December 25, 2008

Revenge is Best Served Cold, with 300 Parts and Instructions Written Half in Chinese

I often spend a lot of time thinking how much easier parenting would be if I happened to be the parent lucky enough to stuff a penis in my pants. Those bitter thoughts have ran through my mind more than usual on this miserable run up to Christmas. While I was in some packed shopping center pushing my way through crazed parents swarming some random toy like a herd of the zombie undead on fresh brains prime for the suckling, Rowdy would be napping in the recliner with our rambunctious children pawned off on his mom. I stayed up until 3 am wrapping presents while he stayed up just as late playing cards with the fellas. Last Saturday he took care of the boys while I photographed a wedding. Because we were leaving the next morning as soon as he finished feeding cattle for our Christmas celebration at Rowdy's dad in Oklahoma City, I knew the next morning I'd be rushing around like crackheads in the middle of a drug sting. My lone request for Rowdy in preparation for this trip to see his family (who I adore, by the way) was to bath the boys before they went to sleep. The next morning when I asked him if he had completed this task, he replied that he had fully intended to do this, especially in light of all the dirt fights they had, but that he simply got too busy with the super exciting football game he was watching. I wanted to kill him, I did, but I knew that would frankly take time that I just didn't have. I would have bitched at him, but Rowdy was also blessed with his uncanny ability to complete ignore all negative input from any and all females and absorbing all the positive ones. It's bullshit, really.
I spent that last few days with an admitted case of penis envy, thank you very much, Dr. Freud. That is, until the bounty of Christmas presents were unwrapped, shredded paper flung from here to yonder, and a small army of unassembled toys stared Rowdy stone cold in the face. It was like they were taunting him. A couple were constructed within a few moments, a couple appeared to require an engineering degree from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology to conquer.
Rowdy sat leg-crossed and baffled on the living room floor, nuts and bolts and springs and aluminum bars scattered around him in a semi-circle. Periodically, words that are typically frowned upon on Christmas were muttered under his breath, the four letter kind that with a tendency in starting with "F" or "S" or "D," the words I hold most dear.
And it was in this snowfall of toy parts that I realized maybe I shouldn't have been so rough on Rowdy while I was in the middle of my Christmas fury. I'm sure if Rowdy read this post, he'd swear I bought all those difficult-to-assemble toys on purpose, not because the boys would love them, but just to share some of my Christmas misery with him. But, that's really not the case. Now I see that maybe being the Daddy isn't so easy after all.

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Anonymous said...

I totally agree, those dang toys with their instructions might as well be in Chinese...thank you god I do not have to assemble them!

Casey said...

I'm with you... we spent about 4 hours assembling two things on Xmas eve, it was terrible. They make those instructions to fuck with people. Have you ever seen this:

Unknown said...

Very vood blogging!

Mollie Reidland said...

I just guess you suck at picking presents. Or kick ass at it depending on whether you really meant to punish Rowdy or not. We didn't have to put anything together.

You should have got them some more legos.

I am going to have so much fun in Vegas. Fifteen days! Crack whores, hobos, and the neverending quest for $1 Blackjack, oh my!

Anonymous said...

Amen, Sistah! Is it wrong that I took great pleasure one Christmas Eve when I went to bed at a reasonable time, and CB was up until 2:00 a.m. putting together a Barbie Jeep??? I think not!!

What I really hate is when someone says "Thank you for the gift", and CB says, "You're welcome. What did we get you?" AAAHHHGGGHHHH!!!

He is TOTALLY off the hook this year because he cooked lobster tails for our Christmas Eve dinner. Let me clarify...he BOUGHT THEM and he COOKED THEM!!!! That's enough ATTA-BOYS to last until next Christmas!!!

Irish Gumbo said...

Ha, ha, ha: revenge, thy name is assembly required!

I'm sure *ahem* you didn't buy any of those kinda presents on purpose :)

FYI: Yeah, having a dingie is okay and all, but the first time you get it caught in a zipper? NOT SO MUCH...

Anonymous said...

Ya know, I didn't think ANYTHING could be as bad as putting the damn toys together...I was wrong.

Getting the already assembled toys out of the packaging, and the numerous layers of tape, zip straps and twisty cord is damn near impossible. What's worse than dealing with an antsy kid on Christmas morning who just wants the toy out of the box? Doing it all over again on 26th when said child turns 3.

Oh yeah, we went through lots of wine the past two days!

Mrsbear said...

My husband and I both shared in the wrapping duties on the 24th, but he was working Christmas day, so I got shafted on the assembly and de-boxing. I despise the packaging they put on kids' toys, 8,000 twist ties to secure a toy truck to a chunk of cardboard seems a little much.

Krissi said...

Okay, I too admit to having the famous, "Penis Envy." So I appreciate the giggle. And the fact that I'm not the one who has to do the putting together, hauling, and taking down the Christms lights in sub-artic tempertures. I'm cured no, "Penis Envy," here.

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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