Snap Out of It!
Hey! All of you women with the perfect husbands you blog
about! Send one of them my way to tutor mine!
Sometimes my Hillbilly Husband drives me crazy. I know he can
do something right. I have two wonderful children. But there has
to have been something within the last seven years... For sure,
yesterday wasn't the day.
The morning was hectic because my I was having surgery, and
couldn't take the kids to school. #1 son had a major project
due, a report and diorama of the Iraquois tribe. The night before,
I asked him if it was ready to go. He said the report was on the
living room floor in a yellow notebook. HH said he would put
it in #1's pack. At 5:00 am I was checking the pack for the
report. No report. I looked under the pack, on the living room
floor, under the diorama. No report. On a whim, thinking like
HH, I checked #2 son's pack. Eureka! There it was, in the
7-year-old's little red backpack, which looks nothing like #1's
black & blue laptop-case-looking pack.
HH took me to the hospital for my outpatient surgery. So far,
so good. Then...he decided to hold my hand while we were
waiting, and knocked my IV hose sideways. You know, the
part where it goes into the back of your hand and is taped with
about 2 miles of tape? I told him to be more careful, that hurt.
His answer? "Oh, that's just a piece of plastic tubing in there,
not a needle." As if twisting a plastic tube inside a vein hurt
less than twisting a needle inside a vein.
They wheeled me around for some preliminary torture, and
HH followed. Until the x-ray tech noticed him, and told him
he was supposed to be out in the glass-windowed waiting
room. She told me she had thought he was one of those
workers dressed up in a Halloween costume. (Snicker! My
HH looks like he's in costume, but it's his real face and
clothes!)
My Hillbilly Mama showed up after taking the kids to school.
They can't ride the bus, you see, because I take them to
school in MY district, not in the one where we live. So
HH and HM come in, and HM is clutching a silver can of
Diet Coke. "Look what he was nice enough to buy me."
WooHoo! Last of the big spenders! She only had it a few
minutes, and HH said, "Here, let me set that down on this
table for you." She's not exactly an invalid. She stacks
wood and uses the leafblower in her front yard (which
is basically THE WOODS). But he had to take a load
off her hands. So when I come back after the surgery, I
see that Diet Coke still sitting there. Poor HM.
Next stop: the pharmacy, to get my fake Vicodin. I also
asked HH to get a thermometer, since both kids have
been sniffling with sore throats. He comes out with a
bag, and says, "They had a $1.98 one and a $9.00 one."
I didn't have to ask which one he bought. I opened the
bag, and it was a little box about 3 inches tall. "Thermometer
Covers," the box proudly proclaimed. I opened it and took
out the stack of plastic covers. "These things are going to
have a hard time telling my temperature." HH said, "Well,
I asked and this is what she gave me." He took them back
and got the $9.00 thermometer.
My Hillbilly Mama had planned to pick up the kids after
school. HH decided he would do it. I got a call from HM
around 2:00 pm saying she would feel more comfortable
if she went there to make sure HH was on time and got the
kids. Would I mind? Naww...knock yourself out. We're
enablers. We're the safety net for his incompetence.
HM sent the kids home with some snacks. She sent me
a baggie of Chex Mix (even though it's not as good as
mine, it's mighty tasty) to cheer me up after the surgery.
I forgot all about it, until I called her around 10:00 pm.
"How was the Chex Mix?" I said I forgot. I went to look
for it. No Chex Mix. Can anybody guess where it was?
Anybody? Let me answer for you...HH's belly! He said
#1 son found it on the way home, and that they both ate
it. Waaahhh. I don't get no respect, I tell you!
HH took #2 son trick-or-treating. He was grouching
about it all evening. Poor #2 put on his little Ninja suit,
strapped on his sword, grabbed his plastic ghost candy
bucket, and asked, "Don't you feel like going with us?"
That about broke my heart, but no, I didn't feel like
jouncing around the gravel road on the way to town.
(Because we're your worst nightmare ! ! ! ! The people
who drive their kids to town to trick-or-treat!) Poor
kid. They were supposed to go down one street in
town, then to HM's, my grandma's, and my sister-
the-mayor's-wife's house.
About 20 minutes later, #1 son ran downstairs. "Mom!
Dad's on the phone and says he has to talk to you NOW!
So get off the internet!" I was worried that something had
happened to the kid. I disconnected. HH didn't call. After
a couple minutes, I called him. He started ranting about
how #2 was whining and wanted to go to the relatives'
houses first, and that he couldn't make him go to people's
doors. WHAT? HH called me for that? GROW UP
ALREADY! What's wrong with going to the relatives'
houses first? But no. HH had to prove who was boss,
and brought #2 son home without trick-or-treating.
Doesn't that just about make you cry? I did. Halloween
is a big deal to a 7-year-old. I wish HH would grow up
and act 7. I felt bad because I couldn't drive #2 to town
myself. The relatives were sad, because they like to see
him all dressed up. And HH was mad at me. Because
I always take the kid's side, he said.
I wish he would just snap out of it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
about! Send one of them my way to tutor mine!
Sometimes my Hillbilly Husband drives me crazy. I know he can
do something right. I have two wonderful children. But there has
to have been something within the last seven years... For sure,
yesterday wasn't the day.
The morning was hectic because my I was having surgery, and
couldn't take the kids to school. #1 son had a major project
due, a report and diorama of the Iraquois tribe. The night before,
I asked him if it was ready to go. He said the report was on the
living room floor in a yellow notebook. HH said he would put
it in #1's pack. At 5:00 am I was checking the pack for the
report. No report. I looked under the pack, on the living room
floor, under the diorama. No report. On a whim, thinking like
HH, I checked #2 son's pack. Eureka! There it was, in the
7-year-old's little red backpack, which looks nothing like #1's
black & blue laptop-case-looking pack.
HH took me to the hospital for my outpatient surgery. So far,
so good. Then...he decided to hold my hand while we were
waiting, and knocked my IV hose sideways. You know, the
part where it goes into the back of your hand and is taped with
about 2 miles of tape? I told him to be more careful, that hurt.
His answer? "Oh, that's just a piece of plastic tubing in there,
not a needle." As if twisting a plastic tube inside a vein hurt
less than twisting a needle inside a vein.
They wheeled me around for some preliminary torture, and
HH followed. Until the x-ray tech noticed him, and told him
he was supposed to be out in the glass-windowed waiting
room. She told me she had thought he was one of those
workers dressed up in a Halloween costume. (Snicker! My
HH looks like he's in costume, but it's his real face and
clothes!)
My Hillbilly Mama showed up after taking the kids to school.
They can't ride the bus, you see, because I take them to
school in MY district, not in the one where we live. So
HH and HM come in, and HM is clutching a silver can of
Diet Coke. "Look what he was nice enough to buy me."
WooHoo! Last of the big spenders! She only had it a few
minutes, and HH said, "Here, let me set that down on this
table for you." She's not exactly an invalid. She stacks
wood and uses the leafblower in her front yard (which
is basically THE WOODS). But he had to take a load
off her hands. So when I come back after the surgery, I
see that Diet Coke still sitting there. Poor HM.
Next stop: the pharmacy, to get my fake Vicodin. I also
asked HH to get a thermometer, since both kids have
been sniffling with sore throats. He comes out with a
bag, and says, "They had a $1.98 one and a $9.00 one."
I didn't have to ask which one he bought. I opened the
bag, and it was a little box about 3 inches tall. "Thermometer
Covers," the box proudly proclaimed. I opened it and took
out the stack of plastic covers. "These things are going to
have a hard time telling my temperature." HH said, "Well,
I asked and this is what she gave me." He took them back
and got the $9.00 thermometer.
My Hillbilly Mama had planned to pick up the kids after
school. HH decided he would do it. I got a call from HM
around 2:00 pm saying she would feel more comfortable
if she went there to make sure HH was on time and got the
kids. Would I mind? Naww...knock yourself out. We're
enablers. We're the safety net for his incompetence.
HM sent the kids home with some snacks. She sent me
a baggie of Chex Mix (even though it's not as good as
mine, it's mighty tasty) to cheer me up after the surgery.
I forgot all about it, until I called her around 10:00 pm.
"How was the Chex Mix?" I said I forgot. I went to look
for it. No Chex Mix. Can anybody guess where it was?
Anybody? Let me answer for you...HH's belly! He said
#1 son found it on the way home, and that they both ate
it. Waaahhh. I don't get no respect, I tell you!
HH took #2 son trick-or-treating. He was grouching
about it all evening. Poor #2 put on his little Ninja suit,
strapped on his sword, grabbed his plastic ghost candy
bucket, and asked, "Don't you feel like going with us?"
That about broke my heart, but no, I didn't feel like
jouncing around the gravel road on the way to town.
(Because we're your worst nightmare ! ! ! ! The people
who drive their kids to town to trick-or-treat!) Poor
kid. They were supposed to go down one street in
town, then to HM's, my grandma's, and my sister-
the-mayor's-wife's house.
About 20 minutes later, #1 son ran downstairs. "Mom!
Dad's on the phone and says he has to talk to you NOW!
So get off the internet!" I was worried that something had
happened to the kid. I disconnected. HH didn't call. After
a couple minutes, I called him. He started ranting about
how #2 was whining and wanted to go to the relatives'
houses first, and that he couldn't make him go to people's
doors. WHAT? HH called me for that? GROW UP
ALREADY! What's wrong with going to the relatives'
houses first? But no. HH had to prove who was boss,
and brought #2 son home without trick-or-treating.
Doesn't that just about make you cry? I did. Halloween
is a big deal to a 7-year-old. I wish HH would grow up
and act 7. I felt bad because I couldn't drive #2 to town
myself. The relatives were sad, because they like to see
him all dressed up. And HH was mad at me. Because
I always take the kid's side, he said.
I wish he would just snap out of it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
posted by Hillbilly Mom at 12:10 PM
13 Comments:
Poor you. Men are so clueless sometimes. After years of babying mine through numberous kidney stones, I finally quoted my momma and said, "Die quietly." Next time HE gets sick, try that one on him.
Awwww Hillbilly Mom! Don't ya know ALL men are idiots?? My hubby is pretty great, but far from perfect. He does crap like that all the time, but I love him anyway!
Hope you are doing okay after your surgery...wishing you a speedy recovery! :)
Hmph.
Men.
Hope you're feeling okay physically, even if he's a dooderhead.
Jules,
My HH had the kidney stone while we were on vacation in Branson, MO. At 2:00 am. I had to pack up the kids and find the hospital, where we sat until about 10:00 am. HH thought he was dying, kept carrying on for days, was planning to have some kind of surgery--until they did a test here and found out he had already passed the stone. Nevermind...
MamaKBear,
I'm feeling better now. Just wait. I have the whole tale to tell, around Friday, I think.
You,
At least I don't have the accident prone model. Unless you count dropping that 5th-wheel trailer hitch on his foot and breaking his toe.
Diva,
I know you understand. I think we have the same model. I'm waiting for the recall notice.
Hi Hillbilly Mom,
I woud suggest DIVORCE, but look where it got me.
Why not when you get better, tee it up with all the relo's to have Halloween Two for #2 son? Then you can take him around, and he wont feel left out. Then make sure he doesn't share any of his lollies with HH.
HooRoo
Rebecca
Bec,
There's an idea. HH is all about the lollies. It would serve him right to see #2 get all that loot and not share with HH.
I do not really think I need a divorce. All we need is for HH to move into the camper in the front yard. When we need something, we'll call him. Of course, we will still be getting his paycheck to use in any way we see fit. That sounds fair, doesn't it? I wonder if HH will go for it? A camper is better than the doghouse. More room, less dog.
LMAO @ the camper in the front yard idea!
Ummmm....why do you think we bought a 5th wheel? Plus, if he lives in it the majority of the time, I think it can be deducted from your taxes as a second home but don't quote me on that! Mr. Coach would also not take off his "Grumpy Old Asshole" costume Halloween night and was a butthead the whole night. He kept telling our 7 year old to act his age! HE IS 7! HELLO! HE"S ACTING LIKE A 7 YEAR OLD BOY!!!!!
MamaKBear,
Um....honey, we DO have a camper in the front yard. You can still LYAO, though.
If you go to the very first or second post from my Redneck Review archives, you'll see it in all its glory. It was in April, that's when I started that blog.
Mrs.
What a coincidence! Our camper is a 5th wheel. My mom gave it to us after my dad died. HH takes it out occasionally with the boys, but I'm not much for camping. When we have tornado warnings, I tell him that thing is going to land on top of the house, because it truly is in our front yard!
I think you have the same model husband that I have, too.
Sorry, this is a bit long but here we go... I am convinced ALL men are this way. Even my parents have similar situations. Now, my grandmothers (my maternal & paternal grandmothers) currently live in the same retirement facility. One on the first floor. One on the second. Each one owns their unit. Now here's the good part... my mom says that when they die she is going to keep those two units. She will live in one and my father will live in the other. That way they can still be together but only have to see each other at meals and such! Since I've been married to my clutzy moron for 10 years I can totally see where she is coming from!
LOL...Oh no, I wasn't laughing at the camper being in the front yard...that's easily believable to me, being redneck myself ya know...I was laughing at the thought of sending hubby out there to stay! (Instead of the doghouse)
Wish I could do that sometimes myself, but the apt. complex might get all in a tizzy if we had a camper out front. :)
I'd send you mine, but he's over in Iraq right now. ;)
And...all men aren't idiots.
Stacie,
I didn't mean they're idiots. I mean they ANNOY THE HELL out me sometimes. And it's all about MEEEEEEEE! And it really upset me when he made the 7-year-old cry and miss trick-or-treating.
Oops! You'd better not read the one I just posted for Wednesday.
You must not have a Redneck Model husband. I'm guessing you have the upgrade.
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