Sundays with Mike D

Sundays are not my favorite, my husband works till late, and my mother in law parades the casino donating her social security, and I am left with no car and a little imp. I did all that I could to maintain the messiness to a minimum, struggling like a turtle trying to stay under the shell (for those who know me, yes that turtle) but the time comes when you just have to stick your head out of the shell into open waters. Much as I tried to hide, I was still here.
Like usual, I started at the bedroom, finding a spot where Juno declared territory, looked like a bottle of Joy dish washing liquid spilled, but dry, eww. As I changed the sheets, a pair of shoes came flying overhead, followed by socks, Mike D standing at the entrance of the bedroom pointing and shouting "Bye" over and over, I pick up the shoes and haul him to his room. He tries to grab hold of the wall and ends up taking the drapes with him. Not sure how they stayed up. I unleash the beast. He ran into the bottom bunk, popping his head as he went, not stopping to whine. He must have a high threshold for popping his head, he does this alot, he watches TV, I go back to the bedroom.
As I move to the kitchen, cleaning the fridge, a war for the onions ensues. Apparently little Mike D has a knack for anything round, after pulling and tugging the net bag rips, sending onions flying everywhere, and Mike D off with God knows how many. I choose to let him be and pick up the mess on the floor. Knowing I will smell the damage tomorrow.
Lunch is broccoli with cheese, he smells the food and appears in front of me out of thin air, like the butler on Mr Deeds, I give him a piece, he disappears and comes back, when I get up I notice a mountain of broccoli in the middle of the kitchen, not even Juno is tempted. I open the fridge and he cuts me off, where the hell does he come from, my little climber is now half way up grabbing the kraft cheese bag, another war. I give him a little plastic container with sprinkles of cheese and he takes off to the room, the familiar bump follows. A little later I find Mike D feeding Juno an onion, trying to get the poor mutt to eat it. Kicking and screaming, I take him to the bathroom.
He lines up all the bottles, making sure each touch. D jumps in and not satisfied, Mike D greedily moves the collection and puts them on the ledge in the corner. They don't fit and he begins doing the crocodile death roll in the tub, D is laughing hysterically. I let him cry and try to help, the bottles are upright and he wants them upside down. I did not discover gravity, but he now wants me to defy it. I start hiding the bottles behind the toilet until they fit. I let them play and D is now handing Mike D the hose, when the time is right, he switches the water and Mike D is sprayed, blinking blindly and performing another Oscar winning meltdown.
After getting brand new pajamas on, he hands me the keys, "Bye" I don't do much, he tries to open the door and sits in the stroller. Arching back and forth, "Bye" over and over. It wouldn't hurt to take him outside, I sit him on one chair and sit on the other, he inches toward the rain, I sit him back down. He slams his head back and I just sit and watch. Wanting to lash out and spare the rod. He notices that I am not paying attention and makes a mad dash to the stairs, plopping himself in a puddle. Drenched he holds onto the side rails and I pry his little fingers, getting him out of the rain, I lift him, he kicks, I can't even open the front door. I wait for the police, knowing that a neighbor must have dialed the save this poor child from my evil grasp. The screams were enough to halt the squirrels from their sexcapades in the trees. I am sure anyone who had the view, watched and shook their heads in astonishment. Bath number two. Getting out of the tub, I notice a rash, welts all over his back, later discovering, it was just from his tantrum. This child will end up getting me a rap sheet. No doubt DCF will show up and question me eventually. These will be my statements and proof that I need to be sent away. Preferably to some resort for moms who need to be sedated that serves liquid lunches.
My mother in law walks in and makes her way to his room. Now the child is sitting on top of a box on top of his table. She screams out and pulls me to the room, if she was so worried, why didn't she grab him when she saw him. I get him out and he slams his head into the bed again. "Oh My Gawwwwd, el va ser nene bobo." (Oh my god, he is going to be an idiot) she lectures me on head injuries and the trapeze feat he attempts on top of the table. He hands her the container with cheese and she is off to re feed him. In my mommy daze, I must not have closed the bag. She picks it up in a corner and my kitchen floor is orange. I look at her from the sofa and wait, watching her put a handful back in the bag. How she hasn't contracted salmonella is a miracle in itself. I snatch the bag nicely and get a plate, Juno can have the cheese.
She leaves and returns with rice and sautes it with butter, the children have been served. I throw out the saved cheese surely full of hair and dirt and push it deep into the trash, so she doesn't put it back in the fridge. We do this every so often with cereal. Very gross. If something hits the floor, do not put it back in the box back in the pantry. This battle has gone on for years. She never tells me when it happens, because she knows I will throw the whole thing out. After hiding the cheese, now it's just me. I manage to just sit. Not caring about food or water, just want to have downtime. She tries to giddy him up on her back and he saddles up in no time. It is now close to 11 pm and my eyes are painfully glazed over. She leaves and I lay down for a minute. My house smells like an armpit, and I contemplate going onion hunting, when I opened my eyes it was 7:30 am, and I was late, and so the week begins with a triathlon in my house, in 6 minutes, I threw together a bun, dressed, brushed teeth, grabbed the cell and keys and hauled my ass to work. Let's see what the week has in store for me.