Please do not read this post if you think I could possibly be any of the following:
C) a good mother
D) a doting wife
E) a delicate little flower
Last night, my husband JakeRyan was acting like a complete ass-hat. The details of the douchebaggery are not essential to the story. And I will go on record as saying, he's typically not a jackball. I love him.
As usual, he slept on the couch. Nothing to do with his buttholedness, but he watches TV way later than I do and he snores. Therefore, the couch.
This morning, Ryan was eating his Cheerios at the table and my husband was still asleep. After several attempts, I had yet to be successful in getting him to move his lazy tuccus off the couch and help me get these three kids out the door.
So in a moment of absolutely articulate style and grace I declared: "I want to rip your balls off on so many levels."
I don't know. That brilliance just came to me. It's a gift and I really did want to rip his balls off.
And there was my sweet little child, sitting there getting his whole grains and calcium while his mom threatens his father's manhood.
So to acknowledge his presence I asked: "Did ya hear that Ryan? I'm gonna rip your dad's balls off."
Ryan kept his eyes on this cereal and mumbled something under his breath. Oh no, have I scarred him for life? Does he think I'm a terrible monster? Is he worried for his OWN testicular well-being? What did he say?
"WHAT DID YOU SAY RYAN?"
To which my child looks up and replies: "I SAAAIIIDDD, YOU'RE GONNA NEED HAND SANITIZER AFTER THAT!"
And this is why Ryan is my favorite kid.