About Me

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Very Small Town. No really. Don't even try to look., Alberta, Canada
I am a stay at home mother of 2 boys. I try to keep total and complete command of this kingdom. I reign tall! But they are very are skilled little ninjas waiting to take me out at any available opportunity. You would think I would learn my lesson. I don't. Every day, I return. Everyday they kick ass.

Friday, December 24, 2010

CSI: The Fry version

It seems that during the holidays around this house we have a never ending episode of CSI: Alberta happening around here. I've watched enough of that show to feel I am qualified to do this job and solve these crimes. I just need some kick ass theme music and a pair of shades like Horatio has.

The Most Recent Crime: Small Fry is put under the laundry hamper. When asked about this NO ONE in the house could account for this. Time to go all CSI-y on this crime.

Location. Isn't this what the TV always tells us to look for when accessing a crime? We had the hallway. Hmm. The culprit could have come from a number of doors. This is not helping. Was it..Groom? Large Fry? Fuzz?

Weapon: The weapon in this case was a plastic laundry hamper. I had seen Large Fry playing with it earlier but I try not to get tunnel vision while deciphering the clues before me.

1 Small Fry
1 Sippy Cup (How thoughtful of the perpetrator to think of his drinking needs)
1 white laundry hamper..with socks strewn about the hall.

Hmm. I think.. I *THINK* this was a crime of opportunity. There seems to be one witness and being of the 4 legged variety she isn't giving any statements. In fact she seems to be doing some weird hopp-y dance movement that makes me think she might be on mind altering substances. Not a reliable source.

That leaves me with 2 suspects: Groom and Small Fry. Their statements are as follows:

Groom: What the hell happened to the baby?!

Large Fry:
Me: How did he get under there?
Him: Who?
Me; Small Fry
Him: Who is Small Fry?
Me: Don't toy with me sonny-boy.
Him: Mother I don't know what you are talking about. Me and Fuzz are leaving.

AHA! Trying to leave the scene of the crime. I think I have my prime suspect but now he has an acomplice and a getaway car.

Here is what I think went down:

Small Fry goes unsuspecting into the hallway. He was heading down to probably pull the toliet paper off the roll when he was ambushed by Large Fry. Large Fry had seen the basket of socks in the hall and found prime opportunity. He casts Fuzz aside and dumps the socks, pulls the basekt over Small Fry and tosses the drink in after to throw us off track. Also likely he did it to buy himself enough time to run away until we noticed that Small Fry was NOT in the room.

Large Fry then comes into the room calmly to distract attention and lays quietly on the couch.

We have opportunity and motive. I think he's busted. But as he so calmly tells me right before I sat down to write this blog post "Mommy..you didn't see ME do anything. You can't tell I did anything!'

Damnit all to hell. I have no proof.

Friday, December 3, 2010

For one of the strongest women I know

I have always kept this blog light and funny but this entry deserves a bit of seriousness. I've been thinking a lot about her recently--as we talk nightly and the more I learn, the more I decide she really does deserve something. I cannot make her Queen of the World--so I will give her a shout out the best way I can.

This entry is for one of the strongest women I know. In the last few weeks she has been through hell. When most people would be in bed on strong, strong sleeping drugs-- she has kept going. In the last few weeks, her world has been turned over, under, upside down, and back again.

She's stronger than she thinks. She has moments of despair, moments of failure, and moments of anger. Who wouldn't? But she's a fighter. She's got spirit and creativity and more class than some people have in their pinky toe.

She's tough. Probably the toughest person I know personally. In the last few years she has seen many things, heard more than that, and lived what most wouldn't. All for love of those around her. She has done without, sarcrified, and continues to do so out of love and compassion.

And you guys are probably thinking "Why the hell?"

I'll tell you: She's really that amazing. Her heart is that compassionate, even against those that have wronged her. Those that are trying to blame her and break her down to ease their own hearts--she still seeks out compasion for them.

She still has her sense of humour--one of the best I have ever known. She makes me laugh even when I am having evil days. You know the kind? The kind where nothing.goes.right.ever? Those days? Only she can call me a hornswaggled gutter slut and get away with it. In a grammatically correct sentence no less.

She is one of the best mothers I've ever known--she has patience (even if she doesn't see it all the time), kindness, and the love for her children flows from her aura. Her children range from Medium-Small-Tiny. They are her soul and she gives them the best of herself. They do not realize, yet, what a fantastic mother they have. They will someday.

Even with the chaos around her, she still lets me bitch about things. To her. And she listens. And then she takes the time to make me laugh. I feel guilty for doing this. I've told her so (for we are always honest with each other). She tells me "Lady, deal. Bitch away. Do it or else." Okay maybe not those words--but it's close. And she lets me do this! And I bitch and bitch and at the end she always has something profound to say. I value and respect her opinions and advice more than she probably knows. Until now.

This is pure truth- She's gorgeous. No bias here. She's smart, funny, AND gorgeous. She has a radiant smile, beautiful eyes, and a tatoo that I'm not suppose to know about.

And for all this, I'm the lucky one. I'm lucky enough to know her and to call her my friend.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Twas the month before Christmas

Twas the Month before Christmas
and we were all in

Everyone was stiring
Even the chin

The stockings were hung by the tree with care
I pray to dog Large Fry leaves them there

The Mr has gone after milk for the babe
To ensure to all that my sanity is saved

As Small Fry lunges for the glass reindeer
I really wish he had bought more beer

And I sit here shopping, playing Santa Claus
The damn dog runs in with mud on her paws

The children are psycho, refusing bed
While visions of wine glasses dance in my head

Out on the lawn falls new fallen snow
I think to myself "Wow, Christmas stress really blows".

When in the living room arose such a clatter
I haul my ass off the computer to see what is the matter

When what in front of me should I see
Small Fry is taking a gigantic pee

The Large Fry is shrieking to my best guess
"Oh My God Mommy! Small Fry took a piss!'

I knew in that moment that wine was bliss

With me on the steamer
I realize I am quite the dreamer

I wish it was me calling out into the night
Merry Christmas to all and to all a GOOD NIGHT

17 Things I learned on a car trip to Texas and back

So back in late October me and the Mr decided we were cheap ass motherfuckers and didn't want to pay for air travel to the Great State of Texas (GSOT) so we thus made the plan to drive.

We were high in spirits, we had a FIVE STEP PLAN for any and all complaints/problems. It was foolproof.

We might need to be tested for insanity.

So bright and early we wake up, load the Fries and start south to northern Texas. Here is where my education started.

1. No matter how many times he went before we left, Large Fry will always have to pee the moment we leave the city limits. There is nothing between us and the next stop and it's below zero outside. Subjected to "I have to PEE!" every 3 minutes for 2 hours.

2. The above wailing will wake up Small Fry. He then clues in that he is TRAPPED in the SEAT OF DOOM. Cue wailing until he is given a straw. A STRAW!

3. Gravity doesn't exist while sitting in the carseat. How else can Small Fry make a poo that goes up his back and OVER his shoulders?

4. Babies can scream for hours. No seriously.

5. You can somewhat drown it out by reciting the alphabet backwards to yourself. With a French accent.

6. If and when (and only when) they both, together, settle down for a car nap I will suddenly have to pee. They will then wake up when the car starts

7. Horses and cows are the same. Don't try to argue! They ARE THE SAME. For THREE FUCKING STATES I saw Corses or Hows. Whatever child..whatever.

8. Fuzz can arf. Loudly. To the tune of Jingle Bells+Baby Got Back. It was..interesting. So it was kind of like "Arfy got back ARF ARF ARF! ARFFY ALL THE WAY!"

9. Not every bathroom between Alberta and GSOT has a changing table. So the floor had to do and was NOT acceptable to Small Fry. I still have bruises from tiny feet drop kicking me in the gut.

10. If raptors attack in North Dakota you are all fucked. It's been declared not raptor safe. Sorry Erin!

11. I've never wished any ill will towards Thomas the Train. Until now. He can go right off Action Canyon and never come back. 2 days of non stop Thomas. TWO DAYS!

12. Large Fry gets pissed off when I can't command the rain to stop.

13. Large Fry gets even more pissed when we can't FIND A WENDYs. McDonald's is a POOR substitue. We heard about it ALL the way across Montana. All.the.way.

14. Bottles, when thrown from the exact right angle, can hit one in the head that feels like a cannon ball. Seriously. Even Tylenol didn't fix me up.

15. Going both ways, Small Fry decided he had ENOUGHENOUGHENOGH when we were exactly 45 minutes from our destination. How did he know? What was his signal? Thus making the FINAL 45 minutes T-Total Hell. I mean the ninth degree of hell, Hell in a handbasket, Hell on wheels and Going to Hell all rolled together.

16. When Large Fry has deduced that we are in Wyoming and he has forgotten BLACK FUZZ! Dear dog..the memories...

17. Hotels are breeding grounds for children not sleeping. Not until 3 am when they finally figured out that we are NOT going back home.

There are more. Many many more. But to be honest it's all a blur. A blur of "Are we there yet/I have to pee/BLACK FUZZ/WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH/arf/Thomasandhisfriends/WAAAAAAAAAAAH/DADDY! I said NO AIR!/and well..yeah. I got an education.

Turns out you can put a price on sanity. About $3400 covers it.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Adventures of Puke-a-saur

So Small Fry is sick. Since Friday we have had projectile occurances coming out of him that I didn't think was possible.

So what does a responsible mother do when she is up at 3 am with no sleep in sight with a baby that is just puking? Why she sees which vomit was the farthest of course.

The Vomolypics.

Gross you ask? Well yes. But he was going to do it anyways. I had to clean it up anyways. Might as well make a game of it.

Starting at 2 am until 8 am when Large Fry woke up, we measured teh spewage.


Vomit #1 at 2:12
Vomit #2 at 3:31
Vomit #3 at 3:54
Vomit #4 5:06
Vomit #5 6:22

Win the race?

Those were the only ones worth mentioning. Trust me when I say there were many, many MANY more. The tv is worthless with a crying fussy baby. Plus late night TV just isn't the same without the Oxy Clean guy shouting at me. The ShamWow guy shouts at me but..he's just not the same. Plus he got beat up by a tranny hooker. Or something. So I don't know if I believe him that those ShamWOWs are really WOW.

In any case #4 had the most distance. It was most impressive. I'll spare you the details because, well, it's gross. Not that this entire ENTRY isn't gross but I have an excuse.

I'm tired.

I haven't slept.

He is STILL puking

Did I mention I haven't slept? Because I haven't. I bet all of you guys are sleeping or have slept. Bat rastards. ALL of you. Even the fucking chinchilla is sleeping. Little bitch.

Enjoy your slumber.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

The Trials of Little Brothers

I will do this again because the pictures in the first post were little bastards and went all micro-penis small. I will attempt to create them larger. Because we all know we like it big. And rough. Or maybe that's just me.

The Large Fry has come to realize that over the last year his little brother Small Fry has become a permanent household item. This doesn't please him at all. Not even a little bit.

This is how Large Fry would like to see his home life:

Unfortunately for him this is how it really is:

***I would like to point out that during the middle of creating this post, Small Fry decides to take a leap off our landing and down 6 stairs to the front door. My heart has returned, my hair is grayed, and I'm pretty sure I pissed myself. I can't tell due to the massive amounts of sweat I am STILL producing 15 minutes later.**

So today has been a series of conversations about why Small Fry is here to stay. Some highlights include:

"But WHY?!"
"If I give up Santa can he go back to Edmonton?"
"It makes me cry when brother poops and I can smell it"
But I think my all time favorite was "Mommy..why do we have brother? You already have a perfect Pee Pie."

I didn't know what to say. I really didn't. A perfect Pee Pie he says. Can't really argue with the logic. I just smiled and said 'But I love you so much I wanted to share it with Brother."

"Well Mommy..sharing sucks."

The Trials of Little Brothers

The Large Fry has come to realize that over the last year his little brother Small Fry has become a permanent household item. This doesn't please him at all. Not even a little bit.

This is how Large Fry would like to see his home life:

Unfortunately for him this is how it really is:

***I would like to point out that during the middle of creating this post, Small Fry decides to take a leap off our landing and down 6 stairs to the front door. My heart has returned, my hair is grayed, and I'm pretty sure I pissed myself. I can't tell due to the massive amounts of sweat I am STILL producing 15 minutes later.**

So today has been a series of conversations about why Small Fry is here to stay. Some highlights include:

"But WHY?!"

"If I give up Santa can he go back to Edmonton?"

"It makes me cry when brother poops and I can smell it"

But I think my all time favorite was "Mommy..why do we have brother? You already have a perfect Pee Pie."

I didn't know what to say. I really didn't. A perfect Pee Pie he says. Can't really argue with the logic. I just smiled and said 'But I love you so much I wanted to share it with Brother."

"Well Mommy..sharing sucks."

Thursday, September 16, 2010

So School Started...

School started on Sept 1st. I am so excited for my Large Fry! He is so so so thrilled to be joining the world of 'Big Boy School'.

He will not even let me hold his hand as we walk down the hall and to his classroom. He turns to me and waves "Bye bye Mommy!" I cried. I'll admit that to you. He is growing so big. I'm a wave of emotions. Doesn't help that Small Fry also turned 1 on this day. It was an emotional day.

But damnit all to hell. When did he get so PRIVATE? I asked him when he got home that day "So tell me about your first day! How did it go? What did you do?!"

Large Fry: Mommy. That's private. That's just between me and Sarah.
Me: What? You don't want to tell me?
Large Fry: No. It's confidential.

Since when does a 3.5 almost 4 year old know the word "Confidential?" Mother eff. Seriously. And it's PRIVATE? It's Pre-K for fuck's sake. Not Classified Information from the CIA. Who the hell does he think he is? 4 going on 24?

And from that day on, everytime I ask him about school he tells me it's private. Confidential. He wont' tell me about lunch, recess, school, coloring, reading. Nothing. Not one word. It's like he's gone off to CIA training for 6 hours a day. He comes back and he's like James Bond.

"I have no idea what you are talking about Ma'am."
"What school? What class"
"That's confidential information. Lunch is Code 4 Class C confidential requirement."

/end sarcasm.

Soon he will be walking around in a suit and glasses holding a cell phone making dinner dates and explaining to me after that fact. He will be able to make a martini shaker out of a broken pipe, a brick, and 2 marbles. He will be able to leap from a jet onto a pair of skiis on a waiting mountain and make it to his dinner date still wearing his tuxedo with the radio arm walky-talky in the cuff links.

And probably by the time he's 7.

He's Large Fry. Double Oh Small Stuff. He likes his chocolate milk shaken, not stired.

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Being sick with kids

Is a special kind of hell isn't it? Especially if they are sick and you are sick. If you couldn't reason with them before, you surely cannot while they are thrashing around in their bed screaming "MY HEAD IS HOT! IT'S GOING TO FALL OFF!"

So yes. For the last week we have been sick. The entire house. Mom, Dad, and the Fries. It started with Small Fry and I thought "Well I can handle this. He's only a baby right?"

Wrong. Oh so dead wrong. Once it hit 3 am of me singing "Warm Kitty, Soft Kitty Little ball of furrrr" (Thanks Big Bang!) in this daze and confused state of mind. It probably came out more like "Warm furr soft fur little ball of kitty..." And you can't medicate small fries. You just can't. Not that I didn't briefly have that fleeting thought..No sir. Not me. I would never think of such a thing.

By Day 2 I am a zombie. I can barely talk on the telephone in correct sentences. My mother calls to ask me wedding questions and I answer everything with 'Tylenol". "Did you want roses on the aisle?" Me: "Tylenol". So that was a helpful conversation. After about 15 minutes she gives up and promises to phone back later. She never did and I don't blame her. I wouldn't want to talk to me either in that state. This was when it struck.

Me: *cough cough cough* Oh shit. OH NO. NOOOOOO. NOOOOOOOO

Oh yes. By that night I was a fever raging coughing machine. With a Groom who can't hear a tornado outside let alone a sick baby. I'd love to tell you about it, but I can't remember it. The combination of Buckley's (This is another day. Have you ever had Buckley's? It's a special kind of hell on it's own--but it works.) lack of sleep, delirious with fever and lack of sleep). I must have stumbled to the baby's room a few times singing 'Warm kitty, soft kitty.." because I remember waking up singing it to MYSELF. That's either dedication or insanity setting in.

I'll let you decide.

By Day 3 the worst of the worse sets in. The Man Death Flu. MDF. Oh yes. Groom gets sick. Not just *cough cough* of course, but the Man Death Flu. He's going to die you see if I don't get up and do everything. Everything. Medication, food, cleaning, kids, the works. The MDF comes rarely but when it does it turns this house into a Code 3 distaster area. And it's all up to me to contain it. Because he's incapacitated. With the Man Death Flu.

All the while Large Fry has been oblivious to our germs. He's well and happy, singing and dancing to Thomas the Train (What kind of parent am I? The kind that tries to die quietly on the couch while her Large Fry watches Thomas the Train. Over and over and over. And over. And over.) So now I have "Warm Kitty..he's the cheeky one! James is vain but..little ball of furrrr.." stuck in my head. A combination of songs. Delightful. But Thomas is a saint and keeps Large Fry out of trouble.

But all good things come to an end right? Large Fry is hit Thursday with no turning back. His head is hot. It's going to fall off. He wants me to MAKE THE HOT STOP. STOP RIGHT NOW. I'm trying! I say. I'm trying. Take this medication. Take this rag. Take it all! NOOO screams The Fry. I don't want to! So there I am--1 am fighting with my child to take a single dropper of Tylenol. Success is mine--he FINALLY takes it with promises of chocolate milk. I stumble back to bed and fall into it.

Only to hear "WAHHHHH! WAHHHHHHH." Which is code for "Get your ass out of bed woman and tend to me! Me me me!!!" I'm sure there was an evil laugh there. I am sure of it.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

I birthed a dinosaur

Or are they?

Small Fry has teeth. 4 normal baby teeth. Until you are holding him. The he resembles something like this:

I'm not kidding. The shifty eyes and everything. On the ground he is a sweet lovable boy. When you pick him up he turns into a descendant of a velociraptor, complete with teeth.

We went to Edmonton on Friday for a wedding. Everything was going fine. He was in his carseat doing what babies do (I think he was eating his sock to be exact) when we arrived. We had a few stops to make so this required retrieval from the carseat and I had to hold him.

The shape shifting begins.

You can visibly see this. You can see the teeth emerging from his mouth ready to sink into any flesh that is near. Oh no, a teething ring just will not suffice. He needs flesh. On this day, I was the flesh. Wearing a thin cotton T-shirt because when we go to the "city" I like to look at least normal. Not braless and covered in finger smudges with wild eyes, but you know, at least somewhat in the same color scheme.

Small Fry begins his attack. He has his fingers (claws) into the small fine hairs that adorn my head. He pulls causing my head to lower and position out of his way so I can't SEE anything but him. He zeros in and his teeth find the mark--right on my boob. No lie. All four (200) teeth sink into my left boob. I can't shake him off. I'm paralyzed. He has me in his grip and he is NOT LETTING GO.

What do I do??? Flap around like a drunken party guest doing the chicken dance seems like the best course of action at this time.

"Help! He's biting me! He's biting me! HE ISN'T LETTING GO!"

I feel faint. This must have been what a stegosaurus felt like. Really cool looking but ultimately falls victim to a vicious small dinosaur. We will go down looking good at least. The Teeth hold strong. I see blood (Okay it was drool but still). This is the end, I'm figuring out slowly as the Tiny Vicious Beast (tm) has his claws and teeth sunk into me, my demise is slow.

Until victory! A bird flies overhead and he releases me. He hits me a couple of times and says "Mamamama ugggggggg".

I've spent a few days deciphering this. It means "It's not over."

Saturday, August 7, 2010

I Like to Make You Dance Mama

Large Fry has a habit of stripping off all his clothes. Randomly. It doesn't matter the where or when or what I or he is doing. He just strips for no apparent reason. Well there is a reason. He likes to feel the 'Wind on my bumhole Mommy". This is reasonable logic and I am a failure as a human being for not comprehending this.

He strips before any bathroom activities and he usually tries to skinny out the door buck ass naked to run in the backyard. That's fine. Now he's made it personal.

I am a pants person. Mostly. I wear pants/shorts most of the year. And it works for me. I was recently sadden by my lack of skirt wearing. I should wear skirts! Skirts of TEH POWERZ. No really. So in a escape of sanity, I put on a white longer skirt. Then I load them up in the car to go grab a few things.

It was this day that Alexander decides he does not want to ride in the cart, but walk along beside me. I am happy. This is a big day. My son, walking along the grocery store doing beautifully. No running or yelling or attempting to toss random things into the cart.

I pause in front of the bread to debate a bagel choice when suddenly, like a flash, this small hand comes whipping out of no where. NO WHERE and it yanks down the back of the skirt with amazing speed and accuracy. And of course today is NOT the day I am wearing anything remotely cute under that skirt. The piles of laundry at home I had been ignoring was reflected in my very old, ratty underwear. You know which ones I mean. THOSE underwear that you pull out for last resort code red undie emergencies. The ones that are never to be seen by anyone, ever. Ever.

I'm fast and I pull up the back right about the time he is yanking on the front. He's ruthless, unforgiving, and determined to pants me right in the middle of the grocery store.

Fuck the bagels I say. Time to go. So I make my way to the cashier pushing the cart, sorta while trying to hold my skirt. Little hands are pawing. NONONONO I said "Stooooop!" Somehow we make it to the car. To be honest it's a blur of fruit and underwear. I plop him in his seat and ask him why. Why did he do that to Mama? Why?

"I like to make you dance Mama. It makes me laugh."

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Bloody's Cat

Bloody's Cat woke me up this morning with a startle.

Large Fry comes in..wailing. He is just wailing. He is incoherant. He is mumbling between tears that something has happened to what sounds like bloody cat. Or bloody's cat.

Me: Hrm. We don't HAVE a cat.

Large Fry: MAMAAAAAA Bloody's Cat! Bloody's cat! *insert words I can't even describe*

Me: Baby, what cat? What? What cat? What happened to the cat?

Large Fry: Bloody! It's bloody! Bloody!

Me: Oh god.

By now I am thinking that all the crap that we have watched on tv since he was a baby has left impressions in his mind that are surfacing. He is seeing things. Pictures in his brain, like Samara. He's going to start sending horses (or whatever animal is nearby) to start committing suicide in the lake. Fish are going to jump ashore. Boats run off corse.

Oh my god what have I done to my baby? What did I do?

I'm panicked. I'm flushed. Panick--flushed--panicked again. I'm cradling my baby swearing to all that is holy in every country that I am never EVER going to watch tv again. Ever. It's corrupting my child, his brain, and now he is seeing bloody cats in his sleep. Bloody fucking cats. His mind is damaged. I've done this. ME. I need to kick myself in my own ass.

This is when I look down. He's holding Woody. You know? Toy Story Woody? And Woody has no hat.

Fucking hell. Woody's hat. He's lost Woody's hat. It was under his pillow...

Fucking hat.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Sometimes it is not my ass that gets kicked

It's Daddy's.

I know. I take far to much pleasure in that fact. The other day I was not available for parenting comment I was passed the-fuck-out due to a shot. So Daddy took the reins. He thought he was invincible. He thought he was in charge.

He soon finds out how weak he is against The Fries. This time it was Small Fry.

Small Fry -1. Daddy-0

See Small Fry is 10 months old and has recently discovered the ability of movement. He moves. A lot. All the time. Everywhere. Diaper changes are no exception. So when Daddy went in to chance Small Fry he discovered that our baby had been replaced by some weird flopping fish out of water. Diapers are impossible. He flops. He flips. Took Dad 20 minutes to put 1 diaper on. How do I know this? I was hiding in the hallway watching. And laughing.

That's right. Instead of offering to help. Instead of giving valuable information. I stood in the hallway with my hand over my mouth and giggled as Small Fry flopped back to front, front to back, kicked, clawed, flopped again, over and over until FINALLY Daddy has the diaper on. And the footed sleeper.

He thinks. This is a re-telling of events from him to me as I was aforementioned passed out. He had Small Fry in the living room and he was admiring how our darling boy had pulled himself to a standing position...and promptly peed in the floor. But how?! HOW he mentally screams. You have a diaper on! So he returns Small Fry to his chambers to discover the scrunched down around his ankle. So again, picture 1 flopping baby, 1 frazzled father, 1 diaper and 1 sleeper. I picture this and I start laughing hysterically.

Because it happens. Again. He doesn't get the diaper on properly due to the flopping baby. Again Small Fry pees through his not secure diaper and through his clothes. Laugh. You know you want too.

I wish I had seen this in person. It's not often it's someone else getting their ass kicked by my kids. Daddy promptly gets the diaper secured (really secured he says. I think he used duct tape(?!) and goes out to have a smoke. And Large Fry promptly points and says (VERY) loudly 'Daddy! I SAID smokes are BAD for you! You are going to get BLACK insides!"

Ahh yeah. My ass got a rest that day. Daddy's was the one that got kicked all over the place.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Mama your but IS big enough to fit in there!

Me and the Fries headed down to the downtown festivities to celebrate all that is Canadian at Canada Day. We get there and lo and behold they have an area set up for hoola hooping.

Does anyone remember these things? Making kids look UNCOOL since..forever. But Large Fry was having a blast. So I thought I would shake my groove thang in a hoola hoop. This is what was going through my mind:

Oh yes. That's me rocking that hoola hoop. The children are gazing adoringly while their mother sips a cocktail and hoola hoops in perfect time with her perfect hair and perfect makeup. It was a glorious image. I might have had on one of those 1950s dresses and heels. I was rocking that hoola hoop.

Until Large Fry talks. Remind me again why I taught him to talk? I was joking with another patron of the hoola hoop section.

Me: I hope my butt isn't too big for this hoola hoop!

Large Fry: Don't worry Mama! Your butt is VERY big enough for that hoola hoop! See Mama? See? It fits in the BIIG hoola hoop.

Behold. Large Fry's version:

Yes that is my digintiy buried beneath. No I don't think it's coming back.

Monday, June 28, 2010


Sometimes only a few words can kick my ass.

Like this:

Location: Grocery store

Large Fry: Mommy! If you do not listen to me you do NOT get any Daddy love like you were talking about.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Don't Spank My Butt!

I want to preface this by adding: I don't spank my children. I don't. Large Fry has had few spankings in his life and 99% of them were 'OMG' spankings. Like stoves or things that could really hurt him. But I swear, I SWEAR I don't! I don't, I don't!

But he likes to tell people I spank him. And often. Example? Sure!

The beginning-the doctor's office.

Yesterday I had to take Large Fry to the doctor. He is concerned his pee is yellow. I have tried to tell him that it's okay to have yellow pee but he doesn't believe me. I took him in anyways to assure him his pee was suppose to BE yellow, there was nothing I could DO about it being yellow, and no I can't turn it green. We combined it with a regular checkup-just to be safe.

He told me "You will just tell me that Mommy to make me go away."
Bwah? I think he's on to me.

But we arrive at the doctor's office. It's packed as usual. There isn't anything for a small child of 3 to do while we wait. Nothing but embarrass his mother of course. I brought a book and I asked him to sit with me and Small Fry and read the book.

Large Fry: No
Me: Please? Can we sit and look at these pictures? Tell me what is that?
Large Fry: No
Me: *sigh*
Large Fry: I know! *Gets up and proceeds to just run around in circles
Me: Large Fry, come over here and sit down. Now.
Large Fry: NO! Don't spank my butt! NO NO NO!

Me: ? ?????!

We are called back and good news: his pee is still yellow and that's okay. Phew. He's not as concerned about it now.

Fastfoward to the grocery store.

Me: Okay let's pop in and get some hot dogs, coke (the drinking kind..), and chips. Because I roll healthy.
Large Fry: Okay!
Me: Okay we are done. Oh no Large Fry. We can't get that fly spray.
Large Fry: NO MOMMY NO NO! Don't spank my butt! NO NO NO.

Me: Buh? what??? WHAT?

By now I'm getting a little concerned. The people of this small town probably think I beat him from dusk to dawn.

Final step-The post office:

Me: Let's go Large Fry
Large Fry: Don't spank my butt! NO NO !
Me: I swear! I DON'T spank your butt. I DON'T I DON'T! Where did you get that!? Tell me you understand that I don't spank you! *nears hysterics*

So yes. I had a total epic mini meltdown in the post office trying to convince my child (and the onlookers) that I don't spank butts.

So the Very Small Town Folks probably think I am Super Crazy Lady. I wonder if I could get that imprinted on a t-shirt?

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

If you find me in a straight jacket--This is why.

Sometimes I think my kids are trying to have me declared legally insane. Not in the typical Stewie Griffin style--Oh no. They are not interested in tripping me down the stairs. They are more stuble. Their Weapons of Choice on this mission are: Treehouse and Playhouse Disney.

They wake up and grab their stuffed bears to hear "Small Fry, Large Fry: Your assignment should you accept: Drive your mother crazy with horrible cartoons. Your special assignment: Watch these cartoons until your mother is in a straight jacket muttering to herself in a corner."


I'm unsuspecting. As usual.

The day starts off alright. Mickey Mouse is cool. Donlad irritates the fuck out of me but I can live. I really want to steam roast him in my slow cooker and serve with a nice bolganase sauce. But alas, he's on my TV bitching and quacking about something. Mickey gets a pass because he sings and I like Pluto. Plus I really do like doing the Hot Dog Dance.

Next is Handy Manny. I like this show. I think Handy Manny and Kelly have some serious sexual tension. So I spend the majority of the time watching, waiting for Kelly to throw Manny down and ride him. She'll give him what he needs alright. I bet she could too. I watch and wait. it hasn't happened yet but I'm sure it will.

I'm a twisted chick. Maybe I need that straight jacket after all.

Thomas the Train- I am told Thomas is going to kick my ass. Why? I don't know. But he is. When I am least expecting it, he is going to roll up and put the whoop up on my ass. Large Fry tells me so. Isn't Thomas suppose to be the nice engine? What's his beef with me? I live in fear of my own house because Thomas is EVERYWHERE. I mean it. He's on the walls, the floor, the bathtub. I'm not safe. I can't even look the little bastard in the eye anymore. He has me on edge.

Plus he doesn't fight fair. You KNOW it will be him and "all his friends". Pussy. He won't even come fight me alone. He's gonna roll up with his posse. I'm screwed.

Caliou- Now here is a little whinny bitch. I mean really. Can this kid do ANYTHING? He is a whiny, bratty little boygirl. It took me a few episodes to realize he WAS a boy. And he's always bitching. Bitching about how "Mommy" and "Daddy" (If you want to call him that. Dad is about as girly as it gets). I just want to give this kid a swirly in the toilet and tell him to put on a pair of mini manties.

Wonder Pets- "Wonder Pets wonder pets we're on the waaaaaaay. To help the Fries kick Mom's ass todaaaaaaay. We're not to big and we're not to tough but when we sing this song over and over until Mom reaches for the gun... we got the right stuff. YAY WONDER PETS"

I just want to grill the gerbil and serve him on toast. I find him the creepiest and the most annoying. Plus he's the ring leader. It's HIS fault the Wonder Pets exist. To annoy me with their gawddamn songs that get stuck in my head. So I'm singing "The phone! The phone is ringing! There's an.." and there ARE NO CHILDREN IN THE ROOM!

Obviously their plan is working. I'm already talking to myself. That's the first step.

Max and Ruby- Now Groom would like to roast of Ruby. He really hates her. Isn't she a bossy little bitch of a rabbit? Just let Max do shit! Just let him! And also, where the fuck are their parents? Ruby is running that show. All I see is her bossing poor Max around. One day he's going to grow up. And then she won't be bossing him around. He will out run her. She will be food one day. All because she didn't let Max play with his firetruck.

Dora the Explorer and Diego- Diego, he's cool. Plus he's kinda cute. I can imagine he would grow up to be pretty hot. But Dora? WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME? I am standing no less than 3 FEET away from you. No wonder Swiper always finds you. You suck at hiding. I wouldn't want to go into trench warfare with you. You would give us away by yelling "WHERE'S THE MAP?!" And then that motherfucker shows up and sings his annoying ass song "I'm the map, I'm the map, I'M THE MAAAAAAAAP"

*boom* We are dead. Only because you can't shut your fucking trap Dora.

4 Corners- I only watch this show because I picture the people involved having sex with each other. I bet Rufus has nailed every chick on that show. They wear leotards. I've seen what he has to offer. Dude is blessed. I get through the ridiculous DoWahs by picturing sordid sex acts between characters. I'm likely going straight to hell. Where they will likely make me watch this show without picturing sordid sex acts.

So that's their plan. Come visit me in SunnySide Funneh Farm. I'll be the one in the corner with the wild hair and straight jacket. Muttering to herself that she should have turned the fucking tv off instead of turning it on to save her sanity. It's the reverse effect the Fries were counting on.

And then they win.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Walmart and why we don't offer your brother's penis to raptors

Or how I sold my sainty for $12. 37 cents.

Let me explain.

Today was a normal average Sunday. Apart from being Father's Day, it is a regular ol day. I have needed to travel to Walmart for a while now to return an impact socket set to Canadian Tire. Don't get me started on why it was wrong or needed to be returned. But it did.

I get up this morning and like a burst of energy it hits me. "We can go! Spend the day! Enjoy each other!" Me and the kids that is. The Groom is hard at work. Preperations are made. I even have on bra and panties that match. I did my hair and put on makeup. The Fries are in cute clothing. And we are off.

The trip down is uneventful. It's an hour drive and if you like looking at trees, there is plenty to look at. Tree..tree..Oh look..tree. Oh. Another tree.

We arrive at Walmart. This is where the story gets complicated. Pull up a cup of tea. Pay attention.

What you need to know before you read any farther is that Large Fry assess any building for raptor entry. This is probably genetic because I do the same thing. Walmart? Not so great. Large Fry formulated this attack:

So we go in. And he invents this game of "hiding from the raptors". Awe.some. He's distracted and I'm able to shop in peace. I can even browse the big girl clothes because Large Fry is looking for raptors and Small Fry is eating the handle of the shopping cart.

So we make our way to the toys. I allow each of them to pick something. Both of them did and also zoned in on this...thing. This $12 toy that is not even close to being worth $12. And I'm cheap. I mean really cheap. So my plan was to put it in the cart and distract them with other things and discretly remove said Thing from the cart. Because I really didn't want to pay $12 for it.

We go to check out. The lines are long. I mean really long. What was I thinking going to Walmart on Father's Day again? So we are at the end of this giant line when Large Fry suddenly shouts 'OH MOMMY! A RAPTOR! A RAPTOR!"

Me: Cool! What do we do with the raptor!

Large Fry: Mommy! We need to make it go away! We need to give it something! IT NEEDS TO GO AWAY!

Me: Okay! What do we give the raptor?

Large Fry: Brother's Pee pee! BROTHER'S PEE PEE! Quick Mommy! Give it to the raptor!

Me: Uh. No. No we can't do that. Brother wants to keep his penis, Large Fry.


By this time..heads are turning and I can't tell if the smiles are normal smiles or "I'm calling CPS" on your smiles.

Me In a low voice: No Large Fry. We cannot give the raptor your brother's penis. That is not a nice thing to do to brother

Large Fry: Wellll..Okay Mommy. How about we give it YOUR penis?

Me: Oh silly boy. I don't have a penis

Large Fry: Yes huh! You tell Daddy yours was bigger.

Now is when a huge hole should have opened up and relieved me of my misery. People turned and looked. Even the cashier.

By this time Small Fry has recieved signal that his penis is on the line. And he has noticed that I discretly tried to put the $12 toy away. He reaches for it and waails. And wails. And wails. Did I mention he wailed? Yeah.

So I bought this for $12. And that's how I sold my santiy to get the fuck out of Walmart.

Saturday, June 19, 2010

While the majority of my post pertain to Large Fry, one cannot under estimate the power of Small Fry. While smaller in size, he has two weapons of choice (WOC) that can leave me at his mercy.

#1. A crap. Now most people will tell you baby shit is no laughing matter. Small Fry is no exception. Since day one his rear has been an weapon of mass destruction. Let's revisit a time in the not so long ago...

The Scene: The Royal Alexandria Hospital
The Cast: Me, Groom, Small Fry

Small Fry was doing an stint under the lights. He started to yelp so I somehow dragged my sliced and diced ass off the hospital bed to change his diaper. I take off the diaper and lift his legs to wipe his butt. What happens next is nothing short of nightmares. All of a sudden there was a loud noise. Some might say it was the Apocolypse. However I am now standing in front of my darling newborn covered in black and green baby shit. I kid you not.

And what is Groom doing? Laughing. Hysterically. Tears coming out of his eyes laughing. I think he might have snorted even. Ha di ha ha.

So I go for a shower. I come back out. I sleep. I watch my other boyfriend Hotch on a episode of Criminal Minds while Groom goes out for a smoke. He returns to Small Fry squeaking again.

"Your turn". I proclaim in exaggerated tiredness. I have, after all, just given birth to new life. Or something.

So he goes over. Undoes the diaper. Up goes the legs. And POW! Now HE is covered in black and green baby shit. Ever try to laugh with a fresh c-section? Gives "bust a gut" brand new meaning. I had tears. It was the most beautiful thing I ever saw. He goes to take a shower but guess what? He didn't bring a change of clothes.

So we drove back home with Groom wearing one of my tshirts. I think it was green and said "Going green is HOT!" The HOT may or may not have been in sparkly letters. It does not matter. That night, Small Fry kicked two asses.

And that was just at first. The thing about Small Fry is his diapers are on par to nuclear weapons. I mean on the lines of 'if we had had these during WWI it wouldn't have lasted long" bad. If we had tossed a few of these at Germany they would not have fought back. Trust me. They would have ran far, far away.

And he knows he's screwing with me. He never craps before a bath. Oh no. It's always after. After the powder and lotions and he's dressed smelling so sweet. I'm holding him close reveling in the sweet baby bliss when all of a sudden..it all goes foul. Very very foul. And he laughs. Or after a nap. NOt before. Where he has slept in it and rolled it into every crack possible. Again, more laughter.

See? He knows.

#2: 2 am. Bring your own..whatever. Just get your ass up with me.

This is his motto. He figured out at a young age that when he gets up, I get up. No matter. Mom needs sleep? TOO BAD. Mom is dying of the boogy woogy flu? SUCK IT UP. So ever so often he decides to send me subliminal messages aka wails that he wants to get up. And it's usually around 2 am. So we get up. He crawls. He plays. I stare blankly at Facebook wondering why all my friends' names are suddenly morphing into one long name.

Then he squeaks. I see light at the end of the tunnel. I can has sleep? I try. I get him a bottle of fresh milk. I tuck him in. I stand outside his door for 5 minutes...6 minutes..waiting. I hear nothing. I climb into bed ever so gentle in hopes not to wake the infant that is across the hall. I lay still. Afraid to move. Listening for the noise that causes an icy clutched hand around my heart. It doesn't come. I close my eyes...finally I can sleee...


Shit. Are you kidding me?

Mommy that looks dead

I can't draw. That is a proven fact. Like the Earth, wind, and tacos. You can't argue with it. Everything I draw looks dead. Houses? Dead. Trains? Dead. Even stick people. So when Large Fry asked me to draw him a cat I am apprehensive. Do I really want to expose my child to a dead cat? What good parent would do that?

But his big blue eyes won me over.

I pick a crisp white sheet of paper and a bright blue crayon. Everyone loves blue cats right?

This is what I drew:

Large Fry: Mommy what is that?

Me: It's a cat.

Large Fry: No, it's a monster

Me: It is a cat! You asked for a cat!

Large Fry: Mommy I think it looks dead.

Me: It's not dead! It's smiling

Large Fry: No I don't think so! I think it's dead.

See people. Even a 3 year old knows. Please don't ask me to draw.

Water can tickle

For the last few days I have been allowing my Large Fry to play outside with the waterhose. He has been very content and I get some internet work done. No seriously. So this morning he has asked me to go outside to retrieve his 'mighty machine' so he can work on it. It needs work.

Arguing with him did not work. He wanted me and only me to do it. I should have known. But in my defense it was 9 am and my brain doesn't officially turn on until at least 11 am.

So here I am, trapsing out into the backyard to retrieve this mighty machine. I have on a blue tanktop and gray pants that say PRINCESS across my ass, because I am that classy. I locate the mighty machine in the corner of the yard and I am about to turn around to go inside...

...when a stream of ICE COLD water has hit me. On the ass. I turn around to get another stream of water to the face. All the while Large Fry is laughing hysterically and shouting "LOOK MOMMY! The water tickles you!"

I am trapped. Seriously fucking trapped. I'm in the CORNER. It's either fight or flight. And I have no where to go. My assailant isn't letting up on the hose. Somehow it's even on jet stream. So here I am running across the yard with the damn mighty machine while being attacked by Large Fry and his Weapon of Choice (WOC). I'm soaked. I'm wet. And he has the nerve to tell me "Mommy please go wash. You are dirty."