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?
Isn’t it great to have a partner in crime? Husbands are awesome, except for the whole cookies for breakfast part. Way to go for not freaking out (I totally would have)!!!!
Sometimes?
Peace and quiet and time to think?
Worth a cookie breakfast.
Totally worth it.
Just discovered your blog. It’s weird… like you were a fly in the wall at my house listening to everything my family says. Almost like a parallel universe. I’m a fan.
YAY for new fans!
Welcome!
I will try to be sneaky and quiet as I eavesdrop on your family.
I eat cookies for breakfast all the time, and just to show what a terrible mom I am, I totally give my toddler cookies for breakfast sometimes.
Also, plum farts are are just the type of blog post I needed. Thanks!
Damnit, how come noone but my blackberry knew my name had an accent over the “e”. Thank you blackberry and pretty all true for making me aware of this.
I’m glad that today?
You are less dead than before.
Snort!
Oh yes, today, I am very alive. Must be bc its Monday…no, that’s definitely NOT it. I bet its the ginormous, full of fucking calories brownie I just ate. I’d kinda like another one, but not for 93 cents a pop!
Brownies for breakfast?
The girls would LOVE you!
This post had me laughing hysterically. My dog, Zoey the idiot super dog, has the worst gas ever. Worst ever. Most of the time, you get warning. She makes a psssssss noise, like air escaping from a tire. And then you had better run. Run fast. How come no one told me that Boxer’s have bad gas???
I love when parenting jives and you can tag team. That doesn’t seem to happen so much in my house. Like how I said, as we entered Kohls yesterday…”No one may get a toy. No one has acted in any way near “getting a toy behavior”. and then my husband comes up and says, “I know you said no one gets a toy, but these are on *clearance*!!!” UGH.
Your comment made me laugh!
Mark never thinks that the rules apply to him.
Never!
So funny.
I know you said no one gets a toy, but these are on clearance!!!
So funny.
OMG, love it. I count myself blessed that my dog does not eat the fruit that falls off of our trees, though maybe if he did I wouldn’t always have to wait two hours for him to poop on our walks.
Yes, lately?
The dogs do not need to be walked.
So much as just gently squeezed.
Sigh.
HAHAHAHA….I was just sitting on the couch the other day when my dog farted. Literally? It was so bad, my husband and I had to LEAVE the room.
It is clear who runs this household.
Yes, a dog who can clear the room?
Powerful indeed.
Ok so apparently my last comment disappeared into cyberspace?!
Anyway…
This post cracked me up because just the other day I was sitting on the couch when my dog farted. It was SO bad that my husband and I had to LEAVE the whole room and considered fumigating it afterward.
It is obvious who runs this household…
Your first comment went to moderation . . . I don’t believe that should happen again.
But I always approve love, so it is here.
As is your second impatient repeated comment.
Because those? Always make me giggle.
Yay-it wasn’t lost in cyberspace!
Boo-I made myself look like a moron with a double comment;)
There are no morons here in Pretty All True.
Although I have been known to play the fool a time or two.
Or more.
Oh I hate mornings too. I can’t even really talk well. I just grunt until my tea kicks in.
For me?
Coffee.
But yes . . . there is grunting.
stupid flatuelent fruit-eating dog.
best four word hyphenate ever.
still worshipping you
I love worship!
Thank you.
HAH! Oh man, fruity dog toots are NOT cool.
No, not cool at all.
Stupid dogs.
Sounds like you have yourself a keeper :)
Yes, indeed.
I know.