Monday, 25 February 2013

They're my Undies and I'll Flash if I Want To

How to NOT get a Discount

It was a dark and stormy night...NOT. Okay, honestly it was a sunshiney day filled with potential - until the water wasn't draining out of the tub while I was having my shower. Not a good sign.
I was having a good panic (can you call a panic good? I'll have to look that one up...), BUT then the water went down and like any good procrastinator I chose to IGNORE IT. Good call (feel free to read the sarcasm here).
When that no longer existed in my mind, I did some laundry (because I'm awesome) and that was when it happened... STUFF started to burble up out of the tub like in a horror movie. I was freaking out! What WAS this stuff? Was it shit? YUCK!
So I had to lean in and check it out (gross and BADASS - and you're kind of glad you don't know me in an "I can smell you" kind of way, yes?). Well, relax - not shit. It was LINT. And it was NOT going away.
So I plunged and plunged and plunged that motherfucker - and it STILL would NOT drain. CRAP!
Then, the unthinkable happened (but only if you're like me and have NO IDEA about plumbing), the toilet filled up.
This was the day from Hell.
I ran to THAT hole and plunged and plunged that motherfucker, too - but my wussy plunger kept going INSIDE OUT, so I was making NO progress whatsoever. I'd say shit, but thank God, there was none of that.
The toilet overflowed, just missing the catbox and I go storming off to the hardware store for a new ("heavy duty") plunger and some Liquid Plumber. I'm cranky and on a mission.
I get back to my disaster and pour the chemical on each drain and plunge and plunge away to no avail. My NEW plunger keeps going inside out  ("heavy duty" my ass!) - so I keep having to fix it. The chemical is BURNING my hands. Now I'm saying shit anyway - even if there isn't any.
My youngest son is walking around in rubber boots and bright yellow rubber gloves in case the germs are sneaking around the house waiting to get him.
So I give up... We call a real plumber.
Before they arrive I clean up the bathroom making sure all the laundry is taken care of and nothing embarrassing is lying around. I tidy up the basement so they don't know how messy we really are (because I'm sure the guy dealing with the shit in the pipes REALLY cares).
The real plumbers arrive to snake out some giant pipe in our furnace room and they are the friendliest two guys you'd ever meet. They set up their equipment, do their grindy thingy in the pipe (that's the technical term by the way - grindy thingy, write that down) and make a million trips back and forth to the bathroom to make sure it is working.
The plumbers are SO SMILEY through this all. Really, I'm amazed at the perkiness involved in a roto-rooter type job...
When they are finished, I'm cleaning the bathroom (from the grossness of our overflows) and what do I see hanging in all it's glory?
The ONE thing I didn't see to put away... A nice, fancy, hot-pink bra hanging at eye-height.
Oh. My. God. No wonder they were so friendly.
Too bad it didn't get us a discount... Maybe I need better undies.

Modesty at it's Finest

"Boy K, you're pretty lucky to have a brother like me," Reece informs his brother after handing him a glass of water at the supper table.
It's so nice to know that self-esteem is NOT an issue at our house.
The response from the lucky brother?
"Hey, Tasha's pretty cool!"
This was what AMAZING feats the cool dog was up to:
I suppose self-esteem might be an issue sooner or later.

How a Holiday is Born

I make my son's breakfast this morning. It's peanut butter toast, banana slices and a glass of milk. Since it's our week off school I figure why not have a picnic breakfast in our livingroom downstairs with cartoons?
I call the boys to the top of the stairs to play waiter and grab their plates.
"Oh, yay! Breakfast downstairs K!," Reece calls over his shoulder on the stairwell.
I hand Reece his incredibly fancy breakfast, "Oh WOW! Thanks Mom!"
"You are SO welcome!" Man, I love kids - so sweet (and not to mention easily impressed).
"Woo hoo!," squeals Kaelan, "Happy Breakfast Downstairs Day!"

Show me Your GRRR Face!

Kaelan and Reece are playing Rayman Origins on the PS3 and it's getting pretty intense. The pushy-shovey starts, so I call a halt to the festivities.
"Okay guys, time for a break from the game."
This was not a popular call and as with all sports, everyone hates the referee.
"I guess we're grounded," Kaelan mutters grumpily as he gets up and stalks to his room.
He shuts his door, opens it - sticks his head out and yells:
"Come back with my heart or don't come back at all!"

Tuesday, 19 February 2013

Be My Valentine

The Big VD

Happy Valentine's Day motherfuckers...
Yeah, I probably could've faked something a little more sparkly there. I'll try again. How about:
Happy Valentine's Day: Where you send out all the love you have in great big VD cards to those you love and care about... And to those you don't - you wish you could send a giant VD (of an entirely DIFFERENT sort). But FedEx doesn't handle that (APPARENTLY).
ANYWAYS... How does the single Mom spend her Valentine's?
Kaelan, Reece and I went down the class lists and filled out a bazillion little Valentine cards with the cute sayings on them (Be Mine!). These had tribal decorations on them (TOTALLY Valentine-y, right?). They also came with little tattoos to give to each child (because nothing says I Love You like a tribal tat... The other moms will be SO envious, or whatever that word is that means I-want-to-rip-your-hair-out).
"These trial tattoo symbols mean love, right Mom?" asks Reece.
"Ummm, I'm pretty sure they didn't have Valentine's Day over there way back then...and lots of these are just to look nice, sweetie."
Trial symbols, ha!
The night before, which after the how-long-until-Valentine's-athon was ALMOST referred to as Valentine's Eve (but I narrowly escaped THAT by biting my tongue off and avoiding having another holiday for the REST OF MY LIFE), my boys and I made "Valentime's" for Grandma and Daddy. And they were AWESOME (not that I'm biased or anything).
On Valentine's Day morning my son's dressed in red and pink (for Red and Pink Day at school...not to make people nauseous). Then I painted hearts on their cheeks to make them that extra bit SUPER lovey.
After duding ourselves out, Kaelan wrapped up fun time playing a round of Go Fish with our pug. (Oh yes, you read that CORRECTLY...and the pug won.)
School parties were a big hit and my son's came home with massive amounts of Valentine's...but no girlfriends. I was in the BIG DOO DOO for even asking:
We had pizza party night and movies with snuggly lovies.
Grandma and Daddy LOVED their cards and candy (told ya - AWESOME cards). We totally loved our Valentine's from them, too!
We all had an absolutely fantastic Valentine's Day!
I admit, pre-Valentine's I started out...depressed? Devastated? So friggin' sad? A holiday based on love forces you to look at certain parts of your life and I try damn hard not to, I am so shattered. I thought of Valentine's gone by and I cried... But then I realized something.
I have SO much. And this is not about me. This is about the love of two amazing little miracles and making fun memories RIGHT NOW.
So, THIS is how the single Mom spends her Valentine's Day. With the greatest loves of her life.
Best. Decision. Ever.

Monday, 11 February 2013

Sometimes you just get boned...and it's hilarious

Thank God
You Aren't Really what You EAT

Sunday the weather was freaking BEAUTIFUL, so we decided to have a barbecue in the backyard.
My son's Dad picked up smokies, chicken and ribs - yummm! It was a big hit with everyone, Kaelan especially loved the ribs.
"Look! I eated the bone," he tells us with pride - as he crunches on the end some more.
"That is fantastic!"
He was SO thrilled with his ribs, he decided to draw some when he was done his dinner. He comes up to me with this picture:
"Look! Look!"
I start to choke... "What's that?" I ask. (To be honest here, this was one of THOSE MOMENTS where I wasn't sure if I should ask - but I was SO glad I did.)
"It's Daddy's rib!"
Oh, I canNOT wait to share... (I know, I'm going to Hell.)
I take the board and walk (or gleefully dance - which is what I was doing in my head) to the kitchen, tap Daddy on the shoulder and show him the pièce de résistance.
"What is that?" he asks with (understandable) concern.
"It's your rib bone!" I answer (with the BIGGEST smile EVER).
"Oooh, that's not my rib."
"Sure it is!"
"Nooo... That must be your bone."
"Oh no, you're made from Adam's rib..." (Okay - that's a stretch - plus it probably didn't have barbecue sauce, but that was most likely an oversight.)
"That's EVE."
"Kaelan said it's DADDY'S rib. *Snicker.* Daddy's rib looks like a big wiener."
"Oh my God."

Fairies Everywhere
(where's my repellent?)

"Hey Mom, you know the Fingernail Fairy?" my oldest son asks me at the dinner table.
We know how to make classy dinner feel free to invite us.
"No." (Mostly because I didn't feel like losing my dinner.)
This was, however, NOT going away.
"You know, the Fingernail Fairy. You put your fingernails under your pillow and the Fingernail Fairy leaves you a big rock of gold!"
...Note to self: Check under the pillows and wash bedding asap.
"Don't say no!"
"And quit picking your nose."
Speaking of big rocks of gold...double yuck.

Friday, 8 February 2013

If I'm never leaving, get me some wine and padded walls please...

Not Everyone Loves the Benylin...

Due to non-stop coughing, we had to do a medicinal upgrade. It was not what you would call popular.
"I hate that medicine. It makes my uvula barfs," Kaelan tells me.
"Your uvula?" I ask.
This surprised me - not the barfy part, more that the Dairy Queen commercial had made this much of an impact ("Uuuuvula!").
Seeing my surprise, Reece informs me with pride "I've seen my uvula." 
"No!" I gasp.
"I looked in the back of my throat to see what was making me cough and there was this drippy thing hanging down. Do you know what it was?"
"An alien?"
"My uvula," he explains - VERY seriously.
"Mom, there's no such thing as aliens," Kaelan puts out there.
"How do you know?" I ask.
They both give me "the look" - the one that says we do, for crying out loud we have to fill you in about UVULA'S!

Maybe I Need my own Secretary...
or Stop Having Mental Breakdowns...
or Take a Frickin' Pill Already...
(call it what you want, I need a break)

So, both my sons are (are you ready for a giant surprise?): Freaking. Sick. Again.
I dial the FIRST school to let them know Reece won't be at school today and the secretary picks up, "Good morning!"
And it hits me - after a month of the rotating sick through the house I am just tired of making this SAME friggin' call, EVERY friggin' day. (Admittedly this is poor timing for an epiphany.)
I just heave a sigh into the phone...
"Hello?" she says.
Shit! "Hi, it's me - again... Terry."
She laughs, "Hi, Me Again! Oooh, is someone not coming?"
"Reece is sick, again. He has a bad cough, so he won't be there today," I explain.
"Oh dear, I thought I heard him yesterday. Wasn't he just  away sick last week?" she asks, innocently.
"They're all sick! It's been FOREVER! It's NEVER GOING TO END!" (I realize I'm losing it, but seriously - it's getting to be a bit much.)
"I hear it can last fourtosixweeks," she tells me. This number comes out very fast (it could be she suddenly became a FAST TALKER - or possibly it was nerves from talking to a housebound parent becoming unstable, you be the judge).
"46 WEEKS?!" I scream into the receiver, "Oh my God, I'm already on week THIRTY!!!"
"No, no - four to six weeks," she repeats slowly, trying to reassure me (they must take a course "Talking Down Hysterical Parents for Dummies" - very popular with the school crowd). "So you see? You're almost there."
"Oh. My. God. I don't think I can take this anymore."
"Hopefully we'll see him on Monday."
Was this the end? OH NO! Then I had to call the NEXT bloody school while I was all 46-week-distraught.
"Good morning!"
Really? I am NOT having a good morning - but the good-mommy-handbook says you don't blast the secretary with that statement... It probably says you don't scream at them either. (I'm just guessing here... I never actually read it.)
"This is Kaelan's Mom and he is still sick," I tell her.
"Oh, still?" she says sympathetically.
And the grip I had begins to slip - slightly (and by slightly - I mean I COMPLETELY lost my mind...yet again).
"YES! STILL! It's never going to stop! It revolves through our house in a never ending germ swirl. I'm hanging a white flag on our front door so NOBODY comes near. By the time I ever get out of here I will squint up at the sky and say what the hell is that shiny ball up there?"
And that was probably too much information.
"Sounds like you have cabin fever," she says.
I have something alright.

I Didn't Need that Heart Anyway

I hate bugs. Hate is not a strong enough word. Uuber hate? Uuber fucking hate... They creep me out and scare the ever loving crap out of me.
What's worse? Bugs waiting to kill you when you've come out of the shower and you are VULNERABLE in your towel! I walk into my room and step over the "creature of doom" unknowingly giving it the view of a lifetime and scare the shit out of myself!
After screaming and OF COURSE I can't stomp the motherfucker, because - hey, BARE FEET right? I realize this bug looks a little mutanty...
I suck it up like a badass and lean in like a pro (and hope I've suddenly developed ninja grace if this thing can jump).
And - fuck...I've been scared shitless by killer string.

Monday, 4 February 2013

Never Look at Peanut Butter the Same

The End is Now

Stock up on your bottled water, y'all, because the end IS upon us...stupid germs.
The Zombie Flu Prophecy has come to pass and I, Zombie Mary, have spread.
As Karma would have it (Bitch that she is), the one that laughed at me (ahem, my brother - aka the prophet) was infected. I won't laugh (it'll make me cough and he's threatened to take me out).
Our entire house was taken down. It spreads like wildfire!
My Mom is among the fallen. I suggested she go to the doctor - as she sounds terrible.
"I don't need to go to the doctor." (Does this sound familiar?)
"Are you afraid they'll give you the Q-tip up the nose?" I ask, referring to the Whooping Cough test she made ME go for.
"You're never going to get over that, are you?" she grumps.
"NEVER!" I shriek. SOME orifices are NOT meant to be violated by others. It's a trauma.
...And still I lost - she's not going. She went for a nap instead.

If it Walks Like a's My Son

"Reece, why are you walking like a duck?" I ask.
My son is stiff-legged, rocking side-to-side, slooowly making progress towards the dinner table.
"Are you...farting?" I ask quietly. (Because - hey - you never know.)
"NO! My back legs hurt," he replies indignantly.
"Your...back legs."
"Yes! I mean back here," he explains as he grabs the back of his knees.

Blast Off

We're getting ready to leave my children's Dad's house and my boys are standing by the front door. I am across the house in the dining room, gathering stuff up.
THIS is when I hear the biggest gaseous explosion EVER. It literally vibrated. Fraaaaap!
"Ugh! UGH! K!!! ... Oh my God!" yells Reece.
... Sniff - sniff.
"Wait, do I smell peanut butter?" asks Reece.
I don't think I'll be eating peanut butter for awhile.


Damn Angry Villagers

Reece asks me "Why is Frankenstein so afraid of fire?"
"Well, the villagers tried to burn him out of the castle where the scientist made him."
"That's just rude."
"They were pretty scared," I try to explain.
"Why? Just cause he's got stitches?" he asks, getting all angry.
"Well, he WAS made up of pieces of dead people."
"So you can't just go dig up dead people and cut them up?" he asks.
"Actually, no."
"Well, that's no reason to burn him out of his house! It's not like they were ALIVE. It's no reason to be scared of him."
"You're right, that's pretty judgy."