Not a Morning Person

Yesterday my husband and I “celebrated” our 15th wedding anniversary. I say “celebrated” because the day itself was really a non-event. We celebrated properly in April with our trip to Las Vegas, so yesterday was pretty much just another day – another day with CHEESECAKE. That’s right, my honey brought me home a cheesecake and I’ve spent the better part of the last 24 hours telling the girls why they can’t eat it.

It’s been no secret for the last 15 years that I am simply not a morning person. I’m not really sure if my husband thinks I’m faking it, if he thinks I’ll grow out of it, or if he simply gets a kick of of tormenting me, but the day after our 15th wedding anniversary he thought he’d poke at me a bit.

He woke up this morning singing and whistling (both of which irritate the crap out of me before 9:00am). I was brushing my teeth trying to ignore him when it happened - #3 appeared from her room dressed in this…

 

This is a skirt she rec’d as a hand-me-down from a neighbor. I was not home when this article of clothing made it’s way into my house or I would have PROMPTLY scooped it up and did away with it. Since the day it arrived it has wreaked havoc on my life. The skirt is a little big for my nine year-old, so initially she decided to make it into a dress. If she pulls it up under her arm pits, it reaches far enough past her knees to pass the “Touch Your Toes” test. This is a test by which father decides if a skirt is too short to wear in public. If you bend over and touch your toes and Dad can’t see your panties, then you may keep it. If not, it is promptly removed and put in the box to be handed down to the next or sent to the second-hand store. She asked me several times to sew straps on this hideous thing. I thought by putting it off she’d forget, but she did not. Instead she took it upon herself to attempt to sew white ribbon straps to it. She never quite finished and I’m not sure what happened to the one she had semi-successfully attached, but today it was a skirt again.

When I questioned her on this outfit selection, she replied “Dad said I could.”

Why? Why does he do things like this? He knows there is no way I am going to allow an outfit like this to leave my house. I care about my daughter’s social well being. While Dad may not care if she never dates, I know what third grade girls eat for lunch – girls that dress like this!

The look on #3’s face pretty much sums up how she felt about how I felt about this outfit. In fact, it had been “decided” that #3 would be allowed to wear this to school. She was in her room reflecting on her mother’s opinion and doing her best to avoid a fist fight with #2 about some noise someone was making (none of my darling daughters inherited their father’s love for the early hours of the day). When I stepped in to snap this picture for this very blog post, Dad came trotting down the hall shouting, “Don’t do it. She’s going to make fun of you on her blog. Really she is. She just wants to make fun of you.” I could have punched him in the junk right then and there. Like the situation needed this prodding.

“I’m NOT going to make fun of her on my blog.”

“Yes, she is.”

“No, I’m not. I’m going to make fun of YOU on my blog.”

While #3 was deciding what her real outfit should be for the day, my loving husband (the one with the death wish) followed me into the kitchen and caught me in a big bear hug. Seriously? He then makes lovey-dovey talk at me in an effort to cheer me up (like some how his antics will magically make me all better).

He went back to check on the children’s progress in preparing for school.

I appeared in the doorway to tell him that I was leaving for work. He looked up and joked, “Do you want a medal?” Really? After 15 years you’d think he’d better understand how close he walks to the edge.