Hubs is in a band. A duo, really. Blues. They're award winning. I'm one of those rock n' roll wives. And they have a gig every Tuesday night. Since Bubs is now ALMOST 1 (ohmyfuckinggod!), I can't go as often as I did when he was an itty bitty baby and therefore portable. That means that Bubs and I have our Tuesday nights together, and I love it.
Of course last night terrible things happened. Cuz why the hell would I be writing about this otherwise, right?
Things started out great. Picked up Bubs from school, and he claps when I walk in the room. Hello, awesome! A thousand kisses and giggles galore. Life is good. Then we get home. And somehow through the magical threshold of "I'm on single parent duty tonight" everything goes to shit.
1. Immediately upon entering our home, Bubs realizes he hasn't been fed in 40 years and fa-REAKS out, screaming and crying on the kitchen floor. I cannot make his eggs fast enough.
2. Eggs are finished. Assembled on tray along with blueberries and raspberries. Walking tray and Bubs to highchair, I trip, dumping the entire tray of eggs not just onto the floor, but onto the textured leather dining room chair which = bits of egg are stuck in all the tiny ridges.
Obviously I said fuck it and scraped up what I could from the chair and floor and fed it to Bubs. Yes, I'm that kind of mother.
3. After the entire egg fiasco, Bubs decided he hates eggs anyway and eats nothing but blueberries and raspberries. An entire carton of raspberries, to be exact. And cheese and a half of a pear and a half of peach. That's a lot of fiber, dontcha think? Yep, you know where this is going...
Yep, hot juicy superstinky diaper. No blow out, though, just a very ripe turd that I think even Bubs was embarrassed by.
4. All cleaned up, life is good, let's play outside because, side note, we're having an AH-mazing fall here in beautiful ol' Wisco. Like 75 degrees and sunny but 50 degrees at night = best time of the year. Know what else happens in fall? Leaves fall. Know who likes to eat leaves? Slugs. Know who else likes to eat leaves? Bubs. Do the math, people...
Oh yeah, I had to wrangle a giant ass slug from Bubs' mouth. I certianly hope that when he reads this 10 years from now, he'll appreciate this wrangling. Cuz he was pissed as hell in the moment.
5. We came inside, I plopped him down to play while I grabbed a glass of wine (for obvious reasons). Just a regular, little glass of wine...
Well, it took a little longer to pour than I realized because when I was done, I couldn't find Bubs. Apparently, he was thirsty too. Thirsty for toilet water. Mmmm.... toilet water.
Partying full on in the toilet. Splashing, drinking, and the whole TP roll on the floor = excellent. Really, really excellent. Aaaaand... second bath for the night - 3rd if you count the toilet. I was done. Bedtime for Bubs. More wine for mom.