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.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

To my Large Fry on his 5th Birthday

Dear Large Fry,

Today is September 28th. In one month you will be five years old. Five. Is that possible? Have you grown that much? I know you like to hear of when you were born so here is a recap. I remember the day you were born. You were the strongest, scariest, tiniest mad baby I had ever seen. Such a fighter. So noisy.

As you grew you got bigger and nosier. And louder. For someone so small you sure can be so very loud. I remember sitting in the hospital thinking what we would do if we ever left this place. What you would grow to be like.

In my dreams I never thought you would look so much like me.

I sit and watch and wonder what you will be when you grow up, what paths in life you will take. You have been given a challenge. You told me the other day "Aspsberrger isn't my name Mommy. It's not me.". It's a word you hear a lot isn't? You have refused to let it own you. You have friends, you are popular, you are managing life with love and laughter. You are one of the most amazing people I know and I admire the kind of person you are turning into. Not the baby I once held in my arms, but the little person.

I know sometimes we fight. Sometimes you don't think I am a good Mommy. I know sometimes I make you cry. I hate those moments. Always remember that I only do those things because I do love you and I want what is best for you. Mommies, just like Pies, make mistakes too.

I'll end this with the poem I know you love so much:

I am your PARENT, you are my CHILD
I am your QUIET PLACE, you are my WILD

I am your CALM FACE, you are my GIGGLE
I am your WAIT, you are my WIGGLE

I am your DINNER, you are my CHOCOLATE CAKE
I am your BEDTIME, you are my WIDE AWAKE

I am your LULLABY, you are my PEEKABOO
I am your GOODNIGHT KISS, you are my I LOVE YOU

Friday, September 16, 2011

Shitty Day

Ever have one of those days? This day was shit.

Small Fry freaked out all day. ALLL day. Did I mention all day? Because it was all day.

All day. All day. All day. All day. All day. All day. All day. All day. All day. All day. All day. All day. All day. All day. All day. All day. All day. All day.

My taco bean salad was crappy. I looked forward to it all morning only to be disappointed. It was mediocre at best. It tasted nothing like what I imagined it would. It was suppose to be spicy, lettuce, crunchy perfection. Food from the Gods as I pat myself on the back and assured myself that I was a fitness fanatic with my healthy lunch. Instead it was boring, soggy, and limp and I would have cut a bitch for a bacon cheeseburger.

Dinner was no better. The hot dog wrapped in bread was vastly superior to whatever that was that I thought I made. My "creation" was shittacular at best. One could almost have used it as a weapon against baddies.

CIA Agent: I can make you talk
Baddie: NEVAR!
CIA Agent: Oh yes. Talk or you have to eat...THIS!
Baddie!! AHHHHH

Take my word for it. It was horrible. So finally, finally bedtime comes. I have something to be excited over. It's my daily date night with Agent Hotchner (rawr) and a peanut buster parfait (I can hear you judging me. I don't care).

I am sliding my new Criminal Minds Season 6 into the DVD player when I hear Small Fry. He's stirring, he's fussy. So I go to check and sure enough he smells foul. So I bring him to the bed to do a quick assessment. He needs changing. It's late.

I get the diaper off and for whatever reason I keep it to the side. Usually I wrapped the diaper up tightly and set it to the side. For whatever reason I did not do this. I suck. In one quick, seamless motion Small Fry grabs the diaper and flings it at me. I manage to sidestep the open face diaper and it hits the floor.

Did it land face up or face down? Please let it be face up. Please please please. I don't want to mop. I don't want to clean the floor. I just want to put child to bed, diaper in the trash and continue with my date with Hotch.

This was a one- step solution. I lost my balance and stepped right into the open face diaper.
oh my God no no no no no Oh my God no no no no no no no no Oh my God no no no no no no no Oh My God no no no no no no no no Oh my God no no no

Hands are on the bed. Foot is in one shitty diaper, wiggling baby, and I am missing Hotch and my husband looks up and says

"Damn. That's shitty."

Monday, September 5, 2011

I'm living with Jaws

Small Fry turned 2 this past week and with that he's gained a whole new identity.

I use to think he was a meat eating dinosaur. He had the keen sense of when to strike, when to hold back, and when would make the most impact.

I've now decided he's a direct descendant of Jaws. You remember Jaws?

This is what I'm living with. Teeth and all.

He bit me on the ass recently.

It was a picture perfect day. The sun was shining. Birds were out crapping on people's vehicles. Large Fry was at school hopefully doing something besides picking locks (he does that). I was on the phone to the insurance company trying to settle our policy for the new truck (can open... worms everywhere) when Jaws rounded the corner.

Now I was ass deep in forms and policy numbers and I had stood up to get a pen. I heard the high pitched wails of "I am here! PAY ATTENTION TO ME! ME ME ME!". I admit, I ignored them. I figured he was right behind me. What harm could he do?

Bad move.

I turned my back on him.

I was in the process of writing down a number when it struck. Without warning (or at least without a decent warning in my opinion) Mouth wide, Jaws launched his teeth on my ass. All teeth sank in unison form into (in my opinion, again, a pretty sweet) ass.

Jaws latched on. And didn't let go. Tears formed in my eyes. I could not help myself. I squealed out "Holy Mother of God!" I think I said the word fuck. I can't remember. All I know is at that time I had the phone to one ear and a 2 year old attached to my ass. Literally. He was not letting go. Shaking wasn't the answer. Neither was running. So I stood there and took it.

The lady on the phone stopped her speech. I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm crazy. And perhaps trying to convert her.

Finally, finally he let up. The tooth impressions are still on my ass cheek. A reminder why you never, ever ignore Jaws. And why I always stand with my back to the wall now.

*insert Jaws Theme*

Thursday, August 25, 2011

I haven't updated...

In fucking forever. Why? Because I suck. Or better yet because my children are vastly draining all my Give A Fuck and leaving me limp in the kitchen with a spatula whimpering to myself while they totter off singing voodoo songs.

They are savages. They are sharks that smell the blood of a wounded animal. A wildcat that sees prey. A hawk against a fish. Me against Pizza Hut. It's a vicious, never ending cycle of them vs me and I always loose. Always.

You would think after 5 and 2 years respectively, they would let me win just once. Is that so much to ask?

What has happened you ask? What are the Fries up too? No good.

I won't bore with the details..but I'll try to update more often. Pinky swear and all that. Cross my heart and hope to die.

Monday, July 11, 2011

How nonresponsible people get their children to eat

Large Fry doesn't eat. Or rather, Large Fry doesn't eat very well. If the child could sustain life on strawberries, chocolate milk, and cheese he would. Within the last few months, creative minds have been to work in getting more into the child. It could be compared how men helped Apollo 13 fix their shit before returning to work.

"Men, we have these objects before us. How do we construct this into something Large Fry will eat and sustain life? We have this and only this and we have 1 hour to get it done. No is not an option here people."

No is usually what I get anyways. But I give it my all. It's not my fault it all crashes and burns. Metaphorically speaking of course.

In the last month alone these tricks have been tried:

Reverse psychology

"I bet Large Fry CAN'T eat all that! I don't think he even CAN!"
Large Fry: Mommy, we shouldn't bet.


"Look how big and strong you will get if you eat ALL your dinner Large Fry!"
Large Fry: So?


"If you don't eat that you won't get a bedtime show!"
*cue overreaction alert and up until fuck o' clock with tears and mass hysteria*


"Large Fry if you don't start eating you will have to go the hospital and get a POKEY! It will hurt! If you eat, you don't get pokies"
Large Fry: "I will take YOU to the hospital and get a pokey. I DON'T LIKE POKIES!"

"Please Large Fry? Just one bite? One bite for me? Please, please, please???"
*blank stare*

Dramatic cries
"Mommy...quit yelling or you will go to time out.."

But the most responsible moment came when his Nana told him

"Large Fry, if you eat you can get big and say curse words like shit and fuck."
Large Fry: "Really?! REALLY?? If I eat ALL my food, I can grow and say shit and fuck??"
*cleans plate*

And that's how to get your kid to eat responsibly people.

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Memorable Quotes from Large Fry

While on our visit to Texas Large Fry is sleeping with his Nana and Pawpaw. Tonight a simple gem as told from Nana.

Nana comes to the back bedroom to find Large Fry with his hands in a certain place if you know what I mean. Nana asks him why he has his hands down his undies. Large Fry replies "I'm trying to tell the temperature of it."

PawPaw and Large Fry and to a degree Small Fry were having a fight in the living room. You could hear Large Fry screaming from all areas of the house "PAWPAW! You give me my purse back RIGHT.NOW or I'm going to FART on you! Now hold still so I can fart! Don't move!"

What a mixture of sensitive man and all boy with the purse and the farting. Every woman's dream.

Ever so often when Large Fry has done something (no telling what) to one or both of his grandparents you can hear him giggle and proclaim "What a laugh!"

And as always, when he want his way he tells PawPaw "Suck it up princess!"

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

I should have walked to Texas

On June 11th I took my sanity (and my kids) on a trip. Not just any trip oh no. This was a 2 day fiasco starting on Friday.


Friday was a busy day. When preparing to take 2 Fries on an extended vacation to see their grandparents, it's almost assured that things will not go as I planned. Between naps (Small Fry decided he didn't want one until almost 4 pm) and Large Fry unpacking everything I had carefully packed for him over and over, I was ready for a drink. It was only 11 am.

We had to run out numerous times. To the post, to the bank, to the post, to Groom's work, to the store, the store, and every time we left it was the same conversation.

Large Fry: Mommy are we going to Texas yet?
Me: No

Lather, rinse, repeat all day Friday. Groom returns home from work and we are all packed up. Only I forgot the library books. No worries, it's on the way. We pull into the library and I say to Groom "I think it's closed but I will see if there is a book drop anyways."

I walk to the library. There is no book drop, but I wonder to myself if there is anyone still in the library. I turn the knob to the door and it's open. I push it all the way open and *WHOO WHOO WHOO WHOO WHOO WHOO WHOO WHOO WHOO WHOO*

Oh yes. An alarm. I set off a fucking alarm. At a library. I'm already inside so I think "Fuck it." I put the books on the desk, walk outside, get into the car and I said "Drive. NOW!" He didn't even ask what the hell I had done. He just drove.

Upon getting to the hotel it was decided that the Fries needed to go to bed. It was 9:30 and we had to be at the airport for 4 am.

What the fuck was I thinking? Little boys+hotel=no sleep. They giggled. They laughed and jumped. We separated them only for them to make MORE noise. Small Fry crashed at midnight. Large Fry went strong until 1 am before crashing on my side of the bed. I had a sliver of bed. I dare not move him. I'm terrified he will wake up and I will be even more fucked than I already am.


3:30 comes bright and early. We head to the airport for 4 am and our check-in process is normal until I get to security.

"Oh Ma'am. Your son Large Fry has been selected for special screening". This means because he is a minor we are ALL "special screened". Both boys are swabbed, their carry-on inspected to the hill. I had to go into the x-ray. All with a Small Fry who is screaming, a Large Fry who is running around, and I've had about 3 hours of sleep. I kept looking over my shoulder, waiting for the snap of a latex glove and stern instructions to Bend over.

6 am:
We are boarded and getting ready to fly. I don't know what I enjoyed more:

Large Fry found the flight guide book in the seat pocket and was memorizing it. He then corrected the flight attendant when he got a few points wrong. Score.

45 minutes of nonstop screaming from Small Fry. I don't mean little mouse squeaks. This was screaming as if he needed to get his point across from the airplane to New Zealand. For forty-five minutes. On a 6 am flight.

At one point during the 45 minute screaming, Large Fry was sitting on my lap and he leaned forward and threw his head back, connecting with my nose and causing a nose bleed. Still screaming, I had to make to the airplane bathroom and attempt not to bleed all over me, him, everyone else, and make sure he didn't get away. Somehow I did not get blood all over me and him. A miracle considering the screaming and the nosebleed. He did, however, open the bathroom door. Time: 6:45 am

He got away. He was almost to the cockpit before I caught up to him. The only time in the entire 2.5 hour flight that he was happy.

The Fist fight: They got into a fight over an airline blanket. Smacking and slapping incurred. Fuzz was slapped to the floor. Wails of aggravation from both parties was heard through out the plane. I tried to cover my head with the airline blanket and pretend these children did not belong to me but some invisible woman, but that just pissed both of them off more. Time: 7:15 am.

*I even brought magazines to read. What the fuck was I thinking?*

The Lost Ducky: Large Fry has this small, red duck that he is so very attached to. She was flying with us and he dropped her. She rolled away. Louder wails. Crocodile tears. Fears for Ducky was heard. One person started looking. Then another. Then another. Within 10 minutes, around 20 people were looking for a small, red duck at 8 am in the morning on a jumbo aircraft.

Ducky was recovered by an American soldier 15 minutes later and returned to her rightful place- my pocket until we landed in Amarillo.

The bathroom- I had to use the bathroom and of course Small Fry had to come with me. He almost flushed the toilet while I was on it. I marginally avoided having a blue ass by jumping up and almost face planting into the mirror in front of me.

We land in Denver and board our next flight to Amarillo:

57 minutes of non stop screaming from Small Fry. If you think 45 minutes is long, try 57 minutes. On one of those very small air crafts. The ones that look like a tin can with wings. It still haunts my dreams at night--the sound of non stop screaming. I think it will haunt me forever.

I allowed Large Fry to have a beverage from the beverage cart. He selected OJ and it was on his tray. He was reading the airline book again when Small Fry sprung. He reached down and slapped his hand under the tray. The orange juice and ice went flying all over the woman sleeping in the seats in front of us.

How she did not wake up is beyond me. I want to find her. She must teach me her secrets of sleeping.

We landed. I grabbed our shit and we booked it off that plane. That's the fastest I have ever walked in my entire life.

I was so tired Saturday night that I took a shower and I only shaved one leg. I didn't notice until Sunday morning.

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

What my Kids have done to me in the last two weeks

As my many, many followers know (okay the 8 of you guys!) my nearest real community of *Slave Lake was affected by a massive wildfire that tore through the town. With the evacuation of the community my Internet went out too for two weeks.

This is what I learned:

Never let Small Fry sit on your face. He will fart. It will stink.

It takes 1 minute 13 seconds for two little boys to flood the bathroom. Twice.

Small Fry will climb into the shower with you while you are not looking (and singing an incredible version of Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" and point and giggle. I'm not sure if he was giggling at me or my singing. I am going to save dignity and say singing.

Large Fry will run down a dirt road chasing a bug with his pee all the while singing "SPIDERMAN! SPIDERMAN! PEES WHEREVER A SPIDER CAN!"

Small Fry will take my hairbrush when I am not looking and dunk it in the toilet. I wonder how many times this has happened without me knowing?

Random Stranger: Love the shine to your hair! What product do you use?
Me: Toilet Duck.

Small Fry, do you want food? No. Juice? No. Bed? No. Me to jump into a volcano? YEAH!
Thanks dude. I'll get right on that.

They like to hide noisy motion detected *toys in my laundry baskets. When I am unloading the laundry I get a variety of assorted noises guaranteed to make me pee my pants because it scares the shit out of me.

*Today it was a laughing moose with a hideous giggle that sounds like a serial killer on Prozac.

I took a nap one day. Possible the dumbest thing I've done this month. Or damn close to it. I woke up to the bathroom locked. I unlocked it to find my doors chained, the bathtub full of toys, and the toilet taped shut. Monsters you see, were coming out of the bathroom and he was protecting me.

Sweet kid. It took me an hour to de-tape the shitter so it could be used.

Large Fry in the middle of the grocery store:
Large Fry: Mommy, what the fuck is that?
Me: It's a roasted chicken and we don't say fuck.
Large Fry: We say fuck off instead?
Me: Let's stop talking now okay?

I'm so happy Small Fry cannot talk yet. I am afraid of what he will think of to say.

This isn't as funny as I wanted it to be, but honestly I'm tapped out of brains. These kids, they are like zombies. They eat my brains until there isn't anything left and trust me when I say there wasn't much left to begin with. Consider this a highlight reel--there was TWO WEEKS with them and NOTHING to do but drive me crazy. Mission completion.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Meet my imaginary friend BJ

So says Large Fry. He introduced his new imaginary friend to me this morning. HER name is BJ.

Imagine my surprise upon taking Large and Small Fry to town only to be told we were not alone. BJ was with us. BJ is a fun loving girl who gets into trouble, rolls down car windows, and at times barks.

Today BJ has been a riot. She's pounded the floor, squirted juice, and made a mess on the floor.


But the most awesome example of how BJ is slowly starting to ruin my life and it's only been one day was at the post office this morning. I was stupid enough to take Large Fry out of the vehicle and allow him to come into the building with me to check the mail. Mistake One-complete.

I then allowed him to talk to people. As we were leaving with our A&W flyers (yes I horde those like a fat kid hordes pie. I love A&W for cheap!) Large Fry runs over to the counter and starts waving the post office lady over. Unsuspecting she walks over to him and asks him "How can I help you?" And he replies "Have you seen my BJ? It was here a minute ago!" Mistake Two-complete

That poor flustered post office worker. She was looking around like crazy, hoping someone would save her from this tiny child asking her where his BJ was. I can't even deny he is mine because we look identical. Sometimes having a clone fucking suck. So I shuffle over to retrieve the child only to have him screeching "BJ! BJ! WHERE DID YOU GO BJ! I NEED MY BJ RIGHT. NOW!"

I have two options at this point.

Option A- Run. Grab him and run as fast as my ass will run and don't ever look back *cue possible looks of contempt and pity.

Option B- Have a short lived conversation about how he has a new imaginary friend named BJ, no I don't know where he got the name from, and yes I realize it's completely inappropriate but have you ever tried to reason with this kid? It just doesn't work on so many levels, but the biggest is because he's smarter than I am. *cue absolute looks of "What the hell are you smoking Lady?" and possibly pity.

Secret option C- Do option B and drink the leftover rum when I get home.

Option C is looking pretty damn good right now. Mission Mortify Mom? Complete

Friday, April 22, 2011

Lesson Learned

Pulling out of the 7-11 last week, I got cut off by some bitch hauling her big ass Navigator into the gas pumps.

Me: What a bitch!
Large Fry: Mommy, you're a bitch!
*insert smile*

The Week the Internet Went Out

You read that right. For a solid week it was me versus them with no Internet.

First- The loss of Internet

I had not realized how entangled I have become with my love of the Internet. When the signal first faded I sat at my laptop and hit refresh for a good 20 minutes. Then a restart. Then another restart.

Finally I called our provider. It was then I was told the awful news- your dish is windblown. We will not be able to come up for a WEEK.

There was an icy hand had clutched my heart at this moment. I felt faint.

No....Internet? What will I do?

Groom suggested housework. Not just normal housework but that deep down cleaning involving gloves and pails of water. Bwha ha. Uh, how about no?

It was then I had went back to the laptop and tried to brainwash it into working. When that didn't happen I admitted defeat and packed it away. Just looking at it reminded me of all the good times we have had together. The chatting, the shopping,..well that's really it. But there was a LOT of it.

Phase 2- The children

As Large Fry spent the majority of this at school, he was not as affected by the loss of Internet. Only when he came home from school did he realize that he could not go on his "lappy" and was doubting my knowledge on the subject, asking every 3 minutes "Is the Internets back?"

I get the feeling he was holding this out for me:

It was me vs Small Fry. Small Fry seems to have a good knack for finding people at their weak moments. He was trouble with a capital T all week.

I folded laundry--he unfolded it.
I put the laundry away--he took it out of the drawers
I mopped the floor--he squirted milk all over it
I cleaned the bathroom--he put toilet paper all over it
I loaded the dishwasher--he unloaded it
I made the beds--he tore the blankets off

This when on all week but one day was really bad. So bad I said fuck it once it was over and had my version of a drink: Reese's Pieces ice cream.

He's a force but I thought I could take him. I put him in the BJD or the Baby Jail Device aka the crib after he had systematically went through the above list, destroying my work and my plan to sit on my ass later.

I put on Godforsaken Mickey Mouse and I attempt to redo everything I just listed. I hear him baby babbling and laughing hysterically. Ahh Mickey. You never fail me do you? You just sing your songs and find your clues and entertain my child while I get some shit done so I can sit on my ass in front of TV later and tell Groom how motherfucking hard I worked all damn day and he should leave me alone to bask in the results of my hard work and my secret TV crush.

It was when the giggles grew louder that I became concerned. Now I know Mickey can be a riot but this was a bit on the dark side of laughter. A cross between Darth Vader and Bugs Bunny with a stern "NO!" entered ever so often. So I peak in and discover that he had pulled EVERYTHING from the shelving unit about his crib off. All the diapers, wipes, bears, everything. He was in the middle of throwing ALL the medicine to the ground (He had already pulled all the wipes out) and resulting in laughing hysterics when they hit the ground.

He hands me one with the most beautiful smile and says "TANK-TOO!"

Seriously?! From the CRIB you have managed to create more work. It's a special gift my son..a special gift you have. The ability to be fully confined and yet still create total chaos around you.

We are all seriously going to fear him one day. I hope he remembers I was once the ass wiper when he takes over the world.

Monday, April 11, 2011

Does this shit only happen to me?

Seriously? Does it? Do I have some sort of "Fucked up situation" beacon on my back that allows for some twisted universe beam to laser me at any available opportunity? For laughs? For shits and giggles? So somewhere, someone can sip on a beer (or whatever the beverage choices are up in Who Knows Where) and mock me as I try to regain control of a hopeless situation?

It started out oh so simple. The grocery store. It's a simple mission. I needed bread and milk. BREAD and MILK. This should be easy enough right? But as past incidents have demonstrated, nothing ever goes easy.

As ingrained into me long ago, I grab a Cola from the cooler as I make my way into the store. This is a long established routine I got from my mother. It seems neither me or her can walk into a grocery store and NOT grab a drink. So I grabbed a 20 oz Cola and I sit it into the cart where Small Fry is sitting up front in the driver's seat, looking cute, and grinning from ear-to-ear at people are walking by. It's the perfect set up for browsing. Calm child, cool drink, and nothing to do but browse to kill time.

During this time Small Fry has noticed the bottle but thinks nothing of it. He's picked it up. He's looked at it. But he's really not impressed and continues to people watch. It's PERFECT. I almost feel smug. "Ha di ha. See my perfectly content baby you assholes? See? He CAN be good."

As we enter the line to check out, I'm gazing lustfully at a bag of Jalapeno Doritos when it hits the fan. Oh literally. Small Fry shrieks, grabs the (unopened) cola, gives it 3 or 4 very fast shakes, and literally hurls it to the ground at rapid speeds. Now this is where it gets scientific: The angle to which the bottle hit the ground was dead on, causing the lid to spew and the bottle to rotate on the ground while spewing cola. An exact replica of the Pepsi Incident of 2007* that occured with Large Fry in my kitchen.

But instead of the privacy of my kitchen, it's the line of the grocery store. And in this instance instead of only me getting spewed, it's other people in the matter of 20 seconds. And once I finally grab the rotating bottle of spew and pick it up (which it's still spewing) I've drenched myself in cola. Small Fry has not one drop on him. The lady in front of me has it up her pants. The man behind me has it all over his carry cart of groceries. The kid running the till doesn't know if he wants to laugh or cry at the huge mess that has befallen his till. It's all over the rack of candy, the till and the floor. It's just...everywhere.

I have no words. I'm shrieking and apologizing and scolding all at the same time so it's really just me flapping my arms around a fizzing bottle of cola all the while trying to make sense of the situation before me. I probably resembled a dodo bird before extinction:

Dodo Me: What to do?! What to do?! Maybe I should just flap around and wait for a suggestion or help to fall from the sky!

Oh wait a second! I see! I see..oh nothing. Just my child getting the better of me. Again. No wonder velociraptors ate other raptor eggs. I'm beginning to see their logic.

And the entire time, Small Fry has clapped his hands and cheered screeching babble that I'm sure translates into something similar to "Ha ha smug Mother. NEVER doubt me! Ever!!"

I never will again. For all I know we are banned from that particular store by now.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

The dead eyes in the kitchen

This has nothing to do with my children and is ALL about my husband. Who I am going to kill. Because he sucks.

He went ice fishing last night. It was not unusual for him to do so but as the season has been slow he hasn't been catching anything. I was all snug in my bed with my laptop and Season 9 of FRIENDS when he came home.

He comes home and gets into bed. Talks about this and that. We snuggle and watch an episode of Two and a Half Men. He falls into a blissful sleep while I am still awake due to my brain not knowing WHEN TO SHUT THE FUCK UP. It's a long haul but I finally doze off.

Cue Small Fry. *wah!* *wah wah wah WAHHH!!!*

The cry that wakes me from my slumber. I stumble into his room to find his bottle is empty and he is showing his displeasure by systematically throwing things out of the crib. I retrieve the bottle, duck a flying Eeyore, and head to the kitchen.

I go to the sink to rinse the bottle. I reach to turn on the water and I look down.


Swear to doG you have never seen someone move so fast. I scream bloody murder that would rival Jamie Lee in any horror movie and back away from the sink. In my hurry to get AWAY from the glowing dead eyes that are in my sink I step on a plastic Thomas and part of his track. I yelp in pain for now I have dead eyes staring at me and a small plastic piece of Thomas lodged in the bottom of my foot.

Hopping into the living room I sit down. I survey the situation. Glancing back into the kitchen I notice there are still eyes staring at me from the kitchen sink and I swear Thomas is smirking at me. Small Fry has begun plotting his escape and is rattling the crib bars.

Hobbling down the hall, (really fast past the kitchen because the dead eyes are freaking me out) I sorta toss the bottle into the crib with a quick "Night son!" and haul ass as fast as I humanly can to the bedroom. Panting slightly I get into bed when my darling husband (and I'm using the term darling really light here) rolls over and says...

"Oh before I forget there is a fish in the sink. Don't worry it's frozen."

Fucker. I should have put it in bed with him.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

The Temperment of Small Fry

Small Fry has a temper.

He kind of turns into the Incredible (Little) Hulk I've noticed.

The scene: Home

Small Fry: Has a lethal death grip on the telephone.

Mom's objective: To retrieve the phone

I walk over and plunk the phone from his grasps.

*transformation begins*
What starts as an innocent looking baby suddenly looks like this:

I know. Scary right? His face goes red. Really red. The bottom lip sticks out. The hands clutch into tiny fists of furry.

After transformation and he is fully HULK he then begins the HULK SMASH! I get slightly cold and slightly scared watching my child meta morph into a 19 month that could probably kick my ass in a fight. I'm serious.

He then proceeds to the couch where it stands no chance. He beats it with his tiny fists of fury--willing it to BEND TO HIS EVERY WANT! AND HE WANTS THE GOD DAMN PHONE!

I sputter. I offer toys only to have them hurled towards my head with lightening speed. I offer to rock him only to have the teeth show and he starts to resemble one of these:

So now I have a Hulkaraptor. What the hell do I do now? The most obvious answer is to flee. But where? It's going to take me at least 20 minutes to McGuyver my way around the baby gate. He's rounding the corner of the kitchen. Beads of sweat are forming around my hairline. He's armed with a set of play keys, a string of Marde Gra beads, and a plastic cup. I need to think quick. I'm running out of time. He's coming at me teeth gleaming, his fists ready to Hulk Smash! And I am his next victim...

So how do I combate this? How do I turn him back into Small Fry? His kryptonite. His Dragon's Bane.

That's right. There ain't nothing that food can't fix for this child.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Revenge is a dish best served cold

Like about 12 years. I'm tired. SO.FUCKING.TIRED.

Not tired of anything. Just tired. My children do not sleep at night. Period. It's 9:15. Large Fry is squeaking to high heaven that Fuzz has insulted him thus keeping up Small Fry who is just shaking his crib in hopes of it collapsing and gaining freedom.

It's like this all night. When they finally, finally fall asleep I can stagger into my bed. It's a sight. My hair is frizzed out. The bags under my eyes could be considered extra baggage on airlines. I'd have to pay an extra $50 just to load with these bags. My bra? I have no idea where it is. Hell, I have no idea where anything is half the time.

Don't be fooled. Quiet doesn't mean sleeping. It's usually declared by me to be "resting". My children don't sleep. BWHA! Such notions you have. they rest. Only to wake up howling for some injustice that has befallen them. Such as

Small Fry: WAH! My bottle is empty! WAH! HOW DARE THIS OCCUR! WAH!

Large Fry: OMFG! Thje bathroom light is off! WHY? You promised it would STAY ON FOREVER!!

Small Fry: Hey! Hey Ma! I've thus taken a shit. It's..what? 2:24 A.M. That's good timing right? RIGHT? Come! Relief my bottom from this rank smell.

Large Fry: MOOMMY! My FUZZY! He's..He's..3 inches on the ground! HELP!!

Small Fry: Help! I'm being oppressed by this blanket! No, seriously! Help! It's trying to get me! WAH!

Large Fry: MOMMMY!!! I want a SHOW!!! It's only 4:30 A.M! PLEASE?! SHOW! NOW! What? No show? I'm gonna throw my water bottle then. *thud*

Finally..all does go quiet. It's somewhere in the 5 am-6 am range. And the alarm goes off at 7. Motherfucker.

So I have a plan. It's a beautiful plan. It involves me, teenagers, and their precious sleep.

The Plan
**12 years in the future**
Get Teenager and Pre-Teenager to stay awake. This is key to my plan. They must stay up late on a school night. Perhaps I will entice them with a video game or a movie.

Watch Teen and Pre-teen stumble to their room(s) for a night of slumber.

Retire to my room

Have a alarm clock handy and in timed intervals start screaming and banging pots and pans randomly. Run in and spray water in their faces. Run out. Set alarms to go off in their room(s) hidden to the untrained eye. Shine a spotlight in the room. And various other acts of no good ALL.NIGHT.LONG.

Wake children up at 7 am. Tell them it's time to get ready to go to school. Escort children to school. Come home. Sleep all day.


Revenge. It's best served cold.

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Hell's Kitchen

You know the show? I'm there. That scary guy in the chef's hat barking orders at the shaking would-be-chefs-in-training? That's Large Fry. The one quaking in the corner--that's me.

I'll confess I haven't been on my A game for cooking lately. I've been rocked by horrid lazyitis that I can't shake and I haven't felt like cooking "Frou dela Frou" for them.

Tonight's menu: Chicken nuggets, white gravy (That I get smuggled in from Nana Fry), and veggies.

Large Fry: WHAT is that?
Me: Dinner
Large Fry: It doesn't look right.
Me: It's right. It's chicken nuggets. One of your favorites
Me: WHY NOT?! *insert panick and heart palapitations*

*commercial break* aka Large Fry takes this chance to dance to a Justin Beiber song

Large Fry: They just don't. They don't look like chicken nuggets.
Me: What do they look like?
(Now this might have been my mistake...this was a can of worms I should have left closed. but I'm not so swift at times)

Large Fry: Looks like Fry dog ate them mom. Then stepped on them. They are too nuggetty.
Me: HOW can they be too NUGGETTY? THEY ARE NUGGETS?!
Large Fry: They don't have any leaves...

Just fire me already...

Sunday, March 6, 2011

My letter to Laundry

Dear Laundry,

I think it's time we had a talk. Just me and you. I think we both knew this was coming, so let's just get to the point. I don't like you and you don't like me. Period. Every day I try to avoid you and every day you rear your ugly head into my houes (and brain) demanding I give you some sort of attention.

I will admit you have a purpose. But god damn, EVERY.SINGLE.DAY? Every day, there you are. Waiting, crying out "Wash me!" "Fold me!"

I can't take it anymore. Is one day of peace not acceptable to you? Ever? CAN YOU JUST BE CLEAN FOR ONE DAY?

We can't break up. You have me by the hypothetical balls. I have to deal with you, but I want you to know I don't like it. Not one fucking bit. I'm also concerned you might be waging some sort of attack plan. So here is my plan:

Today I'm ignoring you. Completely. You can sit in the basement and fester for all I care. I'm pretty sure you already multiply when I'm not looking. Discuss it among yourselves. I think the pants probably run this show. They know I'm completely fucked with no pants...

Anyways, back to my plan. You have today to take me over. I'm ignoring you. Tomorrow, though, I plan to go down there and kick your ass.


Thursday, February 17, 2011

Pussy in my eye

Honest to doG conversation I had today with Large Fry

Large Fry: Mommy, I have a problem
Me: *not really paying attention* Mmhm..what is it Largie?
Large Fry: Mommy..I have pussy in my eye

*THUMP*My head against the refridgerator door trying to swivel around

Me: What? WHAT? What do you have?!
Large Fry: Pussy. I have pussy in my eye
Me: *Holding back extreme laughter* How..umm..how did this happen?
Me: OH! Pus. You have PUS in your eye
Large Fry: That's what I said MOMMY! Pussy! Ewwy gooey pussy in my eye.

Isettled him in front of Toopy and Bino. And then I laughed. Hard.

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Flying Salmon

I have two boys that live in this household and one older boy that masquerades as a grown adult half the time.

I've noticed that my children solve problems in very different ways. While Large Fry has the ability to work out problems, my Small Fry tends to be true to his one friend: a can of salmon.

Problem: Child locks.

Large Fry has been able to disarm any child lock that was in his path since he was 18 months old. He patiently works the lock, taking time to unlock it carefully, and retrieve whatever he wants.

Small Fry: Smashes the lock with a can of salmon.

Problem: No one is paying attention to him

Large Fry will jump up and down, wave his arms, and become increasingly loud until someone, anyone, notices him.

Small Fry: Will throw a can of salmon at you.

Problem: Anger

Large Fry is a wailer. He wails and cries big crocodile tears at the very THOUGHT of being angry.

Small Fry: Throws a can of salmon. And I don't mean just to the floor. He arches it like a pro football player making the 1 million dollar throw.

Problem: Fighting over a toy

Large Fry has perfected the art of tattling. It can be heard across mountians and seas..the call of "Mooooommmmmyyyy! Small Fry has my toooooooyyyyyyyyy" It makes skin prickle, hairs stand that I will actually have to get off my ass and DO something. A toy intervention, possibly leaving both children pissed off at me and my sanity restored to something you can store in a ziplock bag.

Small Fry smashes Large Fry with a can of salmon. Takes toy and leaves. Doesn't look back.

I've tried to take the can of salmon. He notices. His second choice is a huge can of black beans. I'll take my chances with the salmon.

Thursday, January 27, 2011


PMS has hit my household hard this week. And by that I do not mean my usually sunny disposition is ruined by low grade levels of Bitchitis and threatening to cut said bitch for a bag of chips.

I mean PMS-Penis Measuring Systems.

I noticed this phenomenon had entered my home 2 days ago. I noticed Large Fry had entered the washroom and was relieving the 3rd Kool-aid Jammer he had taken without asking when he suddenly proclaimed that "My thingie is SO BIG! It's as big as Thomas's copling rods." To then my astonished face as to "What the fuck is a copling rod?!"

He has then began to measure his "thingie" against everything that will sit still.

What the hell is this?

So after two days of him measuring his "thingie" against this and that (and one call from his teacher about what NOT to do with counting bears) there was a payoff to all this.

This morning when my son got up for school he went to the washroom to conduct business. His father followed to "share" business. And then I overheard my son at the ripe age of four proclaim.................

"Well Daddy. Mine IS better. Not bigger. Better. See?"

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

I draw the line at bumholes

Large Fry has be sick for the last two days. Not sick enough to where he actually sleeps and I can get house work done or sit on my ass on Facebook doing Very Important Things, but sick enough to be slightly whiny and slightly annoying.

**I take everything I said about Thomas the Train away. On days like this he rocks my socks. He's been entertaining said sick child all day.**

However, the nature of Large Fry's illness is greatly centered around the need for a toilet if you get my drift. Several pairs of undies later I think we have this problem under control.

But now his bum hurts so he says. It huurrts. HURRTS BAD. His bum is NOT feeling good.

Now I am a good Mama. I kiss boo boos of all kinds. I kiss Fuzz's boo boos.( If anyone needed boo boo fixing it would be Fuzz I might add. Poor thing has it ROUGH). When the child asked me to kiss his bumhole I had to draw the line.

You agree with me right? I am sitting on Facebook minding everyone else's business when this small streak runs in and screeches at what can only be a decibels dogs can hear "Mommy!! Mommy!! KISS MY BUMHOLE!"

Say what? Surely I did not hear that correctly. Surely not. I ask slowly as to not confuse myself or the child.."What did you say?"

Large Fry: Kiss.my.bumhole!

Me: No. No I don't think I can do that.

Large Fry: Why not? I think you can if you just give it a chance! You might like it!

So this is when parenting bites me in the ass? I proceed to have the longest 4 minute argument of my life on why I will not kiss his bumhole.

He's sulking on the couch now with plans to asks his father when he gets home. I have no plans to forewarn him either.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Bless their hearts

It has come to my attention being a woman raised in the Great State of Texas (GSOT) that you can say anything about anyone as long as you say "bless their heart" either at the beginning or the end of the bitchfest.

So I have decided to utilize this to my advantage.

Small Fry: Bless your heart, but you are turning fucking mean. I'm sorry but you are sorta-kinda-a-little-arsehole. You were at one time this snuffly, sweet, ball of kisses that smiled a lot. Now you smile...while you are doing something mean. Hitting, biting, kicking. screaming, and/or throwing things. Sometimes you do this in combinations. Like Mortal Kombat. Observe:

** Mom vs Small Fry**
Round 1
*kick**bite**chase**howl for an hour**pinch**bite

Round 2
Hit..Hit..***COMBO ATTACK*** kick..slap..pinch


Bless his heart. He's lucky he's cute.

Large Fry: Where did the mouth on this child COME FROM? Bless his heart. He's mouthy. The things he says..It makes me blush. And that's saying something. Friday he informed me he had two girlfriends..he needed a spare. He's turning bossy and controlling. Like Donald Trump only shorter. One day I fully expect him to walk up to me in briefcase and suit and inform me that I am fired.

Groom: Bless your heart but WHAT the FUCK is wrong with your VISION? Pay attention to what I have done. VALIDATE me you internet whore! Look around at the slaving, cleaning, cooking organizing, and put me on the pedestal I so richly deserve to be on for being a domestic -fucking- goddess. AND DO IT NOW.

Chinchilla: You are so noisy, bless your heart. I want to glue cotton balls to your feet.

Dog: Bless your heart. You can't help being a giant pansy. Can you?