Why can’t I be Bruce Wayne?

Okay, so I you read my blog on a regular basis (and I know you do, because it’s just that entertaining) then you know that I love me some superheroes. Marvel, DC, Justice League, Avengers, all of it. I’ve already done a post about which super powers I would like to have.  Now I’m going to do this one about which superheroes the people in my life actually are.  I mean, if you think about it, we all have people in our lives that have traits of certain mutants or aliens.  Like, my sister Birdie and I have mutual acquaintance that would be Rogue because she sucks the life out of everyone.  Like that.

Of course, I would be Batman. Wait–The Destroyer has just informed me that I am not Batman.  He is insane.

“Of course I’m Batman.  I’m fabulous all day and then I lurk around all night fighting dirt and crime.  Mostly dirt. Also, I always wear black.” Not sure if Batman wears black because it’s slimming, but whatever.

“Yeah, but Batman carries out his threats.”

“Not the point, look, I’m trying to type here–”

“You’re actually the Punisher.  You just go around busting up everyone’s fun.”

What?  I thought I was fun, not the fun-buster.

“No, it’s just that being the fun-buster is fun for you. That’s why you smile when you do it.”  (Note:  This is not why.  I just have this weird quirk where I smile when I’m angry.  Don’t ask me why, I wish I looked fierce and scary and intimidating.)

“You shut up and let me be Batman before I punch the air out of your lungs.”

He laughed, said “Punisher” and went to eat all the food out of the refrigerator.

I have previously called the Big Man my own personal Hulk.  But now that I think about it, that’s not quite right.  He has no Bruce Banner side to him;  he always just walks around being huge and intense.  He’s the Juggernaut. Like this:

He does that several times a day.

Wondergirl is Captain America.  She doesn’t make the rules, but she sure will enforce them.  With violence.  Sweet, sweet, justified violence.

The Destroyer.  He’s Beast.  No, he’s not blue, and he’s not even really hairy yet.  But he does run around on all fours (not joking)  and can physically do some pretty amazing crap. He’s also pretty smart when he feels like it.

Kid Sensation.  I almost put Kid Sensation down as Iron Man, because of how good he is with technology. But Iron Man talks too much.  So I gave him Cyborg.  I would ask him what he thinks of that, but he won’t say anything, anyway–he’s on the computer trying to buy something behind my back.  Haha, Kid, there’s no money in that account.  There’s no money in any account.  Joke’s on–well, all of us, I guess.

Birdie is Storm.  She’s usually the voice of reason, until she gets mad.  Then it’s lightening bolts and tornadoes for everyone.

Yay!  Family dinner!
Yay! Family dinner!

Ah yes, Supermom.  No, she is not Superman, she is Darkseid.  I’m dead serious.

What about the folks you know?  Who are you?

Random Surgery Thoughts.

So I had minor surgery this weekend, and one thing I noticed was that I waited around a lot. And when you wait around a lot you get a lot of—wait for it—random thoughts! I kept track of mine, and I think you’ll notice when they started giving me drugs.

Oooh, I like her haircut! At first, you just people watch a lot to pass the time.

Who is this gown for? Because, I mean, how is something simultaneously too big and too small?

Well, my booty out is your problem. I actually said this out loud to the nurse when she told me to go to the bathroom. She tried to be all sweet about it, like “I’ll tie this up so you’re not all exposed”. Nope. Lady, you gave me this booty-out gown, now deal. She actually that this was funny. I was serious.

I’m trying to read, now shut your face. So in ambulatory surgery, you’re separated by curtains. You can hear everything the people around you are saying. Everything. I was nice and polite, reading my book and everything. The lady next to me, however, was not as considerate. She, apparently, was having a colonoscopy, and for some reason needed to recount in detail how her insides were cleaned out. Also, I guess, she decided that instead of staying home near a toilet, she was going to go about her daily activities wearing an adult diaper. No one needs to say Depends that many times in one sentence. No one. She needed to shut her face, is what I’m saying.

Ha ha. Good luck, skinny. Another nurse tells me she’s moving me to the OR, where she’s going to move me from one gurney to the other. She may have weighed 100 pounds. Maybe. Y’all know I stone cold kick it in the 2 Bills club.

Huh. I guess she’s pretty strong. She was strong.

I’m not nervous. You’re nervous. Okay, this is where they gave me something to relax. I admit, I’m not a belligerent drunk, but I am a belligerent high.

Um. You’re burning out my insides, you ninny. The anesthesiologist asks me if I want to be all the way asleep. He didn’t know that I have three kids and this is the only sleep I’ll have gotten since 2002. Also, they’re burning my insides out, so there’s that. Oh, and I would never call anyone a ninny unless I was under the influence. I mean, ninny?

Hey, I’m not dead. After I woke up. Was I expecting to die? I don’t know.

I thought you said this wasn’t going to hurt. Why does this hurt? You said… I never finished this thought. I don’t know if I fell asleep or died for a couple of minutes. I think I fell asleep.

You’ll know him. He’ll be the biggest one in the room. When the doctor asked me if I wanted her to talk to my husband. I never really know if he’s the biggest one in the room, but 98 percent of the time, he is. And he was this time, too.

This guy.  In a hoodie.  And sweatpants.
This guy. In a hoodie. And sweatpants.

Who’s this wheelchair for? It seems they also do whale surgery here, because I my entire family could have fit in the wheelchair they brought for me.

Oh no, he’s gonna die! The male nurse commented on Wondergirl’s hair, and then proceeded to touch it. Fortunately for him, I was too high to form a coherent sentence and the Big Man didn’t see it happen. Otherwise, there would have been nurse-colored smears all over the clinic.

That’s about it, you guys. I am home recuperating and thinking random thoughts in my room. Have you had random procedure thoughts? Please share!

Just plain weekend.

I have to admit, I sometimes feel that everyone is having a better weekend than I am.  So I documented my weekend and realized that they probably are.  But that’s okay, because mine wasn’t half bad. Here it is:

Go to the farmer’s market with your six-year-old. It is so nice to go with someone who doesn’t have any time constraints or an agenda. Kid Sensation was cool to wander with me, sample food, be the only one dancing to the live band, and tip the violinist. Although, apparently balloon animals are okay, but the prospect of getting paint on his face on purpose is terrifying and definitely not okay.

Throw the football with with your twelve year old. Ask him what him and his friends talk about at school. When you suggest boobs, he will emphatically tell you not boobs. Which probably means boobs. You will also find out that his friend, Optimus Prime is a serial dater but that The Destroyer has incredibly high standards for someone who still loses arguments to his six-year-old brother. And who smells like old hummus by the end of the day.

Go boot shopping with your ten-year-old. She will be picky. You will be impatient if you are the Big Man and feel like you should be at home watching football—but you promised. She will hug her Daddy and you will be caught smiling.

Fight with your six-year-old. He will have stayed up late to sneak-watch Frozen, so he won’t be on one, he’ll be on all of them. The final showdown will come at 1 p.m., right as you’ve arrived to your Sunday meeting, where he will melt down as you try to tuck his shirt in in an effort to avoid someone thinking you just brought some random homeless Ewok with you. (He also needs a haircut.) You decide it’s time to go nuclear and call in the Big Man. Kid Sensation is taken out for a few minutes, comes back tearstained and chastened, and instantly falls asleep.

ewok

Have cramps and be cranky and mean.

Eat chips and dip. Feel better. Have a mimosa. Feel even better.

Have your kids make dinner under your direction. Wonder if The Destroyer’s spaghetti is better than yours. No one says it isn’t. Have hurt feelings.

Watch Peyton Manning break Brett Favre’s record. Realize again how cool it is watching history being made with kids.

Pray and be thankful for everything and everyone you have.

They also smell.

I just read an article about if it’s okay to call kids jerks.

Real talk, you guys, I didn’t know people didn’t call kids jerks.

Because kids.  Are.  Jerks.

Now, I’m not suggesting that people call kids jerks out loud to their faces. (Even though I do.  All three of my kids are old enough to know when they’re being jerks.) What I’m saying is that kids do stuff that jerks do. Stuff that would make adults unfriend or unfollow or whatever it is people do these days.

Like:

1.)  Correct your speech.  I hate this. You know why?  It’s not like they’re correcting your grammar or anything–they’re correcting you about crap that is completely irrelevant. Kid Sensation is good for it.  I was talking to Kid Sensation about a dvd we got from the library.  “Make sure you have that Blue’s Clues dvd in the case.”  He says, “You mean, Blue’s room.”  Listen, pal, I don’t give a flying fish stick what it’s called, just make sure it’s in the case so we don’t have to pay for it!  Or the time I told him that something he wanted to do was impossible.  He says, “You mean unpossible”.  No, I didn’t, because I can’t mean something that isn’t a word.  That is jerk stuff, right there.

2.) Question you.  I don’t mean ask questions.  I mean question me–two totally different things. When I give specific instructions, I don’t need to hear “why do I have to do it that way? It’s just as good if I do it the sloppy way I want to do it that is destined to fail”.  I obviously have reasons for telling you how to do something a certain way, or maybe I don’t.  Point is, you live here rent-free and you are wearing clothes that I didn’t steal off a bum as well as horrendously overpriced shoes.  If I want the towels folded into thirds, so be it.

3.) Ignore you.  This is grade-A jerk stuff because you know for a fact that they can hear you.  Kid Sensation is also really good at this.  The other day, I asked him to clean up all his Thomas crap.  Nothing.  So I repeated my request.  He didn’t even turn his head.  I raised my voice a bit (a lot) to make sure he could hear me.  Bupkis. So then I said, almost whispering, “Guess I’m gonna have to eat this ice cream all by myself.”  Guess what?  I get, “Ice cream? What ice cream?”  Uh huh.   “No ice cream, I already ate it by myself. Now pick up your Thomas crap.”  Take that, jerk.

4.)Try to go over your head.  This right here is so infuriating, I can’t even.  When I say no, going to the Big Man to plead your case isn’t going to work.  Odds are, he’s going to tell you to ask your mother, anyway.  Oh and being extra sweet and sitting on his lap won’t work either, Wondergirl.  I’ve tried that.

5.) Ask you the same thing repeatedly.  This is going nuclear in the jerk-being department in my book.  I will, never, ever, ever in this life change the answer to a question just because you ask me 546,687 times.  If I said no then,  I promise I will say no the 546,688th time. I guaran-freaking-tee it.

And then I do this.
And then I do this.

I don’t know.  Like I said, my parenting skills are iffy, at best.  What about those of you that are good parents?  Are your kids jerks?

Random Thoughts Thursday

I decided to treat ya’ll to another visit to the wonderful world inside my head.

Because you enjoyed it so much last time.  YES YOU DID.

“I guess being dead won’t work either.”  I tried not to respond to the kids pleas for some motherly attention and played possum with my eyes closed.  Kid Sensation stone-cold walks over to me, lifts up my right eyelid, and screams “MOM!” right in my face.

“Oooooh!  I have a Honeycrisp in the fridge.  Imma eat that!”  Pretty exciting, if you ask me.

“I guess it’s time to ram the doors with my truck.”  The Destroyer was fifteen minutes late coming out of football practice and the school doors were locked.  I had to figure out a way to save him (and then kill him if nothing serious had happened). Ramming things with my truck is always the solution.

“Do I separate them or let them work it out?”  Trick question–I had no intentions of doing either.  I just parked them in front of a violent cartoon so they’ll both shut up for thirty minutes.  I’m such a good mom.

Because this is EXACTLY the kind of things Wondergirl needs to see.
Because this is EXACTLY the kind of thing Wondergirl needs to see.

“You stay in that corner, spider, and I will stay in this one.  That way we’ll both lead long, happy lives.”  She didn’t listen, though, and I really didn’t want to fight her. I only talk tough.  I went into the other room–no one wants a spider in their afro.

“That was bad.”  I thought that about a lot of things today.  I think that about a lot of things a lot of the time–a solid fifty percent of which are things I have done.

“I am so trifling.”  I was playing Farm Saga instead of cleaning the kitchen.

“Matching socks?  Who cares about having matching socks?  Ebola is real in these streets!…is what I’ll say.”  Have I mentioned that I hate laundry?

“You lose, cat.”  I had a staring contest with the neighbor’s cat through the window.  He thinks he’s better than me.  I showed him.

“If I take two samples of the same item at Costco, is that stealing?”  Now that I think about it, probably not.  Also, I’m a fatty, and everyone expects a fatty to take two samples.  I can’t let them down.

“Those are for douchebags.”  I’m not sure what this was about.  Oh, wait.  It was one of those bikes that goes over your shoulders and you have to run.  I saw one of these in real life.  It was pretty douchetastic.

“How dare you?”  After pretty much everything that comes out of Kid Sensation’s mouth. I mean, he says stuff like “Never mind that” and “You meant to say…”  How dare he?

“Where does he think he’s going?1?”  I thought Kid Sensation was getting into someone else’s car and panicked.  Turns out it was Gustavo, his classmate.  Again, I’m pretty much Mom of the Year over here.

“I know!  A tangerine!”  Trying to think up what to have for snack.

“Buzz all you want, dryer.  Those clothes will stay in there until no one has underwear.”  Not true.  Just until I have no underwear.

“NO!  No more Gerald and Piggie!”  Seriously, no more Gerald and Piggie.

I know I’m not the only one with random thoughts–gimme some of yours.

Wondergirl on Ice.

I decided to spend a little time with Wondergirl the other day, mano y mano.  It’s football season, so most of our time is spent either at The Destroyer’s games, to and from his practices, or watching football on TV.  I figured one of us should pay her at least a little bit of attention, that way her therapist can’t blame us.

So we watched Frozen for the billionth time together.  But this time, instead of faking like I was watching the movie while screaming on the inside, I listened to Wondergirl’s running commentary during the flick.

It was…interesting.

“Why are her parents telling her not to feel anything?  They’re not good parents.” Well, the king’s idea of medical attention was a visit to some trolls, so there’s that.

“So after they’ve messed her up, then they up and die.”  I thought the exact same thing. But they seems to be Disney’s way out with bad parenting a lot of the time.  Cinderella’s dad croaked and left her with this terrible woman he obviously married for money.  But I digress.

“So why did he (Hans) come to the coronation?  If he’s got that many brothers, he can’t be very important.” I know, right?  Elsa should have been insulted.

“If someone was dancing like that at my party, I would make them leave.”  I wouldn’t.  That old man was getting down, and I would have made sure he had plenty to drink purely for entertainment value.  Then when he started getting belligerent (I don’t know, but the Duke of Weselton seems like he’d be a mean drunk) I’d kick him out.

“Why would she announce that she wanted to get married at her sister’s party?  If my sister did that to me, I’d kick her out.”  Wondergirl sure is kicking a lot of people out of a party that isn’t even real.  Oh, and announcing her engagement at someone else’s party is exactly the kind of crap Wondergirl would pull.

Of course, she had to stand up and sing “Let it go.”  She’s still only ten.

“Kristoff looks like he stinks.”  Yeah, he kinda does.

“If she didn’t remember Elsa’s powers, how did she remember Olaf?” I don’t know.  But I know one thing, remembering him from childhood wouldn’t have made him less of a freak show.

And why does he have teeth?
And why does he have teeth?

“So, um does Elsa have a kitchen and a bathroom in there?” You know, Wondergirl, you’re kind of ruining the movie.

“She’s a wreck.” Wondergirl is right on with this one.  Elsa is clearly an emotional wreck.

“Why didn’t she tell them to shut up singing and wasting everyone’s time.  I would have.”  She’s talking about the trolls. We know you would have, Wondergirl.  But on the other hand, she has a point.  If I were Ana, I would have been like, “Yeah, fixer-upper, true love, that’s great and all BUT I’M LITERALLY FREEZING TO DEATH OVER HERE.”

“I would have taken my last bit of strength and strangled him to death.” I almost pointed out that then she would have surely died too, but we have already established that Wondergirl is fine with dying as long as someone goes with her. 

That was pretty much it. I think I need to revisit some of the other Disney movies with her–her take on the Little Mermaid is something I am pretty sure I need in my life.