Marriage has changed my life in many ways, one of which is losing the chances of being home alone. I need this alone time to enjoy/regroup myself, so whenever the husband of mine goes on business trips, it feels like a treat.
I love the fact that my husband is popular, this means that he gets invited to give talks at various conferences and leaves me home alone. He feels guilty about this, of course, because he believes while he is having fun drinking and chatting with "intelligent" adults, I am stuck with our little "dumb" toddlers. To compensate this, he often goes out his way to help out with housework before and after his trips. The secret is, I enjoy his short leaves, as long as the doors are all locked securely with iron chains. Because when he is away, the kids are all mine and I do whatever I want to them, that includes making them look funny, on the top of being able to live like a single after the kids are in bed and before my bed time.
The father of our children left for Delaware after lunch today. Remy woke up from his nap with poopy underwear. Like his sister, he is diaper-trained early and has been using potty for such stinky business for a long while now. Needless to say, the smell coming onto my face shocked me, which also led me to shout out loud, “Oh, no, what did you do?”
Our lovely little guy was so proud that he announced, "I poo-pooed!" happily. "Yea, I know, but why didn’t you hold it and wait for mommy?” Realizing this sentence did not come out right, I followed by apologizing to him, “I am so sorry that I did not come to get you sooner.” I changed my tone after the initial shock. While taking him out of his crib, I noticed that he was quiet down. Our poor little guy must have felt guilty now. I put him straight under the shower, had him rinsed, soaped, rubbed, and tried. I probably cursed a little too. After that, he turned back into his usual adorable, cute, and innocent self, with additional clean and pleasant smell. That cannibalized me.
"You are so handsome." I said to the little guy in the mirror, followed with a shower of kisses on every inch of his little naked body. He gave me his usual charming smile, indulging my craziness. He gets this type of abuse so often that he knows just exactly what to do.
"I am all wet," he tried to get out after a while seeing my intention to keep him in the prison of my arms. "You know, Remy, you look so handsome except for the hair," I continued, "it's too long." "Yea, it is too long?" In his little sweet voice, he questioned. Then he turned back to look at the short hair that I was wearing with obvious affection on the face. He must have liked my new hair style, I thought. "May I cut your hair?" I asked gently while playing with his hair. Somehow I felt that was the right moment to present this impossible request: it's Sunday afternoon, the house was quiet, the father was gone, and the sister was just falling into her nap...
No one had ever cut his hair while he was awake before. As far as he knew, his long hair could shorten itself from time to time during his sleep. Last week when we were in France, he had witnessed us, the father, sister, and me, getting our haircut. After we all took turns to demonstrate to him the process was fun and suggested that he should give it a try, he said, "No!" firmly.
... "Comme ca?' he asked in French that he'd picked up last few weeks while we visited his grant parents, with two fingers inserting into his hair making a cut sign. “Yes. Comme ca." I answered, with my two fingers inserting into his hair, mimicking him. "Can I?" I requested gently. "Yes." He permitted. "Yes, really?" I raised my voice to be sure that he knew what he had agreed to. "Yes." He confirmed.
I flew downstairs to get the tools and did not even remember to take him down to the floor from the sink counter. Our great Remy, being a cautious kid, did not move an inch. He sat in front of the mirror with his feet in the sink and butt on the edge of the sink patiently waiting for my reappear. I was so relieved that I did not find him lying flat on the floor when I got back.
Then he watched in the mirror his armature hairdresser, the clumsy mother, removing his precious hair from his head for the very first time. Poor him, he now has no hair above both of his ears, I got carried away.
I am so grateful to the fact that he is only 2, he would have never let me to touch his hair ever again if he understood what I did to his hair. I cannot wait (am nervous too) to see the look in his daddy’s face when he finds out into what I've turned his little handsome son.
To be home alone can be rewarding sometimes.
I love the fact that my husband is popular, this means that he gets invited to give talks at various conferences and leaves me home alone. He feels guilty about this, of course, because he believes while he is having fun drinking and chatting with "intelligent" adults, I am stuck with our little "dumb" toddlers. To compensate this, he often goes out his way to help out with housework before and after his trips. The secret is, I enjoy his short leaves, as long as the doors are all locked securely with iron chains. Because when he is away, the kids are all mine and I do whatever I want to them, that includes making them look funny, on the top of being able to live like a single after the kids are in bed and before my bed time.
The father of our children left for Delaware after lunch today. Remy woke up from his nap with poopy underwear. Like his sister, he is diaper-trained early and has been using potty for such stinky business for a long while now. Needless to say, the smell coming onto my face shocked me, which also led me to shout out loud, “Oh, no, what did you do?”
Our lovely little guy was so proud that he announced, "I poo-pooed!" happily. "Yea, I know, but why didn’t you hold it and wait for mommy?” Realizing this sentence did not come out right, I followed by apologizing to him, “I am so sorry that I did not come to get you sooner.” I changed my tone after the initial shock. While taking him out of his crib, I noticed that he was quiet down. Our poor little guy must have felt guilty now. I put him straight under the shower, had him rinsed, soaped, rubbed, and tried. I probably cursed a little too. After that, he turned back into his usual adorable, cute, and innocent self, with additional clean and pleasant smell. That cannibalized me.
"You are so handsome." I said to the little guy in the mirror, followed with a shower of kisses on every inch of his little naked body. He gave me his usual charming smile, indulging my craziness. He gets this type of abuse so often that he knows just exactly what to do.
"I am all wet," he tried to get out after a while seeing my intention to keep him in the prison of my arms. "You know, Remy, you look so handsome except for the hair," I continued, "it's too long." "Yea, it is too long?" In his little sweet voice, he questioned. Then he turned back to look at the short hair that I was wearing with obvious affection on the face. He must have liked my new hair style, I thought. "May I cut your hair?" I asked gently while playing with his hair. Somehow I felt that was the right moment to present this impossible request: it's Sunday afternoon, the house was quiet, the father was gone, and the sister was just falling into her nap...
No one had ever cut his hair while he was awake before. As far as he knew, his long hair could shorten itself from time to time during his sleep. Last week when we were in France, he had witnessed us, the father, sister, and me, getting our haircut. After we all took turns to demonstrate to him the process was fun and suggested that he should give it a try, he said, "No!" firmly.
... "Comme ca?' he asked in French that he'd picked up last few weeks while we visited his grant parents, with two fingers inserting into his hair making a cut sign. “Yes. Comme ca." I answered, with my two fingers inserting into his hair, mimicking him. "Can I?" I requested gently. "Yes." He permitted. "Yes, really?" I raised my voice to be sure that he knew what he had agreed to. "Yes." He confirmed.
I flew downstairs to get the tools and did not even remember to take him down to the floor from the sink counter. Our great Remy, being a cautious kid, did not move an inch. He sat in front of the mirror with his feet in the sink and butt on the edge of the sink patiently waiting for my reappear. I was so relieved that I did not find him lying flat on the floor when I got back.
Then he watched in the mirror his armature hairdresser, the clumsy mother, removing his precious hair from his head for the very first time. Poor him, he now has no hair above both of his ears, I got carried away.
I am so grateful to the fact that he is only 2, he would have never let me to touch his hair ever again if he understood what I did to his hair. I cannot wait (am nervous too) to see the look in his daddy’s face when he finds out into what I've turned his little handsome son.
To be home alone can be rewarding sometimes.
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