Why We Can’t Have Nice Stuff

My boys’ beds are usually a giant mess of blankets, pillows, stuffed animals, technology, and Nerf weapons. They have a beautifully decorated room but all you see when you walked in is what looks like a homeless encampment. When I decorated the room five years ago, I bought tangerine and gray striped comforters to add a pop of color. The boys spent the last five years sleeping in the blankets, puking in them, bleeding on them, and occasionally peeing in them.  They tangerine orange kind of faded into a “past date pumpkin” color. The  vomit and pee washed out easily enough, but the blood turned to brownish blobs that looked very CSI.

I was kind of sick of the gigantic mass of blankets and sheets that were lumped up, squished down, and hanging over the sides of the bed. Not puke-on-the-pretty-comforter kind of sick. More of a disgusted feeling. But the bunk bed railings are as tight on those mattresses as a pair of spanx.  On the rare occasion I felt strong enough to make the beds, it took me 15 minutes each and I ran out of swear words halfway through. I couldn’t ask my boys to make their beds every morning. They don’t know enough swear words.

Then someone mentioned the perfect solution: Beddy’s.* You only have to make the bed once in your life and that’s it! The top blanket and sheet zip onto the fitted sheet part of it. Every morning, you just zip up thetop blanket and voila! One perfectly made bed!

So we splurged. The Beddy’s were expensive, but we can’t have our children sleeping in bloody blankets, can we?

I got Vincenzo’s Beddy on, breathed a calming sigh, felt my chakras settle back into place, and left him with the job of putting his pillow case on. Not five seconds later, not five seconds later, did I hear an, “OW!” I returned to the room to find Vincenzo holding a brand new gray-and-brilliantly-white striped pillow with a splotch of bright red  blood on it. Apparently while he was putting the pillow case on, his hand slipped and hit his brace-filled mouth and he bled on his pillowcase.

With a lot of effort and repressed swearing, I was able to get the blood off.

Maybe, I thought, maybe we’ll pull this off yet. So we went ahead and got one for Rocco.


Rocco slept in it for the first time last night. I went to wake up him this morning, and you know what he said? You know what he said?

“Mom, I’m bleeding!”

I tried not to get mad at Rocco for waking up with a bloody nose. Oh man, it was getting harder to swear. I had repressed a lot in the past few days. I got the vinegar spray and started working away at the blood. Most of it was coming out, but there was this one little stubborn patch that wanted to hang around and I was all oh no, oh no you don’t! So I went for the big guns. I brought out the bathroom cleaner. One little squirt and BOOM!

It was over.

All my dreams of having one nice thing in the boys’ room, one beautiful, pristine, Pinterest-perfect thing—poof, gone.


And now you know why we can’t have nice things. Because my children bleed all over them.

Is it okay to start swearing now?

Going out

I really HATE that there’s an apostrophe there, but look on their sight—this is how they write it the plural

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