Sometimes KIDS Know Best

I realize that I’ve pretty much done nothing but moan and groan over the past two weeks with the hubby being out of town for so frickin’ long.  Can I help it, though, if my fairy godmother decided to go off on a bender and that the shadow of doom chose to make my household its bitch?  No, unfortunately, I cannot.  Surprisingly, however, there HAVE been two small incidents that brought about a much-needed smile across my tired, weary face.  When you’re at the end of your very frayed rope, little things mean a lot.

A couple of nights ago during bath time when I was on the verge of running off to join the circus, my son must have somehow sensed my desperation.  The dog had just chewed up my favorite slippers, the dirty laundry looked like Mount Kilimanjaro, and I had refereed more than my fair share of fights for the day.  So when I saw that my daughter had then turned the tub into a damn wave pool, I had no other choice but to begin my transformation into Mean Mommy.  My lid was just about to flip when I felt a little pair of arms envelop me from behind like a warm blanket.  I glanced over my shoulder to see my amazingly perceptive little guy smiling sweetly at me as if to say that everything was gonna be alright.  Just that teensy tiny little hug was all I needed to get me through the rest of that long day.

And maybe it’s a twin thing because my daughter, too, must have had a feeling that Mama was at her breaking point.  It was after yet another nerve-racking afternoon that she holed herself up with some paper and crayons and forbade me from entering the room.  She claimed that she was working on a surprise for me that was “super duper top secret.”  I grumbled about the wreck of a mess that had taken over the kitchen and struggled to keep my heavy eyelids open.  All I wanted to do was to crawl into bed and forget about all the madness of my frickin’ world.  And that’s exactly the point that my angelic little girl presented me with this:

I “fink” it was just what I needed to snap me out of my funk.

Kids really are amazing, aren’t they?!


Bad Dog

I gotta tell ya that it was pretty darned nice to have a small little break from the demon dog over this past weekend.  Luckily, our neighbors are always more than willing to have him stay with them when we go out of town.  For some reason that I have yet to determine, they seem to absolutely love the big, furry bastard.  They’ve owned many an Airedale in their time, so I suppose they’re used to all the shit-eating trouble these dogs tend to find themselves in.  And the beast is happier than a stay-at-home-mom at happy hour when he gets to shack up with the neighbors, too.  Perhaps, then, that’s why he’s decided to raise all kinds of hell now that he’s been forced back onto his own home turf.

From the moment the pooch stepped through the door, he’s made it his mission in life to annoy the absolute crap out of me.  Seriously, I didn’t think it was possible for a dog to bark this freaking much.  A leaf blows on a tree, and he has a damn hissy fit.  A fly buzzes by the window, and he goes flippin’ apeshit.  Can you really blame me then for fantasizing about all the things I could do with a good roll of duct tape?

The barking is one thing, but the chewing is a whole other issue.  And he decided to really go for the gusto too.  The ball-less wonder has taken it upon himself to chew the ever-loving shit out of my favorite pair of Ugg slippers.  We’re talkin’ down to the inner makings of the sole kind of chewing.  He also tore into one of the hubby’s beloved Cubs hats, too.  I’m sure that will make for a really nice welcome home present for him later this week when he finally returns.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about marching the dog right on over to the neighbor’s front doorstep over the past couple of days.  He knows just how to get under your skin and make you want to trade him in for some firewood.  That is…until you see him all curled up like this:

And your cold steal heart can’t help but melt just a lil’ bit…..

Things I’ve Learned This Week

** I need to start turning tricks on the corner to pay for all this end of the school year crap.

** If it looks like pink eye, it probably is.

** Injecting crazy amounts of shit into your lips makes you look like Curious George.

** Spongebob, Dora & Calillou run a very tight race as to who has THE most annoying voice ever.

** I should never send the dog flowers, unless it’s for a snack.

** The bathroom at the grocery store is all kinds of nasty.  (Just trust me on this one.)

** Whenever my daughter is skateboarding, I need to wear steal-toed shoes.

** Silly Bands are taking over the world, one rubber band at a time.

** Pop Tarts do NOT belong in your bra.

** If you have a penis, it works best to open the toilet seat lid before peeing.

** There’s a big pile of poo in the backyard.  (The poor babysitter learned this too late.)

** When you’re really really tired, you can fall asleep just about anywhere, including the waiting room of the pediatrician’s office.

** Wine corks only break off in the bottle when my husband’s out of town.

** Every clock in our house says a different time, so technically, I am always on time.

** The Blackhawks know how to kick some ass!

** Homemade Mother’s Day presents are still great, even if you don’t receive them until two months after the fact.

** I’ve got the zombie look down to a freakin’ T.

** I should’ve talked the kids into a pet rock instead of a damn dog.

** It’s gonna be a LONG-ass summer.

** Despite what I might think, God does not give me more than I can handle.


In The Doghouse

It never ceases to amaze me how little it takes to entertain my kids.  Be it a plain old cardboard box or an empty freaking roll of toilet paper, and they’ll go to town with it for hours on end.  Lately, though, it seems they’ve decided that the dog crate is where the party’s at.

Now I have no earthly idea what first possessed my son to decide to crawl into the crate, but it’s surprisingly become an everyday ritual.  He plays video games, bounces rubber balls, and basically just chills out in there.  He’s also talked his twin sister into joining him in the dog’s den from time to time.  And if I call and call and can’t find him anywhere in the house?  Well, I’ve learned the hard way that I’ll more than likely discover that he’s hiding in the damn crate.  And would you believe the boy even attempted to hold a playdate in there?  Luckily, though, his friend wasn’t really down with the whole idea.  I ended up having to draw the line the other night at naked chilling in the crate, however.  A freshly showered kid in the buff most certainly does NOT belong in the 4×3 stank of the pooch.

And the dog isn’t really sure just what the hell to make of this new-found craze.  He stares at the kids through the bars like he’s been burglarized or something.  I’m sure he’s confused to shit about this sudden interest in his little lair.  The kids must have sensed his uneasiness because I heard them discussing whether or not they should make reservations with the pup in the future.

Now you’re probably thinking that I’ve just discovered the secret to success since my children are happily entering a lockable box out of their own free will, right?  And if I moved the crate in front of the t.v., well then I’d have THE definition of a live-in babysitter.  Slip some food in through the cracks, and voila!  Believe you me, I’ve thought long and hard about this and the many potential benefits it could produce.  Unfortunately, though, my children like to talk.  And I don’t think it would go over so well at school if they told their teachers that they spent the night in the dog crate.

Things I’ve Learned This Week

** There is no doubt that in a former life, our dog was a paper shredder.

** I will forever be a day late & a dollar behind.

** We put the “lazy” in our Lazy Susan, given that there’s no tellin’ what the hell you’ll find in there.

** Mornings?  Can bite me.

** I need to start passing out chill pills to some of the parents at the soccer fields.

** Birds enjoy pooping on me.

** My son apparently no longer likes carrots, which brings the number of veggies he’ll eat to Z-E-R-O.

** Greasy little fingers always manage to leave their stamp on me.

** Sandy boobs are not my cup of tea.

** I will never pee in peace again.

** Sadly, people care more about Al & Tipper Gore separating than they do about global warming.

** I REALLY need to learn Spanish so I’ll know when my kids are conspiring to overthrow my throne.

** If you’re not turning right, you’ve got no business being in the right-hand lane at a stop light.

** Screw sexy — Justin needs to bring NAPPING back.

** I should’ve been the one who invented Silly Bands, dammit!

** I’m gonna need an extra-large stock of Valium when my daughter goes through puberty.

** Calgon REALLY needs to come and take me away.

** Despite what I might think, God does not give me more than I can handle.


My Shower With Cujo

If the Mayans were actually correct in predicting this 2012 apocalypse thing, I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that I will be buck naked in the shower when it all goes down. You see, I am ALWAYS buck naked in the shower when the shit hits the fan in my house. It’s like a damn chain reaction as soon as I step under that stream of water, and then… BAM! All hell breaks loose right then and there. And wouldn’t ya know, my goat of a dog was more than happy enough to prove this very point to me yet again one day last week.

I had just lathered up my hair when my furry little nemesis came slinking around the bathroom door. I almost gasped out loud when I saw him because the dude literally had foam dripping down from his beard. Sweet baby Jesus, I was scared. My mind instantly flashed back to a few hours before when I found him in the back yard eating something that he clearly shouldn’t be eating. And when I unsuccessfully tried to pry open his mouth to find out what the hell he was chomping, I discovered the tip end of a squirrel’s tail not far from his feet. At the time, I didn’t know whether to be horrified or electrified that he’d potentially murdered one of those bushy-tailed bastards who are on my eternal shit-list. However, when I saw that he was actually foaming at the mouth now, I confirmed that I was, in fact, horrified. I feared that none other than Cujo himself was in the bathroom with me.

I gotta admit that I was more than just a little nervous to finally step out of the shower. I tried like hell to turn up the sweet talk as I slowly placed one wet leg on the bath mat outside the glass door, expecting this rabified beast to gnaw my leg right down to the bare bone. Surprisingly though, he barely gave me so much as even a second look before he laid down on the tile floor. I glanced around and saw piles of foamy spit all throughout our bedroom and all down the hall and questioned whether to call Animal Control or our vet. I mean, clearly, I was about to be eaten alive, right?

Thank God I have those eyes in the back of my head that I always tell my kids about cause they sure came in handy as I cleaned up all the spit piles throughout the house. There was no way in hell I was turning my back on this unpredictable wild dog for even one second. Noooooo, no, I was gonna tell him what a “Nice doggy” he was every step of the friggin’ way is what I was gonna do. Much to my surprise, though, the big old lug just laid there without even attempting to move and peacefully watched me wipe up all of his messes. I wasn’t attacked or even close to being mauled to pieces.  What the hell?!  Was I on Candid Camera again?

I never found out for sure if the dog really did eat a squirrel, and luckily, the foaming of the mouth deal just seemed to be a passing thing.  My husband says that dogs sometimes do that when they get all wound up (yet another similarity between men and dogs?)  I tried very hard to not make any connections between me showering and the dog foaming at the mouth (Ewww!), but nonetheless, I was so relieved that I didn’t have to warn the neighbors to lock up their kids from my rabid dog.  I’m not thinking THAT would win me any favorite neighbor awards….

Things I’ve Learned This Week

** Nobody picked up their dog’s shit this winter.  (And please don’t ask my shoe how it knows this — it’s still bitter about it.)

** My son knows WAY too much information about his friend’s balls.

** Leprechauns are impossible to catch (and thank God for that!)

** Tired is apparently my middle name.

** Starbucks makes me think about sex.  (Just try to tell me that “Sumatra” blend doesn’t make YOU want to crank up the Barry White tunes?)

** Somebody in my hot yoga class needs to stock up on Beano.

** I’m not the only one who’s damaged my hoo-ha while trying to take personal grooming into my own hands.

** Octomom could lose her house for failing to pay her mortgage — what a shocker since SHE HAS NO FREAKING JOB!!!!

**  It is entirely possible to wear your thong backwards all day long and not realize it.

** I run way faster when I’m pissed off.

** My kids REALLY pay attention to song lyrics.  (Yeah, thanks Katy Perry for inspiring the “Mommy, have you ever kissed a girl?” conversation.)

** Sandra Bullock’s husband likes tattooed armpits, while I just prefer deodorant on mine.

** OPI’s “You Don’t Know Jacques” is now my new favorite nail polish.  Google it and you’ll see why.

** You can cut off a dog’s balls, but you can’t cut off his mojo (horny little bastard).

**  It’s way more fun to play Wii in nothing but your underwear.

** We have a bionic pet fish who is never ever going to die (dammit!)

** The members of my household listen to about 1.5% of what I say.

** NyQuil makes me look like a bug-eyed crack whore the next day.

** The rocking chair on our front porch has become a shitter for squirrels.

** There are only a few things better than a REALLY good scalp massage.

** I should really buy my last shred of sanity a drink.

** Despite what I may think, God does not give me more than I can handle.