Well today is my 2nd year anniversary… not much to brag about. It does however bring back memories of times when I actually TRIED to win him over. One especially sticks out:
After splitting with my ex, father of my ROCKIN’ son, I gradually entered back into the world of being single. The world that would keep me up in the middle of the night wishing I was dead. Laying on the bathroom floor, somewhat disgusted, but too sick to care, as my head lay on the toilet seat. Don’t tell me you haven’t been there… At this time in my life, My one year old and I are living with my mother. She works a lot and is gone most evenings, so I thought I would take advantage of this one evening and fix dinner for my awesome beau. Of course I want to put on a show, impress him. I have a nice dinner all laid out. I can’t really remember what we had since this has been about 7 years ago, but at the time I was reading a lot of cooking magazines and trying fancy dishes.
So, he arrived, and I made the finishing touches on the nights menu. My son just ran about all crazy like. He’s good at that. I had fed him before my date arrived, so he was charged and ready to go.
We started dinner with some light conversation. Of course, I was trying to win him over with charm (haha @ that). My son was off in the house being very quiet which in itself is an omen. Quiet = trouble with him. He has managed to prove this on multiple occasions. Once almost totally covering my TV with nail polish. This was a remarkable feat, for he somehow managed not to touch any other object in the room with the “fire engine red” paint. Another time, he covered his entire bedroom with baby powder, emptied all the drawers in his dresser, pulled off his loaded diaper, and was running about the room like some butt-naked powdered donut. To this very day I have the same problem… and he is 8. You would think he would grow out of it.
ANYway, where was I — dinner, missing kid… oh yeah conversation. This guy is so cute, and I was nervous with butterflies and everything. In comes kiddo, stage left, walking rather awkwardly with something in his mouth. OH CRAP! I jump up running like crazy, now he thinks it’s a game… and the stinker is fast. SO — I am chasing this little guy around my house, who cares what my date is doing, to try to grab this THING out of my son’s mouth. I wrestle him to the floor and pry his little mouth off… wait for it… here it comes….the applicator to my mom’s reusable rubber douche bag.
I’m dying, my face is beet red… somehow while I was entertaining my guest, my son rummaged through the drawers in my mother’s room, and thought this looked like something good to put in his mouth. DISGUSTING!! I put it away and went and brushed my son’s teeth….bleah.
Where’s my date? Oh yeah, he’s sitting at the table. I am sure he is thinking of some way to make sense of the wirlwind that just took place. I guess the night was successful… I did put on a show afterall.
To my chagrin, he had no clue as to what the BIG deal was. He didn’t even see anything in kiddo’s mouth. Thank GOD! He must have just thought I freak out whenever I have company. You know I am not sure if he even knows today what happened that night. He will if he reads this blog.
So children, the moral of this story: Your kids are going to embarass you the rest of your lives, so you might as well get used to it.
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