I ate more than half of this fresh baked blueberry cobbler yesterday.
It was quite delicious at first, but that’s not why I continued eating the thing. No, I continued eating it for various other reasons:
- Because Taye didn’t get out of bed till Lovie and I were out the door to go to the park at 11:30AM.
- Because she was too tired to ride her bike home and we had to wait for Taye to come get us. And wait. And wait because “getting clothes on” takes the man half a fucking hour each and every time.
- Because he ate a piece of my pizza I reheated instead of getting his own that rested, already reheated, near the toaster oven.
- Because I wanted to nap and during that hour I could hear Lovie shouting: “Where are you, dad? Where’d you go?!”
- Because I know how immersed she gets while play-dohing, which she was when I laid down, so I can only imagine how long he was in the bathroom in which he spends hours daily. HOURS.
- Because he disappeared back into the fucking bathroom, just minutes after I got up, where he stayed until Lovie and I started banging on the goddamn door to get his attention after going on a search for him.
- Because Lovie begged her now-snoring-on-the-couch dad to open the front door so she could go downstairs to play since she was bored (I wouldn’t open the door for her).
- Because I finally had fucking enough of her begging and his motherfucking snoring that I got up and started vacuuming the fucking play-doh bits while telling him to DO something with Lovie if he wasn’t going to open the door for her.
- Because he then told me I was crazy …that I was hearing what I wanted to hear …that he wasn’t snoring …that he wasn’t sleeping …that he was just sitting there sprawled out on the couch (not sleeping) …that I was pissed because of something- who knows what- and he was the victim to my insanity.
- Because I wanted to take him and shake him so fucking hard that maybe his head would snap off and then he’d be able to finally SEE that he DOES fall asleep on the fucking couch any and every goddamn time we’re all hanging out …that he DOES go to the bathroom multiple times a day and spends a RIDICULOUS amount of time in there every fucking time …that his kid is bored because he does NOTHING (active) with her …that he’s fat because he doesn’t fucking MOVE.
- Because if I didn’t eat half of the fresh baked blueberry cobbler yesterday, I’m certain I would’ve packed a bag, grabbed my child’s hand, and left.
And why? Because he snores. Because he takes forever in the bathroom.
WHAT’S THE FREQUENCY, KENNETH?
Now, had I not just finished bleeding last week, I would’ve chalked up my insanity to PMS, but the fact is that I ate more than half a fucking blueberry cobbler yesterday because of all that shit up there.
Not because I was hungry.
Not because I wanted the funky shits.
Not because I just couldn’t stop eating it.
But because I gave up, like I often do, and turned to food.
I know this, and I’ve known this for a long time, yet I can’t seem to fix it.
But I sure as hell can grab another spoonful of that there deliciousness. Like it’s my job.