UPDATE: He's trying to kill me for sure now.

Last month, I told you about Dorkfish trying to 'off me'. It started out as a joke; a bit of a 'har-har' but the gloves have come off. I believe we are in full-on WATCH. YOUR. BACK. mode now.

He has been on vacation for the past two weeks and has been happily pointing out how effortlessly he keeps the house clean, puts food on the table, entertains the kids, and is now befriending my neighborhood posse. Honestly, I should have seen that one coming when he brought a box of donuts to the bus stop last fall... I generally only bring a beer, and the funny, of course. Don't get me wrong, I certainly appreciate a man who can do all these household chores with such ease and I am grateful that he comes home and picks up my slack. But the 'little comments' pointing out how effortlessly he manages to take on these tasks makes me a little concerned...

For example, last week he looked at me from the kitchen where he was washing dishes and said, "You know. If you were to die right there in that chair and no one came to check on you for a couple of weeks, our dog would eat you."

I'm not sure exactly what he meant by that comment, but I can tell you that the smirk said it all. The dog doesn't seem to be in on his plan yet, but I am watching them both pretty closely. Well, I was until I got sick. I'm not sure how he managed this one, but I have contracted mono. I have to admit, he's good. Real Good.

Ironically, it is damb difficult to sleep with one eye open when you're constantly exhausted...

So It's NOT Everywhere I Want to Go

Conversation with My Bitch last week:

Me: "So, my bank is forcing us to switch to Master Card."

My Bitch: "And..."

Me: "I really don't want to switch; I like Visa. Not to mention, Master Card isn't accepted everywhere."

My Bitch: "Like where? Where do you go that doesn't accept it?"

Me: (Trying to think up a quick example.) "Well, you know, like the Dollar Tree. They don't accept Master Card."

My Bitch: (Not even bothering to hold back the laugh.) "Could you repeat that, please..."

A Simple 'Thank You' Will Do

At the end of every day is this time I lovingly call, "The Witching Hour". It comes after dinner and before bed and is characterized by my sons acting as if they were possessed. Generally there are ridiculous fights, an ungodly amount of screaming and it ends with me threatening to run away from home.

Last night was no different.

They boys are in the tub and I had resigned myself to just mop up what ever amount of water gets poured out of the tub rather than sit in there with them. Sipping a glass of wine and looking at everyone's embarrassing photos on facebook that they wish someone hadn't tagged them in ,pondering world events, I hear Bonus scream in a panicked tone.

"Momma! My tooth fell out!" he shrieked.

Mildly concerned as we have spent enough money on his teeth already, I go to the bathroom. Bonus is holding a teeny tooth in one hand and a pool of blood in the other.

"Honey, it is a baby tooth. It fell out. That is what they are going to do for the next few years."

Analyzing the tooth in greater detail, he says, "Yeah, but it wasn't loose! Deuce knocked it out! He yanked a washcloth out of my mouth and the tooth came with it!"

A little surprised, I turn to Deuce to hear his side of the story and he responds with a smirk, "Yeah, and he didn't even thank me."