Anyway, enjoy:
Hi. My name is Christie, and I supposedly blog at He Took My Last Name. I say supposedly because since the birth of my son I just haven't been blogging much. Now I am attempting to get back into it and why not do a guest post for Julie. Right? Right.
A bit about me. I am a SAHP. That is "stay at home prisoner" for you uninitiated. Lots of parents stay at home with their children, and lots of parents are great at it. I enjoy being home with my son, don't get me wrong, but I am not a parent. I am a prisoner. I've been a stay at home prisoner for about 27 months now - my son is 18 months so that means I've been stuck in my third floor apartment for my entire pregnancy, birth and my son's whole life.
What I mean by prisoner is that we are a one car household. Which is okay, lots of families are one car households. I suppose the moms who only have one car probably drop their hubbies off at work or they use public transportation or whatever. That's good for them, but I don't care about them. This is about me and how I am constantly one step away from losing my damn mind.
Disclaimer: I really do enjoy being a stay at home mom, and most days I don't mind staying at home all the time. It's just those certain days that really drive me up the wall. I just really need a freakin' car.
Here is a glimpse of my special corner of hell and the freaks who inhabit it with me.
The Players
1. Husband Brian and I have been married for four wonderful years and he's a great provider and a huge geek. Win.
2. Spawn Drake is my 1.5-year-old son. Enough said.
3. Socially Awkward Penguin This is my dog, Max, who is a shelter rescue. He is jumpy, awkward and neurotic.
4. Lord of All Loki is my cat who was originally a shelter rescue that a friend gave to us. He is loud and bossy and likes me best.
Let The Games Begin (and may the odds be ever in your favor - they aren't, but let's be optimistic!)
The first three hours of the day start at 5 am. I like to call this Roulette because I am never quite sure what order things will happen in, but it's always some combination of the following:
1. Making oatmeal because my husband can't operate the microwave
2. Packing his lunch because I need to prove my self-worth
3. A temper tantrum (can be a child or either adult)
4. A urine soaked toddler
5. A cat singing the song of his people
6. A dog having a nervous episode
7. Bubbles
8. Not enough caffeine
9. Too much caffeine
10. Another temper tantrum, just to round it off to an even number
11. Toast flung as far as the eye can see
Then, my husband takes our only vehicle to work because he hates his co-workers and refuses to carpool, so I am stuck in the house until 3 pm. With a toddler. Who also gets cabin fever.
When Drake wakes up, we play Terrorize the House. It's a great little game. Have you played it? No? Well I will teach you. First, you pull up Netflix and put on a show that your kid loves and that you hate. Got one? Good. Mine's Pocoyo. It's like crack to my kid and I am so thankful Stephen Fry narrates it otherwise I would stab my own eardrums just for shits and giggles. Next, Mom lays on the couch and derps around on her iPhone. This lets the toddler go absolutely ape shit over the show, throwing his toast and milk and toys around and stamping them into the carpet. Hang on - this is the part that gets really exciting! - Mom dozes off. Just for a minute or five. This is when the real fun begins. Now that Mom is momentarily out of it, Toddler can do all sorts of fun things like: steal the PlayStation controller and turn off Netflix; feed the dog; feed the cat; play in the animals' water dishes; play in the toilet; chew on some cords. (Yum! We suggest Mom's iPhone charger for maximum hilarity); find Mom's happy pills and open the child-proof cap, dumping the contents everywhere and then throwing them in the air to make it rain "Not Give A Fucks". Mom's internal alarm goes off at this point and she wakes up with a start, screaming Toddler's name and gasps in horror as she watches him reach down his shitty diaper and smear his poop hands all over the dog as he laughs maniacally.
Then it's lunch time.
After lunch (which was a nutritious handful of floor-raisins and potato chips), this is about the time I seriously consider becoming a hobo and wandering the countryside like a vagabond and wondering how far I can get before I come to my senses. Usually it is by the time I get to the door.
Now if it's a really nice day outside, I will let my toddler out on the balcony and he and I will sit out there and do finger paints or play Don't Touch the Bikes. That's a fun little game too, and I usually lose! Because no matter how many times I say Don't Touch the Bikes, they get touched. A lot. Stop molesting the bikes. If I am really, really, really lucky, I get a phone call from my husband. This is great, because I love talking to adults. The problem is, he works in a factory and I can't hear shit because I've already poked out my eardrums over Pocoyo. DAMMIT.
I start counting down the hours until my hubby gets home and then when he gets home, I pounce faster than a cougar on a college boy. I AM READY TO LEAVE MY PRISON. Warden, do I get to do some community service? Can I get out on parole? We go to the mall and derp around there, while my son SCREAMS HIS FOOL HEAD OFF at god only knows what. Probably pissed off he didn't get to drive. Whatever. Shut it.
Then we go back home because my family is hungry. Again? Didn't I just feed you assholes earlier? Oh that was last night. You mean I have to do it again? Fuck.
Then I force my husband to watch my son while I go to Weight Watchers once a week and most nights I force him to watch him while I hide in my room, sob and fall asleep. The end. Oh wait, no it's not, because I get to get up and do it again! Starting at 3 am! Roulette, anyone?
About the Author:
Despite being driven insane from lack of contact with the outside world, Christie enjoys the finer things in life, like cheese fries and wearing pajamas all day, as well as the occasional slug of vodka straight from the bottle. You can follow her on Twitter for more fun.
If you share this post, I will buy you a pony. I suck at Twitter. I am OK at Facebook. Pinterest is my bitch. I am also on Bloglovin' and Instagram.
