I’m writing this Monday night.
And I’m annoyed.
Tom was off today thanks to Christopher Columbus. Tommy was off today thanks to Christopher Columbus. Natalie was....well, Natalie was here seeing as she’s only two.
But still. At the moment I can’t help but be a tad irritated at Mr. Columbus.
My husband Tom was stretched out on the couch watching Hi Hao, Kai-Lan with Natalie earlier. He felt the need to answer the television. For instance, Kai-Lan just asked if we wanted to learn a Chinese word. Tom went, “No thanks. No. Not at all.”
Then Kai-Lan asked us why we thought Tolee was upset. Or was in Rintoo? I don’t know. One of the animals on the show was seriously pitching a fit.
“Duh! He’s upset because he can’t roller skate!” Tom shouted. “Amber, is this show serious?”
I had to remind him that the show is intended for children.
Kai-Lan asked what we could do to make Tolee happy.
“Take the skates away and tell the little sh—” Tom began.
“TOM!” I admonished. “You can’t curse in front of the c-h-i-l-d-r-e-n.”
“Children! Why did you spell children?” Tommy wondered.
It really is so much fun now that he’s learning to spell.
Tom frowned. “What I meant to say is…just take the skates away from him! Not everyone can skate. It’s okay, really.”
But obviously the show was about the importance of practicing to get better so Tolee had to keep trying.
Tom was about to open his mouth to say something else but I went, “Look. If you say one more thing about the show I’m switching it to Yo Gabba Gabba.”
That shut him right up because Yo Gabba Gabba frightens him. In fact, at first he thought I was yanking his leg when I put on the program.
“This is on Comedy Central, right? Making fun of extreme children’s programming?” Tom asked as he walked in the room and saw the creatures singing about a party in their tummies.
“No Tom. It’s a real children’s show,” I had said.
Tom stared at me in disbelief. “No it’s not! It’s on Comedy Central! A children’s show wouldn’t have a diseased dildo as a character,” he said, pointing out Muno who I’m sorry, does sort of resemble the male genitalia.
He eventually realized that Yo Gabba Gabba was a real show. And I forced him to watch it before.
And now he’s still traumatized.
So when I threatened to put on Yo Gabba Gabba, he shut his mouth.
Then later Tommy didn’t want to do his homework. Technically, it’s not homework. It’s just some classwork that he didn’t get to finish because he’s pulled out of his regular classroom to the resource room for reading and math. Still, I tell him that he needs to finish his classwork and he was not pleased with this.
“My teacher said I didn’t have to bring it back!” he kept whining.
I rubbed my temples. My head was starting to throb. At that point after being in the house with no breathing space I was beginning to lose my patience.
“Just finish the work, Tommy. It’s important to finish what you start,” I said through clenched teeth.
He did it, but when he was done he looked me in the eye and went, “I’m not your son anymore,” before stomping up to his room.
I put my head in my hands and groaned. Then Natalie came up and tapped me on the arm. “Mommy? I pooped,” she said sweetly. I lifted up my head and peered at her. “Go ask Daddy to take care of it.”
“Okay,” Natalie said and rushed off to Tom. “Daddy! I pooped!”
And then I heard HIM say, “Go tell Mommy.”
Are you KIDDING me?
What I wanted to do was scream, “I just need five minutes to myself. JUST FIVE MINUTES!” But I didn’t. I changed the diaper. I shot Tom dirty looks while doing it. Then I went to unload the dishwasher. And while I was bending down to retrieve the silverware, Tom was suddenly behind me, humping my back.
I don’t get it. Whenever I bend over he’s always there humping my back. Does he sense when I’ve bent over? Is it like a Spidey sense? Like, do men suddenly get an alarm in their brain that goes, “Alert! Alert! Ass in the air. I repeat: ASS IN THE AIR!”
“Tom. Please,” I said, pushing his gyrating hips away. “Not in the mood.”
“What else is new?” Tom grumbled.
I can’t help that I’m tired. And at that point I was moody because I just needed a little bit of quiet time. I barely get it now since Natalie has been refusing her naps. I used to get two hours of peace. But not anymore.
“Just turn the TV on for her if you want quiet,” is Tom’s suggestion.
But I don’t like to just shove my kids in front of the television. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I am not anti-television. No way. Without television I don’t think I’d get a thing done. The kids usually get to watch at least two hours a day and even then I imagine the American Association of Pediatrics would like to pound on my door, reminding me that kids should only get ONE HOUR of television per day and shame on me.
Anyhow, now everyone is in bed and I’m enjoying my quiet time.
I get to watch television without being interrupted!
I can check my e-mail without someone hanging over my shoulder.
I get to—
Natalie is crying.