Tushies

No matter what the time is, whenever I wake up, the only thing on my mind is going back to sleep. Diving my head back into the pillow, chasing the sleep that now eludes me. This could not be truer when this morning I woke up to a naked tush and penis jumping around in the bed, (no, not my husband's) there is no way of knowing how long Mike D was awake. I have yet to find the diaper, there is a slim chance he threw it away on his own, slim!
I struggled out of bed to get his diaper and bottle, sat down on the sofa to feed and cover his bottom, I noticed a bloody rag on the coffee table, my husband fast asleep on the sofa with a set of keys on his nose. Mike D has no boundaries when it's bye-bye time. The hubster's blood pressure has been up and down lately, stress from work, bills, life...all contributing factors.
He awoke an hour later, and I was wrong, he doesn't remember the nose bleed, but does remember being in bed and getting kicked in the face numerous times by our little monster. The last thing he does remember is the sun coming up on the window, his insomnia getting the best of him once again. We can never get what we want, he wants to be able to sleep, I want to be able to stay up and write. He yawns and declares the family needs an outing, where to go?
The family dresses for the mall, a Saturday outing will do us all some good. For the most part, we get excited to go out, I am hesitant at how Mike D will behave, and begin to pack the diapers, extra outfit and juice and milk. Juno decides that throwing up in front of the door is a great idea, while Mike D is in his poopie corner swinging his arms at anyone who dares stare at him. We rock, paper scissors it, I got the poopie diaper, my hubs the doggie vomit. We run around the house me with baby wipes, him with lysol wipes, the messes cleaned up. We get to the mall and find that the item on little Mike D's agenda is calling attention to all around him. He leans forward in the stroller and holds on to the wheels in motion, screaming out in agony as the rubber burns his hands. We stop in front of the Ed Hardy store and have a feeling that this will be the type of clothes he wears in his teen years, this will be just his style, (he will be just the type). We both talk about the people who wear this type of clothes, and shake our heads, that would be some kind of defeat. He is probably removing his finger prints as we discuss his turbulent years to come, there will be no way of tracing him is he has no finger prints, maybe he is a genius. As we walk, he screams and we stop to scold him, many of the mall goers stop and stare at his antics and we continue out of the mall, bumping into my mother and sisters, on their way to buy honey sticks at the mall. I didn't ask, neither should you.
Mike D twists and turns to escape the grips of the stroller, reluctantly my mother gets him out and we stand outside in the heatwave waiting for her to put him back, no she can not take him, she has no carseat, she is just torturing us, just like he does. She holds and walks with him, and we are outside the mall in the heat, waiting for the return, she plans to come home with us, then retracts, then plans to come home, then changes her mind again, we go through this for 15 minutes then jolt with the kid. Before heading home, we buy lotto tickets and pray we don't have to go to work on Monday. We drive home dreaming of what to do with the winnings.
The trio calls me to have sushi with them, (yes, I had sushi two days ago, and?) they pick me up and we head off to sushi. My mother lowers the window as we pass by two lanky teenagers mowing the lawn, she shouts out the window at them, "She farted!" they stop and stare at her, they probably couldn't make out what she said, she raised the window and went back to chewing her Juicy Fruit gum. Oh God, I hope he doesn't run over his toes with the lawnmower, I just gawk at the whole ordeal. My sisters sit and laugh, they have spent their day with Sybil so they are already used to the hollering out the window. We pass by her favorite restaurant and hear "I love you and miss you. Come back." As we drive by, then she puts the gum once again in her mouth, and all we hear is "Whatever." We make it to sushi and stuff our faces. The trip home was memorable, not able to mention any names but I once again had a bottom to my face, and this person decides that it's is ok to just poof on me, as much as I would like to rant and rave about it, apparently this person has odorless gas, so that means it's not a big deal. Hello, today I have had my fair share of ass. The fact remains that twice today I had a tush on me in an awkward position. And no, you do not have odorless farts, that is not even remotely a possiblity, what happened was that I flipped out and began doing the I-am-scared-to-smell-it butterfly swatting dance and drove all the air away, that is all. You are not the proud owner of the only ass in the world that doesn't smell. (That does not exist.)