I recently braved taking the General, the Tank and the Destroyer to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription for the Destroyer, and some feminine products for myself. Taking all three of my cadets to the store is something I try to avoid at all costs. Mostly because I spend more time apologizing to those around me, for my children's behavior, than I spend shopping. This trip to the pharmacy was no different.
From the minute we entered the store, all eyes were on us. Mostly because the Destroyer was crying, in agony. Whether it was the pain of his cold or the pain of the Tank trying to rip his leg off, I am still not sure.
I quickly threatened the Tank and told him that if he continued to act up that he wouldn't get to go to Grandpa's house later. A solid threat, so I thought. But instead of retreating to my side quietly, the Tank took off like a ragging hyena in search of fresh prey.
As I followed the clatter of the Tank's wake, muttering apologies as I passed frown after frown on people just shaking their heads in disbelief at my total lack of control over my children. I quickly loaded my cart with my feminine products as fast as I could and bolted toward the pharmacy counter.
When I got to the counter the clerk informed us that the Destroyer's prescription wasn't ready yet. So there I was with a crying infant and now two insanely hyper toddlers. You can imagine all the friends I was making.
When our turn finally came, I asked my guys to make themselves useful and unload the cart for Mommy. Little did I know that unloading a box of tampons and a package of maxi-pads would be so thrilling. But as the General lifted the pack of maxi-pads from the cart, the Tank tackled him and ran off with the pads screaming, "I want to hold Mommy's special band-aids!"
Friday, March 28, 2008
Monday, March 10, 2008
Monday, March 3, 2008
Someone's in need of a whooping and it isn't Momma...
One of the trickest things I find about parenting is that no matter how hard I try to teach my children what is right, there is always someone who is better and quicker at teaching them something wrong.
The other night the Tank was impatiently waiting for me to frost his Grandpa's birthday cake. He was hovering over the cake like a vulture waiting to swoop in for the kill.
"Back away from the cake," I pleaded with the Tank as he poked wholes into its side.
"No, I want to frost it!" replied the Tank as he made a second pass around the perimeter of the cake.
"Back away from cake!" I commanded. "You need to be patient, we have to wait for it to cool."
The Tank took his eyes off his prey momentarily to look at me and whispered, "I'm gonna kick your ass."
"What did you say?" I asked genuinely shocked. Neither myself or my husband would ever sputter such harsh words.
Before he could even answer me, the Tank retreated to the naughty corner.
I approached him and asked again, just encase I misheard him, "What did you say?"
The Tank timidly replied, "I said I'm going to kick your ass if you don't let me frost the cake."
Nope. I had heard correctly. All I could think was: where would he learn such words; and if there is going to be an ass kicking around here, I'll be giving it!
I collected my cool and reminded the Tank about manners. I told him that when he was ready to apologize to me that he could come out of the corner.
Just as I turned to walk away the tank sweetly called my name, "Mommy."
"Yes, is there something you would like to say to me?" I asked.
"I'm sorry for saying that I was gonna kick your ass," whispered the Tank.
The other night the Tank was impatiently waiting for me to frost his Grandpa's birthday cake. He was hovering over the cake like a vulture waiting to swoop in for the kill.
"Back away from the cake," I pleaded with the Tank as he poked wholes into its side.
"No, I want to frost it!" replied the Tank as he made a second pass around the perimeter of the cake.
"Back away from cake!" I commanded. "You need to be patient, we have to wait for it to cool."
The Tank took his eyes off his prey momentarily to look at me and whispered, "I'm gonna kick your ass."
"What did you say?" I asked genuinely shocked. Neither myself or my husband would ever sputter such harsh words.
Before he could even answer me, the Tank retreated to the naughty corner.
I approached him and asked again, just encase I misheard him, "What did you say?"
The Tank timidly replied, "I said I'm going to kick your ass if you don't let me frost the cake."
Nope. I had heard correctly. All I could think was: where would he learn such words; and if there is going to be an ass kicking around here, I'll be giving it!
I collected my cool and reminded the Tank about manners. I told him that when he was ready to apologize to me that he could come out of the corner.
Just as I turned to walk away the tank sweetly called my name, "Mommy."
"Yes, is there something you would like to say to me?" I asked.
"I'm sorry for saying that I was gonna kick your ass," whispered the Tank.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Mom's Taking a Day Off!
My husband, the bear, grumbled when he saw the sign on the kitchen refrigerator. "Kitchen CLOSED." But it wasn't until he read the sign on the laundry room door that he started to growl, "What's going on? Kitchen CLOSED, Laundry room CLOSED?"
Lying on the couch I quietly responded, "I'm taking a Mental Health Day."
"A What?" roared the bear. Puzzled, my husband repeated, with question and with no concern, what I said, "A mental health day? What's wrong?"
I responded again, "Yes, I'm taking a mental health day. I figure if the police chief can take a mental health day, than I am certainly entitled to one. I'm on call 24/7, fighting the forces against the General, the Tank, and the Destroyer, and I haven't had a day off in four years. I don't even get a lunch break! So, I have decided to take a day off."
After, a quick wrestling match of words, the bear realized that I wasn't backing down and he retreated to the kitchen.
"Stay away from Mom today," I heard him tell the kids, "she's gone mental!"
Lying on the couch I quietly responded, "I'm taking a Mental Health Day."
"A What?" roared the bear. Puzzled, my husband repeated, with question and with no concern, what I said, "A mental health day? What's wrong?"
I responded again, "Yes, I'm taking a mental health day. I figure if the police chief can take a mental health day, than I am certainly entitled to one. I'm on call 24/7, fighting the forces against the General, the Tank, and the Destroyer, and I haven't had a day off in four years. I don't even get a lunch break! So, I have decided to take a day off."
After, a quick wrestling match of words, the bear realized that I wasn't backing down and he retreated to the kitchen.
"Stay away from Mom today," I heard him tell the kids, "she's gone mental!"
Saturday, January 19, 2008
The Son Only Rises in Mommy and Daddy's Room
Four years ago my husband and I believed in the "family bed." Why not let the kiddies sleep with us, if it meant that we all got sleep? That last part is key "if we all got sleep," but recently our family bed has turned into the General and the Tank's resting quarters, while my hubby and I get pushed to the end of the bed or to the floor like family pets.
I woke up last night with my husband, the Bear ,hibernating on the floor by our bed covered with a blanket that looked like it was made for a doll. I nudged him very carefully, I didn't want to startle the beast. Half an eyelid opened, so I quietly asked, "what are you doing on the floor?"
He responded, "one of the boys kicked me in the head so I moved to the floor."
I couldn't help by chuckle. "This is ridiculous," I told the Bear. "After all, we are the adults and that is our bed. If anybody should be sleeping on the floor, it should be the boys."
We looked that our children all nestled in our bed. I don't think that there was a more peaceful scene on earth at that moment. The General had his armed intertwined with the Tank's and they were holding hands. It was truly beautiful. But, with only a moment of hesitation, I ripped the covers off my little soldiers and marched them right back to their own beds.
The next morning, the Bear asked the General why he's been sleeping in our bed so much lately.
The General said, "Because, when I wake up in my room it's still dark out. But if I get up and go into your bed, when I wake up it's light out. Your room makes the night go away and makes morning come."
It took a promise of ice cream for breakfast to convince the General and the Tank to stay in their room all through the night. And low and behold morning really does come in their room too!
I woke up last night with my husband, the Bear ,hibernating on the floor by our bed covered with a blanket that looked like it was made for a doll. I nudged him very carefully, I didn't want to startle the beast. Half an eyelid opened, so I quietly asked, "what are you doing on the floor?"
He responded, "one of the boys kicked me in the head so I moved to the floor."
I couldn't help by chuckle. "This is ridiculous," I told the Bear. "After all, we are the adults and that is our bed. If anybody should be sleeping on the floor, it should be the boys."
We looked that our children all nestled in our bed. I don't think that there was a more peaceful scene on earth at that moment. The General had his armed intertwined with the Tank's and they were holding hands. It was truly beautiful. But, with only a moment of hesitation, I ripped the covers off my little soldiers and marched them right back to their own beds.
The next morning, the Bear asked the General why he's been sleeping in our bed so much lately.
The General said, "Because, when I wake up in my room it's still dark out. But if I get up and go into your bed, when I wake up it's light out. Your room makes the night go away and makes morning come."
It took a promise of ice cream for breakfast to convince the General and the Tank to stay in their room all through the night. And low and behold morning really does come in their room too!
Friday, January 4, 2008
Bug Infestion
My house has been infested. No, not with termites or cockroaches, those would be easier to rid then this vermin that is reeking havoc in my home.
The Stomach Bug. It is a species so vicious that it has literally stopped the General, the Tank, and the Destroyer in their tracks, which is no easy feat.
The General and the Tank seem to be enduring the worst of the damage. After seeing the General make a mad dash for the latrine, I went to check to check on him. When I asked how he was doing, he looked up from where he was stationed and said, "my butt just puked."
It seems that every year this bug likes to take up residence in our house, working its way through each of us. If only I could find an exterminator in the yellow pages that would extirpate this Bug for good.
The Stomach Bug. It is a species so vicious that it has literally stopped the General, the Tank, and the Destroyer in their tracks, which is no easy feat.
The General and the Tank seem to be enduring the worst of the damage. After seeing the General make a mad dash for the latrine, I went to check to check on him. When I asked how he was doing, he looked up from where he was stationed and said, "my butt just puked."
It seems that every year this bug likes to take up residence in our house, working its way through each of us. If only I could find an exterminator in the yellow pages that would extirpate this Bug for good.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
I've Been SPOTED!
Okay, I'm six months shy of hitting 30 and it seems as though I've just hit puberty. Or at least puberty has hit my face.
I seem to be in the midst of a hormonal rage that is attacking my face with red bumps. I'm not talking the occasional blemish that one would normally get around that time of the month, these things mean business. Every morning I seem to wake up with a new enemy staking claim on my face.
I actually considered calling out of work the other day because I felt so awful about the way I look, until my husband, the voice of reason, laughingly said "what are you going to tell your boss that you came down with a case of the pimples?"
These suckers aren't just a nuisance that I'm dealing with, they are a painful embarrassment. I went to my sister's yesterday and before she even greeted me, she asked if I had the chicken pox.
"No, just a case of pimples," I moaned.
Determined not to been defeated, I've collected an arsenal of gels, creams and washes to destroy these little suckers! I figure if I can do battle with the General and the Tank and survive, then I can definitely take on the Pimples.
I seem to be in the midst of a hormonal rage that is attacking my face with red bumps. I'm not talking the occasional blemish that one would normally get around that time of the month, these things mean business. Every morning I seem to wake up with a new enemy staking claim on my face.
I actually considered calling out of work the other day because I felt so awful about the way I look, until my husband, the voice of reason, laughingly said "what are you going to tell your boss that you came down with a case of the pimples?"
These suckers aren't just a nuisance that I'm dealing with, they are a painful embarrassment. I went to my sister's yesterday and before she even greeted me, she asked if I had the chicken pox.
"No, just a case of pimples," I moaned.
Determined not to been defeated, I've collected an arsenal of gels, creams and washes to destroy these little suckers! I figure if I can do battle with the General and the Tank and survive, then I can definitely take on the Pimples.
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