Monday, February 6, 2012

My husband is great, but I am better

No matter how great of a dad my husband is, there are some things that only I as mom can master. One is translation.  I cannot tell you how many times I have had to translate 1, 2, or 3 year old speak for other people. When whining is involved I even have to translate 4 year old sometimes. Not just for strangers, but my husband  too. I can make out what my kids want 99.9% of the time. Hell, sometimes I know what they want before they do.  He, on the other hand, sometimes stares at them for a minute then says, " I have no idea what you are saying". or "Go tell your mom because I don't understand,"  And then I am screaming from across the house "she wants some freakin pasta and hot dogs with strawberries and chocolate milk."  or
" He can't find his nightlight because C said it was a magic crystal and threw it off the troll bridge".  I mean really..is it that hard to understand?

Another thing only mom can do in this house...little girl hair. As some of you may have experienced...little girls go through a mullet stage. It grows in at different times and the lengths differ enough to create that long-famous white trash style. C has serious hair issues. She was bald FOREVER. Then she went through a phase where she was rockin rat-tails..then the mullet. The only way to combat the mullet is with pony tails or pigtails (preferably decorated with large bows)..or at least barrets.  My husband is completely incapable of any of the afore-mentioned. In fact I don't know if he has ever even brushed C's hair. So if I am gone for any length of time there is an excellent chance that I will come home to a daughter who looks like a hillbilly. And who knows what she will be wearing...

Which brings me to another mommy-only duty in this house: shopping for kids clothes. Usually my husband wouldn't even bother trying to buy clothes for the chuckleheads. He knows I , and my mom, buy plenty, too many really. But every once in a while when he is at Wal-Mart buying chlorine or contact solution he just can't help himself. He sees a t-shirt or something that he knows the kids would "just love". And it was "only $2". Well hell yeah it was only $2. Did you look at it? It must have been the ugliest Buzz Lightyear/Tinkerbell/SpongeBob shirt ever made. They should have paid YOU $2 to take that ugly thing out of the store. But at least it will look good with the mullet.

But I will give him credit where it is due. He can knock out laundry like a champ, make some mean hot dogs and beans (a chucklehead favorite around here) and he is great at building endless hot wheel or train tracks. He is also great about grocery shopping. He never forgets anything, and always knows what we are almost out of. He knows the kids favorite snacks, as well as mine. I have a friend whose husband came home from the grocery store sans apple juice and diet coke. "It wasn't on the list" he said. 
"Mother effer, don't you ever come home from the store without apple juice and diet coke, it is ALWAYS on the list" was her response.
My husband knows we better not ever run out of coffee, bananas and gatorade around here. And do not take the last coke (non-diet) in the morning when you can buy one from the vending machine at work and I am stuck here with three kids and have to get them all dressed and style the mullet and put on yoga pants and take our litter to the grocery store if I want one.

5 comments:

  1. Bahahahaha...this was the funniest one ever!

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  2. You've got a smart friend! I must have diet coke!

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  3. Funny. I think I've fallen in love with your husband though. He grocery shops? Really? I hate that chore more than anything. Other people want house cleaners. My dream is to afford the place that delivers food. Sigh.

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  4. Loved this. I also yell at my husband for taking the last soda (Diet Pepsi in our house) when he can buy one from the vending machine. Plus, they are only 50 cents at his work. I feel like that's the cheapest soda around nowadays!

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  5. :-D Preaching to the chior! Just this morning my Hubs went to grab a Rockstar out of the fridge, looked at me, looked at our three diaper and pantied only hooligans and said "I think I'll leave this for you and stop at the gas station on my way to work". Maybe it was my hair sticking out in a Maduesa-esq style, or the fact that my eye was already twitching from the never ending stream of "Mommy! I want.." that had already started, but he knew that he would suffer a long, slow death if he took that Rockstar.

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