Excuses, excuses.

Hey, you guys!  How’ve you been? Good!  Well, enough about you, let’s talk about me.

So the pie thing shockingly well.  I didn’t burn the house down, and the pie was not only edible, it was good.  Take that, um…cooking, I guess?  Anyway, other than that, I haven’t really been up to much.  Unlike everyone else I know.

I mean, so many of the people around me have been running around like chickens with their heads cut off.  (I have never seen that phrase in print before, it’s kind of gross, huh?)   I’ve avoided the pressure because of one thing:  I’m really good at making excuses.  Like, really good.  So good, in fact, that I’m going to share my list with you.

  1.  “I had Taco Bell today.”  This is a good one, because no one will question you after that, for a couple of reasons:  1)  They absolutely DO NOT want to hear what happened after that, and 2) every person in America and probably Germany has a Taco Bell story. (My husband has a Taco Bell legend.)  They already know what’s up.  However, you can only use this one once every few weeks, otherwise people will think you’re either a masochist or just plain stupid
  2. “Not unless you want to help me move.”  It’s surprising how well this one works, considering people don’t generally move that often.  It’s one of those things that people don’t even want to risk walking into.  I personally used this one three weekends in a row a while back, and it worked every.  Single.  Time.  Even though I haven’t moved in eight years.
  3. “I don’t have a babysitter.”  This one has a limited life span, since once your oldest hits the teen years it becomes assumed that you have a built in baby-sitter.  I have the great fortune of having the Destroyer as my oldest, and everyone know that ain’t nobody trying to leave him in a house alone with, well, furniture and dishes and windows and such. However, if your kids fall in the 1-7 age range, you’re golden.  Especially if you have more than two. It also helps if you happen to have the spawn of the Devil himself.  Or if your daughter may be a sociopath.

    sto
    Seriously, no one wanted to baby sit. Ever.
  4. “I’m broke.”  Cause nobody wants to pay for you.  Or maybe it’s just me-no one wants to pay for me.  Not even for the sheer pleasure of my presence.  Just kidding, I have like, three friends, and one of them is married to me and he has no choice but to pay.  I also have no job.
  5. “I don’t feel like it.”  Okay, so be careful with this one. It’s a classic, but keep this in mind:  This one is for the professional lazybones ONLY.  You have to be soooo lazy that you’re not even up to inventing a legitimate excuse.  Or, in my case, so lazy that you probably have a real reason for your inability to do something and you’re not even up to sharing THAT.  Also, the “I don’t feel like it” requires real conviction–you must not be talked into feeling like it.  It doesn’t matter what “it” is, you have already professed your feelings or lack thereof and THAT IS THE END.  FINITO.  The “I don’t feel like it” must be resistant to tears, begging, anger, and bribery.  That’s right, you don’t even feel like taking something you want to do something you don’t.  THAT, my friends, is excusery (not a word? It is now) at it’s finest.

There you go.  You are very welcome, because I have saved you from drudgery and irritation.  Did I miss any?

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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.)

 

 

 

 

 

Strange questions. Or, is Wondergirl a sociopath?

It was a lovely May evening–a perfect 70 degrees outside, breezy with the smell of fresh-cut grass in the air.  The family had decided to eat dinner on the porch, just munching and enjoying a comfortable silence.

And then:

“Mom, what part of  your body bleeds the most?” Wondergirl asked.  I swallowed my bite of steak, trying to buy time and think of what to say. 

“Um, the neck, I think.”  What the heezy?  Where did that come from? Had she just been sitting here thinking about bleeding the whole time? Why the green beans did she need to know that?  While sitting here with her family?  Maybe it doesn’t seem strange to you, but here’s what (I’m pretty sure) the rest of us were thinking about:

The Big Man:  Bills

Me: Why everyone’s clothes got too small all at once and who was going to have to walk around looking homeless for a while.  It will probably be me.

The Destroyer:  WWE 2K14.

The Weirdo:  Thomas the Tank Engine.

You see?  These are the things normal people think about. (Although I wish that the Weirdo would outgrow Thomas already.  He’s six, it’s time to grow up.) My nine-year-old daughter is thinking about bleeding.

I know what you’re thinking.  “Maybe she’ll be a doctor someday,” or something innocent like that.  Maybe, but here’s the thing:  Wondergirl is always saying crap like this.

For instance:   She revealed in a conversation with my sister, Birdie, that she fully expects her death to be avenged by her father, in the event that someone kills her.  She then elaborated that even though she would be dead, it would be okay because the person who killed her would be dead too.  And she would be glad that they were dead because they deserved it for killing her. My Wondergirl says, “But I can’t die because too many people love me and they would be too sad.” 

Birdie later told me, “And then she was silent for about ten minutes.  I stopped for a minute, and was like, ‘Um, what are you thinking about?'”

Or:  While watching the Simpsons, Moe was threatening to jump of a building and no one cared.  That was the joke.  Wondergirl says, “If I saw someone who wanted to jump off a building, I would push them.” And that was all she said. No explanations.  I thought maybe she was joking; our family has a pretty dark sense of humor.  But she just got up, made herself a snack and went to her room, leaving The Big Man and me in mute shock. The Destroyer sat up, stretched, and said, “That’s about right.”  The Weirdo kept playing trains.  He doesn’t talk much.

I don’t know.  Wondergirl likes animals, so we haven’t found any random dead or tortured cats.  She can be the sweetest thing in the world at times.  She loves to help me when she feels like it. She has stopped scratching up her brothers’ faces.  (For about five years, it looked like Wolverine lived at our house.  I threatened, punished and threatened some more, but in the end it just took one good shove from The Destroyer and she cut that mess right out.)

Image
Monster.

But.

I have seen her smack one brother in the head, elbow the other, and then skip away in her pink tutu, ponytail a-swishing. Like some straight up violence didn’t just go down.

I tried to talk to her about bullying at school.  She cut me off mid sentence, (because I was apparently wasting her time with this nonsense) looked me dead in the eye, pointed her little thumb at her chest and said, “Nobody bullies ME.” And that was the end of that conversation.

Wondergirl, my cute sweet baby girl said to her brother, “Weirdo, don’t come in my room.  There is nothing but pain for you in here.”

Yesterday she asked me a follow-up question, “So, if you neck bleeds the most, do you have to cut it or just poke it?”

Whaaa? The boys are getting locks on their doors. 

It’s not all bad.  I’m sure if Wondergirl ever got kidnapped, she’d be home within hours, filling up a deep hole in the backyard and telling me, “You didn’t see nothin.”

Sure didn’t.