Wilder by Far

A look at life with the Wilder family. Updated most weekends and some vacation days. You can contact me at movingnorth@gmail.com..

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Location: United States

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

"Faced with a universe in chaos, Dylan Hunt recruits an unlikely crew and sets out to reunite the galaxies." - Opening Narration, Andromeda

Im in ur camera, takin mah pictur -Pugsley

Today I steal borrow from The Mrs. blog. I do that not because I'm lazy, but because it cracked me up. And, because I'm lazy. Here are her unedited comments about today. You can read more if you click on the linky to the left.


The boys and I are stuck at home today because we are waiting on a very important delivery. Approximate delivery time: sometime between 8am and 5pm. We aren’t going anywhere. Nor can we play in the backyard because we would not be able to hear the doorbell. Plus, it’s really freaking hot. So we are resigned to being indoors.

It starts when the doorbell rings.

I answer it and find a salesperson. Not just any salesperson, either. It’s one of those people who is selling magazines supposedly to earn points to win some damn thing or another. The problem is, their patter is rapid-fire and non-stop, giving me no opportune moment to slam the door in their face.

As I stand waiting politely to turn them down, my oldest son comes running to the door.

“Mooooooooommmmmmm!!!!! The baby poured water all over your computer!!!!”

I tell the still-yakking salesperson to hang on an slam the door on them. On to my computer. The baby has, in fact, poured water all over it. I shake my finger at him and scold: “Bad, Baby! No!” His lower lip trembles. His brow furrows. Tears brew at the corners of his eyes and then …

“Waaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” He collapses on the floor in a heap.

My oldest son, who has keen powers of observation and a stunning grasp of the obvious, shouts at me: “Mom! The baby’s crying!”

“I can hear that!” I shout back. “Go get the paper towels! They’re on the counter!”

He darts off while I try to stop the flow of water that is running off the desk and onto the floor. He returns. No paper towels.

“I can’t find them!”

I head to the kitchen and grab the paper towels. They are sitting alone on the empty counter top. My son meets me in the halfway.

“Mooooooooommmmm!! The baby has gum!!!!”

I hand him the paper towels and tell him to get mopping. I chase the baby down the other hallway, into his room and corner him behind his dresser. Then I fish a wad of gum and paper (soaked in baby spit) out of his mouth. Once again, he collapses in a heap and wails. I leave him to his woe and go check on the progress of the clean-up. My oldest son in trying to mop up the water with half a paper towel and is really only succeeding in moving the water from the desk to the floor.

“Honey, you can use more than one,” I say and rip off a hunk of towels.

“Oh,” he says. Then he starts unrolling. The doorbell rings. I had forgotten about the salesperson.

Somehow, the dog has mysteriously entered the house from the backyard and charges for the front door, barking furiously. The doorbell is his invisible nemesis. The baby also hears the doorbell and (still crying) comes running as well. I open the door while trying to keep either of them from squirting past me and into the front yard. I slip out the front door, making sure I hang onto the handle. The baby (still crying) is pulling on it from the inside.

“Go ahead,” I tell the salesperson. He opens his mouth to begin his patter when I hear the telltale sound of the deadbolt. The baby has locked the door. Inside, I can hear the phone ringing. I ring the doorbell to get my oldest’s attention and the dog barks furiously. My oldest comes to the door, phone to his ear. He presses his face against the glass.

“Who is it?”

“You look busy,” says the salesperson, backing away from the house. “I’ll come back later.”

“You know who it is. Open the door. NOW!”

He lets me in just in time for me to see the baby, laughing and covered in flour, racing across the living room. As I turn to chase him, my son holds up the phone.

“It’s Dad,” he says. I take the phone.

“Hi, honey. How’s your day?”
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Blogger Duck Hunter said...

im on your blogz writin your comments. I liked it!

5:59 PM  
Blogger Dame Koldfoot said...

Welcome to our world, men. Now do you know why we get moody and crabby?

8:41 AM  
Blogger John said...

duck hunter,

It must be good to be a baby. I forget.

dame koldfoot,
Hmm. (thinking) No. Guess not.

7:14 PM  

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