Husband, "I just picked up an entire bag of dog poop in the backyard ... I thought we agreed that you were going to do that every day and I'd do it on the weekends so the kids can safely run around back there. Why haven't you been doing that?"
Me, (never one to miss an opportunity to make some kind of snarky comment) "Well, it has been 9 friggin degrees this past week and I didn't feel like freezing my ass off to do it when the kids were not going to be outside anyway."
Husband ... starts to back away ... knowing full well he has just started something that is not going to come out with him looking good in any way ...
Me, "I wipe every butt in this house except yours ... and that includes the dogs ... every damn time the kids sneak them food I end up cleaning dog butts. So I think YOU should be picking up ALL the dog poop from now on ...
Me ... still, "In fact, I think you should really be doing more of everything around here ... If we were to put up a scoreboard to keep track of the amount of hours I spend wiping butts vs the amount of time you spend at work getting quiet time (if he gets to call my running errands without kids "my free time" I get to call his day at work "quiet time") I would be the winner hands down. If we added in wiping noses and cleaning vomit (yes, the dogs too) you would never catch up.
And on it went until he called "uncle" and decided it would be in his best interest to maybe pick up all the dog poop.
Then somehow my brain went to a night recently ... there I was enjoying a quiet moment watching a TV program and a horrible odor invades the room ... ack ... ack ... that smell is horrible ... I look over at my husband and he is sound asleep. I look over the edge of the bed and there is the dog ... poor guy, I think ... he's 13 and not doing great ... I can tolerate a few nasty farts ... it's just really too bad that he likes to sleep on my side of the bed.
The smell gets worse and worse ... he's cranking them out at breakneck speed ... then, I can stand it no longer ... I get up ... open everything and turn on the fan and crank up the heater ... finally, it subsides ... I close up and turn off everything and crawl back in bed ... within seconds the smell has returned ... with a vengeance ... I make some sort of gagging noise ... and my husband starts to shake with uncontrolled laughter ...
So now, here I am, driving down the road, wondering how I can get him back, when my daughter says, "Mom I'm hungry. Can we get cheese roll ups?"
Click ... an idea ....
"Sure ... let's go to Taco Bell ... I'm going to get 3 bean burritos with extra beans."
"Honey ... I'm home ... and do I have a surprise for you ...."
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3 comments:
Funny! There is NO mistaking my husbands for my dogs. He couldn't pretend if he tried. The dog's is SO.MUCH.WORSE!
Although on the flip side, my husband can't smell, so I can do whatever I want.
Oh dear!
My husband once asked me to change a poopy diaper because he'd done his "share for the day". He'd been home for a month after a 15 month absence, and I pointed out that he would have have to change diapers for 15 months to do his share.
It wasn't fair of me, really. The kids are at daycare on weekdays, and have been clean and dry at night since about age 12 months. And the 15 months he was away? He was getting shot at in Iraq. I'd rather change poopy diapers, as would he.
My husband is the same way! He'll try to come off all big and bad, picking an argument with me. Then when I retaliate in anger, he runs away with his tail in between his legs. They are definitely moments I live for!
I love that you got back at him with the bean burritos! Serves him right! At least he doesn't ask the kids to come take a look at the back of his pants to see if he sat in something sticky and then let a nasty one go right in their faces. Mine does that and thinks it's hysterical while the kids are crying.
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