It has been a long day and I am tired. I tell Hot Mama that I am going to hit the hay and walk into the bedroom. I see what appears to be a huge pile of clothes on the bed that have yet to be folded.
This has become a normal thing, it has become very difficult to fold the laundry with the Kid playing around. He likes to think that he is helping, really though, he is just throwing the clothes into the middle of the living room and unfolding all the clothes that we (I should just say Hot Mama) have folded.
I was tired, so I just crawl on my side of the bed not folding the clothes and leaving them on Hot Mama’s side of the bed. She comes in five minutes after I have laid down and starts to fold the clothes and throwing my clothes on top of me so I will actually fold them. I have a tendency to just throw them on the floor and will just pick up what I am going to wear that day off the floor. As a result of the laundry not being folded before I was going to bed, I end up actually getting to bed an hour after I actually said I was going to drift off into a peaceful sleep. This has also become the norm in the house.
We finally end up hitting the sack and I drift off into my dreams of Mila Kunis. Only an hour into my slumber, I hear this whine coming from the baby monitor. Naturally, I go to turn off the noise. When I do this I open the door so that way I can still hear the Kid. I guess that I was so tired that I drifted off to sleep again and 15 minutes later Hot Mama is nudging me to get up. Again, I must have been really tired because not even that worked. What happened next, I do not remember.
What I do remember though is waking up next to a baby kicking me in the back as my alarm is yelling at me to wake up since it is 7am. I asked Hot Mama why he was laying with us, she ends up telling me that I did not wake up and she was hoping that maybe I would wake up when she brought the Kid into our bed.
Guess that did not happen! I am sorry to have failed you both Hot Mama and Kid!
6:15am the alarm clock goes off. I reach over and hit the snooze button, it does not stop the first time I hit the annoying device. I proceed to hit it once more still does not stop. I come up out of bed and reach over to throw the alarm clock across the room but in the brightest moment of the day I remember that my alarm clock is also a dock for my iPhone. It hits me, that is not my alarm clock at all, it is an incessant crying coming from the baby monitor.
I walk over and turn off what has now become the primary alarm clock for both Hot Mama and myself. It is my routine that when the Kid wakes up in the middle of the night to make a bottle for him. We have two different types of bottles ones that screw on the bottom and top and ones that just screw on the top. I find the sink and reach into the clean bottles and pull one out. I look at it and realize that I need to pull out the bottom too.
After finding the bottom I put both the bottom and bottle on the oven. Normally, I would screw on the bottom as I make the half a step to the oven from the sink. In a stroke of genius I forgot. I take another half-step behind me and open the door to the refrigerator, pull the milk out and take the another half-step to the oven. Unscrewing the milk top, I start to pour the milk into the bottle. Not know what is really going on I put the milk back into the fridge. When I come back to the bottle I see a small pool of milk on the bottom, it still has not occurred to me the mistake that I made. I think, “That is strange.” I look at the bottle and realize that I had not screwed the bottom onto the bottle.
Well now I am in a conundrum. How do I screw the bottom of the bottle on and keep the milk in the bottle? I can not screw the top on and just flip the bottle and not spill any milk. In another stroke of genius I decide that I have super-human powers and can pull the bottle up and slide the bottom on and defy the Laws of Gravity.
The Laws of Gravity defeated me in this battle. Milk was spilled all over the top of the oven and a new bottle had to be poured.
No sense in crying over spilled milk right?
As I was reflecting on another sleepless week gone by, I was thinking about how did I fail at parenting this week. I was almost at the point of calling myself a failure because I did not fail. I mean come on here, let us face it, for those of you who have read my blog for a while now, you know, I am an idiot when it comes to parenting. I decided that I would scoured the interweb for something about parents failing.
Type “FAIL” into Google and the little people inside the servers at Google bring up a plethora of people who look like they belong on People of Wal-Mart. Type in “Parent FAIL” and even more ridiculous images come up, some that I am not comfortable showing on my blog for fear of the internet FCC coming to arrest me. That is when I saw this…
Yeah that is right! I do not know who your “dauter” is but I am sure she is more educated then you are, not to mention really embarrassed. I will not even touch the Texas tags on the car!
Here I thought I could not spell!
In the middle of yesterday’s post the Kid started to get stinky. He crawled up in my lap and sat there and tried to write the post for me…
Which normally I would have been all about, however since it is the Kid’s second March Madness, I did not feel he would have added a great perspective to the post.
There came a point when I could not stand it anymore. I lift him up and take him to his room. In the process I lift him up when we get to his room to make double sure that I was not smelling the diaper that in the trash… I was not, it was really him. However, as I was lifting him up, I forget that there is a ceiling fan and light in his room. Next thing I know I hear a crash and feel the Kid’s head flop back. I look up and see a broken light bulb and hear the Kid start to whimper.
I lay him down on the changing table and see that his forehead is starting to bleed. How could I have forgotten about the ceiling fan? That has been there since we moved into the house 3 years ago! I can not help but laugh at the same time feeling bad for the pain that I just caused my son. How could I be such an idiot? Oh jeez I am so sorry for hurting you little man!
That is why yet again, I got the Friday Fail award two weeks ago, I get it again this week!
Way to go Rookie Dad!
Today’s Friday FAIL may or may not have to do with parenting. The reason, I do not know who did or caused this to happen. I have a feeling it was either a drunk or a kid.
If you are going to come through our neighborhood and break someone’s mailbox have the common courtesy to at least leave a note to the homeowner and say you are sorry! You did not even leave that. Whoever it was had to hit the mailbox pretty hard you threw the actual mailbox about 10 feet away from the post.
I really don’t want to go Clint Eastwood on the kids in the neighborhood but if that is what I have to do, I’ll go sit on my porch with a shotgun!
If I find out who you are, I will make you dig up the post and put a new one in… and just so you know, it is cemented down into the ground!