Wait. That isn't my snack!

You ever have one of those moments that just kind of grosses you out? I feel like sharing one of mine from today.

As I was cleaning, getting down and sweeping floors, and all that jazz, I notice I have a little piece of food on my chest. Now, with a chest like mine, it is an unfortunate fact that food often sits on my boobs. Another unfortunate fact is that I don't always notice until someone else points it out to me. My husband is oft the one to point this out to me. He generally, though, points it out by asking me if I was saving what ever it is he spies as a snack for later.

This time, there was no adult around to point out my lapse. My children, apparently, don't care if I walk around with food on my clothes. I wish I could say the reverse was true.

Anyway, I look down while cleaning, and notice something there. I pull off this whitish thing, only to realize that i have been walking around with a piece of chicken on me. Now, this might not be too gross, ok, it is, but what makes it even worse is that it isn't my chicken. I didn't have chicken for lunch. What makes it really, really nasty is that, if you read my profile you know, I am a vegetarian. I have been for the last 12 or so years, in fact. So, hanging out with a tag-a-long piece of chicken on my shirt is incredibly disgusting for me. It certainly wasn't something I was saving for later.

I do know exactly where it come from, though. That should be of some comfort, I suppose. At least it wasn't some random piece of meat that I can't place. I know that this particular piece of chicken fell out of my daughter's mouth at lunch time.

She is incredibly cranky for about 18 out of 24 hours in a day at present as we are going through a nap time change. Now, she sleeps more than 6 hours a day, but since she seems to even be cranky in her sleep lately, I had to up her average number of crankified hours. Anyway, at lunch she was, of course, really cranky. She insisted I hold her. Even while she ate. I have been making great efforts to try and feed her more meat. My husband usually takes care of that, but with him gone, I have to try and honor the fact that she happens to be the meat eatingist baby I have ever seen. So, I gave her chicken today. She must have really loved it. Maybe I should feel bad about that, because she loved it so much, she seems to have saved a piece as a snack for later. Like any other child, she just ask mom to hold it for her until she was ready.

Ehh, what can you do? I'm not getting smaller boobs, or neater kids. I think we will just have to manage with the finding of random snacks around here.

I have a what??!!??

Let me tell you, husbands, boyfriends, men of the world in general, what you do not, repeat, NOT say to your wife of many years.
The womyn who has given birth to your children.
The womyn who has waited back home, patiently, faithfully, for many, many months, just her and your child, while you were off in another part of the world.
The womyn who has been by your side through thick and thin.

You do NOT walk up to this womyn, put your arms around her in a hug, then look at her face and say "I think your starting to get a unibrow".

When she immediately rebukes you, you then do not proceed to try to explain yourself, and show her the particular hairs you mean. Furthermore, when her temper flairs beyond belief, you don't laugh. Not if you value your life, you don't.

Someone, anyone, should have told this to my husband. I don't know what on this earth (or from far below it more likely) possessed him to say such a thing, but he did.

I told him he may as well go ahead and tell me I look like I have gained weight. Why stop there? Tell me which clothes I wear make me look the fattest, then proceed to trace the wrinkle lines in my face. I mean, why not tear me down???

Why???

"Why would you say such a thing?", I ask him.

"It wasn't mean."

"Now that is just dumb." I don't use that word lightly. In fact, that is probably one of the few, if not the only, times in our years together that I have used that word in direct reference to my husband or his actions. However, I call them like I see them. To think that telling your wife she has a unibrow isn't mean or hurtful, is dumb. It is. You just don't do that. He doesn't tell me how to groom. Why would he start now, there??

In fact, I don't think he even knows what a unibrow really is. What I have, are a couple of hairs that have to be smoothed into place from time to time, especially after I just rolled up out form underneath the dining room table where I was cleaning both the back legs that I can't reach any other way, and the underside of the table lip. Yeah. They might have been a little out of place, but I can't pluck those few long hairs I have, because fact is that with out them, I barely have any eyebrows naturally at all!!!! What you see in pictures is drawn on. My mom is the same way. The older we get, the less we have by way of eyebrow, too. So, unibrow, it was and is not.

Cold shoulder, now that you have. Harumph!!