February 24, 2009

Paying For His Raising One Beer at a Time

Sweet Bejesus, I have missed you, blogosphere. My brain has been in a semi-frozen state, totally unable to function outside of the stumble through my daily life. I want to make an excuse for this, but the truth is, I don't have one. Wait, I take that back, I do. I'm paying for my husband's raising. You see, even at nearly 37, Rowdy is an ornery shit filled to the rim with mischief. He spent his youth shooting bee bee guns at roosters and convincing his poor little brother to hurdle down steep hills in little red wagons. And now, in some sick, cosmic twist of karma, I am paying the tab on this with his two wild offspring.
Now, don't get me wrong, I love my boys. It's this deep love that keeps them alive when they start fist fighting at 8am over some flimsy measuring cup. Twenty minutes after I vaccuumed last night, they threw a canister of peanuts at each other, giggling all the while.
After they dumped about 20 pounds of dog food this evening and Rolan somehow got caramel caked in his hair, clearly they needed a bath. I soaped 'em up and hosed 'em off. Then, just like every night, I let them play in the tub as I loaded the dishwasher. Occassionally they might dump a little water on the bathroom floor, but this is typically a pretty uneventful step in our nightly ritual. But, the sun even shines on a dog's ass some days and tonight was just the bath's time to shine apparently.
I've spent most of my life trying to crack the interworkings of the male brain and my two darling boys have only increased that desire. You would think once I started growing males in my uterus every other year I might have figured them out a little, but that's not the case. As I walked into the bathroom and immediately noticed that these two monkies had, for some unexplained reason, grabbed a roll of toilet paper, dunked it in the bath water with them and then proceeded to peg each other with wet wads of tp.
Now, for those of you who have never had the good fortune of fishing a full roll of soaking toilet paper out of a bath water, you should now this task is a bit more time consuming than one might've thought. It sticks to the side and scatters about. After I had wiped it down a good fifteen times, the last remenants of the Toilet Paper Fiasco of 2009 had come to an end. In the meantime, Ridge and Rolan had found a stack of 200 photos and had them strewn across their bed like Mardi Gras confetti.
And it was in that moment that it hit me -- my children must be part of a bigger plan. No, I'm talking about the whole Great Scheme of Things plan. I mean I think perhaps President Obama and Treasury Secretary Tim Geithner have contacted Ridge and Rolan and encouraged them to continue this derlick behavior, thus causing me to consume much, much more alcohol and stimulating the economy. Once I figured this out, I calmed down, cracked a Bud Light and did my patriotic duty. I mean, I have to give it to those guys for their masterminded plot. It is really as good an idea as they've had thus far.

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Anonymous said...

Hello Luv! Its me, Mark aka (Romach). I am only getting to check in with your blog now as I was away in Ireland for over a month as my dads brother passed away. I am only starting to catch up with everyone's blogs again now. Hope you and the hubby and the family are all doing well :-)

Michele said...

I was always a firm believer in making the little devils clean up messes like this and our duck incident just confirmed it. In a nut shell the older boy thought it would be oh so funny to trap a duck in the younger boy's bedroom for a whole day. Came home from the zoo with a duck poop filled bedroom. Yeah, it was as pleasant as it sounds. The older boy spent the next two days cleaning duck poop out of shag (really fucking long shag) carpet.

Glad to see your back. Hang in there.

Casey said...

Wet TP is the worst. I've accidentally knocked a roll into the tub before but miraculously, it dried and I reused it. Now that's saving!
Your kids are definitely wild but at least they're good exercise. That's what I tell myself over here. Welcome back!

Michelle said...


Now, your boys are boys!!! If i was there I would be right there with them playing with the TP in the bath!!!

Ok well i wouldn't BE in the bath with them, but i would be providing the TP so they could then do whatever it is they do with it!!!

Yeah thats my plan!!!! :O)

Missed ya!!!

Chris said...

Hmmm Shonda's TP or Michele's duck poop.... LOL I can't pick. I feel so sorry for you both!!

Anonymous said...

I have been tempted to run screaming from my house over TP more times than I can count. That stuff is really tempting to kids, and there are countless ways that a roll or two in the wrong hands can ruin your entire day. Although I guess that whatever it takes to turn this economic slowdown around is worth it.

Anna Lefler said...

Oh, the wet TP killed me. LOL!!

(And it's probably lucky it - or you - didn't kill them, yes?)

I just love your blog...



phonelady said...

having raised two boys myself you know that I know what you are going through . Yes the ultimate is raising your husband s wild offspring I could not have worded it any better myself . I love your blog and wait it gets better they get older and then they dont need you anymore and you are probably thinking when you read this , yeah they dont need me anymore . Believe me an empty nest is hard to deal with too . talk to you soon love the blogs .

Anonymous said...

i wish i liked beer.

hubunit came up with a stimulus package idea the other day. it involved tapping the energy generated from all those people mindlessly walking, cycling, rowing and elipting at the gym.

i like your idea WAY better. cause i always like any idea that involves alchohol way better than any idea that involves exercise.

Finish This Page, but click on the older posts, too.

The knee-slappin,' cursin,' GOOD TIMES don't start or end on the front page, so read the older posts! Maybe you missed something. Maybe you forgot. I try to post daily, so read the older posts!
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