Momma's Boys

Just as I tucked the boys into bed, I got to enjoy the rare pleasure of a television to myself. Rowdy was watching CNBC or The Terminator or some other atrocious bologna that I have no desire to see on the bedroom television, so the living room tube was mine, all mine.
I skimmed through the channels when a brand new show jumped out at me -- Momma's Boys. Although I'm not normally one for reality television, I'm totally down for a train wreck, which is evident in my unfettered affection for Rock of Love.
No more than five minutes into the show, Rowdy comes through the living room to go outside for a smoke.

ROWDY: What are you watching? Is this that new show Momma's Boys?

ME: Ummmm.....why?

ROWDY: Is it?

ME: Yes, why?

(LONG, LONG PAUSE)

ROWDY: Well, I don't really want you to get started watching that show.

ME: Why not?

(EVEN LONGER PAUSE)

ROWDY: I just can't help but think that a show with momma's boys with noisy mothers is going to somehow bite me in the ass.


Immediately, I was overcome with laughter. And, just in case you haven't been as well, perhaps I should tell you that I live approximately 1,000 feet from my mother-in-law. While she is very good to me and my children, I can't help but think that maybe my darling husband feels periodically squeezed between the never-ending nut vault that is constant interaction with both your mother and your wife. I know all you fellas out there are shaking your heads, wondering if Rowdy is on a steady stream of drugs or just likes female nagging.

Then, it turned out, Rowdy's words were almost prophetic. I paused the show while he told me of this con man Madoff and his swindling. I wasn't recording it, it was just paused during this brief conversation when Rowdy's daily crack, Mad Money, kicked my new beloved show off. It was lost forever in DVR outerspace. Naturally, this caused me to start sniping at Rowdy's feet like one of those yappy lap dogs.
What can I say, when he's right, he's right!

Bedroom Invasion

Rowdy and I have been slowly transitioning Ridge into the twin bed in his room, something we should've done long ago. But, here's the thing: we kinda like him nestled in between us each night, his small feet sandwiched within mine. Sure, at times the cramped bed makes for a grumpy momma and, since I'm already labeled a "hand full," our household community seeks to minimize anything that might trigger extreme wiseassness or bitchiness from yours truly. And any interruptions of in between the sheets activity, albeit siestas or other business I'm far too ladylike to detail here, is at the bloody top of that list. But, still, I didn't mind the kid slumbering in our bed. In fact, he looks like a perfect angel, resting there in fancy sheets he's far too young to properly appreciate, and the tantrums and messes of the day melt into the forgotten. That serene image, without a doubt, has probably restrained me from ringing his darling neck once or twice.
With that said, his father evicted Ridge from our room this week, thus banishing him to the rickety twin that's parked in the corner of his room. Well, actually it's a pretty good quality bed, but in comparison to my beloved Sleep Number knock-off, it might as well be some stained gurney on a shitty Baghdad side road.
While Rowdy's been the ultimate hard ass on this deal, the doe-eyed pleas to come to our bed have plucked my heart strings. So, if my darling boy is having a little trouble one night, I'll lay down in his bed FOR A MINUTE. His days are normally filled with checking dusty cattle in rolling Oklahoma prairies or fighting epic battles with invisible blue monsters, so he's asleep fast. It's hard work being a cowboy and monster slayer.
I snuck in past midnight this evening. Photographing the wedding of Patsy Baird and Frank Sullivan has me burning my midnight oils. On my weary drive home from Elk City, I could feel the restful slumber already. But, now I'm here and far too excited to see what gems my camera captured. I'll likely be up for another hour.
The house was as lifeless as a hallowed cave when I came in and, low and behold, Ridge is in his own bed. If I would have known relocated him to his own bed would be this simple, we'd have done it long ago.