Project-idle

The following is an entry from my husbands journal written to my daughter:

It's your Birthday
Here at last
You're three years old
Boy that went fast

Off to the market
in the warm summer air
in hopes we can find
a gift for you there

So many things
From squashes to cherries
I buy you a bracelet
and a box of blueberries

We head on back home
to continue your day...
we plan on some fishing
and then we will play

It’s time for lunch
but you don’t want nothin’
cept for your box of blueberries
for crunchin and munchin

You’re there smiling
as you sit in your chair
eating the berries
you’re unwilling to share
with your parents both busy
only vaguely aware
little do we know
that we should beware
If only some ominous music
would have played in the air!

I am taken aback
and slightly appalled
to walk in and discover
you have eaten them all!

We’re skunked at the river
but we got a few bites
And a green spiky burr
in your hair stuck in tight

we head home again
where I get in a fight
seems mom’s freaking out
bout plans for tonight

“What’s going on??”
“Who’s going to come”
“I need communication”
“You’ve given me none”
By this time I’m about
ready to run

I have to come up
with something fast
I’ve been a bad husband
Must cover my … uh butt

Mom and I yell
at each other a while
Eliza tries mediation
with her 5 year old smile

Pretty soon we’re headed
with our little red boat
back to the lake
I sure hope it floats

I don’t know why
I thought this would be fun
within 5 minutes of launching
I have a wet bum

You demand your own paddle
with your signature sound
you sit there laughing
as we go round and round

Soon we’re back on the road
for two large pizza pies
While Mom’s at home working
on your birthday surprise

We go to Wal-Mart
You grab a big yellow ball
You kick it, grab it,
jump on it and fall
But when it comes time to buy it
you don’t want it at all.

I take you back home
with anticipation
of a glorious and happy
surprise celebration

I open the door
I let you walk in
They all yell “SURPRISE”
on your face there’s a grin

The kitchen is decked out
in bloons, many colors
your cousins are there
with your sisters and brother

Everyone eats
and then eat some more
when I go for some ice cream
I spill all the corn
some rolls down past the meat
and right out the door
Where the baby gobbles
it up off the floor

You open some presents
You get a nice dress
The guests head on home
The house is a mess

One final present
Your mom fills with fear
and within minutes your covered
in Henry’s root beer

It’s time for a bath
Can things get any worse?
Your mother’s holding back tears
and she’s ready to curse

But the badness continues
and you feel mom’s wrath
as you climb off of the toilet
and poop in the bath

After a long painful cleanup
you’re ready for bed
It’s been a bittersweet day
I’m feeling dead

I go to bed eager
for a night filled with rest
not expecting the next day
would be such a test

I dream about fighting
Gerard Depardieu
I awake to discover
that none of it’s true
I’m feeling relieved,
…..until I find you

From my bed I hear
you in the front of the house
your quiet but out there
just like a mouse

You’re there with wipes
scrubbing the floor
I see wipes to your left
to your right a few more

Confused I bend down
I unknowingly stoop
and to my unbridled horror
I discover it’s poop!

Its in puddles and piles
all over the ground
I stand up in shock
at the scene I have found

And what is that color
that unmistakable hue?
It dawns on me what happened
this poop is all BLUE!

I noticed you’re covered
from your head to your toes
your diaper is filled
though it’s already blown

You tried to clean it
you gave it your best
as you’ve battled alone
this unbelievable mess

It’s caked onto your legs
some of it’s dried
Instead of getting out of bed
I wish I had died

I know for a fact
this fecal miscarriage
will surely mean doom
for my eleven year marriage

To the bath with you child!
my poor little daughter
I can’t clean with wipes
I need some hot water!
I notice Mom’s woken up
I’m sure I’ll be slaughtered

I don’t think anyone
would think me a liar
to say this was worse
than an ox in the mire
If I don’t clean this up
I’m gunna be fired

So It’s off to Smith’s
to get me a steamer
so our contaminated floor
can be a bit cleaner

Mom gets you dressed
to head off to church
while I remain home to try
to get out of this lurch

In the end it seems
everything ended okay
We had the stains almost out
by the end of the day
And if someone asked what they are
We don’t have to say

To top it all off
While I watered our tree
I got to close to the beehive
And got stung, by a bee.

So happy birthday my daughter
This one sure wasn’t a bore,
Please forgive me for not
looking forward to four.