My husband and I were invited to the annual “Summer Solstice” party at our friend’s house last night. If you read my post earlier … of course we didn’t have a sitter. So I let him go. I’m always game for a night to my house to myself (once the boys fell asleep). Anyway … I woke up with the baby at 2:30 am. No sign of my husband. Ok, fine. He’ll be home any minute. Fed the baby, rocked the baby, put baby back in bed. Fell back to sleep. Woke up at 3:20 am. No sign of my husband. I texted a couple of my friends from the party. No response. Contemplated calling the jails and local hospitals but decided to give it thirty more minutes. That’s when I heard the garage door open. Phew. I can finally go back to sleep in peace. So I thought. After hearing water in the kitchen running for what seemed like 10 minutes and a bag rustling … I started to get out of bed to make sure it was Cale and not a burglar. That’s when I heard him turn the computer on. It’s 3:30 in the effing morning and you’re going to get on the computer. Whatever.
Five minutes later he opens the bathroom door – must’ve brushed his teeth, took contacts out, peed, etc. Door slams. Footsteps
stumbling stomping down the hallway. Bedroom door flies open and bangs into the wall behind it. Belt buckle jingling. Pants hit the floor. Some banging into clutter on the floor. A giant POOF as he plops down onto the bed. Some heavy breathing. And he’s up again. I know these sounds. Sounds I didn’t think I’d hear ever again. **BLAAAAAHHHHHHRRRRRKKKFFFFFFFAHHHH** and *SPLAT*. That didn’t sound like he made it to the toilet. Oh well. As long as HE cleans it up. I have two children. Not three. Sink is running and running and running. Dry heaving. More water. More dry heaving. Never a toilet flush. I have a pet peave about barfing. Do not … under any circumstance … barf in one of my sinks. It can clog the drain and it’s not something a plumber would look forward to and definitely an embarassment I’d like to avoid. Please barf on the floor before you barf in the sink is my request. Annndd he’s back. Another stumble over clutter and another plop and poof onto the bed. Wifey isn’t happy. More deep breaths annnnnnd he’s out. Cold. And now I can kick him, punch him, throw debris at him, call him any name I want, and maybe even flick him in the sinus. He’s passed the eff out.
I can’t sleep. I’m too pissed to go to sleep. Plus he’s sleeping with his mouth open and he didn’t REbrush his teeth and all I can smell is stanky spew. So I went to the couch. But the smell of barf is now taking over the whole house. Not sure how that can be as the bathroom door is shut. But it is. So I went into the boys’ room and snuggled with Cashie on his teeny tiny toddler bed. Stayed there for about 10 minutes and decided I’d go shut Cale’s mouth (at this point I don’t care if he croaks in his sleep due to lack of oxygen) and go back to MY bed. Cash woke up and came with me. That was fine. I could use a snuggle buddy tonight.
It’s now 4:45 am. I finally fall asleep. Only to be woke up by the baby who lost his binky. Plopped it back in his mouth and went back to bed. Ahhhhh … sleep. And good sleep. Until 6:15 am: “WAAAHHHHHH”. And the baby is up for good and wanting Mommy to play. I grabbed his bottle and walked into the living room to put him down so I could fix it. My house STILL smells like barf. WTF? Went to the sink in the kitchen. Bingo. I know we didn’t have that for supper. And what the hell is that? He’s just lucky he barfed on the garbage disposal side. But there’s one problem. The barf is on top of and underneath a pile of dishes and they’re all covered in it. I started fixing the baby’s bottle as fast as I could (because I’m attempting to hold my breath). That was the fastest bottle probably ever assembled! I start walking while screwing the lid on and trip. Milk flies everywhere. Now I’m PISSSSSSED! Fixed another one. Baby fed and is now playing on the floor. I go into the bathroom to check the mess left. Yep. Barfed in my sink. The toilet is directly behind the sink. What makes a grown man decide to barf in the sink. The toilet flushes. I now have to waste gallons of water to try to get the puke to go down YOU MORON!
If Mommy ain’t happy … ain’t nobody happy.
This will be a Father’s Day you won’t forget Cale. And a memory I hope that sticks the next time you decide to go out and throw back a few.
If Wifey didn’t sleep … neither will you.
I let him sleep an hour longer than I got. I’m signing off to go wake my husband up to what’s about to become his worst nightmare. Wish him luck. He’s gonna need it.
But seriously Cale … Happy Father’s Day … This is about the nicest thing that will come out of today (for you) …