One of my favorite comedians had a skit where he spoke about having a meeting with the grandson of Louis Mayer or some grandson of MGM, and getting YELLED at by that executive. I can imagine it must have been like getting yelled at by John D. Rockefeller or some REALLY big gun. The comedian went on to say, that once you've been yelled at from some big wig like that, everything else is easy. Not so.
You want tough boss? Listen.
2am, not yelling, but screaming. SCREAMING. I live in an apartment complex so I am sure someone is going to wake up and here my boss screaming at me. Uh, uh, I got the diaper changed under the little neon kitchen night light, now comes the hard part, getting the sleeper pajamas back on. Those legs are just flying all over the place, cant get them into the pajama legs. Got one. Just, stuff this one into the other side and,.... agh, the first leg came out. Get in there leg. Kick kick, kick, got me in the stomach. oof. Screaming murder. Any minute now for sure some neighbor is going to call the police on me. Whoops knocked a bottle of water off the counter.
Legs in. Button the jumper, just button the jumper, its easy.
Agh, come on, why is it those last buttons either on the leg or in the middle section just don't stay shut. No, I got the leg buttons shut, but the middle three, where the pajama curves from one leg to the other are impossible. erf, OK, got them. Oh, for crying out, they re misbuttoned. Kick kick kick. Oh, I gotta just leave that last button I cant get it. It wont reach or something or when the baby moves a bit it goes pop open again. Its always that last button which is the killer.
2.30am, if every person in the apartment hasn't been woken up its because God loves me. My friend the Deacon says God loves everybody. I'm wondering OK, but who does God love more right now? Me or this little tiny, wriggling thing I am trying to stuff like a turkey into this undersized jumper, stay closed button. I know the answer.
Phew, I got the boss back to bed, hit the crib and was out, like that. I'm awake now though. Adrenaline pumping. Might as well make a tea and write something.
Now that is the toughest boss I will ever have. Somebody else going to yell at me at work, ha, no problem. I can take it. Let the grandson of Louis B. Mayer yell at me, let the President of the United States call me up and give me Hell Harry, it will be like water on a duck. I can take it. But what I can not take and destroys me is messing up on those lousy last three buttons on the pajama jumper while the legs are kicking away and the screaming scares away Jack Nicholson (the Devil) himself. Ive done it several times and it never gets easier. No it doesn't.
Homer Simpson said it: phiff, who wants to be a Daddy? The wages are terrible, the hours are long and then all you get is, `Daddy, buy me that, Daddy buy me that, Daddy did you hear me? Buy it. Now. Or something like that.
You think you are the King of the castle at home? You think you are the Man of the house? Guess again fatso. Remember in the old days when the telephone solicitors would call and ask `May I please speak to the Man of the house? (We always laughed at that one)` If those solicitors still existed today I would say, "sure" and hand the phone to my two year old daughter. She is the true boss in the household and has been for over two years now. (Just don't let those solicitors sell you the insurance policy sweetie without reading the fine print)
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