Stupid Is as Stupid Does

I'm taking a brief moment away from my work so that I can relay to my adoring public just how incredibly fucking stupid and inept db truly is.

After his long and drawn-out email of Friday accusing me of not teaching Bob to wipe his own ass and griping about how the preschool teachers aren't nice to him (db), he sent me another dbmail Saturday--this one stating Bob wasn't feeling well. I gave the usual recommendations--lots of rest and fluids, children's ibuprofen, go to the ER if his temperature goes above 104.

Yesterday I sent him an email asking how Bob was feeling. Got a response that he felt okay but just wasn't himself. Followed by an impassioned plea to set aside our personal differences and get along with one another before Bob suffered any further. I chose not to respond to this one.

Then I got a phone call from db around 6:15 in the evening. He said Bob's cough was worse, that he'd run a fever all day, and that he'd napped both Saturday and Sunday for several hours. I asked how high his fever was--

"Well, I don't actually have a thermometer."

Swallow blood resulting from biting tongue exceptionally hard. Ask if he's given Bob any ibuprofen.

"I gave him that cough stuff."

Bite tongue again. What cough stuff?

"It's 'Tylenol Nighttime Cold & Flu.'"

When was the last time you gave it to him?

"Last night before he went to bed. I didn't want to give him any today because, well, you know, it's the nighttime formula."

Bite tongue completely off.

At that point I told him I was going to bring him a fucking thermometer and some children's ibuprofen, and that in the meantime, if he had any adult ibuprofen (meaning 200mg tablets) he should give Bob half a tablet. I also told him not to give him any other over-the-counter cold shit because it could interact with the Ritalin.

"Well, I don't give him that stuff on the weekend, because he really only needs it to concentrate when he's at school."

Jesus Fucking Christ.

So I left at 6:30, put gas in my car, went to the pharmacy, bought children's ibuprofen AND a fucking digital ear thermometer, and drove the 25-plus minutes to db's house in the white ghetto. It was disgusting. Filthy, tiny and shit piled up everywhere. Just piles of crap. The house stank like mildew and old dog.

Bob, fortunately, was feeling better since being given a whole tablet of ibuprofen (200mg) by db after we got off the phone. His temperature was back to almost normal, and he was very excited to see me and of course had to start showing me all his crap. And talking at me 90 miles a minute.

And db had to be right in there, too, doing the same thing. God, it's scary to see them both in action, because it makes it painfully obvious why Bob acts the way he does. I had both of them in my ear pulling out this thing and that thing and blahblahblahblahblahheymommylook and between the two of them and the filth and the stench I have NEVER been so ready to get the fuck out of a place in my LIFE. So when it got to be about the time Bob should have been taking a bath and getting ready for bed, I told him I had to go. I left the ibuprofen and the thermometer with db, told him to take Bob to the ER if his temperature went over 104, gave Bob several germ-ridden hugs and kisses goodbye, and left. But not before db could mention that he and Bob had gone to the children's museum the day before. (As in Saturday--when Bob was supposedly starting to get really sick.)

This morning, I called the school to tell them Bob wouldn't be there, and it turns out they have four cases of flu. FUCK. So I emailed db and told him he needed to get Bob an appointment with the pediatrician. Of course, he couldn't get past their voicemail, so I called--probably a good thing, since Ben's mom has practiced in that office for about 30 years and I'm more likely to get an appointment than anyone--and got him scheduled for late this afternoon and called db to tell him.

"Well, I'll take him, but I won't like it."

WHAT?

"I guess that means we won't even get home til almost 6'o'clock."

Okay, assfuck, here's the deal--YOUR KID IS FUCKING SICK. TAKE HIM TO THE FUCKING DOCTOR. GIVE HIM FUCKING MEDICINE. TAKE HIS FUCKING TEMPERATURE. BUY A FUCKING THERMOMETER IF YOU DON'T HAVE ONE. AND SHUT THE FUCK UP.

And this is the asshat who wants sole custody? Are you fucking serious?

An hour or so later, I emailed him again to see if he thought I should cancel the appointment with the psych office tomorrow (which db already stated he wouldn't take Bob to because it's too far for him to drive) in light of Bob's illness, and he dbmailed me back that he wasn't sure, Bob was in the "'no' phase" and he couldn't get him to get dressed.

I have to admit, that was the one positive aspect of last night. I got to witness firsthand Bob treating db like a bitch. At one point he said to db, "could you just be quiet?" and when db started to retort, Bob cut loose with a very loud "shhhhh!" And db just slunk away like a damned whipped dog. Would Bob have gotten away with that at my house? Hell to tha no. And he knows it, too. But it sure as hell worked on db.

Christ, his idea of being a parent is alternating between being a pussy and being a dick. No wonder my kid's a fucking mess.

So I probably won't be working tomorrow because I'll be home with a sick kid. And I'm probably going to end up with the flu. So tonight, I'm going to enjoy every last second in my nice, clean, quiet house with my nice, clean, quiet and dangerously sexy husband. In a sense, we gonna party like it's 1999.