Occasionally, K goes on patrols/deployments. It’s during those times that I send him emails. Sometimes they’re quick “whelp, just living the dream” emails. Sometimes they’re “did y’all open the box we sent? How were the microwave s’mores?” Lots of times, though, they’re “OMG — I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU LEFT ME HOME WITH THESE HEATHEN CHILDREN SO THAT YOU COULD GO GALLIVANTING AROUND THE OCEAN.” Anyway, any energy I have for humor/writing/sarcasm/snark is funneled into those emails.
Without further ado — I’d like to present one [profanity-filled] email from a recent time when K was out to sea.
So, here’s a not so funny story about how our house almost burned down.
Typically, J wakes up and turns on the tv. I hear him, and then come out soon after. Today, he did not do that. Today, I didn’t hear the tv turn on around 7-730. They were up late the night before, so I wasn’t concerned that it was getting “late.” Around 8, he came into the bedroom to tell me that he had made a mess trying to cook popcorn… which was interesting, because I don’t have microwave popcorn. So I asked him how it was that he tried to cook the popcorn. Remember that small pot that was in the set that your gma gave you before we got married? Apparently…. he put a billion popcorn kernels in that, and plopped it in the MOTHERFUCKING MICROWAVE.
Needless to say, I got out of bed. The *entire* kitchen floor was covered in kernels — like, when that kid in Home Alone put marbles all over the floor as a booby trap.
I took a deep breath and tried to calmly explain how big of a deal that was, that when you put metal things in the microwave, they spark and can can start a fire, and then our house would burn down.
And then he said, “well that would be ok because we have fire alarms, so me and you and C would leave in time and nobody would die.”
And then I lost all sense of calm and said, “I DON’T CARE IF WE HAVE FIRE ALARMS IN OUR HOUSE OR NOT — IT IS NEVER OK TO START A FIRE INSIDE THE BLESSED HOUSE.”
And then he said, “oka-ay,” like I’m the most unreasonable mother in the history of mothers that DONT WANT THEIR FUCKING HOUSES TO BURN DOWN AT 7 AM. (To be clear, that’s a pretty long list.)
One of my (now-former) friends said: “well, his logic is on point.” And I said, “yes. Which I why I occasionally cry into a pint of Ben and Jerry’s at 9am.”
So, we’re fine, except then I bought 3 pints of Ben & Jerry’s at Target.
Will you please come home?? Some days, the shit that I have to explain to your son might just push me over the edge.
Also, C is in a licking phase. I swear to god if she comes up and licks my yoga-pant-clad ass one more time………….
Anyway. I hope you’re good and that you don’t have to explain to anyone that it’s not ok to start fires and/or lick other people.