Sunday, May 6, 2012

Really Matt? Really?

One Saturday, I was off doing volunteer sports physicals for the Boys' and Girls' Club, therefore, Matt and Matt alone was in charge of all three boys.  I had been caring for them all day, on my own, for the previous 2 days, and they were awesome. We even ventured out to Crown Center to eat at a Fritz's (a sit down restaurant - that delivers food by train) with me as the only adult.  It was easy as pie...but I would be lying if I didn't admit to a moment of panic during lunch.  Suddenly, it hit me; the number of things that could go wrong with a unleashed 3.5 year old, a stroller bound 1.5 year old and a bjorn strapped baby.  What if George had a blow out in the bjorn?  What if Brock decided to run off? What if any one of them started screaming uncontrollably? Anyway, none of it happened, the day was great.  But back to Matt's day...

...needless to say, I thought Matt would have no issues watching them for one morning.  The first clue I recieve that things might not be going as smoothly as I had expected, was a text from Matt, informing me that the baby carrier smells like Ninfa's (a greasy spoon, whole in the wall Mexican food establishment, my mother and I had enjoyed the day earlier.)  When I queried as to where he was going, he texted, "For a [bleeping] car ride".  Not good.  The next clue?  A facebook status stating, "Somebody better come stop me before I shake a baby."  Honestly, both of these things just made me laugh.  I mean, with 3 kids, days like this happen.  So, I finally get home - around 11:30am!  It's not even after noon yet.  I hit the door to greet an exasperated Matt, who informs me that George has not stopped crying all morning.

I take George, feed him, and he is out.  I then head to the basement to put in a load of laundry, only to find a floor decorated with things that Fannie has destroyed: a towel, a bunch of diapers and a burp cloth.  This behavior from her is usually a sign that she has accidentally been locked in the basement for a good hour or two.  But Fannie has been on a run of bad behavior - only while I am out of the house - so, I assumed she just got down their while Matt was otherwise occupied and went on a cloth destroying binge.  When I see Matt again, I mention the destruction in the basement.  Matt acts flabbergasted, and bewildered.  He states, "I have no idea when that could have happened."  Umm, I know exactly when it happened, sometime between 7am (when I left) and 11:30am (when I returned home.)

I tell him this and a few other things, and he continues to maintain that he has no clue how it could have happened, as she has basically been locked in the kennel or outside all day.  During this entire discussion, I am not mad, because it is nearly impossible to keep the puppy in line while the 3 boys are on the loose, and especially when one or all are unhappy.  But she got down there somehow, and the amount of items that got torn to shreds would take even the biggest, most awful puppy some time.  So I tell him, "It really looks as if she got locked in the basement for a while, like that one time we forgot to lock the kennel."  Then, a little smirk from Matt.  "I may, or may not, have let Brock be in charge of locking Fannie in her kennel."

Really Matt?  Really?  You let the 3 year old be in charge of locking up hurricane Fannie May?  A dog that maims, chews, and ruins items directly in front of us. And then you leave the house for an hour or two? Great idea.  And, you were really THAT bewildered when I told you of the mess?  It didn't pop into your head that your young son might not have, in fact, securely locked her in her kennel? That cage is hard for even me to maneuver.  And Brock has less patience than I do, so if it didn' t lock on first attempt, it didn't get locked.  Matt knows this.  He then goes on to explain, that he also let Brock be in charge of letting her out...therefore, he never stepped foot in the basement and was clueless as to what had gone on down there.  Sigh.

I mean, parenthood isn't easy.  But there are certain things, that are easily preventable, which don't take too much extra effort.  And certainly takes less effort than the result if you don't prevent it in the first place.  Like locking the dog in her kennel, yourself. 

Or not teaching your children to light things on fire...
...big or small, boys will be boys. 

No comments: