M..... F.....!

For those few misguided souls out there that read this here BLOG and think I'm Father of the Year material (you obviously don't know me personally) I have a story for you on what a flawed human being I truly am. In Polly want a #@$%ing cracker? I BLOGGED about my quest to not curse in front of the Boy(s). I reported in that entry that I was doing a fine job. Well, Dear Readers, I failed miserably last night.

It was Thursday night, and I've had a tough week. Long work days, and on Wednesday My Lovely Bride had (D)runco which meant I had Boy(s) duty by my lonesome. Tired. Beat. That was me.

Back to Thursday - I was looking forward to Lap Sit. No, I wasn't hitting the Titty Bars. I'm talking me and the Elder Boy at the Richardson Public Library from 7-7:30pm for a reading program. A Dad and Lad thing. I really dig it. He does too. Anyway, come Thursday my Lovely Bride was not feeling well. At first I suspected the Taiwan Flu. She did have (D)runco the previous night. I was wrong. She truly was sick, and was having a tough time. Being a typical male bastard, my first thought was how this was going to impact my already grueling week at work. Would I have to stay home and help? What great timing. After I did the mental rubber band on the wrist (if you are interested in this curious habit, email me, I won't bore everyone else) and figured I'd take both Wyatt and Ethan to Lap Sit. My Lovely Bride did it x2. Why couldn't I. What I didn't factor into this equation was the fact that the Elder Boy liked the fact that it was just us. No Wyatt. Hmmm. We discussed (Lovely Bride and I) just laying low and not mentioning it, and seeing if she thought she could watch Wyatt and if not, Ethan wouldn't remember and we'd do something else and give her a break. Ethan not remember? Were we nuts? The kid has the memory of an elephant. Sure enough after dinner, unprovoked, he starts talkin about the Library and Toula (Toula is the star turtle - as in puppet - at this Lap Sit.) My Lovely Bride didn't want to deny her firstborn some alone time with yours truly - and like the great Mom she is, sucked it up and said she'd watch Wyatt. We should go. BUT, I needed to change Ethan's diaper before we left as it hadn't been changed for hours. Ok. No sweat. Except, Ethan was now outside playing and didn't want to extricate himself from that activity. Each time I asked him if he was ready, he'd give me his standard five more minutes. The kid can't tell time people. He doesn't own a watch. I've never seen him look at a clock. My point, 5 minutes can turn into 30 quick. It was 6:40 by this time and I had to change a diaper, and get shoes on him. Not as easy as it sounds...trust me. Each minute that passed, I'm getting more and more uptight about being late. I know. Uptight about Lap Sit what a dink! But that's me. I finally wrangle him into the house and get him on the chair to change his diaper. Tired. Beat. I strip off the diaper expecting to find just urine. Wrong. Poop. Poop that had been there long enough to have given him a wicked diaper rash. Which for those not used to changing shitty diapers, meant a BATTLE ROYAL to wipe the shit off of him as he screams and kicks (because it does hurt) - not fun for him, or me. Factor in the tired, the beat, the shit, the rash which upset me because I don't like to see my Boy(s) hurt, and the fact that nearing three years old he won't tell us when he's shit himself, no matter how often we tell him that keeping it there causes the rash - I was extremely frustrated and agitated and well, the first thing I said was this: Mother fucker.

I didn't yell or scream. I said it in my normal voice. Actually in more of a sad sack, dejected, beat sort of voice.

Ethan. Laying there. Naked. Shit all over him. Diaper rash. Smiles at me as the clock does the quarter to the hour (6:45 - remember my uptightness about getting there by 7pm) chime thing and says...Mother Fucker.

Until I BLOG again...Rubber band on the wrist x100 for saying MF in front of Ethan!