Captain's Log: There is no date. I gave up on dates other than occasionally remembering pediatric appointments and concert dates. I focus on my theater of war. The trenches are dug deep and to poke my head out of it once in awhile means I may find myself staring in the face of Dean Winters as Mayhem, Lord WTF's very attractive older brother. Yes, it's a family affair with those two now and my house is ground zero.
What has the last year of battle been like? Fantastic. I've won more than I lost, but I've refined the use of swearing to an art form. We've had a few casualties and in honor of their brave service, I'll list them here.
*My makeup. The "puppy" of the house, or affectionately known as my younger son, deep sixed my makeup twice this year and the replacement price tag is not discussed. It's kind of like discussing how much any land war in the Middle East is going to cost when the check is called. We just don't go there.
*The ceiling of the basement and its cousin, the floor in the kitchen and first floor bathroom. The "puppy" stopped up the sink, turned on the water and just let it flow. I've yet to get a straight answer out of the kid for this one, but I will have my revenge. He may be 3 now, but he will be 16 someday. ~evil grin~
*The carpet. This fallen soldier, the horror it has been through. I wake up and play Taps for it. It held out as long as it could, but when you are dealing with minions, sometimes, it's just best to lay there and take it.
*Spices. Yes, spices. The "puppy" thought he was Emeril Lagasse and BAMMED! all over the house. Tumeric. I hate you. Curry? Bite me. And why French Thyme was masacared not once, not twice, but three times? I have no idea other than my son hates the French. Good boy. (humor, kids. It was humor.)
*Copic Markers. They lie in state with a candle lit for each one. The held the rainbow and a small fortune in their beautiful tips. Their blood decorates my walls now and No One knows who did it. I know. Lord WTF went for the gut on that one. There will be blood.
I could go on about a few sentimental Christmas ornaments, geisha hair pins that went missing for weeks, but I won't wallow in self pity for the loss of such things. No. I have a war to win. Soon, the theater will move as the "puppy" hits age four. The attacks will be more subversive, but I'm ready. I used to be a minion, too. I've fought for the otherside and my parents triumphed over Lord WTF, too.
I'm taking it to the matresses this year: me vs "the puppy." Buy your ringside tickets, folks. I'll be the one in the silk shorts made from the American flag with smoke coming out of her ears.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Friday, April 30, 2010
Bloodletting, Heinz style
It had been a blissful morning, filled with the usual tasks of wake up, shower, load dishwasher, load washing machine, empty dryer, make breakfast and get kids running. Simple. Easy. Routine.
That's when you need to be on your guard, folks. Lord WTF is always lurking, making you feel safe. I should have just kept the terrorist level on orange, but no, no. I let it drop to green, not wanting to scare the populace of my house into jumping at shadows or Lite Brights arranged as Moonites.
The two year-old, Lord WTF's greatest follower for he is small, impressionable and well, two, comes downstairs covered in a red substance that looks like blood, holding out his hand with one finger curled under so it is not visible to myself as I'm making a marinade for some kabobs. I scream, baby screams and I think the 4 year-old screamed. 6 year-old said keep it down, she couldn't hear her game on the computer and the 7 year-old vanished. He knows when to get out of the blast range.
I dash to the stairs and snatch the blessed toddler who then either high five's me in the face or does the 'face palm' maneuver and I smell it then. Ketchup. Lord WTF has gone to using my food stores as weapons and psychological warfare on me.
He will rue the day, oh yes. Rue it.
~sighs and trudges upstairs to make a 2 year-old clean up the Picasso tableau on my bedroom door. Medium used? Heinz 57~
That's when you need to be on your guard, folks. Lord WTF is always lurking, making you feel safe. I should have just kept the terrorist level on orange, but no, no. I let it drop to green, not wanting to scare the populace of my house into jumping at shadows or Lite Brights arranged as Moonites.
The two year-old, Lord WTF's greatest follower for he is small, impressionable and well, two, comes downstairs covered in a red substance that looks like blood, holding out his hand with one finger curled under so it is not visible to myself as I'm making a marinade for some kabobs. I scream, baby screams and I think the 4 year-old screamed. 6 year-old said keep it down, she couldn't hear her game on the computer and the 7 year-old vanished. He knows when to get out of the blast range.
I dash to the stairs and snatch the blessed toddler who then either high five's me in the face or does the 'face palm' maneuver and I smell it then. Ketchup. Lord WTF has gone to using my food stores as weapons and psychological warfare on me.
He will rue the day, oh yes. Rue it.
~sighs and trudges upstairs to make a 2 year-old clean up the Picasso tableau on my bedroom door. Medium used? Heinz 57~
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Deity
There comes moments in a mother's life when she starts to realize the personality of her children. It isn't revealed all at once and is subject to change as said children mature and grow with experience, but there are those glimmers that come in an instant that give just a glimmer into what is the basis for who their child is.
Case in point: my youngest is a destructive two-year old that is as cute as the day is long, yet...he tries my patience like no other. He follows all of the toddler rules as if it is a cult of religion. "If it is empty, I must fill it. If it is filled, I must empty it," and so on and so on. Today, my little terrorist decided to spill a bottle of lotion on the floor and by this, I truly mean it was a conscious decision. This was no, oops, I spilled my juice, this was a very thought out action by the little sweetheart.
"Benjamin, for God's sake, stop that!" I yelled, striding across the room to retrieve the bottle he was practically wielding as a weapon.
"I'm not God," he stated, clear as day.
A glimmer.
My son, the honest smart-ass.
Case in point: my youngest is a destructive two-year old that is as cute as the day is long, yet...he tries my patience like no other. He follows all of the toddler rules as if it is a cult of religion. "If it is empty, I must fill it. If it is filled, I must empty it," and so on and so on. Today, my little terrorist decided to spill a bottle of lotion on the floor and by this, I truly mean it was a conscious decision. This was no, oops, I spilled my juice, this was a very thought out action by the little sweetheart.
"Benjamin, for God's sake, stop that!" I yelled, striding across the room to retrieve the bottle he was practically wielding as a weapon.
"I'm not God," he stated, clear as day.
A glimmer.
My son, the honest smart-ass.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
You're not the only one
Planets aligned today. They must have because I was able to steal a couple hours to shop by my happy alone little self and not for just the house, the kids or the hubs. No! This was for me. My mission was clear: replace all the makeup my darling toddler deep sixed in the tub. I had gone without for nearly four months because, well, let's face it. Mom's give up certain luxuries to make sure winter coats can be afforded and there are a few extra Christmas presents under the tree come December 25th. My lip gloss was just going to have to wait.
No more! I was on target today. Striding into Sephora (I went whole hog on this endeavor, believe you me), I went for my favorite brand, filled my little basket up with goodies and bee-lined for the checkout. It was there that I realized how deeply entrenched lord WTF truly is.
"Wow, stocking up?" the woman asked me as I swiped my debit card and keyed in the pin. I could see the total racking up, but this was my Valentine's Day gift. I didn't feel too guilty.
"Replacing what was lost," I responded, waiting for the magic number to appear on the tiny LCD screen.
"Lost? You lost all your makeup?"
"My 2 year-old dumped it all in the tub."
Dead silence.
A chuckle, then laughter.
"Thank God I'm not the only mother in the world with a child like that. All my friends have little ones and they don't do what my son does. He destroys everything. Don't ask what he did with a permanent marker."
I nodded in camaraderie with this fellow soldier, this army of one, perhaps two if her husband was worth his salt. Yes, I knew what it was like to have daily incoming from an innocent looking child; their cherubic face lit up in joy as they discover new color combinations on your wall with markers that WILL NOT WASH OFF SHORT OF SAND BLASTING!
"No, you are not the only one. Hang in their, sweets," I said, giving my best smile and exiting the store. I drove to Target after to do the "Mom" shopping and came across a lovely 1 year-old girl starting to toddle after me in one of the clothing departments.
"Aww, she must like you, Ma'am," her father said, so full of pride and joy in his little fruit of his loins. I could relate. I get the same warm fuzzies when I see my kids, too. She had a pack of Crayola "My First Crayons" in her chubby sticky hands.
"Careful with those, hun, they're loaded," I snickered to the man, bidding him a good day, wondering on which glorious day his precious bundle was going to discover the color Burnt Orange and go to town all over his living room wall.
No more! I was on target today. Striding into Sephora (I went whole hog on this endeavor, believe you me), I went for my favorite brand, filled my little basket up with goodies and bee-lined for the checkout. It was there that I realized how deeply entrenched lord WTF truly is.
"Wow, stocking up?" the woman asked me as I swiped my debit card and keyed in the pin. I could see the total racking up, but this was my Valentine's Day gift. I didn't feel too guilty.
"Replacing what was lost," I responded, waiting for the magic number to appear on the tiny LCD screen.
"Lost? You lost all your makeup?"
"My 2 year-old dumped it all in the tub."
Dead silence.
A chuckle, then laughter.
"Thank God I'm not the only mother in the world with a child like that. All my friends have little ones and they don't do what my son does. He destroys everything. Don't ask what he did with a permanent marker."
I nodded in camaraderie with this fellow soldier, this army of one, perhaps two if her husband was worth his salt. Yes, I knew what it was like to have daily incoming from an innocent looking child; their cherubic face lit up in joy as they discover new color combinations on your wall with markers that WILL NOT WASH OFF SHORT OF SAND BLASTING!
"No, you are not the only one. Hang in their, sweets," I said, giving my best smile and exiting the store. I drove to Target after to do the "Mom" shopping and came across a lovely 1 year-old girl starting to toddle after me in one of the clothing departments.
"Aww, she must like you, Ma'am," her father said, so full of pride and joy in his little fruit of his loins. I could relate. I get the same warm fuzzies when I see my kids, too. She had a pack of Crayola "My First Crayons" in her chubby sticky hands.
"Careful with those, hun, they're loaded," I snickered to the man, bidding him a good day, wondering on which glorious day his precious bundle was going to discover the color Burnt Orange and go to town all over his living room wall.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Haunted Houses
It is often said that kids say the darndest things and this is true. Wisdom can come out of the mouths of babes as well as...well, shining moments like this.
My darling daughter, six in age, came to me two nights ago declaring our house was haunted and we needed to move. I looked over my computer screen to spy the darling in her Strawberry Shortcake nightgown and ruffled hair with a smirk to my face.
"And why do you think the house is haunted, hun?" I asked, preparing to have her sit with me while we sorted out the whole "ghost hunters" experience she was having.
"There is magic in the house," she states solemnly. I stifled a giggle, wondering where the heck the magic was when I needed a mess cleaned up or couldn' t find any of my underwear in my drawers.
"Really?" I prompt, standing slowly to get her some hot cocoa.
"And witch's craps."
I stopped standing.
"Say that again, baby?"
"Witch's Craps, I tell you!"
"Indeed," I reply through tears. "Let's go wake your daddy and tell him about this."
My darling daughter, six in age, came to me two nights ago declaring our house was haunted and we needed to move. I looked over my computer screen to spy the darling in her Strawberry Shortcake nightgown and ruffled hair with a smirk to my face.
"And why do you think the house is haunted, hun?" I asked, preparing to have her sit with me while we sorted out the whole "ghost hunters" experience she was having.
"There is magic in the house," she states solemnly. I stifled a giggle, wondering where the heck the magic was when I needed a mess cleaned up or couldn' t find any of my underwear in my drawers.
"Really?" I prompt, standing slowly to get her some hot cocoa.
"And witch's craps."
I stopped standing.
"Say that again, baby?"
"Witch's Craps, I tell you!"
"Indeed," I reply through tears. "Let's go wake your daddy and tell him about this."
Monday, January 4, 2010
Ambushed
"Mom, Rachel threw up and needs Medicine" ~startles awake in the early AM to the demands of hyper children who obviously have alarm clocks that go off at 3am to be awake this time of day~
"Mom, the baby has the medicine." ~eyes start to drift shut until I hear this one~
"Mom, we don't have enough bags of sugar to make the Kool-Aide." ~thinks 'bags? how many bags does it...wait, what?!~
"Mom, the cookies look burnt, do I give them to the baby?" ~thinks 'I haven't made any cookies in a week, what are they talking about?'~
"Mom, can I have a Mt. Dude? (should be Dew, but...it's Dude to my 7 year-old) ~thinks 'heck no'~
Commotion commences downstairs, then a blood-curdling scream. Lord WTF has laid in wait, ready to ambush me as I sleep off two days of exhaustive house cleaning. New year, same war. Hope everyone's holidays were great.
"Mom, the baby has the medicine." ~eyes start to drift shut until I hear this one~
"Mom, we don't have enough bags of sugar to make the Kool-Aide." ~thinks 'bags? how many bags does it...wait, what?!~
"Mom, the cookies look burnt, do I give them to the baby?" ~thinks 'I haven't made any cookies in a week, what are they talking about?'~
"Mom, can I have a Mt. Dude? (should be Dew, but...it's Dude to my 7 year-old) ~thinks 'heck no'~
Commotion commences downstairs, then a blood-curdling scream. Lord WTF has laid in wait, ready to ambush me as I sleep off two days of exhaustive house cleaning. New year, same war. Hope everyone's holidays were great.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Pointless Question
I'm not dead. Just to prove it, here is a quote heard in my house yesterday.
"Gah! Why is the floor crunchy!?"
~I give a puzzled look to such a pointless question~
"You have kids, now get the vacuum."
"Gah! Why is the floor crunchy!?"
~I give a puzzled look to such a pointless question~
"You have kids, now get the vacuum."
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