Kid Sensation: Living dangerously

Hey, you guys!  I’m sitting procrastinating because I’m supposed to go bake a pie and I have NEVER baked a pie.  The only reason I’m doing this is because my husband happened to mention that he had never had sweet potato pie.  My initial reaction was, “Of course not.  You’ve always had pecan because you’re melanin deficient. ”  Ignorant, I know.  But since I live where I live, most of the white families I’ve met do pecan, most of the Black families, sweet potato.  Tomato, tomahto.

But then two things happened.  One, I realized that, blonde though my hubby may be, he’s been married to a Black woman with a Black family for almost twelve years.  Two, my son also said he never had tasted said pie.  Conclusion:  I am a failure.

So I wildly overreacted which ended with a declaration that I’m going to make this pie.  I’m sure hilarity will ensue that I will be compelled to tell ya’ll about later.

Anyhoo, I don’t know why I decided to spill those particular beans.  I meant to tell you about how Kid Sensation cheated death.  And, no not at the hands of Wondergirl.  No.  This time he took on the Big Man.

So we’ve all been cooped up here for the last few couple days together.  Kid Sensation has been in front of a screen for the entire time.  Like, only stopping for meals and potty breaks.  Which would be fine if he was in college or building an online empire.  However, he’s just looking up cartoon theme songs and offbeat British animation.  (I don’t know.)

I know, I know–we’re terrible parents.  I’m not gonna front though.  It beats listening to him and Wondergirl fighting non-freaking-stop. I mean, it’s like living with Captain America and, well, Wondergirl.   The other night, I didn’t hear anything for like, ten minutes and I was all, “Finally.”  But then I realized that it was ten p.m. and they had just fallen asleep. Mid-fight.

ddbw
All day, every day.

 

Yesterday, the Big Man figured that ol’ K.S. needed to get some fresh air.  We live in the Pacific Northwest and it’s not raining. AKA:  Get your butt outside.

Kid Sensation ignores the first missive, choosing the dangerous path of ignoring his dad.  But this, you guys, this is not where things went left.

The Big Man repeats himself.  He hates repeating himself even more than I do.  Still, not in quite in Fatality country–just cruising the border.  Not until Kid Sensation says, and I quote:  “Okay, Okay.  Be calm.”

I know you know what I’m talking about here.  When you have repeatedly issued an order to your child and they want to act like you’re crazy and that your craziness isn’t their fault, it’s maddening.  No, maddening isn’t right.  It’s infuriating.

The Big Man turns beet-red.  I know this description is overused, but he really was the exact shade of supermarket beets. All I heard was, “GET IN HERE!  NOW!”  It was so loud that at first I thought the Apocalypse had begun and I was going to be called into account for my bogus pie claims.

I immediately remove myself  from the room.  I am not trying to give eyewitness testimony.  I remove myself from the room, and immediately begin fabricating plausible reasons for Kid Sensation’s disappearance. “Okay, we’re poor, so boarding school is out.  Living with Grandma?  No, she lives half a mile from here.  Think, Vida, think!”

Next thing I know, I’m witnessing the single most tearful shoe putting on ever.  He even managed to have one lonely tear stop mid-cheek on both sides of his face. It was so, so, pitiful, you guys.  But he brought it on himself.

I still don’t know which particular boom was lowered that day.  I’m a coward, so I’m afraid to ask.  I’m just glad Kid Sensation is alive and well. And fighting with Wondergirl as we speak.

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There she goes again.

I know, I know, another Wondergirl post.  But you have to admit, she’s pretty entertaining.  I’ll even throw in some bonus Kid Sensation and The Destroyer.

Actual conversation on their way to school:

Big Man:  Wondergirl, are you supposed to be chewing gum?

WG: (Smack, Smack) Nope.

Big Man:  Aren’t you going to get in trouble?

WG:   Probably. (Smack). It doesn’t matter, Principal Conners is soft.

Soft?!?!? SOFT?!?  How are you ten and calling someone soft like you’re The Rock?  Like, I’m fully expecting her to continue that statement with, “You wanna cross the Wondergirl? Well, the Wondergirl says this…”

The week she was on steroids and became a ten-year-old rage monster (I told you guys it was going to be great):

Kid Sensation was flying his paper airplane in her vicinity.  Yeah, I know.  I’m not sure how he thought it wasn’t going to end badly, or if he was willing to risk it unaware of just how badly it was going to end.  This is how–and you guys, just, you guys.  Wondergirl, who was curled up in the recliner trying to suck her thumb despite her swollen face, was trying to watch TV.  Besides the steroids, she was also going through thumb withdrawal.  No bueno.  So then Kid Sensation comes through with this airplane. Wondergirl is tracking the plane with her eyes.  It passes in front of her face twice.  Somehow the barometric pressure in the room drops, so I know it’s about to go down.  Third time–and I swear on my Batman T-Shirt–her feet shoot from underneath her and she grabs the airplane out of the air with one hand simultaneously.  She crushes  poor Kid Sensation’s airplane while staring him down, then balls the airplane up and slams it into the garbage.  Then she went back to the chair, curled back up, and continued her attempt to suck her thumb.  It happened so fast, if the Big Man hadn’t asked me if I had just seen what he did, I would have thought I imagined it.

You guys, I'm pretty sure this is what happened.
You guys, I’m pretty sure this is what happened.

She blew  up at The Destroyer so hard you guys he just put his hands up and walked away.  He was trying to tell her that dinner was ready.

Wondergirl was in her room ranting for no reason.  Well, maybe there was a reason, but I was scared so I didn’t go in. Or even knock. There might be a body in there, but all I smell is Bath and Body Works Sweet Pea lotion so I think I’ll leave it alone for now.

Oh, and Kid Sensation tried to get himself killed.  The other day he threw himself face down on the couch, then lifts his head, coughs, and says, “Oh, I think it’s Dad’s bottom.”  He then lowered himself down to floor and immediately put his own head down.  He already knew.

Oh, oh, and I have to take timeout to be that parent who brags about something her kid did like other people really care and aren’t just politely nodding and thinking about how to escape.

So the Destroyer runs track, and he ain’t half bad.  He runs the 400 and the 4 x 100, and he throws discus.  So last week, he’s running the third leg of the 4 x 100 and his teammate steps on his shoe during the handoff.  The Destroyer trips, falls, and his shoe comes off.  He rolls over, pops up, and finishes his leg and handoff. WITH. ONE. SHOE.  I thought that was kinda cool.

Anyway, how have you guys been?

I have a feeling…

So I have all kinds of weird quirks. But you already know this, because you’re a faithful reader of this blog. Well, you could at least fake it. That’s better.

Anyway, back to my weird quirks. One of them is that certain things make random parts of my body feel weird. Like touching velvet makes my teeth hurt. I don’t know why. Here are some more. Fascinating, I know.

Random fake hair. I used to see this a lot when I worked downtown, usually on Monday morning. People get in fights over the weekend and sometimes weave gets snatched out. I understand why it happens, but it still makes me feel funny.

Body part that feels funny: Stomach.

The guy down the street who brings his parrots out for a walk. I know parrots are supposed to be great pets and good company. Maybe his parrots need fresh air, I don’t know how parrot parenting (say that five times fast) works. But when you drive down the street and you see some parrots stone-cold chilling in the cut, it looks weird. Also, his windows are covered with aluminum foil.

Body part that feels funny: Eyes.

Peach fuzz. Peach fuzz feels funky. I can eat a peach that has been sliced and skinned, but I can’t take a bite out of a peach. I also like peaches in Bellini form.

Body part that feels funny: Tongue.

The Destroyer’s bedroom. Okay, so I’m totally a slacker mom when it comes to making my kids clean their rooms. Also, if I made them do it, then I’d have to clean my room, and I’m not really feeling that. But his room tends to be way gross. WAY. The times that I have to go in there and get stuff I have to put on shoes and a jacket (my homemade HAZMAT suit). It perpetually smells like Takis and boogers.

This is what ordinary humans who try to go in there become.  I have been exposed for years, so I'm immune.
This is what ordinary humans who try to go in there become. I have been exposed for years, so I’m immune.

A few months ago I ventured in there to get a towel for laundry and I thought I saw something move in the corner, but I’m not sure because I just screamed and ran out. I believe the towel is still there.

Body part that feels funny: Feet.

Tiny shorts in the little girls section. So I’m shopping with Wondergirl and we’re looking for stuff to transition to spring—t shirts, capris, etc. She holds up a pair of shorts and I told her that I only buy her underwear in packs. She laughed at me and said, “No, mom, I need shorts.” I told her she had better go find some then. “I like these shorts.” My brain still wasn’t making the connection between what was in her hands and shorts. My understanding was that shorts were garments that were meant to be worn outdoors. Apparently, my version of shorts is prehistoric. So Wondergirl doesn’t have any shorts.

Body part that feels funny: Chest. Head. Gut.

I don’t know. Am I the only one that gets these? Please share. Except for you, Big Man. I’d rather you didn’t.

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?

Tuesday Musings

So I was kinda bored today and I decided to keep track of my random thoughts.  Although, upon reading them back to myself, this may be a horrible idea.  Dah well, I got nothing else going on. Keep in mind this is the stuff that doesn’t make it out of my mouth–which isn’t much.  Enjoy:

I hate Adam Levine.  There, I said it.

They’re all gonna pay. ( I have no idea what this was about.)

I should fill up the kids pool, play in it, and let all the water out before they get home.  They won’t be able to prove a thing.

You know what, I didn’t make this mess, and I refuse to clean it up.

I am having a really good butt day.  (Twerks in the mirror.)

We should make dinner together tonight.  The kids will like that.

I JUST washed a bunch of his socks.  Where the green beans did they go?

At first I thought this was kinda funny.  Now I find the idea of sentient hobo socks a bit terrifying.
At first I thought this was kinda funny. Now I find the idea of sentient hobo socks a bit terrifying.

Oh wow! Viola Davis looks amazing.  (She’s on the cover of Essence.)

Somebody shut that dog up. (It was our dog.)

I should really vacuum now.  Or maybe in a few minutes. 

(Looking at the neighbor) Where is she going–zomygod I forgot about the kids!

JAYSUS that’s an ugly dog. I mean, GOOD LORD somebody get that thing off the streets.

I’m raising a genius! (About the Destroyer.)

I’m raising an idiot! (Again, about The Destroyer)

Can you not tell from my one-word answers that I don’t want to talk right now?

NOW who’s screaming?

I am surrounded by idi–oh wait, that was my bad. 

Kid Sensation is making weird noises in the other room.  Best not to get involved.

What are you lookin at? (To the dog.  He then comes and licks my face.  He knows I can’t stand him; yet he refuses to care.)

I am ash-shee. (But the lotion is upstairs. The olive oil is down here though…)

Did both knees just crack when I stood up?

Taraji P. Henson irritates me.  Oh no, will they let me stay Black?

What is Kid Sensation running from?  Best not to get involved.

Why should I be the one to drive away and never come back? They should be the ones to go! (I don’t really think this.  Most of the time.)

Why am I poor?  (Looking at boots for fall.)

Oh yeah, Big Man?  Well If I was like my mother, my house would be clean.

I heard a crash and a lot of shushing and whispered apologies.  I should stay out of it.

This was all by four p.m.  You guys, I may need to see a professional.

 

 

Idle threats.

So I admit, I believe in spanking. It happens very seldom, though, reserved for things like running in the parking lot or telling me I’m fat. I do love an idle threat, though. I am forever threatening my kids with the beating of their lives that they know will never happen. They laugh at me. Hysterically. Well, all except Kid Sensation; he ignores me 75% of the time. I have actually gotten pretty creative with my threats.

Some of my greatest hits (ßsee what I did there? I’m funny) include:

“Do it again and I’ll slap your hair straight!”

“You’re going to make me feel like messing you up!”

“Hey, you, let’s fight. Them’s fightin’ words.” (Courtesy of the Simpsons.)

“If I have to get up from here, everyone’s gonna get it!”

“Do you want it from my slappin’ hand or my other slappin’ hand?”

“You must want to wear handprints.”

“Oh, since you said that, I take it you’re ready to rumble.”

“If I wasn’t over here, I’d ruin you.”

“Come over here so I can ruin you.”

“Say it again so I can slap the words out of your mouth.”

“Oh, yeah, come over here and say that while I step on your foot.” (This one sent Wondergirl into a fit of the giggles. My feelings were slightly hurt.)

“Mom SMASH!”

“It’s clobberin’ time!” (Then I had to explain to them what it meant to clobber someone and it took all the fun out of it.)

Like this, except with an amazing afro.
Like this, except with an amazing afro.

“What time is it? Time to kick some 12-year-old-butt, that’s what time it is!”

“You talkin’ to me? Boy, I’ll Jackie Chan you!” (Interchangeable with Chuck Norris and JCVD.)

“You wanna talk crazy to the Mom? Well, the Mom says this….” (This actually scared them a little, as they weren’t familiar with the Rock’s lingo and I was speaking of myself in the third person.)

“Don’t make me….” (This sentence ends in a variety of ways.)

“I’ll slap you over to Grandma’s house.” (She’d just make me come pick them up, and everyone knows I don’t feel like doing that.)

“You like CDs? Well see these fists!” (Actually, that one didn’t work because they don’t like CDs, only mp3’s and “mp3 these fists” makes no sense.)

They know it’s all in good fun, my actual punishments are quite sadistic. Like the time I made The Destroyer and Wondergirl clean each other’s room for fighting. For a week. Or when The Destroyer had to be Wondergirl’s servant for three hours after he said something mean to her—she absolutely relished it and contrived some of the most menial tasks possible, like fanning her nails dry. It was awesome, and it worked.

But they still enjoy my threats of bodily harm. They might be as off as their mother.

Do you randomly threaten? Or are you a good parent? (If you are, you can’t sit with us.)

 

 

 

 

 

Is it because they’re cute?

I often watch my kids and their interactions in amazement. You know how they say “kids are cruel”? I think it’s because kids under a certain age are brutally honest. The other day I had the privilege to observe Kid Sensation and his peers at the new library play area. I have to say, not only are kids dead honest, other kids handle this honesty quite well.

I saw a little boy who was contentedly playing alone with some blocks. Another boy came to join in the block fun. The first boy stares at the other kid, sighs heavily and gets up to go somewhere else. Now, a stare, a sigh, and bodily self-removal only mean one thing: I don’t really want you anywhere near me, but since I can’t ask you to leave, I’ll go instead. To me, this is even ruder (ruder? Is that a word? Well, there’s no squiggly red line, so I guess it is) than being asked to leave. This is basically being told that you stink. As a grown woman, I would fight someone who did this to me—they obviously just told the world that I stink. I feel very strongly about that because I don’t stink. The kid who must have stunk didn’t seem to take this too badly, though.

I saw a little girl horde baby dolls. I mean, chickie-poo wasn’t letting anyone touch the babies because everyone else had germs. Those were her words. “Don’t touch the babies cause you have germs.” The funny thing is, I am pretty sure I know who this girls turns out to be. She’s the mom that begs for playdate that turn out to be absolutely zero fun because no one can get dusty or touch anything. Notice I didn’t even say dirty. The girl managed to remain un-beat-up, and other little girls kept approaching her. It probably won’t be until middle school that people start to avoid her like the plague.

My kid, my innocent darling Kid Sensation, shooed another child. Like, he said the word, “Shoo!” to someone else. I swear to god, if another adult, (besides my mama and Grandma of course) said shoo to me, I would lose it. Shoo? SHOO? Like I’m some sort of fly with poop-covered feet? No dice. However, Kid Sensation remained unscathed. 

Well, maybe if I was this fly.
Well, maybe if I was this fly.

One little girl told another girl that her hair was ugly. The other little girl shrugged and moved on with her life. This is not something I would have been physically capable of. If another grown woman had decided to straight up tell me that my hair was ugly without the usual dancing around the subject (you know, the “ Ooooohhh, you got your hair cut. It’s, um, different.” Or, “that color? Humph. Well if you like it…) there would have been no further words exchanged. It would be all “Eyewitness reports say that the suspect, Vida, somehow turned into a wolverine and ripped the offender to shreds. Reports say that the suspect keeps muttering the phrase, ‘They told me Tuscan Honey would look good on me. They told me Tuscan Honey would look good on me’”.

When do we lose the capability to be so honest and accept such honesty in return? Are kids better people than adults? Maybe. But they don’t pay bills or have jobs or do laundry, so maybe not.