Stroke
/It's a dreary day under my roof today.
It's raining outside, the wind is cold and when I woke up to cheerfully toss my children out of bed and send them packing on the little yellow school bus they both hurled obscenities pillows at my head and told me that they had no school today.
Which I would have known if I ever bother to read any of the newsletters they keep bringing home and putting on the counter.
The ray of sunshine I was riding high on quickly vanished soon after when Fric and Frac decided to try and rip one another's limbs off with a dull butter knife and I discovered Jumby had a butt rash that made my ass cheeks clench in terror when I changed his diaper.
Parenting. It ain't all rainbows and songbirds yo.
I have discovered in my decade plus of parenting that when the children are grumpy, the weather is miserable and I can't find any fools to pawn them off on, the best thing to do is hide.
Which is what I decided to do. I drew an chalk line between the kitchen and the living room where I was trying to twitter in peace and informed my precious offspring that the first person to cross a toe over the border to my sanity would be stuck licking the toilets clean for the rest of the weekend.
Then I growled.
My head may have spun around in a weird tribute to the movie Exorcist and I'm fairly certain my eyes started to glow like the people from Village of the Damned.
And yes, I may be spending way too much time staying up late and watching old creepy movies.
My children, they got the point. They have for the most part, left me to my own devices as they plot their next crime argue and fight far away from me. I think they are slightly afraid I might vomit green split pea soup on them or worse yet, make them eat it for lunch.
Eventually, things settled down as we all slipped into a routine. Jumby chewing on his siblings ankles, Fric quietly working on some witch craft potion science project and Frac surfing porn video games on the computer. All while I sat in the relative peace and quiet of my living room with the dogs at my feet, eating bonbons and working on the great Canadian novel. (Reading it, not writing it people. That would mean actual work.)
Just as I was getting to the really trashy part of my Harlequin romance novel, where Jane was about to touch John's throbbing sausage of love as her dewy petals of love opened up, ripe for his touch, I heard my son tell my daughter to go away in an annoyed voice.
"No Fric, I'm busy."
"Come on Frac, just for a second," she urged him, polite yet very insistent.
"I said NO. Bugger off."
"Fric, go away." Frac was sounding testier with each syllable yet he hadn't reached the high pitched little brother screaming volume yet.
"Oh Frac, come on," Fric needled. "Pretty please?" My daughter was using her sing song voice, trying to lure him into submission with the lilting sounds of her voice.
"No."
"Come on Frac, just touch it."
"No. I said no. Do you not speak English?" Frac was half laughing but clearly growing more annoyed with his big sister.
"Touch it Frac, touch it," she chanted.
I sat in the livingroom, curious to what she was trying to get her brother to come and touch but I wasn't motivated enough to actually get off my duff and check it out. After all, no one was screaming yet, why bother?
"Go away, I'm busy," he giggled.
"Touch it Frac. Come on. Touch my pussy. You know you want to."
Suddenly, I was very motivated to see what the hell my little spawn were up to. I made it off the couch and into the kitchen in less time it takes to blink an eye.
"What's going on in here?" I asked sternly while noting that my daughter was fully clothed. Thank heavens.
"Nothing Mom," the two bandits chimed simultaneously.
"Uh huh. What did you ask your brother to do?" I queried the older of the two children.
"I want him to touch my pussy," she innocently replied.
"Excuse me?" I squawked as my heart stopped.
"My pussy cat mom. He won't pet the kittens," she whined as she waved a kitten I did not see in her hand in front of her brother's nose.
Frac just pushed the kitten away and sternly told his sister, "I'm in the middle of a battle. I'll play with your kitty in a second."
My daughter, stroking the orange tabby, looked up at me and asked, "Is there anything wrong Mom?"
Um no baby, Mommy just needs to get her head out of the gutter every now and then.
Kids. They say the damndest things.
Then you stroke out.
It's raining outside, the wind is cold and when I woke up to cheerfully toss my children out of bed and send them packing on the little yellow school bus they both hurled obscenities pillows at my head and told me that they had no school today.
Which I would have known if I ever bother to read any of the newsletters they keep bringing home and putting on the counter.
The ray of sunshine I was riding high on quickly vanished soon after when Fric and Frac decided to try and rip one another's limbs off with a dull butter knife and I discovered Jumby had a butt rash that made my ass cheeks clench in terror when I changed his diaper.
Parenting. It ain't all rainbows and songbirds yo.
I have discovered in my decade plus of parenting that when the children are grumpy, the weather is miserable and I can't find any fools to pawn them off on, the best thing to do is hide.
Which is what I decided to do. I drew an chalk line between the kitchen and the living room where I was trying to twitter in peace and informed my precious offspring that the first person to cross a toe over the border to my sanity would be stuck licking the toilets clean for the rest of the weekend.
Then I growled.
My head may have spun around in a weird tribute to the movie Exorcist and I'm fairly certain my eyes started to glow like the people from Village of the Damned.
And yes, I may be spending way too much time staying up late and watching old creepy movies.
My children, they got the point. They have for the most part, left me to my own devices as they plot their next crime argue and fight far away from me. I think they are slightly afraid I might vomit green split pea soup on them or worse yet, make them eat it for lunch.
Eventually, things settled down as we all slipped into a routine. Jumby chewing on his siblings ankles, Fric quietly working on some witch craft potion science project and Frac surfing porn video games on the computer. All while I sat in the relative peace and quiet of my living room with the dogs at my feet, eating bonbons and working on the great Canadian novel. (Reading it, not writing it people. That would mean actual work.)
Just as I was getting to the really trashy part of my Harlequin romance novel, where Jane was about to touch John's throbbing sausage of love as her dewy petals of love opened up, ripe for his touch, I heard my son tell my daughter to go away in an annoyed voice.
"No Fric, I'm busy."
"Come on Frac, just for a second," she urged him, polite yet very insistent.
"I said NO. Bugger off."
"Fric, go away." Frac was sounding testier with each syllable yet he hadn't reached the high pitched little brother screaming volume yet.
"Oh Frac, come on," Fric needled. "Pretty please?" My daughter was using her sing song voice, trying to lure him into submission with the lilting sounds of her voice.
"No."
"Come on Frac, just touch it."
"No. I said no. Do you not speak English?" Frac was half laughing but clearly growing more annoyed with his big sister.
"Touch it Frac, touch it," she chanted.
I sat in the livingroom, curious to what she was trying to get her brother to come and touch but I wasn't motivated enough to actually get off my duff and check it out. After all, no one was screaming yet, why bother?
"Go away, I'm busy," he giggled.
"Touch it Frac. Come on. Touch my pussy. You know you want to."
Suddenly, I was very motivated to see what the hell my little spawn were up to. I made it off the couch and into the kitchen in less time it takes to blink an eye.
"What's going on in here?" I asked sternly while noting that my daughter was fully clothed. Thank heavens.
"Nothing Mom," the two bandits chimed simultaneously.
"Uh huh. What did you ask your brother to do?" I queried the older of the two children.
"I want him to touch my pussy," she innocently replied.
"Excuse me?" I squawked as my heart stopped.
"My pussy cat mom. He won't pet the kittens," she whined as she waved a kitten I did not see in her hand in front of her brother's nose.
Frac just pushed the kitten away and sternly told his sister, "I'm in the middle of a battle. I'll play with your kitty in a second."
My daughter, stroking the orange tabby, looked up at me and asked, "Is there anything wrong Mom?"
Um no baby, Mommy just needs to get her head out of the gutter every now and then.
Kids. They say the damndest things.
Then you stroke out.