Sometimes...

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.

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?

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."

The Fries: ASSIGNMENT ACCEPTED!

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.

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.

Large Fry: BUT MOMMY! WE HAVE TO! WE HAVE TO! YOU GIVE THAT RAPTOR BROTHER'S PEE PEE OR I WILL DIE!

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.

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...

*WAH! WAH! WAH!*

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."