I’ve been feeling a little blah lately. I blame the weather. I realize it’s February and it’s supposed to be 30 some degrees with a nasty windchill but it’s bringing me down.
In an effort to cheer myself up, I purchased some fabric to make some new curtains and pillow shams for our bedroom. I’m trying to get everything in order a looking nice so the house runs smoothly come spring and summer when our time can be spent watching Mac throw tantrums in the great outdoors.
I ordered the fabric since I would rather extract my own molars than attempt to select fabric in person with an 20 month old. I was anxiously anticipating its arrival. Yards and yards of fun prints for me to play with during these dreary February days!
Last Wednesday the fabric arrived. What good luck! Wednesday wasn’t a running night. I was caught up on my other chores. I figured with a little sweet talking or a guilt trip, I could convince Chris to amuse the kid for a few hours while I got started on the sewing.
To this end, I made sure to have the fabric pre-washed and dry before we even sat down for dinner. Of course, dinner these days is often a 3 hour production given Mac’s current eating habits but he managed to eat pretty well during round one. I cleaned up everything and quietly snuck off to the basement where my iron was waiting.
I was making curtains for two long windows, two pillow shams and a few accent pillows so there was a lot of fabric to iron.
I could hear quite a bit of ruckus on the main floor of the house. While I was waiting for the iron to get warm, I did yell “What is going on up there?” to which Chris replied “Nooooooothing. . .” so I (stupidly) decided to let it go.
I got in the zone and ironed all the fabric. Then, because I’m always racing to get just one more thing done, I cut all the fabric into the required shapes and sizes for my projects.
When I finished and looked at the clock and was mortified to realize it was nearly 8:30!
It’s 8:30. And the kid is supposed to go to bed at 9 and he’s been running around up there screaming like a banshee for the past 45 minutes!
I ripped the iron’s cord from the electrical outlet and barreled up the stairs.
The scene before me was exactly as bad as I could have possibly imagined. Every book, every toy, every pillow, every blanket was strewn about the main floor of the house. Chris was dragging a diaperless Mac from one end of the house to the other on a little bean bag poof thing we typically reserve for QUIET READING TIME!!! Mac is shrieking in sheer delight, “PULL, PULL, PULL, PLEASE!”
Of course everything came to a screeching halt when the boys realized I was standing at the top of the stairs clucking disapprovingly. I was pretty angry. Mac is supposed to be quiet before bed. . .so we can actually get him to bed. . .
I cannot recall the words that came out of my mouth next but I recall attempting to choose them wisely. Although, being tactful is not one of talents. I remember ordering Chris to attempt to feed Mac something before bed. To which Chris responded, “The dog needs walked.”
Mac being exhausted was already starting to melt down at the disruption to the “Pull, Pull, Pull, Please” game and I knew if Chris left the house with the dog, I’d have no luck getting Mac a snack. So I walked the dog. In a downpour.
I returned to find Chris half-heartedly chasing Mac around with a spoonful of yogurt. For chrissakes, this is ridiculous.
After following them around for a few minutes wiping yogurt up off the parts of the floor I could see from all the book and toy carnage, I gave Mac his toothbrush, diapered him and sulked while Chris attempted to get him to settle.
Why does Chris do this? I was gone for 45 minutes. He watches me in a near panic every evening trying to feed this kid and get him ready for bed, knowing if we mess it up, the kid will be awake until 11. Why would he do this?
Shortly after 9, Chris declares he’s exhausted and retreats to our bedroom. I attempt to read to Mac, who is nearly inconsolable because Daddy has left him with his troll Mom-ster.
I get Mac somewhat settled and get him to his crib, grab the baby monitor, shoot Chris – who is reclined in bed with the Fat Fluffs reading a book – a look of smouldering animosity and contempt, and tiptoe down the stairs.
I stood completely motionless in the kitchen, seething, for several minutes listening to the displeasure and angst emanating from the baby monitor.
Clearly Chris does this because he doesn’t respect my time. He doesn’t have to care when the kid goes to sleep because he doesn’t have to deal with him. He made me walk the dog in the pouring rain! He left he house in shambles! All I want to do is sew something. It’s not like I asked to go out shopping or drinking or anything even remotely unreasonable. I don’t ask for that much do I? Don’t I deserve a little more respect than this?
And that’s when I SNAPPED. I grabbed the Sleepy Wrap from the coat closet stomped up the stairs and hurled it as forcefully as I could at Chris’ head. “You fix this.”
To his credit, Chris did try to fix it. . .for a good 30 minutes he attempted to get the kid to sleep. But at 10 o’clock, Chris brought him back downstairs. “I think he’s hungry. I’d try to feed him.” Chris says.
“He’s hungry because you didn’t feed him a snack earlier,” I hiss.
“Well, I didn’t know,” Chris protests.
“You didn’t know?! Every night you watch me frantically play short order cook for this kid so I’m certain he’s full at bedtime and you DIDN’T know he needed to eat something?!”
Oh my stars. I was beginning to understand the whole “heat of passion” defense used by some murder defendants.
Of course Mac was hungry. And I did get him to bed shortly before 11. And I did sew my curtains. . .until 3AM!!!
And Chris lived to tell about it.
Still, I learned my lesson. These two cannot be trusted together. Clearly, I’ll have to supervise them more closely or else I’m going to pay for it.
And I can’t help but suspect this is EXACTLY WHAT CHRIS WANTED.