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~
Friday, April 30, 2010
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.
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