Role play.

Returning home from the store, we walked in the front door to find Kenny vacuuming the living room floor.  Until that very point in time, vacuuming was a skill I was unaware that Kenny possessed.  Vacuuming is my job.  Did I not do it right?  Not often enough?  Feeling a little insulted, I decided I would not let it get to me.  Instead, I would do his normal tasks.  So I grabbed both bags of trash that were sitting by the door and headed outside.  I heaved the garbage into the cans and I was feeling pretty good about myself.

When I re-entered the house, Kenny was putting the clean dishes away.  Another skill he has never revealed.  Since taking out the trash is his only household chore, I was out of rebuttals.  I began to panic.  In an attempt to do ‘his job’ since he was doing ‘my job’, I cracked open a can of beer and hocked a loogie into the nearest trash can.  Kenny looked at me, disgusted.  Immediately defensive, I said, “You do it all the time!”  He replied, “Yeah, but I make sure there’s a trash bag in there first!”

Oops.

It might be time for a hearing aid.

What the news anchor said:  “An ash cloud caused chaos in a Chilean airport today.”

What I heard:  “An ass clown caused chaos in a Chilean airport today.”

I was the only one laughing and people were glaring at me.  Now that I realize my error, I suppose it was an inappropriate time to be laughing.

Blinded by the...naked old ladies (eek!)

The kids had a school music concert immediately following swim lessons, so I told them they would have to take a shower at the YMCA because we wouldn’t have time to go home before the concert.  Obviously, when I say “take a shower at the YMCA”, I mean with their bathing suits still on.  Because that’s what normal people do.

While the kids have their lesson, there are also a couple other classes going on in the pool, including an old lady class.  I don’t think that’s what it’s really called, but that’s what it really is.  They basically sit in the water the entire time and scowl at the little kids that pass them or ‘get in their way.’  After all, how dare these kids?  What will they ever use this useless swimming skill for anyway?

At the end of class, we speed-walked to the locker room to get Mae’s shower over with and get her ready for her program.  As we entered the locker room and neared the showers, we saw a very unfortunate and near-blinding scene.  An entire group of elderly women showering after their class, WITHOUT their bathing suits on.

Why?

Seriously.  Why?

Of all the awkward conversations I ever envisioned having with either of my children, ‘naked old ladies’ was not on the list.

Mae and I both agreed that a little chlorine in the hair for a couple extra hours was acceptable after the mind-shaking trauma we had both just endured.  As we exited the locker room, Mae looked up at me and said, “Mommy, that was scary.”

I would have bought her ice cream, but neither of us were hungry for the next three days.

I did blink.

Mae climbed onto the couch and sat directly beside me, but on her knees and facing me.  She said, “Hey, Mom, I bet I can make you blink.”  Then, she punched me directly in the right eye.  Then, she said, “Oops.  That’s not what I was supposed to do. Let me try again.“ 

I did NOT let her try again.

Forgetful Kenny

When Kenny got home from work yesterday, we planned to head to town for a bite to eat and to get groceries.

We met Kenny in the driveway.  He was in great spirits.  He headed into the house, claiming, “Gotta go to the bathroom real quick, I’ll be right out.”  The kids and I jumped into the car and waited for him.

After fifteen minutes and multiple horn-honks, I picked up the cell phone and called the house.

“Hello?”                                                

Trying to be as calm as possible, I asked, “Are you going to come with us or should we go without you?”

“I’ll be right out.”

Within seconds, he climbed into the car and faced forward.

Mae has not yet mastered the art of patience.  Standing in the back seat of the car with her hands across her chest, she cried out, “DAD!  What the HECK were you doing that whole time?!”

We were all angrily staring him down, waiting for his response, which was, “I was going Number Two.”

Darn it.  You can’t be mad at that.  It’s the one universal excuse that always works.

I began to pull out of the driveway.  Then Kenny said, much more quietly, “And I checked the weather.”

Quieter still, “And I peeled and ate an orange.”

And barely audible, “And I completely forgot that we were going anywhere.”

So happy it hurts.

There is a kid that wrestles for the same club as Kyler.  I don’t know his name but I will always know his face, as it is formed permanently into an excited smile.  Even when he’s upset, he is radiating happiness.  And when he’s happy, you have to take a couple steps back in order to maintain your composure.  Overwhelming excitement pours out of him in a way that I can’t describe.  Yesterday, he became suddenly thrilled about something and began running down the hallway in front of me.  He sideswiped a woman in passing and I saw rainbows and sunshine pass from his aura straight into her soul.  She fell to the ground and seized with glee.  When she finally came out of it, she coughed a couple of times and then vomited up a bedazzled unicorn.

Seriously, think what might happen if this kid were to hug somebody!

Liar, liar.

Yesterday, Kyler learned a painful lesson:  Adults lie.  He discovered that throughout almost his entire young life, I have not been making his French toast without eggs as I told him I was. 

At the age of two, he grew a hatred for eggs that stemmed from watching the cat lick a raw egg up that I dropped on the floor.  He folded his arms across his chest and vowed to never, ever eat them again, avoiding them at every cost from there on out.

However, he just loves French toast.  To save him from much sadness, watching us eat his beloved favorite food right in front of him, I simply told him that I would make his without eggs.  Two-year olds believe anything. 

After that fateful day, every time I (or anyone, causing much confusion) heated up the skillet to make French toast, he would casually say, “Make mine without eggs” because he wanted to make sure that I remembered. 

Six years later, I saw something flicker in his eyes as I was preparing our morning feast.  He said, “Mom, how do you make French toast without eggs?  Because they make them for breakfast at school and they told me they can’t make them without eggs.” 

In my own defense, I had no idea he was eating breakfast at school (he eats breakfast at home, too!), though this does explain why it seems that I shell out money for lunch so often.

Just like a man

I was forced to perform emergency surgery on GI Joe yesterday.  His right arm fell off and I had minimal time to fix it, as Kyler insisted that Joe could not be late for his wedding.  He was to marry Barbie in three minutes in front of their palace.  She was already upset because Joe was unable to locate his speedboat so he had to borrower her pink convertible.  Then, he went and turned too sharply and fell out of the car, rolling into the counter and disarming himself, literally.

As I was stringing his arm back on, I noticed Kyler reloading the spilled contents into the convertible.  I asked why there was a stuffed snake in the back seat.  He said, “It’s Barbie’s wedding present from GI Joe.”

I decided that hero or not, GI Joe is a typical man:  losing critical property, running late, driving recklessly, giving crappy gifts and, all around, ruining everything.

Married couple rivalry

I was just sitting down at my desk to work this morning when Kenny came out of the bedroom and said, “I knew it.”  I questioned what he was talking about and he said, “I knew you’d steal my robe.”  I looked down and I was, in fact, wearing his robe.  So I explained to him that his is much more comfortable than mine.  He then walked back into the bedroom, got my robe and brought it to me.  He showed me that it was the same exact robe.  Same brand.  Same size.  In fact, he'd bought them together just to prove the point that I take over his stuff just because I can.

This is simply not true.  After a lengthy argument, I am still in shock.  I just can’t believe that he has never noticed that black is more comfortable than gray. 

Them's Fightin' Words

In an effort to show the kids just how silly and ridiculous their arguing is, Kenny and I staged an immature fight.  At suppertime, he took a drink out of my glass of water and I immediately called him out on it, claiming that he was a butthead and he did it on purpose.  He fired back by calling me a sissy-pants and said that I pick my nose.  I told him, “Uh-uh, do NOT!”  Then we both tattled on each other, him to Mae and me to Kyler.

They thought it was hilarious.

After supper, we could hear them arguing again and when we went to scold them, they said, “We’re just fake arguing like you guys.”  But you can’t tell their fake arguing and real arguing apart and they are both equally annoying.  So in our effort to reduce their amount of arguing, we have instead increased it one-hundred percent.

It’s as if all of our plans are purposely meant to backfire on us.

Dogs, Doors, Same thing, right?

I was making fun of the boy-dog for humping the girl-dog the wrong way, by which I mean he was humping her head.  He just can’t catch on.

While Kenny also thought it was funny, he caulked his head slightly to the side, squinted his eyes and said, “Didn’t you and Meghan get stuck in a revolving door once?”

NOT the same.

Precious Memories. Or not.

Kyler’s homework assignment:  A list of his favorite memories.  The paper had such instructions as:  Write about a favorite time you had with a sibling…or…Write about a fun time you had with your parents.

I, of course, imagined that by the time he finished this assignment, the entire page would be filled with heartfelt answers and I would probably want to frame it, cherish it and read it every day. 

Instead, it mostly looked like this:

The best day of my life:

“was when my mom bought me a nerf gun.”

I’m happiest when:

“I’m happy.”

And that’s pretty much how the entire thing was filled out.  What a boy.  At least Mae will get the same assignment next year and complete it more to my liking.

Tobacco Murderer

Kenny:  “Watch out for that turtle.”

Me:  “What?”            

Kenny:  “You’re about to run over…never mind, you just ran over a turtle.  You NEVER pay attention to anything!”

I turned the corner and parallel parked in record time (under three minutes…I mean record time for me).  We all jumped out of the car and the kids ran furiously toward the street where the apparent turtle-flattening took place.

Kenny was boasting on and on about how many innocent animals I had killed by simply not paying attention.  I kept my mouth shut because it was probably true.  I prefer to enjoy the scenery, rather than keeping a constant watch on the pavement and swerving to miss minuscule animals crossing my path.

As we neared the turtle, we became quickly aware that I was not a murderer.  I had, however, flattened a perfectly good can of Skoal Tobacco.

On the way home, I ran over a McDonald’s bag and exclaimed, “Oh  NO!  A raccoon!”  Kenny just didn’t see the humor in it like the rest of us did.

So hungry I could eat a...

Mae:  "Mommy, I'm hungry."

Me:  "What do you want?"

Mae:  "Purple."

That's funny, because my favorite color is sandwich.

Not-so-sweet Emotions

Like me, Mae expresses herself best through writing.  She is able to easily sort out her thoughts on paper.  So, when she had a little tiff with Kenny, I told her to write him a letter and apologize to him.  She did.

Okay, maybe not exactly like me.  (Though you can read a certain emotion in the handwriting).

Pay It Forward

Last week, the kids received a gift from a friend.  I offered cash for said gift but she said, "Just pay it forward."  Kyler and Mae didn't understand that saying, so I explained to them that it means to do something kind for somebody without being asked.  They seemed to understand.

Later that night, I realized that I had left my half-sandwich in the car from the restaurant we ate lunch at.  I had just finished showering and it was chilly outside so I asked Kenny if he would please get it for me.  Kyler was sitting next to me on the couch.  As Kenny headed out the door, Kyler nudged me with his elbow and said, "Hey Mom...pay it forward and go get me a bowl of Peanut Butter Crunch."

Sleep-talking Kenny

Last night, Kenny was arguing with me in his sleep.  Real Me wasn't in this argument, just his Dream Me.  I know for sure it was me he was arguing with because of the tone of his voice and the things that I am so used to him saying, such as, "What do you mean, pssch?" and "Whatever!"  He only takes on the attitude of a thirteen-year old girl when he's bickering with me.

What's funny is that even in his dream, I still won the argument.  Did you just hear that slapping noise?  That was the sound of Real Me and Dream Me high-fiving each other.