The Trophy Wife
by Sassy Mama
*due to the graphic nature of my tails'
tale this story is rated PG-13
**
Click HERE for Part One and HERE for Part TwoAnd now for the rest of the story...
Once upon a time, a loving, kind, generous, beautiful, fault-free okay, I know I'm laying it on a little thick here--but give me a break--I'm about to share my utmost embarrassing moment ever!
Anyway, once upon a time, a very Sassy Mama cooked dinner for her family. It had been a long and strenuous day at church--and this self-sacrificing mother--decided to actually cook a meal instead of saying, "Just eat cereal" (which she had done the previous three nights before--so there was a little guilt there).
On the menu?
Chicken Alfredo--which just so happened to be a
fan favorite in her household.
As Sassy Mama finished alfredoing the chicken, she called her lovely, glorious family to the dinner table.
"Come and eat, my darlings," she sweetly said.
Nothing happened. Nobody came.
Moving closer to the basement, Sassy Mama again said through gritted teeth a little louder "Come and eat!"
Still. Nobody. Came.
After waiting for the appropriate amount of time to pass, okay--so she started yelling before 5 seconds had even passed, she calmly hollered,
"Hansen's! Get your fannies up here and eat before dinner gets cold. NOW!"
The golden child, known only as Auzy, came a running. {This is a child that recognizes when mama means business--as he has been on the business end of that voice many a time in his young life.}
"Where's your dad? Your sisters?" Sassy Mama asked.
"I dunno. Downstairs, I guess," he carefully answered.
"Hmmmph!" Sassy Mama said under her breath. "I cook dinner and this is the thanks I get? A cattle call minus the cattle?"
The martyr made her decision. She decided that enough was enough. It was time to prove a point. No more would dinners grow cold because of the lackadaisical attitude of the punks her family members.
Sassy Mama decided then and there, that she and Auzy would be eating dinner--without those heathens.
She dished up Auzy's dinner--and gave it to him. Then she dished up her dinner. Just before she sat down to the table--Sassy Mama decided to
crack open a cold one. Taking a couple of
swigs of her DC, she
flopped down into her chair--without looking--without
bracing herself for any possible pointy objects.
Sharp pain commenced.
Sassy Mama heard herself
screaming in pain. Ironically--her family members came a runnin' for this
sideshow. {If only she had known, she may have tried this tactic sooner.}
As she jumped to her feet, she saw the elusive culprit. Auzy's soccer trophy.
Pointy, Glittery, Sharp, Painful.
Sassy Mama felt her
behind--and noticed a hole in her
comfy, gnome PJ's. She made a
mad dash to her bedroom as to survey the damage. In the mirror, she saw a two inch, glitter filled
{albeit bloody} gash on her backside.
"Owwwwww!" she shouted.
Her DH tentatively knocked on the door. "Honey, can I come in?" he asked.
Laughing (and possibly crying a little bit), she yelled, "Nooo! This is too humiliating!" She started to add "And painful!" but DH was already unlocking the door with the hidden key. Curse you! Hidden key.
DH surveyed the lay of the land. Namely, Sassy Mama's arse. "Ooh, that looks painful." And that ladies and gentleman is what she loved about her DH--always observant.
"I'll be right back," DH said. "You need Neosporin and a BIG again with the keen observation bandaid."
And so began the hunt for Neosporin and bandaids.
After tearing every drawer and cupboard apart in the bathroom, DH moved onto the kitchen.
Sassy Mama kept shouting directions on where to look next--knowing that if she were able to get up and look herself she would have found 4 tubes of Neosporin and several boxes of bandaids by now.
DH employed the help of his children--and finally found bandaids. But, still no Neosporin!
Sassy Mama decided to intervene--and so she pulled her long t-shirt over her arse and began the hunt for red October the Neosporin. This walk of shame was one her family wouldn't soon forget it actually may involve a little therapy--but what are inheritances for?
But, the Neosporin was nowhere to be found. DH sent Sassy Mama back to her room--and promised he would take care of business.
Minutes later, DH came in and proudly said, "Neosporin is on the way. Jay will be bringing it back in a minute."
"You DID NOT call Petal!" Sassy Mama shrieked. "She will want to know what is going on! Jay will spill her guts! This is a disaster!"
"Calm down. I need to clean your wound," DH answered. "Ooh--why is there glitter in your cut?"
Stinkin' glittery trophy.
DH stated, "You might need stitches."
Sassy Mama replied, "If you think I'm going to take my big...{edited for content as this is a family friendly blog}.
Enter. Daughter with the Neosporin. "Petal wanted to know if everything was okay--and I told her you were a little injured--but other than that you were fine."
Nice. One.
Searching through the first aid kit, DH found the dreaded antiseptic and proceeded with the cleansing.
Sassy Mama's children heard screaming and became nervous. Was she dying? {Possibly of embarrassment, yes}
{Sassy Mama made note of the fact that antiseptic cleansers really do hurt like the dickens when poured onto a gaping wound--and vowed never to do that to her children again. Infection be da**ed}
Soon, Sassy Mama's wound was free of glitter, cleansed, and bandaged.
With all of the family, waiting with baited breath on the couch--wondering if Sassy Mama would ever walk again, she limped out and calmly said, "Let's eat. Before dinner gets cold." She figured her point had been made (and then some).
Morals of the Story:
For the Children: Come to the dinner table when your sassy mama calls you.
For the Sassy Mama: a) When tempted by a glistening can of cold DC, remember to look before you sit. b) Being a trophy wife ain't all its cracked up to be. c) writing in 3rd person is harder than it looks.
For the Dad: Invest in a case of Neosporin and bandages.
So what's your most embarrassing moment? And you'd better share!
