Wednesday, 28 September 2011

CSI: Mommyland

Not what you want to wake up to
 Saturday, September 24th, 12:15pm:  I stumbled across the crime scene early Saturday afternoon.  After a rare unbroken 12 hours of sleep I came downstairs and discovered the chaos that was my house – at least I was pretty sure it was my house – the extreme state of disarray that I had encountered upon coming downstairs so confounded me that for a minute I really hoped that I had somehow ended up sleeping at the neighbours.

12:17pm:  After recognizing the broken shards of the ugly vase Aunt Sue gave me for my wedding all hopes of neoghbor crashing fled and I was forced to face reality.  My house had been trashed.  How and why, I had yet to determine.  I immediately pulled my iphone out of my bra (where I keep it at all times) and began to systematically chronicle the evidence at hand in order to determine what exactly had taken place.  
Exhibit A - Tablecloth Graffiti
12:21pm:  I stumbled across my first clue – see Exhibit A, or as I like to call it, The Tablecloth Graffiti.  The perpetrator (or at least one of the perpetrators, at this point I had a hard time believing that just one person could wreak such havoc) had decided to leave his mark on my tablecloth in permanent black marker.  Oh the humanity!  What had the tablecloth ever done to deserve such mutilation? But I digress; this Van Gough wannabe had now pissed me off and I was more determined than ever to bring him (or her) to justice.

12: 25pm:  Upon finishing my ugly cry I entered the kitchen.  The first thing I noticed was that, of the four kitchen chairs, only one was left at the table – the others were scattered around the room.  The pantry doors were wide open and one of the displaced chairs was practically in the cupboard and the contents of the pantry were strewn about the kitchen (see Exhibit B).

Exhibit B - The destruction
This led me to the hypothesis that a short angry cook ransacked my house after being unable to find the proper ingredients for his clandestine meal.  The ‘short’ part of my hypothesis was substantiated by the fact that another kitchen chair was pushed up to the kitchen counter, which was covered in a brown substance that, after forensic testing involving my tongue licking the counter,  turned out to be cinnamon.  Then I found the gelatine.

12:30pm: It was sitting in a frying pan on the stove.  An entire box of gelatine.  Covered in cinnamon.  Sitting in melted butter, in a frying pan.  An actual box of gelatine – not the contents of a box of gelatine – an actual BOX of gelatine (See Exhibit C):
Exhibit C
What could this mean?  Was someone trying to send us a message?  Was it a threat of some kind – “Stop blogging or will cook your box!!??” (That’s what she said).  I wasn’t sure.  All I knew for sure was that we were dealing with one twisted son-of-a-bitch.
12:35pm:  I spent the next few minutes taking stock of the rest of the damage. Dirty dishes thrown in drawers, spilled bottle of vanilla extract, cranberries sprinkled haphazardly throughout the living room as if a fairy with a UTI had gone crazy.  Just then, Edward came home.
12:42pm:  I braced for Edwards inevitable freak-out complete with high squeaky voice and dramatic hair pulling.  When he just said “Hi” and proceeded to take of his shoes (as if he could possibly make the house any messier) I knew something was up.  After an intense round of interrogations involving a turkey baster and a leather horse whip (don’t ask) all was revealed.
Insert Flashback Music Here
Saturday, September 25th, 8:30am:  Edward is gently reminded that it is his day to get up with the kids and is then not-so-gently pushed out of bed.  After being beaten with a pillow for attempting to return to his nocturnal nest he gives in and crawls down the hallway to collect Simba then collapse in Prince’s bed with the two boys.  After being pummelled in the head with Buzz Lightyear for fifteen minutes he grudgingly agrees to get the boys some breakfast. 

8:52am:  Edward makes the trek downstairs with one child on his leg and the other hanging off his neck and manages to subdue them for a time with yogurt and bananas only to be bombarded with requests for cookies.   After firmly stating “NO” he collapses on the couch in exhaustion.  He wakes 30 minutes later to the disaster area formally known as our house.   At which point Edward realized how much shit he is in and decides to flee the scene of the crime.   They then went for ice cream.
End of Flashback Sequence
Saturday September 25th, 1:12pm: Suspects Prince and Simba are now in custody on charges of disorderly conduct, assault with an astronaut, vandalism, and cookie theft.  They were denied snacks and are currently awaiting time outs.  Edward has been reprimanded for sleeping on the job and sentenced to clean-up duty, during which he promptly fell back to sleep.  I ate some ice cream and daydreamed about what life would be like if I didn’t live with two pint-sized hoodlums.  

For starters, my house would probably look more like this....

And this... Oh well.  Ya win some, ya lose some.  Then you eat some ice cream.

Dum-da-dum-dum.  Dum –da-dum-dum DUM!


1 comment:

  1. I <3 this and you should probably be a detective. A Mess Detective. Like a Pet Detective, but messier.

    ...Actually, not necessarily messier.