Friday, May 6, 2011

I'm the third nipple...

Two of my closest friends and I were recently  having one of our deep, insightful conversations... That already sounds like a lie so I'll just be honest-  my friend (let's call her 'S') and I were struggling to figure out how to move a carseat from her car to my car- easy cheesy lemon squeezy, right? Not so  much.  Did you know that this task is apparently impossible unless you're a rocket scientist or some other kind of genius shit?  Our attempts to figure it out rendered us totally fucking useless because we were bent over, laughing like hyenas with our legs crossed to avoid 'mom peeing'. (In the parking lot of our place of employment , no less).  When my second friend joined us (let's call her 'Wenifer') she ended up laughing like a hyena, too which was no help at all because none of us were doing anything productive and the damned kids had climbed into the front seat of my car and were doing shit like turning on the windshield wipers (like I have any idea how to turn them off) and turning on the blinkers (like I have any idea how to turn them off either).  Wenifer finally completed the task at hand and we all loaded ourselves into my car and headed to our shopping spree at Ida Red's (where I'm known as the 'crazy lady who buys ALL of the green apple Zotz).  Along the way, we discussed what each of us brings to the table of our friendship- what each of our 'gifts' are.  Wenifer is clearly the one who can fix shit.  She is also the group backbone and will happily kick someone's ass for us, if need be.  And I guess she's in charge of good taste, too because she can decorate like a motherfucker and she always looks like she stepped out of a magazine plus she's the first person to kindly point out if my overabundance of black eyeliner is making me look like a hooker.  S is super intelligent- very well read and actually knows the meaning of all the big words she uses.  She is the creator and enforcer of our 'you have to read the book first- the whole book and not just the end- before you see the movie' rule. She is professional and is the only one of us who's allowed to talk to the parents of the children we teach.  I have also never, ever heard her yell or say a swear word to or around her kids or mine (and mine are SUPER annoying).  She is also in charge of driving me places because I hate it.  By now you're probably wondering to yourself what I bring to the group.  Ready? I'm in charge of being random. And whimsical.  Which basically means that on the body of our friendship, I'm the fucking third nipple!

Thursday, May 5, 2011

What happens when I try to quit swearing...

Ok…certain events in my recent past have led me to believe that I need to try to stop swearing…again.  I need a 12 step group or something “Hello. My name is Christine and YES, I kiss my momma with this mouth.” Honestly, I can’t help it- I think in swear words, hell (see) I even dream in swear words.  You might be curious about my word of choice and while any will do in a pinch, my favorite is MF.  I know, but I DO limit myself to 5 MF’s a day, only 2 of which can be in my children’s presence.  Which I think makes me classy as hell.
In light of this, I decided to share the events that unfolded the last time I tried to quit swearing. Let’s journey back to a time when Colin was two…
Woke up early in the morning filled with the promise of a new day- renewed in spirit- THIS would be the morning I got my shit together and accomplished something.  And you know what? Since I was feeling so great, I decided this would be the morning I stopped using language that made sailors red-faced with embarrassment.  I managed to put on an actual dress, get a face full of makeup, and fix my hair. Feeling pretty darned pleased with myself, I had Colin fed, dressed and in the car ready to run errands at 9:00 am. We did have one minor setback when Colin insisted on wearing his red cowboy boots with his shorts and sweater vest, but since he and I were MOSTLY in coordinating outfits, I thought we were still pretty MF adorable. After an exhaustive search for my wedding ring, (the little pirate had been pillaging through my jewelry lately- no telling what happened to it!) we headed off to our first errand—every mother’s nightmare- the US Post Office.  On the way, as we were enjoying the lovely Oklahoma day, windows down, smelling the sweet spring air, Colin started screaming at the top of his lungs for the Teletubbies DVD. I hated that thing, but in the interest of peace, I kindly pressed play and filled the car with the Teletubbies theme song. If you’re unfamiliar with the Teletubbies, let me just tell you right away that Tinky Winky, Dipsy, Lala and Po are just MF annoying. As we rounded the corner into the post office, Colin informed me “Boot gone.” As I frantically searched the car, he kept repeating “Boot gone” and then finally solved the mystery by saying “Boot gone out window.” Great. He was going to have to hobble into the MF post office with one red boot on. Ok. Fine. I’m still in my great, positive mood as we waited in line to mail a package.  I noticed that my son was doing a little one booted dance for the entertainment of the other patrons AND he was chewing gum.   I didn’t give him any gum.  The kind lady behind us informed me that “He picked that right off the ground and put it in his mouth.”  Thanks for the MF help lady and by the way, that was certainly MF disgusting! After managing to mail our package and rebuckle ourselves in the car, we were off to our second errand of the day- the bank/grocery store.  Along the way, I was struck by a blinding pain in my forehead as I noticed the other red boot, breaking my sunglasses, and flying out the MF window. I yelled “OUCH!” and nearly had to pull over because that MF hurt! As I unbuckled my little angel from his seat and carried him into the store I was touched when he leaned in for a big bear hug…that quickly turned into an attempt to choke me into unconsciousness.  After unprying his freakishly strong hands from around my neck, I silently cursed Frank and the MF UFC fights! Overwhelmed by a sense of foreboding, I leaned in close and whispered a promise to Colin that I would buy him a flying pony if he would behave in the store.  He smiled sweetly, acknowledging our deal.  Three minutes later, I emerged from said store, telling Colin that he definitely wasn’t getting a MF flying pony and “thank you for getting us kicked out of Reasor’s because that was the last MF grocery store in Broken Arrow that would let us shop there!”
On the way home, I turned up Slipknot as loud as the stereo would go to drown out Colin’s screaming.  I’m not sure, but there IS a small chance he was screaming ‘MF’. It may have been me screaming, I’m not going to lie.
When we got home, it was blessedly time for Colin’s nap.  I resumed my search for my wedding ring while he slept.  I looked everywhere- even under my bed where it occurred to me that not only was I irresponsible, I was a MF slob.  As I prepared to give up my search, I noticed my wedding ring by the bathroom sink…right where I MF left it!
And if that wasn’t enough- the first time I tried to post this, my MF computer crashed!

Mommy Confessions, Part One

·         I believe in the closet monster and the monster who lives under the bed. The number one survival rule? No dangling bare feet over the edge of the bed. Duh.
·         Sometimes I try to scare my kids into submission. I tell Colin that if he doesn't hurry up and get in the car, I'm turning the ghosts in the attic loose.
·         I'm petrified of balls. If you throw one at me, I will never ever catch it.
·         My kids are very indulged when it comes to material things, but I do believe in giving them big empty cardboard boxes on a regular basis.
·         I also believe that a spoon and a box of fruit roll ups should entertain them all day if they're outside.
·         I honestly can't believe they let me leave the hospital with my tiny human beings. Shouldn't there be a competency test or something? I also believe that if I had been given said competency test, I would have failed.
·         On that note, I was surprised when I had kept my kids alive for a few weeks because, hello, I had never even kept a plant alive that long.
·         When they tell you that the smell of your own child's poop won't gag you, they are lying.
·         I love my kids a little more when they're squeaky clean. Same goes for my husband.
·         Some parents want their children to be sports superstars, doctors and the like- I will be just fine if they turn out like their dad- doing something they love and being a great husband and father.
·         I never really wanted kids. I'm still not sure if I do.
·         Parenthood is like riding a roller coaster, backwards, in the dark, 200 miles an hour, without a seatbelt...oh, and you're drunk.
·         I believe in the sanctity of blanket forts.
·         I haven't used the restroom or taken a shower alone since 2004.
·         I would rather be buttfucked with a Star Wars action figure than take my kids to Wal-Mart alone.
·         My kids can get away with a lot if they make me laugh.
·         They say you should toughen up little boys, not run to their aid when they get hurt, not intervene when they are in trouble. Well, 'they' can suck it.
·         I'll read my kids a bedtime story, but only if I can have wine first.
·         There is nothing more honest than a child.  If you are a grouchy asshole with bad breath, you are going to hear about it.
·         People who hurt children should be punished creatively. My grandpa used to tell a story about a how a child molester from his hometown was punished- they nailed the guy's private parts to the roof of a barn, lit it on fire and told the guy they would let him live if he jumped.
·         When I lay down to go to sleep at night, I never feel like I did the best I could as a mom- I could have done more, been more patient, tried harder to teach than preach, been more fun, been less grumpy...
·         When you reach the end of your rope, you will discover that your kids greased the rope and set the fucking thing on fire while you were on the way down.
·         Someday when my kids throw a fit at Wal-Mart, I intend to pitch a bitch fit- laying down in the aisles, spitting and screaming- not because I think it will teach them a lesson, but because I just want to.
·         I'm not surprised when my kids swear. But I act like I am.
·         The fact that my kids look like my husband makes me love him a little more.
·         I actually have been trying to clean up my language, but I use sound alikes.  Saying "clean your trucking room" doesn't sound any better, does it?
·         When I see other moms who seem to have it all together- well groomed, everyone in matching outfits, nice clean stroller, everybody smiling- it takes every bit of self control I have not to punch them in the face.
·         Nothing good ever came out of your child yelling "mom hurry- you gotta see this!"
·         When my kids are teenagers, if they ever dare to come home impaired, they can kiss their eyebrows goodbye. I'm serious.
·         I admire people who limit their kids' tv time, but there are days when I would let the boys watch The Exorcist if I thought it would buy me a few minutes of peace.
·         I'm probably not responsible enough to be a parent, but I've done ok so far.