Yesterday was my wedding anniversary, 16 years living in bliss with my husband; no arguments, no worries, no cares, no monetary issues. A life of happily ever after, my every wish come true, every dream a reality…ok I can’t write another word without barfing.
Here’s the down and dirty of it…being married is NOT easy and anyone who tells you otherwise should give themselves an enema ‘cause they’re full of it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s one of the most beautiful things in the world to do, dedicating your mind, body and soul to one person for the rest of your God given life. (kinda sounds like a creepy stalker, doesn’t it?) Sorry, back on track here…
I mean think about it, we fall in love with someone to such a degree that we voluntarily decide to live the rest of our days out with only that person…which is not an easy task. I know for a fact that I would personally never choose living with me for the rest of my life…you couldn’t pay me enough but an Angel did (that’s his name by the way)…and even though I see him praying on his hands and knees saying things like “God give me strength ‘cause this woman’s gonna be the friggen death of me,” he’s stuck it out (so far).
Anyway, back to our anniversary…we asked my nephew Jay to stay with our kids so Angel and I could spend the day out. Jay is awesome to say the very least. He’s been watching our kids since they were born and they love him more than anything in this world and vice versa. If I was to describe my nephew, I’d say he was a combination of the Jetson’s maid Rosie, Gordon Ramsay, and Carol Brady all rolled into one thirty-something year old body. I swear it’s true, ask anyone who knows Jay and they will say the same.
He walks in the door with a smile and leaves with a smile, and when he’s in the house, he’s in charge (whether we’re still home or not). We nicknamed him The Brat Whisperer years ago because he is the only person on this planet who could make my kids, all THREE kids, eat asparagus…AND LIKE IT!
When I come home from work, no one budges from their rooms. When Jay walks in and shouts “Hey my little chick-a-dees, I’m home!” they all come running. And I don’t understand it, because he lays down the law like no one’s business. He funnels chores like a tornado and my freaking, hypocritical kids go about doing them as if they’re angels, saying things like “Sure Jay,” or “ok, no problem Jay,” or “already did it Jay.”
Already did it?????????? WTF???????????? My children, bless their little lying hearts, have NEVER once brushed their teeth of their own accord! (they’re calling me a liar as I type this). And that’s not the worst of it. No sooner had Jay stepped into my living room yesterday when my thirteen-year old said, “Oh thank God, we’re finally going to eat some real food.”
WHAT!!!!!?????? Eat some real food? Like I feed them the fake plastic stuff purchased from aisle three of Toys ‘R Us or something. Ok I know there’s a wise ass reading this right now saying, “Um Diane, you wrote a blog last week about how much you hate cooking and serve cereal to your kids…a lot,” and yes, I did just finish writing a blog about how me and cooking have a hate-hate relationship but still…I DON’T FEED MY KIDS FAKE FOOD.
Jay wasn’t with us five minutes before he said he needed to go to the supermarket to buy food. I swear there’s a conspiracy against me and my kitchen.
My thirteen year old Ellie told me that Jay bought chicken cutlets and breadcrumbs to make cutlets. No big deal, except she asked him if the breadcrumbs were gluten free and he said, “Who cares, a little gluten won’t kill Anna.” (Anna my youngest is allergic to gluten) They all found it hysterical when I gasped in shock and ran to my cabinet to check the breadcrumbs. Like I said, my kids lie and love to rile me up, saying it gives them a good laugh.
But I can’t really get upset. I mean, would you?
The kids then told me, “Hey you know Jay made us arroz con gandules!” K, I can’t make food in English let alone make food in Spanish, Puerta Rican husband or not.
Jay was joined by my other nephew Jon (they join forces sometimes). Here’s a picture of Jon torturing my dog. He has this thing about carrying her around the house and tells my kids, “She doesn’t get to choose when she’s on or off the ground.”
I don’t know what other torture my doggie was subjected to because when I got up this morning, this is how I found her.
That’s not a chew toy, by the way, it’s one of the sour brite very berry gummy worms my kids were eating and I think it attacked my dog.
We left them a car and they took the kids to the movies. My thirteen and fifteen year old brats saw the Jigsaw movie while my ten year old saw Thor. Yes, as in the Jigsaw movie where “a lot” of people get brutally murdered but hey, that’s why there’s a lock on my bedroom door, so my kiddies can console one another when they have nightmares at 3 am. Not my problem…I didn’t tell them to go see a movie where chain saws get dropped on people’s heads.
They ate at Popeyes Chicken and Jon told my son Chris he looked more like the box then his family. I’ll let you be the judge.…
When we walked in the door at eleven thirty, trying to remain quiet so that we wouldn’t wake anyone up, we were greeted by all five people. They were hopped up on sour brite very berry gummy worms and God only knows what else playing a marathon game of Uno.
So there you have it, everyone had a great day…kids were well fed with real food and candy gummy worms, Jon and Jay enjoyed quality time with them, Angel and I had an entire day to ourselves, and the dog…well we won’t ever really know what happened to the dog.
And my gift to my husband, by the way? A trip to the Caribbean in February WITHOUT THE KIDS! Guess who’s watching them?
(Pray for us)