Rey vs. Roomba
Hola Wild Boy friends and family!
It's been a long time, I know. And let me give you a hint why: baseball six days a week, a timeline project, a wax museum project, a magic workbook, an artifact, a costume, a test on the states and capitals, a state float, a pool party, a school play, a talent show, cub scouts, boy scouts, a yard sale, four birthday parties, two field trips for school, one field trip for scouts...you get the idea. Anyhow, suffice it to say the cop and I are sufficiently exhausted. Tomorrow marks the last day of school, Saturday is the last day of baseball, and Sunday is when I plan on settling in with a giant bloody mary the second I stumble out of bed at noon and not washing any laundry because my kids can survive in swim trunks for a week while we recover.
Today was the talent show, emceed by Gav and his buddy Tess. Yesterday Gabe had a play. Tonight was a baseball party, and tomorrow the Cop is barbecuing about a million hamburgers for field day for the fifth grade class. My plan was in all honesty to wait until Sunday or Monday to return to the blog, because we're still kind of mid-whirlwind, but then I wouldn't be immersed in the fresh drama. The drama of Rey versus the Roomba.
Admittedly, we have been terrible pet parents to poor Sweet Baby Rey for the past several weeks. Don't get me wrong, she's not chained to a post or locked in a kennel, but she feels horribly neglected in our absence. And for vengeance she likes to screw with two things: my bed and my Roomba. It started with her creeping on the bed when we were gone. She pretended she didn't, but the black fur said otherwise. So I put a cover blanket on - see, I'm the cool mom. Like, ok sweet angel puppy, just lay on this blanket then so you don't cover my bedspread in furry grossness. But noooooo, Cujo Jr. wanted nothing to do with the law and order of cool mom, and over the past two weeks has progressed from pulling off the cover blanket, to knocking down the throw pillows, to pulling back the comforter and sleeping IN MY SHEETS with her head ON MY PILLOW. Because she's really bad. Really, really bad.
When she's not casually napping in my bed and triggering allergies that will keep me and the cop crippled all day long while we chauffer Wild Boys, Rey also likes to screw with the Roomba. Because dogs hate vacuums, and apparently the noise interrupts her napping. So she casually drops her toys in front of Roomba, until one of them gets sucked in and I get a notice on my phone that "Roomba ended the job stuck." Then I swear under my breath at the hound from hell and anticipate coming home to gradually untangle whatever rope toy has been sucked into my wonder vacuum.
As I mentioned, it's been a long several weeks and yesterday upon returning home and finding my bed trashed again I was DONE. I yelled at Cerberus, fixed the bed, and told the Cop that she's officially banished from the room when we are gone. He totally backed me with enforcement, and locked her out when he left to work today. And even though I got the inevitable Roomba stuck message, I was at peace because I knew that I'd go home to a nice bed.
Which I did. The problem was that in her anger at this discipline Rey decided to up her game, and instead of putting a toy in front of the Roomba she took a giant rage crap right in the path of my precious robot vacuum. And knight in shining armor that it is, trying to save my sanity by keeping my house tidy, Roomba tried it's darndest to conquer Mt. Dookie. But failed, and instead ended up with dog poop crammed in what can only be described as EVERY DAMN NOOK AND CRANNY on my beloved house helper.
Guess which brilliant mom also told the Cop three days ago that buying paper towels at Costco is excessive because we have no place to store them? The same wonder mom that immediately ran out, and had to use the 800 Costco napkins, Clorox wipes and toothpicks to pick dog poop out of my poor, defiled Roomba. All before gagging while trying to scrub the poop tracks drug through my carpet before Roomba finally pooped out (pun intended, because it's all I have right now people). And that, my friends, is why you get a Thursday night, exhausted mom blog. Because in another day I may convince myself that this isn't as dry heaving blog worthy as it seems right now.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go soak my hands in bleach. Or acid. Or just cut them off entirely.
Rey 1, Roomba 0.
It's been a long time, I know. And let me give you a hint why: baseball six days a week, a timeline project, a wax museum project, a magic workbook, an artifact, a costume, a test on the states and capitals, a state float, a pool party, a school play, a talent show, cub scouts, boy scouts, a yard sale, four birthday parties, two field trips for school, one field trip for scouts...you get the idea. Anyhow, suffice it to say the cop and I are sufficiently exhausted. Tomorrow marks the last day of school, Saturday is the last day of baseball, and Sunday is when I plan on settling in with a giant bloody mary the second I stumble out of bed at noon and not washing any laundry because my kids can survive in swim trunks for a week while we recover.
Today was the talent show, emceed by Gav and his buddy Tess. Yesterday Gabe had a play. Tonight was a baseball party, and tomorrow the Cop is barbecuing about a million hamburgers for field day for the fifth grade class. My plan was in all honesty to wait until Sunday or Monday to return to the blog, because we're still kind of mid-whirlwind, but then I wouldn't be immersed in the fresh drama. The drama of Rey versus the Roomba.
Admittedly, we have been terrible pet parents to poor Sweet Baby Rey for the past several weeks. Don't get me wrong, she's not chained to a post or locked in a kennel, but she feels horribly neglected in our absence. And for vengeance she likes to screw with two things: my bed and my Roomba. It started with her creeping on the bed when we were gone. She pretended she didn't, but the black fur said otherwise. So I put a cover blanket on - see, I'm the cool mom. Like, ok sweet angel puppy, just lay on this blanket then so you don't cover my bedspread in furry grossness. But noooooo, Cujo Jr. wanted nothing to do with the law and order of cool mom, and over the past two weeks has progressed from pulling off the cover blanket, to knocking down the throw pillows, to pulling back the comforter and sleeping IN MY SHEETS with her head ON MY PILLOW. Because she's really bad. Really, really bad.
When she's not casually napping in my bed and triggering allergies that will keep me and the cop crippled all day long while we chauffer Wild Boys, Rey also likes to screw with the Roomba. Because dogs hate vacuums, and apparently the noise interrupts her napping. So she casually drops her toys in front of Roomba, until one of them gets sucked in and I get a notice on my phone that "Roomba ended the job stuck." Then I swear under my breath at the hound from hell and anticipate coming home to gradually untangle whatever rope toy has been sucked into my wonder vacuum.
As I mentioned, it's been a long several weeks and yesterday upon returning home and finding my bed trashed again I was DONE. I yelled at Cerberus, fixed the bed, and told the Cop that she's officially banished from the room when we are gone. He totally backed me with enforcement, and locked her out when he left to work today. And even though I got the inevitable Roomba stuck message, I was at peace because I knew that I'd go home to a nice bed.
Which I did. The problem was that in her anger at this discipline Rey decided to up her game, and instead of putting a toy in front of the Roomba she took a giant rage crap right in the path of my precious robot vacuum. And knight in shining armor that it is, trying to save my sanity by keeping my house tidy, Roomba tried it's darndest to conquer Mt. Dookie. But failed, and instead ended up with dog poop crammed in what can only be described as EVERY DAMN NOOK AND CRANNY on my beloved house helper.
Guess which brilliant mom also told the Cop three days ago that buying paper towels at Costco is excessive because we have no place to store them? The same wonder mom that immediately ran out, and had to use the 800 Costco napkins, Clorox wipes and toothpicks to pick dog poop out of my poor, defiled Roomba. All before gagging while trying to scrub the poop tracks drug through my carpet before Roomba finally pooped out (pun intended, because it's all I have right now people). And that, my friends, is why you get a Thursday night, exhausted mom blog. Because in another day I may convince myself that this isn't as dry heaving blog worthy as it seems right now.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go soak my hands in bleach. Or acid. Or just cut them off entirely.
Rey 1, Roomba 0.
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