Ravin's Ramblings

From the moment my son got up this morning I suspected it was going to be one of “those” days. It started with hysterics before I was even up for the day. He was in his crib and something just wasn’t right. A blanket in the wrong spot? A hair in his eye? His fifth chakra out of alignment? Your guess is as good as mine. Whatever it was, he was inconsolable.

Then it progressed to his straws. I gave him a hand full of straws yesterday to play with. Straws are interesting, right? We he thought those were the best toys EVER! Unfortunately, Kitty thought the same thing. Every time my obsessive compulsive son tried to arrange them just perfectly, that naughty tee-tat would walk over and swipe them helter-skelter all over the floor, chasing after them like a deranged berserker who is sharp and pointy on 5 of his six sides.

I listened to my son try to reason with Kitty, “Tee tat saw (straw)? Tee tat saw?” then tell Kitty to go away “Up two! Up two! Up two!” in the military style of parenting we employ to get him to march away from the mischief. When Kitty didn’t go away he started to get frustrated, “No, no no!” and when that didn’t work, “One, two, tee!” Yes, my son tried to put the cat in time out. And when that still didn’t work, he presented himself to me in uncontrollable sobs over the injustice of it all.

Then there was the button incident. Who can resist light up buttons. Especially when they make the TV go off and on? After two ear-splitting time outs, I warned him that the next time he plays with the cable box, it was going to be a spanking. Well, after a few minutes of innocent play he wandered over to the cable box and just stood there, looking at me, to see what I would do.

“Zander,” I told him, “We’ve had this discussion already.” And he slowly reached out his hand and just rested it next to the cable box, but not actually touching it and RAISED HIS EYEBROWS AT ME! That’s right, he gave me “the look”. I know it was the look because it’s the same look I give him when he’s about to get into trouble! He was issuing me a challenge!

First, all those interactions with the cat. Then, the raised eyebrows? My child has not only learned my discipline techniques, he’s ADPOTED them! There was something so chilling in that moment it’s hard to put into words. My precious little snowflake is deliberately trying to manipulate the world around him using psychological warfare. He’s like Stewie from The Family Guy! When did this happen? What kind of battles are headed my way? But mostly, do I look as scary when I’m giving him “the look”?

Ranking activities by fondness, cleaning out the refrigerator is right up there with oh, say, getting a rectal exam. I don’t know why this chore is such a pain in my ass, but I absolutely hate this part of the Domestic Goddess lifestyle I have recently adopted. When I married my husband, I think that was actually in our vows. I don’t do dishes by hand, and I don’t clean the fridge. Because. And ever.

Well, until recently, I’ve had a get out of jail free pass. I could hide behind any number of convenient excuses. I worked a million hours a week. I’m busy recovering from giving birth to your heir. Since I’m never home, all that stuff in the refrigerator is yours so I shouldn’t have to clean it. Wait, you expect me to put my husband through college, pay the mortgage, car payments, Net Flix, cheese of the month club, AND do housework? You’ve go to be kidding.

So I’ve been a little bit spoiled and a bit of a princess when it comes to chores. But let’s face it; there are so many reasons to procrastinate.

-Someone might want that 3 table spoons of mac and cheese.

-I’ll probably finish those left overs before they go bad…maybe.

-Its called SOUR cream for a reason.

-Its icky.

-Exactly how many types and colors of mold can you grow?

-If I clean it now, it’ll just sit in the trash all week and make my house smell.

-Good gawd, have you seen my refrigerator?

Well, I suppose there are worse things than having to come down out of my princess tower , don my pink rubber gloves, slide the gas mask on over the tiara, and slip into a chem suit. I can’t think of any, but I’m sure there are. And before someone decides to leave a big steaming pile in my Wheaties, let me just say that this is really a rhetorical statement.

Well, I did it. And it was just as awful as I thought it would be. Jebus, I hate cleaning the fridge. First thing tomorrow I’m going to buy a lotto ticket so when I win I can hire a maid to do it for me. Now that would be one heck of a Christmas gift. See ya next month, leftovers and expired foods, I wish I could say it’s been fun.