Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Day 32, Tuesday- Family Interaction

I simply adore my wife.

Anyone that knows me, or has seen us together realizes how completely inadequate the word “true” is to describe the above sentence. That does not, however, mean that she does not drive me completely insane at times.

You see, my lovely bride is afflicted with a bad case of AADD (Adult Attention Deficit Disorder). With three kids, I can see how it happened to her. Hell, being married to me would cause it.

Case in point- we all went to the house this evening. She is the grout sponge queen, and frankly, I hate that particular job. We put the kids in the back bedroom with some toys and a DVD player, and I started to mix grout.

I came out of the kitchen and found her moving my tools around. “What are you doing?” I asked, trying to be chipper.

“You didn’t tell me what you wanted me to do while I waited for you,” she answered.

“Why don’t you paint the doors, or the trim, or put some primer on the windows like last night?”

“Oh, OK.”

That was when I lost the grout float. So, I guess this is all my fault. Everyone (including the kids) took up the search. After some time, it was found- in the kitchen- on the counter- right were I put it twenty minutes ago- mocking my lack of short term memory.

“Hey, there’s the primer and the sponge brushes,” I offered.

“Yes, I see them.” She started towards them. I put my headphones on and started to grout.

I heard muffled instructions. Yet I continued to grout.

Then I heard broken screaming. Yet I continued to grout.

Then I heard stifled arguing . Yet I continued to grout.

Then I saw my 1 year old son chewing on a screwdriver. Yet I continued to grout.

Then a breaker tripped. Yet I continued to grout.

The lights came back on. Yet I continued to grout.

Then I heard the vacuum. I stopped grouting.

“Uh, yeah, what are you doing?” I tried to sound like I was actually curious. I glanced over her shoulder at the still not being-being-painted-French-doors.

My bride gave me the “don’t be an idiot and you better shut the hell up right now” look of doom number 37. Yeah, she has a lot of those looks. The higher the number, the more my life is in jeopardy. The scale, until today, went as high as 25. (That was the day she forgot to set the parking brake on her car and it rolled down the hill and into a tree. I got the look at the moment she realized that she had been driving, and not me.)

I went back to the grout. Then I saw my oldest moving stuff into the boy’s room. I came out again.

She saw me. “I’m trying to make it safe for your son out here. Also, we’re putting everything in the other room so you can pull the old carpet.”

“You know I’m going to curse you tomorrow, right?”

“Yes. You remember this was your idea, right?”

“Uh, yeah, I was just hoping to get the doors....”

“YOUR SON IS TRYING TO EAT LEAD PAINT!”

“OK, well then, good job.” I paused, then decided to try another approach. “Why don't you go ahead and get your pail and sponge- I’m ready for you.”

We finished grouting. We worked in shifts, one of us watching the baby while the other worked away.

Total costs: $2,368

1 Comments:

At 8:49 PM, Blogger Oregon Coast said...

Ya know. YOU have the luxury of continuing to grout...continuing to surf the Internet...continuing to do ANYTHING for more than five seconds because everyone blames the MOTHER if she misses out on the 16,509 suicide attempts a child makes in their first five years alone!

Sheesh.

 

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