Friday, January 20, 2012

Will Someone Please Get This Dad An Instruction Manual?

The note was printed on bright pink paper in bold letters: SCHOOL WILL BE CANCELLED TOMORROW.

I mean, I wasn't that surprised. They were scheduled for a half-day anyway - which, by the way, make no sense to me whatsoever. I'm a working mother; do me a favor and make me scrounge for one full day of daycare once as opposed to two separate half-days. And don't tell me they do anything that important on a half day. Half-days are spent watching videos and celebrating some obscure fact with soda and bags of barbecue potato chips. But for whatever reason the half-day was scheduled.

Since the Epic Snowstorm of 2012 was fast approaching [also known as the Remember You Live In Wisconsin Snowfall], school was cancelled.

But this actually worked out well because Big V had the day off! Yay!

But he said he had errands to do so I should probably find someone else to watch Dotter. Boo.

And the Nanny was still scheduled to spend the day with Cletus! Yay!

But she would probably be looking to go home early due to the snow. And the fact Dad was hovering around. Boo. 

However, the time of day would come when Big V would be home, and the Nanny would leave, and Grammy would drop Dotter back off because the roads were getting slick and this would mean that two hours before I was scheduled to leave work, Big V would be in charge of the children.

By himself.

Phone Call #1:  
Should I put Cletus down for a nap? Nanny just left and said he didn't nap. He usually goes down around 1:00 but now it's 3:00 so if I put him down he might sleep so late that then he doesn't fall asleep at bedtime but he's not crabby or anything so I don't know if I should try to get him to nap or not.

Umm.... do what you feel is best.

Phone Call #2:
Should I take the kids sledding? Dotter wants to go sledding and I don't mind going but I didn't know if I should take Cletus or not because I think it might be too cold for him. Do you think it's too cold for him? I could probably call the time and temperature; do you have that number?

Umm.... or you could just step outside and see if it's too cold.

Phone Call #3:
We just got the mail and there's an envelope with Dotter's name on it. Can she open it?

Umm.... yes.

Phone Call #4:
I just changed Cletus's poopy diaper and it was all green. Is that normal?

At that point I requested all phone calls be placed directly into my voice mail.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

What are YOUR plans tonight?

You know what's awesome?

I'm going to go out with my girlfriends tonight.

We're going to drink coffee.

And laugh.

And talk about roughly 487 different topics.

And I am going to love every second of it.

That is all.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

She thinks you're really going to like this post.

I had a meeting at work today. One of those pretty important meetings where three attorneys and the president of a local agency wore their best suits. I sat down with my 47-pound code book and cold can of Mountain Dew because I know that attorneys tend to be long winded, plus there's that whole "where there is Ego, there is no logic" thing so they tend to resort to lengthy verbal beat downs.

[That's my quote by the way. You find that sucker being sold on a mug at some Long Island gift shop and you contact me. I'm suing for copyright infringement. I have contacts, you know.]

Anyway, I figured it'd be in my best interest to stay awake, thus the Dew.

And I watched as The Suit next to me took out his pad of paper and fancy pen. And he does what everyone does at Very Important Meetings and puts the date in the top left-hand corner. And then he lists everyone at the meeting, starting with the person to his left. 

First, he draws a little black bullet point, and then he writes in the name. 
  •  Ms. Jane Doe
  • Mr. John Doe
  • Attorney Mr. Smith
  • Attorney Mrs. Smith
Around the room he goes.... and then he gets to me. And I watch his hand hover after the bullet point. He has no idea who I am. Even though he smiled broadly, shook my hand and gave me an overzealous, "Good Afternoon! How have you been?" when I first walked in, he is now realizing he has no idea what my name is.

And he taps the bullet point two times with the tip of his fancy pen and I watch him lay down the pen on the pad of paper.

And there sat a left over hanging bullet point.

And this is what bugged the hell out of me for the next hour and a half: he has a hanging bullet point

Good Lord, I don't care that you don't know who I am - just write something in: a question mark, GIRL WITH SODA, even Unknown Female.... but please, oh, please do not leave the bullet point hanging there with nothing following it.

I thought about ways I could drop my name without making it obvious that I knew that he had no clue who was sitting next to him. (It's my personal opinion that the fancier the suit, the more sensitive they are to having things pointed out to them that might make them look human. Or lame.)

Maybe I could start speaking in third person. "Bridget thinks that Subsection E of Chapter 18-110 needs to be clarified." And that made me laugh out loud. Because how freaking funny would that be to suddenly speak in third person throughout an entire meeting?!  "Bridget agrees with your point." So there I was, in one of the most boring meetings of the century trying to stifle my laughter. I certainly couldn't drink anything for fear I'd end up spitting it all over the table. "Bridget thinks this meeting has gone on long enough." And then I thought how I could try to do that with Big V later but the only way it would work is if I didn't laugh which is incredibly difficult for me to do. But I'm going to try it anyway.

And then I thought about how funny it would be if everyone started talking in third person, just for tonight. How confused our kids would be. And our spouses. Or the lady at the checkout at Target. "Bridget really appreciates your help this evening and wishes you a good night." And how awesome would it be if I got one of those stupid sales calls.... "Bridget would like you to explain how the free window installation works again.

But now that the meeting is over I'm wondering if the dangling bullet point is still dangling or if The Suit filled something in, like: Girl Making Strange Snorting Noises. 

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

New Studies Show the Man Cold can be Cured by Sex.

Last night, Big V followed me around complaining that his right nostril was stuffed up but not the left one. This included several "examples" by which he held one finger to the side of his nose, thereby closing off said nose hole, and attempted to SNIFF. Loudly. One side worked; the other didn't. This happened roughly 672 times until I figured out the correct response was, "Oh, no, honey! I pray to the good Lord above that you aren't near death! Let me stop everything I am doing and apply a cold washcloth to your forehead and hold vigil as you ponder your short but fabulous life while lying on the couch, moaning."

As we all know, the Man Cold can be fatal. The majority of men who come down with the sniffles will more than likely die; it's a slow, painful death... but with non-stop attention from the Lead Female (tucking in blankets, handing out tissue that has the lotion in it, serving up endless bowls of strawberry ice cream, and agreeing to watch nonstop Sports Center), there is hope.

I'll take the snotty toddler who has no clue there's even snot dripping down his face any day.

V was able to raise his head just long enough to ask, "were you comfortable last night?"


"I noticed you slept in your jeans."

Oh. That. Yeah.

"Why were you sleeping in your jeans?"

I was done with laundry and didn't want to make anymore.


I had spent the entire day doing laundry and I was actually done - as in not a single item in the house left to wash, but if I changed for bed then the clothes I was wearing would be in the dirty laundry and then I couldn't say I had finished ALL the laundry. It's a matter of saying 'I win, laundry; you lose!'

"Sounds like you lost because you had to sleep in your jeans."


"Why didn't you just wash the clothes and come to bed naked?"

Because then you would have thought that I was giving you a loud and clear signal that I wanted to have sex. Which I didn't. Because I was exhausted from doing 27 load of laundry. Also, it was really cold.

"Well.... what about now? I mean.... the laundry's all done......"

Oh, how quick these men can recover.

Monday, January 16, 2012

Parenting Lesson #1: Remember, YOU are bigger than they are.

Hello? I snuggled deeper into the overstuffed chaise lounge, pulling my blanket tighter around me. I was at a really good part in my book, but considering Big V had my baby out on a sledding hill I figured I ought to answer this ringing phone, lest the child be broken in a million pieces, requiring me to immediately rush to the nearest trauma center.

"Cletus LOVES sledding! We've gone at least twenty times and he keeps wanting to go again. It's hard, though, because there's no rope on this sled; if there was a rope I could just pull him to the top, but there isn't so I have to carry him and the sled."

Oh. that's nice. I nestled in deeper. Could I get lost in here? If I went missing they might want to start with these couch cushions. Is a chaise lounge even considered a couch? I mean, it's not as big as a couch, but it's bigger than a chair, and you can put your feet up on it. Chaise lounge just sounds so hoity-toity.

"Yeah. I keep asking him if he wants to go home or if he wants to go again and he just keeps saying he wants to sled. I tried to get him to come home but when we started walking to the truck he started screaming."

Hahaha. Okay, I admit. It was a weak chuckle but he was interrupting my Me Time.

"Yeah, and, uh, the game's gonna start pretty soon and I really want to watch it but I guess I won't be able to if I'm still sledding, hahaha."

Wait. Did he just weak chuckle back at me? I believe he did.

"So, yeah. Uh. Well, hey! Maybe if you came and like, parked at the bottom of the hill, you could video tape him sledding or something and then when he saw you he'll probably just want to go with you."


Let me get this straight. You want me to bundle up, drive to the sledding hill, pretend to video tape your child in the hopes that said child will see me, get excited and want to come with me, allowing you ample time to return home to watch a football game?


Might I offer you a suggestion?

"....uh.... sure....."

Pick the kid up, strap him in his car seat and drive home.