For the past month I have been so excited that we finally got into a house, after I have spent the past 10 years in apartments. Sure we don’t own it, but so what. We can walk out the front door and step out onto a huge porch, and what is this, low and behold, grass. Our own mini field of grass. It’s like freeken’ Christmas came early, errr late, whatever. My boy can just run outside and start reaping havoc without having to follow him out, or making sure my door is closed so the drunken neighbors don‘t wander in looking for my alcohol cabinet anymore, or making sure he doesn’t fall down the stairs into the subterranean parking lot, or making sure I remembered my keys so we don’t get locked out of the front gate, or without having to keep an especially close eye on him because if he takes a wrong step he might fall off the 3 foot wide strip of grass we had at the apartment and land in the street, or any other multitude of crappy things that come with living in an apartment with kids.
So with as excited as I have been, it nearly all came crashing down today. My boy is near two, and he is slowly becoming increasingly difficult to put down for a nap. And we have a newborn, need I say more about that and how it affects our sleep. Mid-day, and everyone was lacking sleep and was ready for a nap. The boy was in his room, just finally laid down in his crib after yelling for thirty minutes and trying to climb out. Lilly had just fed the newborn and plopped her head down. And I just fell asleep thirty seconds earlier, during the latest episode of The Misadventures of Flapjack. When the doorbell rang, and rang, and rang. I could see my boy jump up in his crib through the monitor, and start yelling again. The newborn started stirring, then threw up. Lilly cursed and her bloodshot eyes creaked open. And I opened my eyes back to Flapjack. One dam doorbell, and the entire family was awake, just like that. Then I heard two woman cackling like a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off on the front porch. For nearly three whole minutes as we all lay there in bed waiting for them to disappear, they were talking so loud I could hear them all the way to the back of the house through my bedroom door. I walked to the front room and stared at them through the crease in the blinds, and waited for them to leave. Later I noticed they left a pamphlet on the mat which was advertising a local city councilman’s fireside meeting at a neighbors house. Who the hell cares about local politics when we have babies that have kept us up all night you dumb bitches!
So, houses suck. I want an apartment where no one can get in to ring my dam doorbell. I now know why old people have those ‘no soliciting’ signs on their door where the knocker should be. It’s because when they were young and had kids, they got sick and tired of people ringing their bell and waking everyone up, and since the sign worked, they just left it. I’m getting me a no soliciting sign. Hopefully it will keep the girl scouts away too, because I would rather choke on a stick of red sidewalk chalk than try to get down one of those dry, powdery concoctions. And I’ll be damned if they try and pitch me a box of those while my boy’s naptime comes around. Dammit. Ar.
The Boy and the Pine Forest - One day, his parents drove him several hours outside of the city and the place that he knew as home. They passed by meadows, farms and forests on the way t...