This is probably the longest post in blogger history, but it’s just a few random thoughts, and some of our plans for the next few days. Read it through to the end or don’t. I won’t ever know the difference.
A few days ago, Duke woke up from a nap and Gracelyn told me she thought he had “the rabies”. His legs and arms had a red “rash”, but it was actually the pattern of the sofa fabric where he’d been sleeping. Thank you very much, “the rabies”.
Gracelyn also thinks that the word “titties” is “tibbies”, and bastard is “pastar” (Thank you, Austin Powers). Neither of which is acceptable for her to say, but it’s still funny.
This morning when driving the girls to school, Violet started whining, “Mommmmyyyy! Gimme it! Gimme my we-tahd!!!” It sound like she was saying one of the very few words I won’t say…you know….derogatory term for mentally challenged. Again and again she yelled, almost crying, but still insisting I give her the we-tahd. After a few minutes of listening to her waller, I turned around and saw what she was pointing to. Her sister’s purse, in the shape of a GUITAR. I laughed and said, “Violet, can you say ‘gi-gi-GUI-tar?!” She replied with, “Yep! Weeeee-taaaaaahd.” Guess she told me!
I stopped in the church office this morning after taking the girls to their classes, to print out our boarding passes for the flight. I was holding Duke in my lap at the time. He decided he’d had enough waiting, so he puked on me. Twice. A lot. No big deal…this is my fourth kid, and honestly…what’s a day without puke? Or artwork on the walls? Or a package of red kool-aid opened in the back of the car and mixed with spit to “paint” on the seat? (That piss doesn’t come out! It literally looks like I carried a dead deer back there.) Or a concussion? (Violet had her 2nd concussion in less than 6 months last week, thanks to the jury-rigged “safety net” at Dairy Queen not keeping her out of the wrong area…so she climbed to the top of the outside of the slide, and jumped. I’d say it was about 10 feet in the air, and she landed flat on her back. I was in the room! I couldn’t get her out, because the stupid area was too small for me to get in. Even Gracelyn couldn’t fit back there, but leave to Violet – a.k.a Evil Knievil Jr. – to figure out how. I think we’ll be making her a helmet soon!) I digress. So Duke puked on my hand. A few hours later we’re in the car on our way to Dallas, and I rub my hand by my face…and smelled….baby puke. Apparently? It’s *real* hard to clean out of the crevices of a ring.
So I’m looking out the airplane, and wondering about all sorts of questions I’ll forget to ask myself when we land. For instance…what are all these circles on the ground? I’m guessing they’re crops of some sort, that would make sense….but crops of what? And how do they plant them in a super-cool perfect circle? With a monster pointy-thingy that you used in Geometry to draw circles with? Secondly: There are TONS of these little “driveways” with squares of dirt at the very end. From up here it looks like a community of gophers or prairie dogs, but I have NO IDEA what they are…and this is the crap that will keep me up at night. *If* I happen to remember it later. I’m looking out the window right now, and there’s like 10 square miles of gopher cities. Insanity.
The drink lady & dude passed us a bit ago, and offered free drinks. Nice of ‘em. Then said we could buy a cookie, some nuts, or chips for the price of your firstborn. For real. $4 each. Those suckers better be plated in GOLD, or the size of a dinner plate if I’m buying a cookie for $4. Now some moron a few rows behind me traded his child for a sandwich, and that’s all I can smell. I don’t know what it is, but it smells like Schlotzky’s. He better *hope* I don’t have to go to the bathroom, or it will be on like Donkey Kong. I purposely haven’t eaten today, just so I wouldn’t have to relive the last experience I had flying to Vegas….3 Xanax and an hour in the bathroom later….and so the story goes.
I’m *so* gonna slap the kid behind me. He has to be about 15…reminds me of Quentin…and if it were Quentin sitting back there? I would’ve already smacked the back of his head. I swear he’s tapping and playing drums with boxes of NERDS. Sucka, I have NOT had enough medicine to take care of you yet. We’ll be landing in Vegas, and this kid’s gonna need *major* dental work, because I’m gonna his teeth out.
And now we just flew over something that resembled an Olympic-sized swimming pool. Or maybe two Olympic swimming pools. But instead of cement it looked like tar around the outside, and it was filled with dirt. Weird. Oh! Oh! Oh! And the Hoover Dam! And Lake Mead. I’m *so* impressed. I could probably enjoy the view better if not for the searing pain in my hand making my vision blurry (a bit of turbulence and Byron has a death grip).
So the next few days should be fun. Or interesting. Or both. Tonight we’re not doing anything planned, just ho-humming and watching the oddities on the street. I’ll be SO ready to eat by then. I want a near-alive filet mignon and some bread.
Friday will probably be the best day EVAH. We got tickets to the first ever UFC Fan Expo, coinciding with the 100th UFC Fight Night. There will be tons of vendors there giving crap away, and even more importantly, my main UFC Man, the one who will take me back to Canada to be his love slave, Mr. Georges St. Pierre will be there. Don’t think I haven’t already mapped his EXACT location in the building, because I have. He will be my first stop. If I can peel myself from his body at any point in time, there will be other awesome fighters there, and the Octagon Girls too. I’m taking a picture with each and every one of them to pin on my bathroom mirror to drive myself to workout. Or eat another cookie or 17 because I’m so happy I don’t have to be fit for a living. I also bought Byron, as his actual “present” for our anniversary, a 2-hour training session with Wanderlei “The Axe Murderer” Silva. Suck on that! Which reminds me, what is his actual “present” for me? I’m betting it’s the $100 to gamble with. Sucka. He better be glad I love him.
After that I’ll be home ‘til Sunday, and then head out again that afternoon to redeem myself ‘til Friday as a 7th Grade Church Camp Counselor. Pray for those kids, y’all.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
On my way to the looney bin
It should’ve been simple enough. I was thinking about something along these lines:
“Kids, it’s time to go to VBS! Everyone get in the car. Let’s go have some fun!”
But, alas! It was not meant to be. Flipping figures.
Today was technically my first day unemployed. Of course, everyone *knows* that’s complete b.s. There will NEVER be a day when I’m actually unemployed…*ahem* thank you, four children and husband, who INSISTS on acting like one of the children most days….especially TODAY when I needed him to act like a husband, but oooooooohhhhh no. The stars were NOT aligned in the heavens for me today. I tempted Fate, and that byotch took the bait and ran with it.
I woke up after a nice, long – and might I add *well-deserved* – nap. Stretched, exhaled, and surveyed my kingdom. All was well. Looked at the clock and saw that I had around an hour to get myself and the kids ready before heading to church. Took a shower, still feeling pretty pleased with my control over the situation, and then the Children’s Director called. “Hey! I was just calling to remind you to bring the crocodile, tablecloths, pom-poms and sandwiches. Oh – and you have less than an hour to be here.” Well piss. I forgot ALL about that crap. (In my defense, I’ve been suffering from *severe* short-term memory for the last year or so. She, along with a few others, told me NUMEROUS times yesterday to bring these items. And then they reminded me on Facebook. And reminded me yet again today with emails and phone calls.)
I immediately went into Panic Mode, running around putting lipstick on with one hand, and slapping kids teeth out with the other. My real problem began when I asked Byron for help. It’s odd to me how he’s sick when I ask him to do something. This week, for instance. He was sick for 2 days, then recovered for jiu-jitsu in Dallas on Thursday. He was “sick” again Friday, then better to go to jiu-jitsu Saturday. Fine Sunday, and somehow sick AGAIN this evening when I asked him to get up off his butt and help get kids out the door. You would’ve thought that death was imminent when I mentioned I might leave Duke with him to give me a few extra minutes to do other things, and he could drop him off at my Mom’s when he went to TEACH JIU-JITSU. Notice a pattern here? Most days, fine. Ask him to do something? He’s practically got cholera. (*Disclaimer: He did actually put a onesie on Duke, AND put him in his car seat.)
I’m stomping around, yelling, herding children, just trying to get out the door. Byron eventually offers to keep Duke, but only after I’ve threatened to trash the thing that gives him life. The yin to his yang. The good to his evil. The woman to his man. X-Box 360 game UFC 2009 Undisputed. Instead I tell him *where* he can put his stupid game, and proceed to choke while attempting to yell obscenities.
FINALLY all the kids are in the car, I hop in, and……THERE ARE NO KEYS!!!! NONE! WHAT IN THE SAM HILL?!!?!!!??! Let’s just say it took 20 minutes of searching to find them….in….the……freezer. Thank you, Violet. Or maybe it was Byron, since I think he secretly *likes* hearing me complain. He’s sick in the head that way.
By this time I’m sweating, my head hurts, and I’m REALLY pissed off. Flying down the road 90-to-nothing, and then I see a lone crocodile sailing through the air. It was too late to go back and get him. Earlier I had tied him to the top of the car with a bread tie, got side tracked, and forgot to tie down his other leg. The croc was a prop for VBS. Oh well. It was for the good of the team.
Could I make it to VBS with 3 of the 4 items required of me? Nope. 2 of the 4? More like it. Hey – 50% ain’t bad. By the time I got to VBS, 20 minutes late, dragging 3 children…I had come to the realization that I left the sandwiches at home, risked jail time by leaving kids in the car running (with the door locked) while making a dash for more bread and ham, AND forgot the tablecloths.
Think next time….I’ll just stay home instead. Then again, next time? Happens this afternoon. Think I can make it?
“Kids, it’s time to go to VBS! Everyone get in the car. Let’s go have some fun!”
But, alas! It was not meant to be. Flipping figures.
Today was technically my first day unemployed. Of course, everyone *knows* that’s complete b.s. There will NEVER be a day when I’m actually unemployed…*ahem* thank you, four children and husband, who INSISTS on acting like one of the children most days….especially TODAY when I needed him to act like a husband, but oooooooohhhhh no. The stars were NOT aligned in the heavens for me today. I tempted Fate, and that byotch took the bait and ran with it.
I woke up after a nice, long – and might I add *well-deserved* – nap. Stretched, exhaled, and surveyed my kingdom. All was well. Looked at the clock and saw that I had around an hour to get myself and the kids ready before heading to church. Took a shower, still feeling pretty pleased with my control over the situation, and then the Children’s Director called. “Hey! I was just calling to remind you to bring the crocodile, tablecloths, pom-poms and sandwiches. Oh – and you have less than an hour to be here.” Well piss. I forgot ALL about that crap. (In my defense, I’ve been suffering from *severe* short-term memory for the last year or so. She, along with a few others, told me NUMEROUS times yesterday to bring these items. And then they reminded me on Facebook. And reminded me yet again today with emails and phone calls.)
I immediately went into Panic Mode, running around putting lipstick on with one hand, and slapping kids teeth out with the other. My real problem began when I asked Byron for help. It’s odd to me how he’s sick when I ask him to do something. This week, for instance. He was sick for 2 days, then recovered for jiu-jitsu in Dallas on Thursday. He was “sick” again Friday, then better to go to jiu-jitsu Saturday. Fine Sunday, and somehow sick AGAIN this evening when I asked him to get up off his butt and help get kids out the door. You would’ve thought that death was imminent when I mentioned I might leave Duke with him to give me a few extra minutes to do other things, and he could drop him off at my Mom’s when he went to TEACH JIU-JITSU. Notice a pattern here? Most days, fine. Ask him to do something? He’s practically got cholera. (*Disclaimer: He did actually put a onesie on Duke, AND put him in his car seat.)
I’m stomping around, yelling, herding children, just trying to get out the door. Byron eventually offers to keep Duke, but only after I’ve threatened to trash the thing that gives him life. The yin to his yang. The good to his evil. The woman to his man. X-Box 360 game UFC 2009 Undisputed. Instead I tell him *where* he can put his stupid game, and proceed to choke while attempting to yell obscenities.
FINALLY all the kids are in the car, I hop in, and……THERE ARE NO KEYS!!!! NONE! WHAT IN THE SAM HILL?!!?!!!??! Let’s just say it took 20 minutes of searching to find them….in….the……freezer. Thank you, Violet. Or maybe it was Byron, since I think he secretly *likes* hearing me complain. He’s sick in the head that way.
By this time I’m sweating, my head hurts, and I’m REALLY pissed off. Flying down the road 90-to-nothing, and then I see a lone crocodile sailing through the air. It was too late to go back and get him. Earlier I had tied him to the top of the car with a bread tie, got side tracked, and forgot to tie down his other leg. The croc was a prop for VBS. Oh well. It was for the good of the team.
Could I make it to VBS with 3 of the 4 items required of me? Nope. 2 of the 4? More like it. Hey – 50% ain’t bad. By the time I got to VBS, 20 minutes late, dragging 3 children…I had come to the realization that I left the sandwiches at home, risked jail time by leaving kids in the car running (with the door locked) while making a dash for more bread and ham, AND forgot the tablecloths.
Think next time….I’ll just stay home instead. Then again, next time? Happens this afternoon. Think I can make it?
Friday, May 15, 2009
Everybody needs a cop-out now and then...
So I suck. Get over it. I'm totally lame, and haven't have *time* (AHEM thank you four spawn of my womb, insane job, flat tires, puking, dirty house, gymastics, cheer, American Idol, Dancing with the Stars, House, sleeping, reading, and the Antichrist)....so I'm completely cheating and will just post some of my recent status updates from Facebook. I PROMISE to actually put some time and effort into writing something witty (or completely useless and pathetic) for the blog this weekend.
Here's a recap of my activites as of late:
05/15/09:
Lame-o SD camera cards can suck it. Why do I spend *countless* hours...nay, days (!) to get a decent picture of kids (or the dogs. or a sunset. or the puke ever-so-carefully *placed* across the living room and down the hallway and all over the bathroom. pretty much every place BUT the toilet or trash can) just so I can get to work EARLY (because I'm dedicated that way) just for the card to tell me it won't work?!?!
05/14/09:
Check out the growth on my new hair, yo. And baby, this isn't rogaine...it's *genetic*. Suck on that!
Here's a recap of my activites as of late:
05/15/09:
Lame-o SD camera cards can suck it. Why do I spend *countless* hours...nay, days (!) to get a decent picture of kids (or the dogs. or a sunset. or the puke ever-so-carefully *placed* across the living room and down the hallway and all over the bathroom. pretty much every place BUT the toilet or trash can) just so I can get to work EARLY (because I'm dedicated that way) just for the card to tell me it won't work?!?!
05/14/09:
Check out the growth on my new hair, yo. And baby, this isn't rogaine...it's *genetic*. Suck on that!
Why is it that right when I start singing in the car, someone has to talk to me? They come right out of the woodwork, and all *I'm* trying to do it sing a little. It's not every day that you get a chance to belt out Rock Lobster, ya know.
05/13/09:
So I got these super-cool contacts in...they flipping *Sparkle* like nobody's biz. I look like a Cullen, so you know I'm a sexy beast. Or at least that's what I'm telling myself.
Although Duke can't see more than 12 inches away from his face, he can still sense when I walk through the door of my office. He immediately starts screaming. Thaaaaaannnnkkkkssss.
05/12/09:
What's on my mind, you ask? You. You are always on my mind....you are always on my mind. I would *rock* American Idol, yo.
05/11/09:
I'm pretty sure there's a ghost in the bedroom with me. I'm hoping after I go to sleep it'll fold the flippin' clothes. *Ahem* GHOST: If you're reading over my shoulder, get lost. I know jiu-jitsu, dude. Or at least I live with a jiu-jitsu teacher. And he will *really* mess yo face up, fa realz yo. Facial scrub.
Nothing like 'Try A Little Tendeness' by Three Dog Night to get you going on a Monday afternoon. Oh, if you could only *hear* my solo!!!
05/08/09:
You know what *really* p.o.'s me? These stupid little silver hairs that I keep having to pluck out. Who has like 5 silver hairs? Am I supposed get my hair dyed for FIVE hairs? And even worse if I pluck 'em, because they're small and I ended up taking out all the hair AROUND them, so there's a bald spot. I look like I got attacked by mockingbird. Flipping mockingbirds. Worthless!
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Baby Zoee Benefit Concert - Still time to get tickets!
This Friday night May 8th, 2009 at 7:00 p.m. at the Maude Cobb Convention Center in Longview Texas, there is going to be a very special benefit concert event for one-year old childhood cancer victim, Zoee Loissa Smith, or “Baby Zoee” as many folks refer to her
Zoee is a 1-year old little baby girl from Longview who contracted cancer at the age of 6-months old and has now undergone several operations and chemotherapy for the past 8 months at Children’s Hospital in Dallas and continues through these things today… which is a miracle in itself.
This Friday, Mark Cooke & The Cooke County Line will be performing live plus your ticket will include a buffet dinner provided by Jalapeno Tree Restaurants. This event will be a banquet type, seated intimate setting that will be great for a special date night out or even a perfect Mother’s Day present for mom and all for a very worthy and needed cause.
Tickets are on sale Wednesday and Thursday at Cavender's Boot City on the loop in Longview and then available Friday at the Maude Cobb box office. Please join us for this unique dinner style concert and dance as we gather together to help Baby Zoee and her family fight her struggles with childhood cancer.
For complete details about this event, visit http://www.babyzoee.com
PS: PLEASE HELP ZOEE BY REPOSTING THIS TO YOUR FRIENDS. THANK YOU.
Zoee is a 1-year old little baby girl from Longview who contracted cancer at the age of 6-months old and has now undergone several operations and chemotherapy for the past 8 months at Children’s Hospital in Dallas and continues through these things today… which is a miracle in itself.
This Friday, Mark Cooke & The Cooke County Line will be performing live plus your ticket will include a buffet dinner provided by Jalapeno Tree Restaurants. This event will be a banquet type, seated intimate setting that will be great for a special date night out or even a perfect Mother’s Day present for mom and all for a very worthy and needed cause.
Tickets are on sale Wednesday and Thursday at Cavender's Boot City on the loop in Longview and then available Friday at the Maude Cobb box office. Please join us for this unique dinner style concert and dance as we gather together to help Baby Zoee and her family fight her struggles with childhood cancer.
For complete details about this event, visit http://www.babyzoee.com
PS: PLEASE HELP ZOEE BY REPOSTING THIS TO YOUR FRIENDS. THANK YOU.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Please move on. Nothing to see here. Do NOT look at the accident.
What do milk on the floor, chest in beans, evil looks from church-goers, proclaiming “I tooted!” and pulling pants down have in common? They all happened during lunch today at a local tex-mex restaurant. Apparently *someone* (i.e. ME) hasn’t learned that taking kids to restaurants? Yeah. You just DON’T do that. Because then they go and do stupid things, and you don’t get to even breathe, much less TASTE your food, and the entire time you’re worried about what they’re going to do next, or who’s going to say something to you, or roll their eyes, or ack! Judge you for being a bad parent, no parent at all, or *even* look at you like you might be…you know…*ahem* gaaaaayyyy. Right. Because I’m not. Morons. For serious.
After church this morning a friend and I went to lunch, and took most of my kids with us. Mistake. It was already crowded with people; everyone getting out from church. I’d say the first 5 minutes went pretty smoothly, and then I had to go and get all excited, and that pretty much ruined it. The waitress brought Violet some milk in a cup with a lid. I thought about pouring it into her sippy cup, but she seemed pretty content with it the way it was, and I figured it would keep her quiet. (For future reference, go ahead and *think/figure* on things a bit longer…it won’t kill you.) Hmmm….I guess it kept her quiet. Shortly thereafter the milk was airborne. Niiiiicccceee. Insert hateful looks from people who wonder why I can’t control my child. What do they want from me?!?!?!! I cleaned up my mess. Geesh!
After this, the events get fuzzy. After all…it *has* been at least 12 hours ago that this happened, and I have *severe* short term memory. Now what was I talking about?
Violet doesn’t have any recollection of last week’s events, including BREAKING HER FACE (or maybe she just doesn’t care; and it’s possible that she wants CPS called), so she insisted on standing up in her chair over and over. I bribed her. Threatened her. Spit on her. Okay, don’t get all pissy…I didn’t do that last one. Basically tried everything in the book, just short of duct-taping her to the seat, to get her to sit down. I can see it all now…in slow’mo. She jumps……lands with both feet on the chair….but too close to the edge of the seat….the chair starts slipping backwards…..she starts falling forwards…..fear in a mother’s eyes…..death-rays shooting out of fellow diners eyes…….SPLAT! Chest in beans. Next?
The entire time this was going on, three girls came and sat at a table across from us. I’m guessing they were in their late-teens (15-17ish).They were all dressed nicely, and I figured they just got out of church like most everyone else there. A few minutes later, what I’m *assuming* was their mother, came and joined them. The judgment began. At first I didn’t pick up on it. Just felt sorry for them that they must lead such boring lives, and have been so unaffected by attending church that morning…..that they *never* cracked a smile during their lunch. By the time we got around to ol’ chest-in-beans (sounds like an Indian name, right?) the mother was GLARING. I just thought it was because I couldn’t control the 2 year old, but then we came to realize…..yeah. Going out on a limb, and just *assuming* (I know, I know…what happens when you assume. Whatever.) but she thought we were gay. Which would be great if we *were* gay. But we’re not. I’m sure she thought we were corrupting “our” children, and we’d all be going straight to hell. Lady, if you’re reading this. REPENT NOW! THE END IS NEAR! Just kidding. Next time just ask. Or don’t. It was awfully funny watching her watch us. When one of her poor girls cracked the TINIEST SMILE EVER DOCUMENTED IN HISTORY at us, she elbowed her! Holy sheep piss.
The last half of lunch was nearly as exciting as the first. Our poor waitress, who was great – by the way, got so flustered running around, that she ran into Gracelyn’s chair. Insert nice save by the waitress, and my friend too, I think, that kept Gracelyn in the chair, and her food on the table.
Violet decides she’s had enough quiet time (read: 2 minutes of eating) and wants to play again. She kept trying to drag the chair around on the floor, twirl, sing, play in condiments, etc. until she’d finally had all she could stand, and shouted loudly, “I TOOTED!” That’s what I *always* do when I get bored, exasperated, flustered, etc. Seems to relieve a lot of pent up anxiety. But hey, that’s just for me. Don’t go doing it and blame me for the looks you get. I couldn’t help but laugh. She was making a factual statement. At least she wasn’t lying about something.
Last, but not least! We’re trying to get things rounded up to leave, and Violet’s still bouncing around on the floor. And table. And chair. And my lap. Then she tells me she tee-teed. Great. No big deal. Then she starts pulling her pants down. (And immediately I re-lived the previous day’s events…at a party at the park, with a *bazillion* onlookers, and Violet walking with her pants around her ankles and a diaper in her hand. Hey – she gets that from her Dad.) Fortunately she wasn’t quick enough to get the diaper off this time.
The waitress never brought us our ticket, which *really* surprised me. I would’ve figured she wanted us OUTTA THERE. But no…only the lady with her daughters wanted us out (and possibly all the other diners). I’ve never seen someone eat their food so fast! They were in, ordered, ate, and left, all within 30 minutes. And there were FOUR of them.
Okay, I’m stopping now. There I go being judgmental again.
And that, dear readers, is why you NEVER, EVER, take your children with you to lunch. EVER. NEVER. Or people will think you're gay.
After church this morning a friend and I went to lunch, and took most of my kids with us. Mistake. It was already crowded with people; everyone getting out from church. I’d say the first 5 minutes went pretty smoothly, and then I had to go and get all excited, and that pretty much ruined it. The waitress brought Violet some milk in a cup with a lid. I thought about pouring it into her sippy cup, but she seemed pretty content with it the way it was, and I figured it would keep her quiet. (For future reference, go ahead and *think/figure* on things a bit longer…it won’t kill you.) Hmmm….I guess it kept her quiet. Shortly thereafter the milk was airborne. Niiiiicccceee. Insert hateful looks from people who wonder why I can’t control my child. What do they want from me?!?!?!! I cleaned up my mess. Geesh!
After this, the events get fuzzy. After all…it *has* been at least 12 hours ago that this happened, and I have *severe* short term memory. Now what was I talking about?
Violet doesn’t have any recollection of last week’s events, including BREAKING HER FACE (or maybe she just doesn’t care; and it’s possible that she wants CPS called), so she insisted on standing up in her chair over and over. I bribed her. Threatened her. Spit on her. Okay, don’t get all pissy…I didn’t do that last one. Basically tried everything in the book, just short of duct-taping her to the seat, to get her to sit down. I can see it all now…in slow’mo. She jumps……lands with both feet on the chair….but too close to the edge of the seat….the chair starts slipping backwards…..she starts falling forwards…..fear in a mother’s eyes…..death-rays shooting out of fellow diners eyes…….SPLAT! Chest in beans. Next?
The entire time this was going on, three girls came and sat at a table across from us. I’m guessing they were in their late-teens (15-17ish).They were all dressed nicely, and I figured they just got out of church like most everyone else there. A few minutes later, what I’m *assuming* was their mother, came and joined them. The judgment began. At first I didn’t pick up on it. Just felt sorry for them that they must lead such boring lives, and have been so unaffected by attending church that morning…..that they *never* cracked a smile during their lunch. By the time we got around to ol’ chest-in-beans (sounds like an Indian name, right?) the mother was GLARING. I just thought it was because I couldn’t control the 2 year old, but then we came to realize…..yeah. Going out on a limb, and just *assuming* (I know, I know…what happens when you assume. Whatever.) but she thought we were gay. Which would be great if we *were* gay. But we’re not. I’m sure she thought we were corrupting “our” children, and we’d all be going straight to hell. Lady, if you’re reading this. REPENT NOW! THE END IS NEAR! Just kidding. Next time just ask. Or don’t. It was awfully funny watching her watch us. When one of her poor girls cracked the TINIEST SMILE EVER DOCUMENTED IN HISTORY at us, she elbowed her! Holy sheep piss.
The last half of lunch was nearly as exciting as the first. Our poor waitress, who was great – by the way, got so flustered running around, that she ran into Gracelyn’s chair. Insert nice save by the waitress, and my friend too, I think, that kept Gracelyn in the chair, and her food on the table.
Violet decides she’s had enough quiet time (read: 2 minutes of eating) and wants to play again. She kept trying to drag the chair around on the floor, twirl, sing, play in condiments, etc. until she’d finally had all she could stand, and shouted loudly, “I TOOTED!” That’s what I *always* do when I get bored, exasperated, flustered, etc. Seems to relieve a lot of pent up anxiety. But hey, that’s just for me. Don’t go doing it and blame me for the looks you get. I couldn’t help but laugh. She was making a factual statement. At least she wasn’t lying about something.
Last, but not least! We’re trying to get things rounded up to leave, and Violet’s still bouncing around on the floor. And table. And chair. And my lap. Then she tells me she tee-teed. Great. No big deal. Then she starts pulling her pants down. (And immediately I re-lived the previous day’s events…at a party at the park, with a *bazillion* onlookers, and Violet walking with her pants around her ankles and a diaper in her hand. Hey – she gets that from her Dad.) Fortunately she wasn’t quick enough to get the diaper off this time.
The waitress never brought us our ticket, which *really* surprised me. I would’ve figured she wanted us OUTTA THERE. But no…only the lady with her daughters wanted us out (and possibly all the other diners). I’ve never seen someone eat their food so fast! They were in, ordered, ate, and left, all within 30 minutes. And there were FOUR of them.
Okay, I’m stopping now. There I go being judgmental again.
And that, dear readers, is why you NEVER, EVER, take your children with you to lunch. EVER. NEVER. Or people will think you're gay.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Interpreter needed for 2 year old.
ORIGINAL STATEMENT:
Bi-wet Bi-dell. Bi-wet Bi-dell. Hwo. Hwo Dah-dee. Un tahk uh mommy. Ah see a muntan. Ee you momma. Ee you! Ah cwomb you ike ah muntan. Woooah.
INTERPRETATION:
Violet Adele. Violet Adele. Hello. Hello Daddy. I talk to Mommy. I see a mountain. It's you momma! It's you! I climb you like a mountain. Wooooah. Does wonders for my self esteem.
MOMMY's RESPONSE:
So I'm a mountain, huh? Sounds like somebody doesn't wanna eat tonight.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
HOW is this possible?
Saturday, April 18th:
Crawfish boil and Violet's *bonk* bed incident. E.R. trip. No broken bones.
Sunday, April 19th:
Call from E.R. They *think* she's got a broken nose. Not positive. Suggested taking her to family doctor.
Monday, April 20th:
Violet to family doctor. Yep, a broken nose. And a broken cheek. Sent to specialist that afternoon.
Tuesday, April 21st:
Trip to lame-o GSMC for a sedated Cat Scan, only for the stupid nurse to tell me she doesn't *do* sedatation. What in the piss? I came here...why?
Wednesay, April 22nd:
Trip to Open Imaging for 2nd attempted scan. Violet had 2 adult doses of a sedative, and neither worked. Mummy wrapped her like a burrito, and got the needed pictures. Broken nose, both cheeks broken. No surgery needed.
Thursday, April 23rd:
Took Gracelyn to GSMC for a sedated cat scan/MRI. Wait. Have I heard this somewhere before? Got some super-cool versed meds, and she got funny. Sucessful test. No surgery needed.
Friday, April 24th:
Duke's turn for a doctor visit. Swollen groin. Doctor sent us to Open Imaging again (those people LOVE me). Bowels in the balls. Now we all KNOW that's not natural. Send to Children's Hospital in Dallas.
Saturday, April 25th:
Duke's hernia surgery successful!
Sunday, April 26th:
Discharged from Children's. Nice trip home. Pick up our other heathen children. Insanity ensues.
Modnay, April 27th:
How 'bout a nice speeding ticket? Thanks a lot, Christina Aguilera!
TODAY: Tuesday, April 28th:
Mental institute in Terrell, anyone?
Crawfish boil and Violet's *bonk* bed incident. E.R. trip. No broken bones.
Sunday, April 19th:
Call from E.R. They *think* she's got a broken nose. Not positive. Suggested taking her to family doctor.
Monday, April 20th:
Violet to family doctor. Yep, a broken nose. And a broken cheek. Sent to specialist that afternoon.
Tuesday, April 21st:
Trip to lame-o GSMC for a sedated Cat Scan, only for the stupid nurse to tell me she doesn't *do* sedatation. What in the piss? I came here...why?
Wednesay, April 22nd:
Trip to Open Imaging for 2nd attempted scan. Violet had 2 adult doses of a sedative, and neither worked. Mummy wrapped her like a burrito, and got the needed pictures. Broken nose, both cheeks broken. No surgery needed.
Thursday, April 23rd:
Took Gracelyn to GSMC for a sedated cat scan/MRI. Wait. Have I heard this somewhere before? Got some super-cool versed meds, and she got funny. Sucessful test. No surgery needed.
Friday, April 24th:
Duke's turn for a doctor visit. Swollen groin. Doctor sent us to Open Imaging again (those people LOVE me). Bowels in the balls. Now we all KNOW that's not natural. Send to Children's Hospital in Dallas.
Saturday, April 25th:
Duke's hernia surgery successful!
Sunday, April 26th:
Discharged from Children's. Nice trip home. Pick up our other heathen children. Insanity ensues.
Modnay, April 27th:
How 'bout a nice speeding ticket? Thanks a lot, Christina Aguilera!
TODAY: Tuesday, April 28th:
Mental institute in Terrell, anyone?
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