She Left Me

Hossmom is out of town, in a beautiful city doing important work things that do not include waking up at 3 am to quiet a screaming baby or dodging wild headbutts.  She had steak last night and then drinks.  I had drinks to.  I drank whiskey from a cup with Tinker Bell on it.  I'm fancy.

Although Bacon Hoss has the mental capacity of a chimp at the moment, I am sure he knows that his mother is gone and senses that now is the time to strike.  He is trying to display his dominance over me, to break me.  My other children have tried and failed but they may have put a crack in the armor.  They may have softened me up so that Bacon Hoss can strike the death blows.

His behavior changes when she is gone.  Or perhaps mine does.  Perhaps I become less patient, more tired by day number 3 of solo parenting.  I'm not sure but I know that when she is gone, that's when he's at his worst.

Dinner time.  He doesn't want to eat.  He wants to scream.  I assumed he was screaming initially because he was hungry.  I made him nuggets and gave him some slices of cheese.  A little amuse bouche prior to the main course that my daughter describes as "gross."  I don't think he was hungry so he entertained himself by feeding every god damn thing in front of him to the dogs.  He did this while screaming.

Little Hoss is running around me in the kitchen.  She's a blur as she goes from one side of me to the next.  I have told her to hang back a sec, that dad needs to drain the noodles for the spaghetti.  She did hang back, counted to one, and then came right back in.  She has questions, she always has questions.  And she wants me to see stuff.  She wants me to see everything.  It can be a bit distracting.  Then she stands on my toes the minute I lean back to survey what else I have to do to get dinner ready.

Bubba Hoss is standing at the table.  He never sits at the table, his constitution will not allow him to do so.  I spend a good 1/3 of my time during dinner putting him back in his chair.  Then I lecture everyone on manners and proper etiquette.  They nod like they understand me.  They repeat what I say back to me that makes me believe that they know what I expect of them. This of course, is bullshit.  They have discovered if they just nod along eventually I'll shut up. 

I sit Little Hoss down while answering her latest question:  Why are there houses, why were they built and why were they built where they were.  Can I build a house?  Did I ever build a house with my Daddy?  I answer as I pour the milk.  One day she'll know that I'm just making shit up as I go along but right now she believes me.  Or maybe she doesn't and just wants someone to talk to.

Bubba Hoss has discovered the very interesting fact that you can put your fork in the milk and then take the fork out.  Yup, that's what he's doing.

I serve dinner.  I cool some off for Bacon Hoss.  He doesn't want it.  He wants to throw it.  He does and it leaves his little munchkin hands before I can stop him.  Little bastard got quick over the last month.  I see the spaghetti sail through the air and hit the back cushion of my chair then roll down into the cushion, between the back of the chair the pillow.  I haven't even had a chance to sit down yet.

 I get a wash cloth and head to my chair.  Silently I'm impressed on the distance he got on it.  I remove the cushion to clean up the thrown spaghetti.  That's when I see the smashed banana clinging to the back of the chair, out of sight and out of mind.  When the holy hell did he do this?  How long as that banana slice been there?  I have to practically pry it off and it leaves a nice dark circle that I know I'll never be able to get out.  The chair isn't that old.  It's my chair, it's the chair that I relax in.  Now it's my banana chair.

I give up on Bacon Hoss after this.  He'll eat when he'll eat.  I put some colored cereal in front of him.  I think the colors will distract him and at least give me a moments peace.

Bubba Hoss spilled his milk.  I make him clean it up as I hear the dogs lapping up whatever hit the floor.  This is how the dogs earn their keep around the house and it's a job they do well.  Although apparently they don't like bananas.  Bacon Hoss doesn't want the cereal I gave him.  He throws them at the chair.  I'm sure some get in the cushions but I'm to tired to care. 

Bedtime is here, finally here.  We do stories, we play a bit, I put Bacon Hoss down in his crib.  He doesn't want to go to sleep and starts crying.  I'll spend the next hour getting him to go down.  When my wife is here, he goes down fine.  Now that she's not he knows that this is the most opportune time to break me.  But at the end of it I give him a bit of a shocker.  He starts to cry again.  I wish him the best of luck with that and shut the door.  If he's crying 2 hours from now I'll go back in there but not a second before. 

I spend the next hour of my night dealing with the other two.  I do tuck ins twice, I read 30 stories and I check for monsters constantly. 

I head off down stairs and sit in my chair and on cereal.  I'm beat.  I should go to bed but I don't because when the wife is gone I think of all the horrible things that could happen while she is away.  I think that a tree will fall outside, come through my bedroom and crush me.  No one will know of course because no one is checking up on me.  Little Hoss will find me in the morning and ask me why the tree hit me.  Hopefully she'll have enough sense to go to school because that's still important. 

My wife calls and I tell her about my day.  She asks me how I'm going to spend the rest of my night.  I tell her that I'm going to watch Frozen and sing along.  It's a lie and I think we both know it.  I like though giving her little sugar plum images in her head though before she goes to bed in strange place with no kids screaming at her.  I wonder how good she is at throwing banana slices. 

What I'm really doing is watching some god awful horror flick that is terrible, not even one shower scene.  I'm also messing around on the computer thinking that I will probably write some of this down for future generations.  I pull the computer a bit closer and I see a flash of light to my right and then the lamp pops.  The downstairs goes dead.  In my head I'm wondering if a tree is about to fall. 

Crap.  House stuff like this also happens when she is gone.  I think the universe is conspiring to kill me.  Hossmom was gone for a bit when we had a water pipe break to.  I can't even hide from the world in my own house.

I have to go into the cold, dark garage and check the breakers and discover one has been tripped.  I flip it back on and we have power once again.  I go back to my computer to figure out what new booby trap is waiting for me.  I look at my computer cord, it's exposed and practically in half.  Somewhere in this house is a very lucky cat I think, a lucky cat that perhaps chewed on a cord when it wasn't plugged in. 

Or Bacon Hoss, maybe this is just the beginning. 

Can I make it another two days with no breaks?  Probably but what comes out the other side may not be a sane man. 

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