A Typical Day With Ed

My day with naughty Ed as gone like this:

6:58 am
*SCREAMING*  "I want to get up"  repeatedly.  Loudly.  With lots of "moms".

I said no.  Because it wasn't quite 7.  And that's the rule.  And one more extra second I have to spend with Ed . . . .

I really thought he fell back asleep.  There was so much quiet for the next 20 minutes.  And I thought it was my lucky day.  And the sleep fairy came to give me a gift.  And maybe it was a Christmas miracle.

But then he started yelling again.  And Witherhall-legally, I had to say yes.

And then there was much fawning over my breasts.  Lately Ed has become very much in need of my breasts in order to snuggle properly.  And the term he uses for a breast snuggle is "snuggle buggle".  He's woken me up out of a dead sleep, on more than one occassion to ask if he could snuggle with my "boos".

Now, not to brag or anything.  But my breast size gift is about on par of a 90 year old tortoise. I'm not really sure what he thinks he's snuggling with.  But it's not soft.  Or squishy.  Or, lovely.  On any level.  But I do have nipples.

And then the morning screams for "he-de-ohs" (with a small roll of the tongue at the end of "he") began.  I smiled nicely, and with as much love in my heart, I filled up a bowl (that was the wrong bowl) with cheerios and milk.  I placed the bowl so lovingly on the table.  In the wrong spot, of course.

And then more screaming.  Because he wanted to be spoon fed.

Now not to be rude, but I do not think it's necessary to move from my warm spot on the couch to spoon feed a very capable child.  My belief is, if you are hungry enough . . . .you can manage.

Well, that attitude really got him going.  Ed grabbed his spoon, and all while roaring - he thrust his spoon in and out of his bowl with as much vim and vigor as his arm allowed.  Disappointingly, only a small amount of cheerios and milk landed on the table.

In order to get a true reaction from mother, since I was ignoring the smallish, rude animal that Big D had let in while trying to leave for work . . . he put his spoon down.  Picked up his bowl with both hands.  And dumped his cheerios and milk - all out.  Every last bit.  And with a pleased as punch attitude, he put his bowl down with authority and looked at me.

That was how my day began.  And THAT is why I demand Big D to yell from the closing front door, every morning - "YOU HAVE THE HARDER JOB".  It fills my heart with pleasure, knowing that the father of these children know that staying home is 74 times more miserable than sitting in a boring suit-tie meeting.

I also had the privilege of holding down a flailing, kicking boy at the library.  Which just sounds boringly naughty.  It was.  But it adds.

He also thought it was funny to reminisce about pulling "Murny's" hair at the grocer, while pooping on the pot.  Followed by snickers and chuckles.

And then he asked me to sing "the big frog penis" while I put him down for his nap.

And then I find him at the table, thanking Jesus for showers.

I'm am becoming more and more horrified with this small ungrateful fleabag/screaming panther child everyday.  #1 - It's kinda funny.  #2 - how do I raise such a pig-headed, prideful monster that has the tenderest of hearts (sometimes still) and a sense of humor?

Take Aways
1)  greet everyday with a pleadful prayer of grace.
2)  and then stay home, forever.
3)  I think all of my take aways are "stay home".
4)  I haven't worn makeup in months.  I just don't have the gumption to, with all the naughtiness in my life.
5)  Today I'm wearing polka-dots and stripes.  But in a really bad way.
6)  I'm feeling self pity towards my lackluster closet.
7)  Wah!
8)  Maybe I'll have an extra glass of wine tonight.