It's true. I got sent to time out. By my husband.
Rewind to a few hours ago. I planned on making hamburgers for dinner. Daddy and I asked the kids MULTIPLE times. "who wants a crabby patty?" Neither one of them. 1st one said " I want cereal" Poof! I have him cheerios. 2nd one said "I want juice" Poof! I gave her juice.
DING! Burgers are done. I only made 4. I did the math.... 2 adults eating... no kids eating. Ok, I'll make daddy a double, I'll eat a single and we'll have 1 left over. In reality the equation is more like:
question: There are 4 hamburger patties. 3 patties get eaten. 1 is leftover. How pissed off can your children get because they changed their minds and decided to eat them?
My daughter caught the problem quickly. So I made her a burger. Now there are no burgers left. That's ok right? The little man ate cereal after all. He's probably full. WRONG. WRONG. TRIPLE WRONG.
We had a full on autistic MELTDOWN. We're talking WWF RAW throwdown. Head thrown bad, blood vessels bulging, and low, blood-curdling-growling scream. (think Guns N' Roses 'Welcome to the Jungle', only less melodic) All he was missing to complete his WWF act was a microphone, spandex and knee pads. All I was missing was my "John 3:14" sign.
WTF? Am I a god damn mind reader? I thought that when he said "no", that he meant "no". I'm not a frat boy after all. *take a minute to figure that one out if you have to*
So I might have, sort have, kind of snapped at him. I might have dropped an F bomb and I might have used a higher than normal decibel level only to add to the already catastrophic tantrum entering the ring. FML. Hubs said "Where's your glass of wine?" I said "in my muther effing hand" he said "down it, or go to your room and take a time out". I said "I'll take a time out". I grabbed my glass, my computer, what was left of my patience and stormed in my room. I slammed the door but it was totally on accident because the window was open.
Now here I am, drinking, blogging my feelings out so that when I walk back out there the announcer will say "AND FIGHTING IN THE MOM CORNER..... LISA "THE LUSHY" MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOTHEEEEEEEEEEER!" and then the ref will ask us to have a nice clean fight at which point I get out the baby wipes and hand sanitizer. I'm a mom like that.