walking the cat

Golfdad & I have an agreement. If someday he comes home and there is a note that says "went to walk the cat" that translates to translates to "got the hell out of this freezing cold city and away from this naughty 3 year old and DON'T COME LOOKING FOR ME."

Odds are, I don't have the balls to actually do it, the cash it would take, not to mention I can't stay awake long enough to drive anywhere far away and I really would miss that naughty little 3 year old of mine if I was gone from him for more than a few days.

However, I came as close as ever to "walking the cat" on Saturday. If it wasn't for the fact that I had nowhere to take Jeepers and I was pretty sure he would've lit the house on fire if he was there alone, a day off even at the cheapest hotel on US-31 with the drapes drawn, my new book and trashy reality t.v. playing in the background sounded like a dream.

Before 12:00 P.M. this is what had been accomplished by that little beast:

- approximately 15 minutes in time out (3 minutes each time and once for an extended stay because he silently scooted his butt to the top stair and went to play in his bedroom)
-a drawing on the wall of a perfect letter "P"...with a rock on the navy blue paint
-an entire bag of Golfdish crackers smashed on the couch
-purposely and aggressively stomping on the dogs tail wearing winter boots
-destroying (while practicing letter P on PAPER) a very important piece of paper he was given strict instructions not to touch...he got it off of the fridge by pushing a bar stool and climbing up
-disassembling his tent and dragging the sticks that hold it up through the entire house (this includes banging up the walls on the way to and fro wherever the hell he thinks he was going)
-throwing a Nerf football and his dad's precious plasma T.V.

and those are just the things that i can think of...

Where was I you ask? In the shower, taking the dirty sheets off of the bed, changing the laundry...you know just checking shit off of the Saturday Mom To Do list.

Parenting is so competitive, I already know what some of you reading think. You will judge my character, talk to each other about how naughty my kid can be and how maybe he shouldn't watch so much T.V. or eat as much sugar. I won't deny those things...
NEWSFLASH...NOT EVEN YOU ARE A PERFECT PARENT. Maybe intead of judge you can think to yourself, it's so nice to know that we all have those days.

But when that little fuzzy dark blonde, almost brown hair kid, climbs into bed with you on Sunday morning, snuggles up and gives you a big hug and kiss, tells you that "mom you are beautiful" even if you know that you have the breath of a dragon and your HUGE pregnant gut hanging out over your favorite lounge pants that you refuse to give up...you forget all about the day before, and start out fresh and new oh and THANKFUL that Golfdad finally has the day off...paybacks are hell.

b.m.