mohawk...I'd expect that from him.

I will say that I'm fairly proud of myself for surviving this long. I think it's because I actually lost my sanity a long time ago. At this point I kind of chalk it up to "just another day in the Sawdon household." I figure, bedtime will be soon, and I have some beer in the fridge. That reminds me, hopefully the kids won't have a snow day tomorrow, because I need to get to the store. We're almost out of milk, bread and beer.

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