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Very Small Town. No really. Don't even try to look., Alberta, Canada
I am a stay at home mother of 2 boys. I try to keep total and complete command of this kingdom. I reign tall! But they are very are skilled little ninjas waiting to take me out at any available opportunity. You would think I would learn my lesson. I don't. Every day, I return. Everyday they kick ass.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

The dead eyes in the kitchen

This has nothing to do with my children and is ALL about my husband. Who I am going to kill. Because he sucks.

He went ice fishing last night. It was not unusual for him to do so but as the season has been slow he hasn't been catching anything. I was all snug in my bed with my laptop and Season 9 of FRIENDS when he came home.

He comes home and gets into bed. Talks about this and that. We snuggle and watch an episode of Two and a Half Men. He falls into a blissful sleep while I am still awake due to my brain not knowing WHEN TO SHUT THE FUCK UP. It's a long haul but I finally doze off.

Cue Small Fry. *wah!* *wah wah wah WAHHH!!!*

The cry that wakes me from my slumber. I stumble into his room to find his bottle is empty and he is showing his displeasure by systematically throwing things out of the crib. I retrieve the bottle, duck a flying Eeyore, and head to the kitchen.

I go to the sink to rinse the bottle. I reach to turn on the water and I look down.


Swear to doG you have never seen someone move so fast. I scream bloody murder that would rival Jamie Lee in any horror movie and back away from the sink. In my hurry to get AWAY from the glowing dead eyes that are in my sink I step on a plastic Thomas and part of his track. I yelp in pain for now I have dead eyes staring at me and a small plastic piece of Thomas lodged in the bottom of my foot.

Hopping into the living room I sit down. I survey the situation. Glancing back into the kitchen I notice there are still eyes staring at me from the kitchen sink and I swear Thomas is smirking at me. Small Fry has begun plotting his escape and is rattling the crib bars.

Hobbling down the hall, (really fast past the kitchen because the dead eyes are freaking me out) I sorta toss the bottle into the crib with a quick "Night son!" and haul ass as fast as I humanly can to the bedroom. Panting slightly I get into bed when my darling husband (and I'm using the term darling really light here) rolls over and says...

"Oh before I forget there is a fish in the sink. Don't worry it's frozen."

Fucker. I should have put it in bed with him.

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