I haven’t forgotten/given up on Stickman. He will return.
Saturday, I had the pleasure of having all 3 of my lovely children all day by myself.
Now, I know this is nothing new for you SAHMs, like my beautiful wife, who do this day in and day out.
However, I’m a working dad who normally spends about 4 hours with his kids in the evening.
Which, after you subtract for my pooping and eating, it really only amounts to about an hour or so before their bedtime.
And all of that is with my wife present, which helps with things like interpreting for the baby, reminding me who is grounded from video games, who has early bedtime, who ate what for lunch so they don’t have the same thing for dinner, blah, blah, blah…
So, an event like Saturday was basically like me becoming a parent for the first time all over again.
Not to mention, the difference between 3 kids and 2 kids, is like the difference between 1 kid and NO kids.
Oh, she was off enjoying some much needed time away with a friend.
She went to Indy to pick out and try on her dress for her friend’s Renaissance wedding.
It’s like Medieval Times meets a Las Vegas Wedding Chapel.
Or maybe Robin Hood + Rocky Horror Picture Show - Father of the Bride?
Regardless, she was excited about her dress/costume.
Meanwhile, I was dealing with stuff like this:
Max (10 yr/old): “Dad! Lily just took a piece of poop out of her diaper!!!”
Me: “What the….”
Lily: *looked of BUSTED written on her face*
Max: “Nevermind. She put it back in.”
Me: “Oh GOOD LORD!”
Me: “Where are the wipes?!?!”
Max: “I think we’re out.”
Me: *uncontrollable sobbing*
Sammy (5 yr/old): “Is mommy home yet?”
Me: “Yeah bud?”
Sammy: “Can I have some lunch? I’m STARVING!”
Me: “It’s only 10 am! You just had breakfast like an hour ago.”
Sammy: “Is mommy home yet?”
Sammy: “What time is mommy getting back?”
Me: “She said 2 or 3, but I’m guessing with drive time and girl stuff, it will probably be closer to 4 or 5.”
Sammy: “What time is it now?”
*5 minutes later*
Sammy: “Is mommy home yet?”
Me: “……..*Blink, Blink*……”
My lovely wife returns to rescue me around 4:30pm.
She does not seem sympathetic to my plight in the least.
Doesn’t she understand what HELL I’ve been in?!?!?!
Oh wait. That’s right.
I’ve been having a taste of her world.
Actually, it was more of just a nibble.
This is all hindsight of course.
Now, and by now I mean back then on Saturday, I was all pissy.
Then she tells me (of course she later swears she didn’t tell me this) I have to be at the School for the BINGO thing I am calling/MCing at 5pm.
I jump up, get in the shower, and throw on some clothes.
We get there at like 5:02pm.
My Mother-In-Makesmylifehell-Law asks my wife what time it starts, and my wife says something like, “Well, it starts at 6pm, but the doors open a 5:30.”
I flip my poop.
See……I HATE to wait……… Also, I am often late.
I think the two go nicely together, because when you show up late (or as I like to call it, “On time”), then you never have to wait.
It’s simple Math really.
My wife HATES that I’m always “late”, as she calls it.
This is just because she sucks at Math, I think.
Back to our story…
I instantly concoct in my supremely huge brain that my wife has done the ole’ switcheroo.
I think, she has told me that I had to be there at 5, only to make sure I was there on time and not late, thereby treating me like the child I am.
I instantly look over at my wife, and giving her my biggest stink eye, I say, “I soooo want to punch you in the face right now! You said I had to be here at 5 and the doors don’t even open until 530!”
Then I get out of the minivan, slam the door, and stomp off to pout inside.
This is a wonderful start to my evening…
See, this BINGO thing was something I got roped into like 4 years ago, when my wife was on the PTO board.
They needed someone to call the numbers, and since I have no life outside of family, I volunteered.
By volunteered, I mean my wife probably said something like, “They need someone to call the numbers at the PTO Bingo. Will you do it?”, and I said “Sure.”
See how they do that?
It’s marriage mind control.
It’s basically saying, “Since this needs done, and you’re my husband, and I control you, you will do this. BUT, I will phrase it like a question so you think you have an option, and that maybe, really it was your idea in the first place.”
So I did it that first year. And I actually had fun.
Then they asked me to do it again the next year.
And I said yes, ON MY OWN.
And the next year.
And then this year.
Why did they keep asking me? I don’t know.
I guess because everybody else was chicken.
Or because they thought I was funny.
Regardless, after the Saturday that I had, I am pretty sure they won’t be asking me back next time.
I think I left my funny in Lily’s wipes case.
However, I did have the pleasure of taking a leak during intermission only to turn around mid junk-in-hand/pre-zip up, and see my Mother-In-Law standing behind me.
MIL: “Oh Ed, I thought this was the girl’s room. They all look alike.”
Me: “Yeah, except for the penises and urinals!”