Last week a stomach bug circulated through my family and as in every other house, it was only a matter of time before mom had to take her turn. It started Wednesday night, and when Thursday morning reared its ugly head, the last thing I wanted to do was crawl out of bed.
The hubz, being the sweet soul that he is, told me to stay in bed and get some extra rest. I didn’t argue, but after lying there for about ten minutes I just couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that I should head downstairs and check out my dudes’ progress in getting ready.
Now, I want to preface this by saying that I love my husband and appreciate that he tried to give me a break. And, in his defense, he didn’t get up early to take on a full morning routine (which he’d never tackled on his own before) because neither of us anticipated my being out of commission. That being said, it’s fair to say even he would agree that what I found when I trudged down the stairs that morning was a clear indicator that he simply does not possess the brass ovaries required to be a mom.
As I rounded the corner, my eyes first fell on my eldest son, whom, in his haste to get dressed, forgot to remove the underwear he slept in before putting on a new pair. I knew this because I found him wearing his shorts backwards while he was pulling on MY socks.
Me: Dude, are those my socks?
Ky: Dad gave them to me.
The Hubz (from the kitchen): They looked like they were his size. Are women’s socks super stretchy or something?
As I wondered if that was his way of dissing my “voluptuous” lady feet, I came upon my middle son, who was fighting a losing battle with the dress shorts he was about to put on with his cartoon dragon t-shirt.
Me: Why are you wearing dress shorts with a t-shirt?
Jax: Dad gave them to me.
The Hubz (still from the kitchen): What? I didn’t even know there were such things as dress shorts. How can you even tell the difference?
Finally, I made my way into the kitchen to find my youngest son about to receive a nutritious cookie breakfast from my frazzled, completely adorable, half-dressed and totally bewildered husband. The littlest was dressed in a fetching backwards t-shirt and shorts ensemble accented by shoes on the wrong feet.
Me: Really? Cookies for breakfast?
Devi: Dad gave them to me.
The Hubz: *Deer-in-the-headlights look, shoulder shrug and “HALP MEH” smirk* Rough morning.
Even with a queasy stomach, I couldn’t help but giggle. He tried. He really did. He’s just not a mom.
So, we worked together to get everyone straightened out and I let the cookie breakfast commence. It just seemed like the appropriate cuisine for a momless morning.