Friday, 28 June 2013

And THIS is why I should not be allowed in public...

How to Scar Potential Employees

 
This was Finalize All The Paperwork In The World Week in order to set up programming for my children. This is the therapists and grand-poobahs who come out (that don't want to without all that official red-tape APPARENTLY).
 
I arrive at one of my many meetings this day and my Paper Lady brings along a trainee. Big mistake.
 
Since this meeting is for my oldest son, I'm told it is supposed to be a "quick run-through". I'm handed a large bundle of papers to sign. Sign here, here, here - initial, initial... I feel so popular.
 
Then she runs through the protocols for the trainee's benefit and the fun begins...
 
"I'm sure you know what to do if you have a complaint," she begins.
 
"I keep it to myself or you'll get me," I say.
 
"Oh, no! We start at the bottom and we take it all very seriously," she begins.
 
I turn to the trainee "Then they print off my picture very big and you all throw darts at it."
 
The trainee is watching us like a Ping-Pong ball match.
 
"They are all resolved," Paper Lady informs us.
 
"Then there is a party...with drinks?" I ask hopefully.
 
"I do like that idea. We should add that. And you know about termination, too?" Paper Lady asks.
 
"Yes, and I know who eggs my house," I tell her.
 
"We don't really do that," she laughs.
 
"Says you."
 
Aaand now I've given trainee IDEAS. Fucking brilliant. I hope I never hire her.
 
"No grievances, we work to cover any transition period," she says.
 
"And then we have drinks."
 
"We'll move on. You're responsible for clothing, food, and admission," she reminds us both.
 
"No," I tell her.
 
"Excuse me?" asks Paper Lady, realizing she has made a GIANT mistake to train during this meeting.
 
"We prefer au natural...less laundry that way."
 
"Okay, I think that's everything. Thank you for coming in," and Paper Lady shakes my hand.
 
"No problem! And nice to meet you," I tell the wild-eyed trainee. "Now you know the truth about parents - we really are crazy."
 
"Oh, I know parents. I've worked in child care before," trainee tells me.
 
Oh sweetie, you've never met a parent like me.

 

You have WHAT in your Mouth?

 
"Hey Mom, I lost my fat tooth!" Kaelan tells me.
 
"What kind of tooth?" I ask, picturing one tooth getting ALL the benefit from those Happy Meals.
 
"My moldar," he explains - then stretches his mouth open very wide so I can see into the cavernous depths and be impressed.
 
And I am...it's scary in there.
 
"Wow!" I tell him as I try not to giggle.
 
MOLDar indeed. Must've been time to come out then!
 

Architect? Maybe Not

 
"If I had crooked walls I'd know what to do," my youngest son informs me.
 
"What's that?" I ask.
 
"What would you guess?" he asks me.
 
A guessing game - I LOVE it!!!
 
"Tilt your head?" I guess.
 
"No."
 
"Walk crooked?" I try.
 
"No," he shakes his head.
 
"Limp?"
 
"Not that either."
 
"Hire that guy from HGTV?" I guess, because that's what I'D want to do (but to be honest, I'd probably just tilt my head).
 
"That's not it," he tells me.
 
It's official, I suck at this game.
 
"Okay, what is it?"
 
"I'd put fluffy cotton in the cracks," he tells me.
 
Okay, no wonder I was wrong. I don't think he's going to be an architect...and I'm not going to let him do any renovations. Ever.

Wednesday, 19 June 2013

No, you can't marry inanimate objects...or have a genie lamp...EVER

You Don't Pick Your In-Laws

 
I know the whole you can pick your friends but you can't pick your relatives horse pucky. HOWEVER, considering the fact that my oldest son is ELEVEN - I really didn't consider worrying about in-laws just yet.
 
It just goes to show how wrong I can be...again. And in such a surprising way...again.
 
Kaelan and I are waiting for his brother after school when he tries to kill me.
 
"Look Mom, my wife is flapping her wings," he tells me.
 
Startled (or having a mild heart attack - you be the judge), I look over.
 
I'm pretty open minded, however I...just...don't...know...
 

Lego My Arm-o

 
"I wish I could take my arm bone off."
 
Kaelan informed us of his latest desire during supper (and I kind of wished he'd wait until after supper to gross me out).
 
I had to admit I had NO IDEA...on a number of levels. Did he want it to be just detachable like Lego? Or did he have a sudden hankering for a War Amps keychain?
 
I suddenly had another wish - that he NEVER gets access to a genie lamp.
 
"You want to rip your arm off?" I ask (hey, you need to clarify these things. Just imagine stumpy boys running around willy nilly with regrets. I'm avoiding this - you're welcome).
 
"Yes," he admits.
 
"Why?" I ask (totally not sure I should, but I can't leave a severed limb hanging).
 
"To throw it for Daisy - dogs love bones," he explains.
 
Wow, my boy - he's a giver.
 

Visited by the Spirit of

'Help Me Clean My Room'

(I think he's a bit scammy)

 
"Mommy and Daaaaddyyyy, you're going to help us cleeeaaaaan!" ghostly Kaelan wails from the doorway.
 
I wonder if Dickens ever tried this one as a kid?

Friday, 7 June 2013

What's for Dinner? Hopefully it's Plucked and Won't Eat You Back...

Shhhh!

I'm taking my boys to school this morning and we pile into our SUV. Seatbelts are clicked on, my guys roll down their windows and holler goodbye to Grandma at the top of their lungs as they wave madly.
 
We start driving down our street and Reece is gazing out his window.
 
"Boy Mom, we live on a really quiet street," he tells me (ironic - yes?).
 
"Sometimes," I say, trying NOT to snicker.
 
"Well, there's lots of cars - but it' really quiet," he says as he looks back out his window. "Mostly it's just me and K that make lots of noise."
 
After we teach him irony maybe we'll do "How to Win Friends and Influence People".
 

How to Lose the Mimicking Game

I'm getting my boys ready for school and it's hit that "herding cats" time. We NEED to be out the door but nobody is cooperating.
 
"Please put on your sweaters and grab your backpacks," I tell my little whirlwhind children again as they dance and chatter around the living room.
 
I may as well be speaking to myself because I am the ONLY person in this conversation who gives a damn at this point in time.
 
Finally, I manage to corner one hyper boy and tell him more firmly "Put on your sweater and your backpack...please."
 
SOMEWHERE there was humor in this statement (I just failed to spot it) as it sparked a game.
 
"Put on your sweater and backpack," Kaelan repeats in a robot voice.
 
Oh. My. God. If life was fair, you'd NEVER outgrow this one - right? Then when you have kids this game wouldn't frustrate the ever-loving-snot out of you.
 
"Just put them on," I say exasperated as I hand him his sweater.
 
"Just put them on," my robot responds.
 
I attempt to muffle my giggles as I grab his backpack (I admit, not totally successful on the muffle-front). I am TRYING to hand it to him but he's all distracted, spinning around in circles, laughing (my robot seems to have no remote control with a freeze button).
 
I can't help it, I start to laugh. "Maybe someone needs a smack." (Before any angry comments, please note: no, I'm not a spanker).
 
"Maybe someone needs sacked," he laughs - LOVING this game.
 
WHOOPS! On SO many levels...
 
"I said smack not sacked - and I was joking...nobody's getting smacked," I explain.
 
Shit. Just what he needs to echo all day. 
 

Flesh-Eating Juice

We totally know how to rock Family Dinner Night. "Rock" being make an impression. What that impression will be - I make NO promises other than they'll be lasting. (Feel free to send us your classy dinner invites asap.)
 
My boys are at the dinner table with my neices and nephew enjoying some fabulous spaghetti, giant meatballs and garlic toast. Supper was delish, all ready at the same time, disaster free and so obviously not accredited to ME (my oldest brother was chef of the evening - thank you, I loved it).
 
My Mom comes to the table to offer the thirsty bunch something to drink.
 
"What kind of juice do you want? I have berry. Or mango peach?" she asks.
 
"What does that taste like?" asks one of my neices.
 
"Like mango...and peaches," my nephew states the obvious.
 
"Mango and peaches and piranhas," says Kaelan.
 
Piranhas? A new form of diet juice perhaps? Mango-Peach-Piranha Juice - it's like Clamato, but fruitier...and eats the fat right off your ass.
 
I see another fucking brilliant patent in my future...maybe.
 

Just Pluck It

Supper hits high on the charts as my Entertainment For The Day. I don't know whether this makes me freakishly unique or just sad.
 
I cooked a supper designed (mostly) for little men to enjoy it - chicken strips, french fries and peas. I realize there was the dreaded vegetation, but I thought just maybe we could work with this (I am ever deluded).
 
I tried to convince Kaelan that he liked Pea Shooters in Plants VS Zombies, so maybe he'd like THESE peas. He looked at me like I was crazy (and he was right).
 
Then we launched peas into our mouths - catapault style. I convinced him to let me launch one into HIS mouth. The one that made it was totally gagged out... We'll call that an epic fail (but a creative epic fail).
 
The chicken strips, however, were a BIG hit. Kaelan starts eating his chicken strips by peeling the batter off the outside and munching it.
 
"Look, I eated the feathers first," he tells us, waving his naked chicken strip in the air.
 
Before we can correct this, Reece pipes up "That's the breast, K. The breast is on the outside and the meat is in the middle."
 
Good Lord, I don't know what's worse...forgetting to pluck the chicken strips or busty chicken strips.