Wednesday, August 24, 2016

ronnie's terrible, awful, no good, very bad night

so ronnie called home yesterday afternoon
to ask if he could go out to dinner with his friend, cale.
i already had dinner going, so 
i nicely suggested he decline the offer.
well, he was a real sour-puss when he got home.
sorry i'm not sorry that you had to have dinner with your family.
get over it.
i had a rough afternoon fighting both kids during nap.
i lost that battle, so the girls were extra needy and whiny 
when ronnie got home.
grumpy husband, crying kids, preparing dinner...
not good.
we managed to get through dinner fairly fast but
ronnie put reid down on the floor without picking up
the dog's water bowl first.
big mistake.
water everywhere.
he hated life. 
i went ahead and took the girls upstairs to get ready for bed.
hello, early bedtime.
i left ronnie downstairs to finish up the kitchen.
i hear something and a loud string of cuss words.
ronnie had knocked the pitcher of lemonade off the top
shelf of the refrigerator and spilled it everywhere.
start cleaning, ronzo.
oh and don't worry, brette is telling him to watch his mouth from upstairs.
[insert big cheesy smile]
so i head back upstairs.
i shut our bedroom door to maintain the chaos and
to make sure louie doesn't run in there to pee while 
i'm distracted.
yes, that happens.
i go back to get brette's toothbrush and
oh god. our door is locked.
it's a weird door that can be locked but our side
of the knob still turns so it's easy to forget it's locked in the first place.
i had locked it that afternoon when brette was trying to 
get in my room during nap time and i was trying to ignore her
so she'd hopefully just fall asleep in the hallway.
it's also the only door that doesn't have a lock that just pops out.
this lock actually turns and you have to have a key.
(we've never had a key, unless its a house key and those were
sitting on our dresser in our room.)
F me.
i have to yell down to tell ronnie, who is still cleaning up lemonade.
he tried pushing it and pulling it.
he busts out a credit card and then some tools.
nothing is working.
he's losing his mind.
i go ahead and lay reid down for the night and
brette is with ronnie giving good advice:
"this door is a piece of junk. 
daddy, you need to relax.
daddy, you better watch yourself."
(brette has yet to learn that sometimes it's
better to be seen and not heard.)
she also went and got her tool box and insisted
on trying to help.
i wanted to take a picture but i wasn't sure where ronnie 
was going to draw the line.
he finally went and got his saw and just cut the doorknob off.
he also managed to get a quiet dig in by saying he lives with a 
bunch of children.
(don't worry, i made a mental note to "accidentally" 
knee him in bed that night)
so yay, we're able to actually get in our room.
i'm happy.
brette decided she wanted daddy to put her to bed,
so i go get in the shower.
i see ronnie come out of B's room and head back downstairs.
i offer him the shower, but he has to still go clean up the rest of the lemonade.
whoops, i had forgotten about that mess.
maybe i should have done that instead.
oh well.
by the time ronnie gets back upstairs, i'm in bed reading.
he showers and goes to sleep early.
without talking to me.
well, at least until i kneed him a few hours later.

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