Monday, June 15, 2009

How to Crush Your Kid's Lemonade Stand Dreams

I love it when my husband loses his shit and I look like "Parent of the Year".  It doesn't happen often.

I'm not sure which brilliant dipshit came up with the idea to have a "Lemonade Stand Contest"... but with "Regular-down-the-street-kid-who-thinks-she-lives-here" visiting, it was 2 against 3.  Each were going to have "advertising signs".  Each were strategically planning their set-up, supplies, price per cup and total dollar goal for the sale.  This was some serious MBA economic shit-planning going down.

Damn, these kids are brilliant when they want to be. And they have never been so juiced up like this.
Never. Ever.

It wasn't long before the unraveling began.  The older kids sneak Oreo cookies, bagged chips and teddy grahams to sell. The youngest of the group throws open the garage door, flies up the steps to the kitchen with flushed cheeks screaming at his father and I:


My husband wants absolutely nothing to do with it anymore. He's moved their tables 13 times, filled 2 pitchers of lemonade, removed 1 mosquito from someones cup and has slipped on a patch of ice chips.

My husband to the desperate 5 year old in attempt at keeping calm: "No, go outside. You don't need any snacks."

Desperate Child: "YES!!!!!! WE DO!!!! The older girls have snacks! We NEEEEEEEED SNACKS too!!!"

My husband [with veins in neck about to burst] to desperate 5 year old: "NO YOU DON'T. If you don't go outside, you're done."

Desperate Child who Never gives up opens pantry and starts tearing through food packages, whipping pasta boxes and other food packages out onto the floor.

And then I hear it.

This is what my husband screamed in slow-motion, to our desperate 5 year old child in the very next moment, stooping down to eye level, only 3 inches from his face:


Me Quietly Reaching for an entire sleeve of chocolate chip cookies and new family size bag of Cheetos: "Here. Go sell some snacks dude."
And the sale continued. With an entire final count of $6.85 in total earnings. Minus the $22.50 cost of snacks, cups and lemonade on my part. But hey, who's counting right? Especially when the final outcome is my husband quietly muttering under his breath as he leaves the kitchen:
"You're a way better person than I am."
No honey, it's just your turn. That's all.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

Jealousy, Sex and the 70 Year Old Owner of our Future House

So, I was going through my husband's jeans last night...
[not a normal habit I would like to protest... I was simply looking for a few spare dollars to donate to a door-knocking-neighborhood-teen-scoundrel raising money for some God forsaken sports trip...],
...and this is what I find in his back pocket:

Um, for those of you that don't know
me or my two blonde daughters,
THOSE BITCHES AIN'T US!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So I ask you...
Is it a picture of:

A) Illegitimate children he so shamefully neglected to speak of these past several years?;

2) The woman I in a matter of 2.4 seconds flat decided he might be having an affair with, and her two daughters who so strangely are both blonde and oddly resemble my own two girls in age?;

3) The daughter and grandchildren of the 70 Year Old woman who currently owns the house we are purchasing, who happened to leave her house key for my husband yesterday in order for us to be present for the full-day inspection going on.

Women are asses. But the funniest shit is, he was actually flattered by my expressed jealousy.

So readers, jealousy can be a good thing, if it every-so-often presents itself in small doses.  
And so is the sex that follows.  

Monday, June 1, 2009

Susan Boyle, Me and my OCD Child

I'm not very shocked at the recent news stories around Susan Boyle's supposed nervous breakdown. I mean, how could any ho-hum-never-been-kissed-but-now-sudden-superstar-at-way-too-old-of-an-age human being make it through the unbelievable press and attention she's gotten over the last several months?


And then again, while I may not have to hide from photographers or journalists crouching outside my bushes to catch a glimpse of me at my worst moments, my life these days feels like a category 5 hurricane. Or tornado. Or whichever one of those damn natural catastrophes is described by some type of "categorical system".

These days my own definition of "Category 5" can also be described as:
"Complete Mother-Fucking Mayhem".

Yeah, yeah... whine, whine, bitch, moan. But in addition to all I have going on personally, my kids decided to enter new stages in life, JUST as we have tons of shit going on here at home. Well, OK, my 9 year olds' attitude still sucks the shit out of me - her phase just keeps spinning downward... however, my little soon-to-be-seven-year-old OCD kid has developed new tendencies at night time which basically revolve around NO SLEEP WHAT SO EVER. Her complaints consist of having wrinkles in her sheets, having no pajamas that are comfortable and hating her bed because it is crooked.

Am I the only mother that honestly with her whole heart truly attempts to console and cuddle and talk out these issues with their child they love and treasure to death for nights on end, but suddenly, when asked to tuck blankets tighter for the 17th time in a row, loses all sense of motherly instinct and checks out to no avail wishing her kid a night of hell, only to lock herself in the bathroom with the tub running in order not to hear the cries for mommy, waiting and counting to see how long it takes her husband downstairs to attend to issues he would never normally deal with because kid-in-question wouldn't DARE exhibit such bullshit behavior if alone with Dad or Step-Dad or any other caring adult for that matter?!!!!

Am I???

These are the days I feel like I suck shit as a Mother. My little 6 year old who deals with small OCD tendencies most likely caused by anxiety, [I will leave anxiety source ex-husband out of the story for not wanting to be convicted of defamation of character], is probably in her own way dealing with the traumatizing event of moving from the only one house she has ever known, and has expressed she doesn't want to go, even though she is filled with excitement after seeing the new house. Even the smallest change in routine knocks this kid to no end. And here we are as the adults in her world, not even contemplating the effects of all this change on the littlest of female beings, trucking on as usual, without even asking how she's doing with it all.

But then, just as I start to feel sympathy again, all I can hear in the back of my brain are the screaming words of "Tuck Mommy, TUCK!! Tuck harder, Mommy, GOD!" And then I hear complete tears.

Tears from both of us.

Maybe tomorrow will be better, that is, after we head "new pajama" shopping tonight.
If not, I may follow Susan Boyle's footsteps and check in somewhere after my awaiting nervous breakdown.

Wish me luck.

And in the meantime Sydney, I hope you know,
Mommy loves you more than the world.

We'll figure this out together, baby.