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    Saturday, November 15, 2008

    That's What I Get

    Really, it's my fault. It is. I should know better.

    Go out, have a blast, spend a little time in Happy Schnockered Land, where I NEVER go, and then when morning comes, and the little man wakes up and Daddy brings him down, and then runs to work for a short while...I go back to sleep. After all, it was 2:30 before the room stopped spinning enough for me to lay down. So, we snuggle in, I turn on his fave cartoon, and doze off.

    The child...does not.

    It wasn't that long, if memory of my last glance at the clock serves me correctly. But he works quickly. And thoroughly. Apparently Playhouse Disney did NOT hold his interest as usual.

    It's actually the smell that wakes me, and nothing else. He's like a cat-burglar, this one - not a sound while he does his evil deeds. I wake to see him standing next to me, on Daddy's side of the bed, holding his instrument of choice for destruction on this fine morning. He smiles at me as he works, until he sees my expression change from curiosity at what I'm smelling, to HORROR as I realize just what I'm smelling...


    How he got it out of the cabinet in my office yesterday, I will never know. Why we didn't put it up HIGHER after he got it out yesterday but narrowly avoided catastrophe, I will also never know. (And why the fuck do I still have this shit? Who uses White-Out anymore? Certainly not me, as far as I can remember...wait, I used to use it in my check register...then I pulled the stick out and just started crossing out like everyone else on the planet...)

    So. Exactly what DO I see as I open my eyes and look upon my beautiful blue-eyed baby boy?

    Both hands: white.
    Both legs: white.

    Left cheek veering towards mouth: white.

    Pajamas: white.

    Daddy's alarm clock, night stand and night stand cover: white

    Damn - how much is IN one of those tiny bottles?

    And do you know what does a really, good, thorough job of taking White-Out off of skin, clothes and small electronics?

    NOTHING. NO-FUCKING-THING. That shit is like house paint.

    The Bug and Tar Remover did the best job, but we can't use that on the kid. (Trust me, I thought about it.) He'll be soaking in a long soapy tub after breakfast, after already having sat through my scrubbing session on his face with a warm wash cloth. We may try baby oil first.

    God, do I HAVE baby oil? That's as obsolete around here as White-Out!

    See, it's mostly off his face now. Ugh.

    Oh, and as an added bonus, when we walked out of the bedroom and into the office, we saw that he had done a number on Daddy's computer tower, too.

    As we cleaned the mess, Samantha very calmly walked in my office, sat down and said "Mommy, please don't sell my brother because he did this." We assured her that White-Out covered little brothers don't go for much these days, and we'd be hanging on to him.

    Greg said I shouldn't feel bad. But I do feel bad - it's my fault for assuming he'd stay put like he generally does when Playhouse Disney is on. It's my fault for dozing off when I should have stayed awake, no matter how tired I was. It's my f---


    Come to think of it, it's really Greg's fault. Jackson BEGGED him not to go into work this morning. Begged him - pouty lip and tears and all. Did he listen? No. Did he leave tired, sleepy, Mommy to wrangle the child early in the morning? Yes. Yes, he did. Clearly this was Jackson's retaliation for Greg's refusal to grant the boy's early morning request for his company! I think I'm in the clear here!

    Geez, Greg, way to go, hon. Nice one.

    "....I swear, Officer, my husband just fell under the bus, I promise I didn't throw him..."


    OK, fine. Back to reality - MY fault. My bad. Totally. But, that's what I get. The White-Out is in the trash, the mess is mostly cleaned up, and the new rule is no more lounging around in bed in the morning with Jackson. Period.


    Missives From Suburbia said...

    I think the highlight of the entire morning for me was hearing Greg in the background on the phone as he protested, "I was only gone for an HOUR!"

    Jill said...

    OMG! Cathy! I guess I should move the white out out of my desk drawer in the kitchen. I've found Andrew carrying it around before.