I have mentioned before how much I hate the morning. My body gets up, but it takes a while for my brain to agree to greet the day.
Sometimes, I just sit and listen as my family moves around me in the morning hours. Sip my coffee and listen.
This morning? I hear Kallan negotiating with Mark about breakfast.
“Why can’t I have one?”
“Because there are only two left, and your sister is not here, and I think they might both belong to your sister.”
Kallan is the voice of reason, “But if there are two left, Maj is not going to care if I eat one.”
“Yes, well . . . if both of them belong to your sister? She will care.”
“Hmmmph. Why can’t I just take the one with less frosting? That’s the one she would give me if she had to give me one, anyway.”
Frosting?
Maj is in the basement, and now she is yelling from downstairs, “What is Kallan trying to eat for breakfast that belongs to me?”
And Mark yells back, “Can Kallan have one of the frosted sugar cookies you made?”
Cookies?
Maj is outraged, “What? Are you kidding me? You’re going to let Kallan have cookies for breakfast? Where’s Mom? Kallan is not supposed to have cookies for breakfast.”
Mark ignores that part, “So can she have one or not?”
“No, she can’t have one. I made those like five days ago. They are all disgusting and stale.”
Whispers from the kitchen, and then Mark yells down to Maj again, “She says she doesn’t care if they are stale. Can she have one?”
“No, she can’t have one! They are stale and they are mine!”
Snort!
More whispers from the kitchen, and then Mark yells down to Maj, “OK, how about if you guys split a cookie? Then there will be one left for you to have later.”
Maj comes stomping up the stairs, “Why is she eating stale cookies for breakfast? What is wrong with you? And where are the rest of the cookies? Why are there only two left? Where is Mom?”
I raise my cup in greeting from the other room, “Daddy’s got this one, babe.”
I don’t know how it turned out, but somehow? The cookies have all been eaten.
Mark is all awesome on breakfast duty.
He’s got this parenting thing down.
Like last night.
Kallan was telling us a story about how she had petted a cat while at a friend’s house, and then she must have touched her eyes, because they got all red and swollen.
Kallan is allergic to cats.
It wasn’t a big deal, she tells me. She just rinsed her eyes out with water and she was fine. And besides? The cool thing? Is that her friend’s mom had eye drops that she could have used if her allergies got bad.
ACK!
I race back through my memory. Surely, I have had the discussion with Kallan about how she is never to allow anyone to give her medicine without checking with me.
Apparently not.
I am filled with guilt and fear about what could have happened.
But what comes out is anger, and as I lecture Kallan? She dissolves into tears.
And then I see Mark, who is sitting in his chair behind Kallan, waving his hands in the air.
And I shut up. Take a minute to breathe and reassess.
One of the awesome things about being married? Is that there is someone to point out when you are fucking up. Mark does not often call me out, so I must have sounded even more angry than I thought.
Well played, babe. Thank you.
OK, but why is Mark still waving his hands?
Kallan and I both stare at him.
“Ummm, babe? What is with the crazy-man arm waving? You are totally undoing the seriousness of this discussion.”
He sweeps at the air with big callisthenic arms, “Oh my god! How do you not smell that? It’s like that whole plum tree climbed up the dog’s butt and died.”
We do not seem to be able to stop our dogs from eating the plums that fall from the back yard tree. Stupid flatulent fruit-eating dogs.
The three of us stare at our Labrador, who looks up at us with guilty apologetic eyes.
The cloud of stench seems to have decided to love Mark, because he is still waving and cringing. Kallan steps closer, filled with giggling, and takes a tentative sniff.
“Oh, Mom! Come smell this! It is worse than you can even imagine! It is terrible! It’s like I am being poisoned!”
Mark reaches for her and holds her with him in the cloud of stench and they giggle together about the awesome power of the dog’s butt. He kisses her cheek, “Speaking of bad stuff . . . you were listening when your mom told you not to take medicine without our permission, right?”
Kallan snuggles into his arms, “Yeah, I wasn’t thinking. Sorry.”
And then they both work together with sweeping arms to wave the smell across the room at me.
Not even.
I flee the room.
Mark’s got things under control.
And weren’t there some cookies around here somewhere?
LOL! Awesome. Now wait until the dogs are old and decrepit and fart that plum smell. It’s not pretty. Or good smelling.
Yay first comment!! Oh life’s simple joys ;)
And comment #2 as well!
You are all kinds of awesome today!
The Labrador is 8, and if she begins to smell worse than she has been plum-smelling this last little while?
She will become an outside dog.
Or . . . Mark and Kallan seem to think that carefully applied duct tape would help.
The Labrador? Is suspicious.
A cork. We’re always considering a cork. I say it would just shoot across the room, but Brian and the boys think not. Also, if it DID? They think that would be pretty damn great, too.
Kallan would love if the dog could shoot a cork across the room!
She would sell tickets.
She totally would.
Oh, shit. That one hurt! I want to give Mark some kind or award for these words:
“It’s like that whole plum tree climbed up the dog’s butt and died.”
That is perfection.
Once, right after Carter was born, Brian was getting the kids fed and ready for school and he held out the cookie jar to the kids. “Here, have 3. I’ll pour you some milk.” And the boys are all, SCORE!, but Abbie was looking at him with her eyes all squinty. “Mommy wouldn’t let us have cookies for breakfast. I’m going to go tell her.”
Of course I was listening to the whole thing; that house wasn’t very big. Brian paused for just a second and said, “No, your mom said I should give you cookies! To celebrate Carter being born and everything!”
She ate her cookies and drank her milk, but the instant she got home from school she was next to me on the bed, tattling on Brian.
Your daughter?
So much like Maj.
Maj tells on Daddy all the time.
And also?
She tells on me.
Sigh.
Sophie’s big thing?
To crawl into bed with you while you are asleep, place her delicate toddler ass two inches from your face, and in the most ladylike fashion possible, release the deadly neutron bomb of a flesh-stripping, lung-collapsing, soul-crushing fart from the depths of flatulance hell.
Would you like to borrow her? I’ll box her up and ship her out forthwith.
That is so awesome!
I love Sophie.
From a distance, I mean.
You keep her.
No, really.
She’s a hit at parties. The fart trick goes over really well.
Until Hazmat gets called in.
Little kids? They cry a lot in chemical showers.
The image of a birthday party of little children?
All crying in a Silkwood shower?
You are a loon.
Parenting is easy.
Comedy is hard.
Also? Back-breaking financial debt. That’s hard too.
And paddle ball.
Sir?
I kick ASS at paddle ball.
All you people out there with delicate sensibilities?
Applaud me for not making the joke just now that I was thinking of making.
You’re welcome.
Oh, Nigel, you can’t make a statement like that and just leave us hanging!
Part of the joy of paddle ball?
Is setting up your partner.
In that case:
You’ve overdeveloped the highly-practiced skill of jerking your hand back and forth in quick, smooth motions?
Your husband must be so pleased.
Nigel?
You must never leave me.
This blog? Would be a lot less fun without you.
I love how every post about Maj usually includes her quote, “What is wrong with you?” I try to feel her pain, but always end up in giggles. Followed by the laughter as imagine this smallish person lecturing her adult target.
I wish I had Maj-itude.
She has much Maj-itude.
She will love that word!
Now if someone would only listen to her and heed her warnings.
We all all misbehaving over here.
Maj despairs.
Ewwww, stale, frosted cookies for breakfast??? YUCK.
My favorite part? Maj’s wondering where you were. Clearly we know who is in charge.
Mostly.
But Mark?
He has his moments.
Cookies for breakfast reminds me of the Bill Cosby routine about chocolate cake for breakfast. “There are eggs in cake! And milk!”
Snicker!
Mark as Bill Cosby?
I am dying over here!
Oh, thank you for that image!
I am delighting in the fact that Kallan really didn’t want you to miss out on the smell emanating from your dog. Our poor pup had vaccinations on Friday and henceforth became ill and today is still suffering from eye watering gas. It’s fartfuckingtastic. Not.
Maj has a lot on her plate. Clearly.
Maj’s plate is always very very full.
We are a mess.
According to Maj.
Oh Gawd! I forgot about dog farts. Ugh! Thankfully, puppy farts don’t smell. I think.
Nope. Puppy farts are all lovely and milk-bone scented.
Just you wait.
I object!!! I have a puppy. His farts really stink. So there.
Your puppy?
Is all kinds of defective.
I love you…. enough said. I wish you were my mom, except…. well…. I am older than you. By a shit load.
Are you?
That is awesome!
I am so accustomed to being the oldest!
YAY!
It reassuring to know that, between the tender moments, the painful memories, the bittersweet reminiscence, and the hilarity of married-with-kids life, that you all have normal conversations about dog fart stench.
Thanks for keeping it real.
Snort!
Thank you.
OMFG. There’s nothing like putrid dog flatulence to really take the wind out of righteous parenting indignation.
Where did Maj come from? How did you guys survive so long before she was born?! Good Lord.
This?
There’s nothing like putrid dog flatulence to really take the wind out of righteous parenting indignation.
I haven’t given an award for best words strung together in a comment for a while.
Today? You win.
Yay! I won! I won! Now, I just have to learn to be so brilliant on my own blog…:)
We have chihuahuas tho & even their most putrid flatulence? Is still small in comparison to normal sized dogs. It stinks, but not “anal death of a fruit tree” kind of stink. The inspiration is just not adequate for a whole blog post…LoL
That is true.
Our smaller dog? Has also been rancid lately.
But the space that is cleared by the smaller dog farts?
Is negligible.
I was laughing so hard at this I was squinting tears out of my eyes. I was trying to be all kinds of quiet because Cort is SICK of me reading blogs to him, but I was dying. Then I get to Mark’s comment about the dog’s ass? I lost control.
Whew. love it. that last part? a total exploded moment.
So happy to have made you explode with laughter.
So happy.
OK, now I feel like a terrible mother, because I didn’t even know that particular lecture existed. What would be the horror scenario of my kid letting someone else’s mother put in anti-allergy eye drops? I’m usually good at worst-case scenarios and I’m kind of coming up blank here. Which is not to say this lecture isn’t a good idea, it’s just a new concept.
Seriously?
Kallan has eye drops that have been prescribed for use in this situation.
Using another’s bottle of eye drops?
If it’s a different prescription or strength or improperly applied or contaminated in some way? Could cause medical problems or reveal an allergy.
If it’s a bottle that has touched someone else’s eye? There is a risk of infection.
And just generally? I don’t want anyone diagnosing and medicating my child without consulting me.
Ever.
Why are dads always the ones who get to offer cookies for breakfast? Why must we be the great vetoers of ill-advised fun? It’s not fair!
I wonder if Maj will always keep her absolute measure of right and wrong? She is sounding to me a lot like MY older sister. You should make her a “What Would Maj Do?” button that she can bestow upon those in need of guidance.
Maj is going to need a shitload of buttons.
So many people fucking up in so many ways.
According to Maj.
I am all sorts of stunned at the mental image I got of the plum tree climbing up the dog’s ass and dying.
This is such a cool (for lack of a better term) story. I absolutely love that Mark has got it all figured out and under control and he doesn’t even mean to nor is he aware. What a beautiful little family moment, plum farts and all.
I, like Maj, do not take kindly to people eating my food, stale or not.
Mark is all unaware and lovely.
He is awesome that way.