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Saturday, December 10, 2011

You ate the LAST Oreo? Choose your weapon, Sir!

My husband (R) has been working a ton lately including a lot of late nights or heading out of town on business. My son, E, has been very sensitive to the Daddy-absences over the past few weeks.

The little guy is normally not much of a stickler for protocol, so a five minute warning is enough to ease his transitions (moving from one activity to another) but when he gets into a funk over Daddy being away or hits a developmental milestone he does a complete about face and routine becomes all important.

During these crunch times when I'm already at the end of my single-parenting, work-widowed rope, if you screw with our plans and upset our boat you will likely be staring at the business end of a 3 year old's hissy fit and then I have to kill you. I'm not kidding, I will cut you.

English: Different sizes of Oreo cookies. From...
Image via Wikipedia

Part of said routine is that E and I have a little cookie and milk snack every day when he comes home from preschool. So when one day this week we came home to find that someone (not me!) had eaten the last Oreo, the proverbial shit hit the fan.

Too tired to deal with a spazzing kid, I ended up baking gingerbread cookies which was really fun aside from the little beads of sweat popping out of my forehead at the possibility of E remembering he wanted Oreos. Please Flying Spaghetti Monster, let the gingerbread be enough!

Before you raise an eyebrow at my fear of a three year old child, you Judgey Judgersons, let me say that I don't usually feel that vulnerable to his demands. However, this day I was super tired, worn out and looking to avoid any hassle altogether, from anyone.

Once I had him settled in with some cars to play with, you know what happened next! Using the most powerful means available to a nagging wife - text and email - I took all my frustration out on R, who was probably sitting in a meeting blissfully ignorant of just how shit things had turned at home because he ate the last freaking Oreo!!! Blarg! Eventually (in an attempt to stop the barrage) he wisely suggested that he would, late at night and on his way home, stop at the store to pick up more Oreos.

Since he was stopping anyways I asked him to pick up some dark chocolate for making 'Healthy Fudge' this weekend. (Look for a post on Sunday with the recipe, it's really good.) He usually picks up anything else we need while he's at it.

The next morning I woke up and stumbled into the kitchen to put on some coffee before my boys got up. On the counter was placed a single bag from the grocery store. As I peered inside I saw two packs of Oreos - double-stuffed - and four bars of dark chocolate. That's it. Nothing else.

So naturally, when my husband sauntered out of the bedroom and flopped onto the couch, I pointed at the bag of cookies and chocolate and asked, "Did the cashier ask if you were on your period? Seriously, this looks like a PMS supply kit. Is there something about you I should know?"

He laughed, snorting a little. Which I LOVE. I really do, I'm not even being sarcastic. R has the best over-tired laugh of anyone I've ever met, bar none.

And then in reply he said, "I just figured you'd need it soon...."

Well played, sir.

Do you have little rituals that you do with your child? Or with your husband? Do you use routine to save yourself if your husband travels or works long hours? What happens when your routine gets shot to hell?

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