Sunday, July 02, 2006

What Goes on When I'm not Here?

This morning, after everyone stopped yelling at each other, we managed to go to a toy store to exchange some duplicate presents HannieC got for her birthday. Then we went grocery shopping at the grocery store in the same plaza. MaxieC got tired of shopping right towards the end, and he started hollering. Not crying or throwing a tantrum, but just hollering. I was trying to settle him down, and then he started yelling, "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! You shut up right now!"

People started looking at me, so I said in a forceful voice, "Shhh... We don't talk like that. I don't care what they teach you in day care."

Hee hee. MaxieC has never been in day care a day in his life. He learned to holler, "Shut up," like that from me just yesterday. You see, we were driving back from the mall, and there was this rubber chicken, and both The Childrens wanted to play with it. HannieC refused to give MaxieC a turn, so The Mrs. took the chicken away and gave it to MaxieC. Then HannieC threw a tantrum.

It was like 11:30am, and this was about her 20th tantrum already. I just couldn't take it. She was screaming her stupid head off in the back seat, and MaxieC was screaming in response. The Mrs. was trying to referee this from the front passenger seat, but controlling HannieC is near impossible if you are holding her in your arms, much less from the front seat when she's in the back.

So I snapped. We were at a stoplight, and I let loose with a gigantic tirade centered around the phrase "shut up". It actually kinda seemed to shut HannieC up, but MaxieC then started yelling "Shut up!" all the way home.

Later today, after getting home from the grocery store, HannieC was playing the front yard with her friend from up the street, and MaxieC was running around like a crazy idiot. I had been instructed to take MaxieC inside so he could wash his hands (lunch was coming soon), but he did not want to go. So while running around like a crazy idiot, he also started yelling, "Shut up! Shut up! You shut up right now, Daddy!"

This time, the two guys who are the sons of our next door neighbors were in their driveway loading up the van for what looked like a camping trip. They stop, look over, one of them points at MaxieC, they look at me, and they start laughing their asses off. I put my hands up in a shrug and say, "I don't know where he learns this stuff."

So I guess in the last two days we have established that a) I am a bad parent, and b) I lie to cover it up.

But you know, I don't think I'm any worse of a parent than my parents were, and they were considered exceptional parents in their day. I think people have unrealistic standards of parenting.

Oh, and c) if you are buying rubber chickens, get one for each child. Don't expect them to share.

It's moving weekend for TommyO and family. They are moving a total of two blocks to what TommyO described as, "the big, blue house on the right." It certainly is blue. Oh my is it blue.

Since I own a pickup truck, I am often involved in moving. That doesn't bother me, since it's usually good exercise that does not involve chasing after childrens. An actual conversation that happened this morning after I had been up watching The Childrens for about 4 hours:
The Mrs.: "Why are you in such a bad mood?"
Me, CherkyB: "It's that I just don't like children."
The Mrs.: "We have two delightful children."
Me, CherkyB: "I didn't say that I don't like my children. I said that I just don't like children."
So I got to schlep over to TommyO's to help him move at like 4:00. We were moving "the garage" today. My greatest fear in moving is that nothing is packed, and garages are pretty much unpackable. So nearly nothing was packed. But not much needed to go into boxes, and we got a great deal of it out into the truck and his station wagon (that he calls an SUV) in short order. We made one more trip after that where we unloaded the junk in his attic that should almost all have gone to the dump rather than to the big, blue house, but the dump charges money to throw stuff out, and attic space is free.

Towards the end of the unload, it's about 6:00, and we were going to grill pork chops. I call The Mrs. and tell her to start the grill cuz I'll be home in about 25 minutes. I get the machine.

Then, when I actually start driving, I call again. Again with the machine. So I call her cell. I get voicemail. Fine, she better not be mad at me for not telling her when I was getting home and ruining dinner.

When I get home the first thing I note is that the grill is not lit. I also note that the message on the answering machine has been listened to. I go outside to query, and The Mrs. says, "I got your message, but the kids have already eaten."

A little later, she looks at me all smiley and confesses, "I had a half a glass of white wine. C&D (our across the street neighbors) came over for a happy hour while you were gone."

What goes on at my house when I'm not there? Well, at least neither of my Childrens looks like a Mexican.

4 comments:

betsy humpledinger said...

You could try buying two muzzles for the childrens. bzdal

ellie said...

At least you didn't drop the f bomb around them!

Dirty Sanchez said...

God how I hate your screwed up life.

brankyP said...

mexican childrens? whatever are you talking about?