Really, I Do Love Him.......

(NOTE: This will only be funny if you follow me on Facebook & saw my status that read "Preparing for 2011. Our motto this year is going to be 'I'm so sorry but you are perfectly capable of performing that task yourself.'")

I really do love my husband......but Lord, sometimes this man drives me insane. Why, you ask? Take for instance, yesterday. Oh, the DRAMA. It was Sunday, the day after Christmas & the day had alternated between crazy-kids-on-a-sugar-high-chaos & happy-laughter-while-watching-Modern-Family-DVD's. In all honesty, Brooks had shared his belligerent & angry side with us most of the morning, I can only assume, as a belated Christmas gift. And it was about to wear us out. As the day wore on, I decided to clean the hall bathroom & Chuck went outside to rake leaves. But like Taylor Swift music, our children are virtually impossible to escape, no matter how hard you try.

I'm in the bathroom, on hands & knees, scrubbing make-up, fingerprints & God-knows-what-else, off of the sink cabinet with Comet & a NASCAR scouring sponge that Brooks had chosen for me earlier in the day while shopping at Kroger. (He does have a thoughtful side, though HE is the NASCAR fan, not I.) I have the door shut, mainly in hopes that everyone will think I'm USING the bathroom & leave me alone when I hear a tender knock. And a little voice that sweetly says, "Mom, Dad needs you outside. He's hurt his pee pee." I smile & say something to the effect of, "Daddies don't have pee pees. They have penises. And he can't possibly need me & how in the HELL can he have hurt his penis raking leaves???" Then my mind races back to a cousin of mine who, for some reason had a car hood fall on his (I apologize for not remembering the entire story - it had to be good) & although he survived & eventually fathered a child, DID indeed injure his. So I decide to check on him, hoping the Prizm has not exacted revenge on his male parts for recently discussing getting a different car.

I reach the front door & much to my dismay, RIGHT THERE WHERE ANY NEIGHBOR COULD SEE, lies my husband, in a pile of leaves, in the FETAL POSITION, clutching his.....um....rake. Now this is where a good, loving wife would have run over and........well, what WOULD a good wife have done? "Let me kiss it & make it better?" RIGHT HERE WHERE ANY NEIGHBOR CAN SEE? Oh, no. Suddenly I am overwhelmingly pissed & I yell, "What on Earth could you possibly need from me?" And the following conversation transpired from that:

CHUCK: Bring me the spatula NOW. I'm going to kill him.

ME: Kill WHO?

CHUCK: Brooks! He hit me THERE!

ME: With WHAT? A bat?

CHUCK: His hand!

ME: Oh, please, he's 9! Was it an accident? He came for help for you.

CHUCK: NOOOO!

ME: Get your ass up & into the house. It can't be that bad. And why in God's name would you be so dramatic out here in front all of our neighbors to see? I mean REALLY.

(Chuck gets up and makes his way to the couch. Noelle resumes questioning about what happened. Brooks realizes the gig is up & flees. Conversation continues.)

ME: So he hits you in the penis and you have to DRAMATICALLY FALL TO THE GROUND IN OUR YARD?

CHUCK: It wasn't my penis.

ME: Then what was it?

WYATT (always listening to any conversation): His SCROTUM!

(Chuck nods in agreement with Wyatt.)

ME: Well, are you gonna recover anytime soon or is this gonna cost us vacation days?

CHUCK: I think I'll be fine.

(Brooks enters stage left & walks through room)

CHUCK (never giving up): Brooks, go get me the spatula.

BROOKS: It's 2011. That's something you can do for yourself.

All I can say is everyone survived. And everything is intact.

(To date, not one neighbor has asked why Chuck was rolling in the leaves clutching his pee pee, but come to think of it, if I were in their position, neither would I. It's my hope they were all occupied & missed the entire episode.)