Sometimes I need a megaphone

My kids are screamers. It's all they do lately. They scream at each other, me, the neighbor's idiot dog, my sisters, their cousins. I'm in the market for a megaphone or one of those really annoying horns they use at football games. I just want to scare them a little and shut them up a lot. Kids are loud. My ears are tired.

While I was having my 'holy crap you kids are damn loud' meltdown I found this...

SHUT THE FRONT DOOR! Genius. Now, does anyone have a real megaphone I could borrow?

No Talk List : Police Edition

I got pulled over the other day. It's a habit of mine. I seem to attract them everywhere I go. Over the past few years I've been pulled over in multiple states for a variety of reasons. None of those reasons included speeding.

Sam was in the car when the cop came to the window to talk to me. Sam's window was also down. He did not want to miss the action. The idea that mom could get in trouble was so exciting that he was giggling uncontrollably. Molly was also in the car and was quivering in the third row of my ginormous vehicle.

The officer just wanted to tell me that I had a brake light out. He was very nice and talked to Sam for a few minutes and then wrote a pretend ticket for Molly. She nearly peed her pants. As the officer started to walk back to his car she yelled from her crouched position in the 3rd row, "put it on my tab". I am pretty sure I snorted to keep from laughing out loud. Dan in Real Life is one of our favorite movies.

The officer stopped for a second and then turned back around and peeked through her window and then put his fist up to the glass to give her some stones. She didn't bother putting her hand to the glass. Instead she stuck her tiny hand through the opening in the rear windows that only crack open a few inches so she could give him real stones... the exploding kind. Or, as our Mel has recently learned, "Sparkle Stones".

Not to divert too far from the movie references, on our way home from dinner with Mel at Flour Girls & Dough Boys tonight Molly started to tell me about a movie she was watching on Netflix the other night. It had some police officers that drove around their town all crazy and then they kidnapped a high school kid and let him shoot their guns and set their car on fire and say that one really bad word a lot.

Yes. She was referring to SUPERBAD. And, I'm officially the worst mother ever and have now changed the Netflix password and removed the app from their iPods and the iPad and the computers and the Wii and have been labeled the "Murderer of Fun". Someday, I'm sure I'll be called worse than that. For now, I need to try to figure out how to wash her teeny little brain out and fill it back up with butterflies and unicorns and fairy godmothers.

Still not quite as funny as the sex with a sandwich bit from Stockton, but this girl has the ability to easily surpass her cousin in time.

We have a problem...

This is the only shirt Sam wants to wear... EVER!

Sam calls it his Jesus shirt. Every time he asks for it Chocolate Jesus by Tom Waits goes through my head. He'll grow out of it before I really have to correct him and before I introduce him to Hendrix. He's only 3. It's a little early for Foxey Lady or Purple Haze.

Fifth Grade & Kisses

This morning, while combing the natural disaster out of Abby's hair, I asked her about a party she was invited to by one of her classmates. It's her first boy/girl party. It's being thrown by the boy that likes her. They have a group of friends that hangs out at recess and plays kickball or football or one of their many odd variations of tag. They're all going to this party. The more questions I asked, the more it was clear that this party was perfectly balanced. Seven girls, seven boys. And then, I did the unthinkable.

"Ab, is this party for couples?"

"Mom, are you serious? I mean, oh mah gawsh, that is like the stupidest thing I have every heard you say in your entire life."

I didn't bother to interrupt the tirade and remind her that she's only known me HER entire life. I said way stupider things when I was in my teens... twenties... early thirties even. I let her go on...

"You think we're all boyfriend and girlfriend. That is so lame. I can't believe you think I'm all in to Allen like that. He's so weird. He's always trying to sit by me at lunch and help me with stuff and it's so embarrassing because I totally don't need a boy helping me with anything..."

This is where her sentence runs on for another ten minutes and I think about the fact that my ten year old is all kinds of liberated and shiz. I stared at her for the next several minutes of the tirade and heard something about Justin Bieber and flipping hair and being like totally obsessed with Mumford and Sons and how she thought it was cute that he liked them because she's been listening to them like forever. (that would be because I've got a serious music habit). And, then, because I'm an idiot, I did it again.

"You like him."

She blushed her first little girl crush blush and I had to do everything possible to keep a straight face.

"Seriously, it's cool if you like a boy Abby. It's totally normal and he's a really nice kid."

"Mom, I'm not having this discussion with you. I mean, it's like not even something you get because you were in the 5th grade like f-o-r-e-v-e-r ago."

"Abby, I had my first boyfriend in the 5th grade. His name was Todd Davies. He lived on my street and we were in the same class in the 5th grade."

"Mom, stop it, nobody wants to know about your first boyfriend a million years ago. And, Allen is not my boyfriend. I just think he's funny and he's kind of cute and his favorite color is purple which is really cool for a boy....."

She went on for another ten minutes. I had a mild heart attack/stroke and started seeing spots and thought I might throw up and sat down on the edge of the bathtub.

"So, did you kiss that Todd guy?"

I'm not cut out for this stuff. Really, I'm not. But, I'm also not afraid to tell her the truth about anything. I'm just hoping this line of questioning stops here for a few years.

"Yep. I did. It was hilarious. He was chewing orange bubble gum. So nasty. I never kissed him again."

I'm pretty sure she was grossed out just enough about the gum that she might put the whole idea of kissing a boy on a shelf for a few years. Even with the questions, I'm certain she isn't really thinking about kissing this Allen kid. I hope.

On another note, Molly, my 7 year old, is likely planning her first kiss as I write this. I'm certain that I will never have this conversation with her. She's going to be the one to give me the real stroke.

For now, I'd like them both to stay just like this...

The Tooth Fairy is F-I-R-E-D!

Today the Tooth Fairy delivered. It only took three months. But, that sucker came through. The 7 year old got shafted on at least three teeth during the TF's vacation. The Post-It notes, texts, emails, and portraits of the TF (with devil horns) were an embarrassing reminder that the Mother-Of-The-Year award will never grace my messy house. 


As the last remnants of the drugs I've been on for 16 months exit my system, I have noticed that I'm becoming a little bit more lucid, a little bit more me, and more aware of how much I let slip. I have to admit that many things probably slipped because I had an excuse to let them slip. Cancer is kind of a big deal. It gave me permission. Just ask it. 

The good news is that I finally did the unthinkable and in the early hours of the morning I gently lifted her pretty little head and the pillow supporting that blondie mess and I placed the most fantastic pair of orange Hunter boots there for her to wake up to. I know, kind of an awkward thing to place under a pillow. Who cares! They're friggin ORANGE RAIN BOOTS! Bitchin, right? Her hilarious ear splitting squeals around 8am were so worth it. 


The TF is still, however, in deep poop because of the lackluster job performance up until now. The evidence still lies under the pillow of the 10 year old who is now patiently waiting for her own pair of the fantastic rain boots. (They're on back order. Shhhh don't tell her.)


The tooth that still remains unclaimed under her pillow took a brief trip from it's soft resting place last week when this happened...


Sam was brushing his teeth with the best toothbrush ever because I can hear it beep and know he's completed the mandatory time. When he's finished he comes flying in to my bathroom with the toothbrush and holds his hand out to me and says "look mom, I lost a tooth". 


I flipped out. That's an understatement. I had a momentary lapse of sanity, clarity, reality. Things went fuzzy. My chest got all tight. I think I started to cry a little. I just spent a LOT of money having his teeth and jaw fixed so that his big boy teeth might grow in and not be rotten. It was a huge ordeal. I could not believe that one of his molars came out after all of that. 


For twenty four hours I was certifiably nuts. I kept looking in his mouth and could see nothing. It called the dentist and was told to come in when they re-opened on Monday morning and not to worry. I hung up and yelled at the phone like it was that stupid dental assistant who told me not to worry. He's 3. He should not be losing any teeth. 


I cooled off. Went shopping with the 3 year old in tow. And, some time during this excursion, my brain clicked on and it occurred to me that there could be another answer. I looked at my youngest and asked "Where did that tooth come from? Can you show me?" His sneaky little boy grin gave him away before he said it out loud. But, he said "yep, I got it under Abby's pillow." 


And, it begins. My 3 year old is sneaky, and smart, and funny, and not a Candyass.

CREAM & SUGAR

My 2 year old consumed a tiny bowl of sugar and drank straight from a miniature pitcher of cream at a very brief lunch we shared with my highly entertaining friend Melissa. Sam kinda stole the show. I am sure that the Mother of The Year award is not far off.

OK, so that will never ever happen. But, I have a mother and she was Teacher of the Year last year. Let me tell you, she earned that stupid little plaque on her wall and the big bonus that went with it. She teaches special education and she loves it. Best of all, they love her. It is absolutely what she was meant to do. I have always been proud of her. She works harder than anyone I know and continues to take on extra projects, provide extra service, and make time for her kids, all six of us, and her sixteen grandchildren. She's remarkable.

She's also funny as hell and she has more stories than any single person I know. Earlier today we were sitting around her big dining room table listening to the funny stories of the week from the oldest grand kids. One of them said something that none of us can remember because my mom started to laugh until tears were rolling out of her eyes and down her cheeks. This alarmed the babies and the dog. They were all crying too. We just waited for the story. And, it was so worth it.

She has a study hall period for kids to come in and get a little bit of extra help with math or science, or anything they may be struggling with. She has a group of girls that come in and use a corner to study together. They mostly talk about boys and other girls. The last time came in they were passing a bottle of lotion around and talked about how great it smelled and how soft it made their skin and how much certain boys liked it. These are 16 year old girls that may not be as witty as the slutty cheerleaders on Glee but the voices are a dead match. Somewhere during the conversation one of the girls explained that she got the bottle of lotion from her mom and that the coolest part about it was that it was also edible. She then reads from the bottle "Good for an intimate midnight snack." And some girls sampled!

My mom was sitting at her desk texting the teacher in the room next door a play by play of this conversation. They decide she needs to confiscate this bottle of lotion and encourage the girls to study. She takes the bottle and puts it on her desk and takes a few photos of it so that she doesn't forget. The funniest part, for me, was that the name of this product was Cream & Sugar edible body lotion.

I suppose that even funnier than that is the fact that it first belonged to her mother. My mom will never look at that parent the same again. She's no Candyass though, she'll still look her dead in the eye and be fair, but she might giggle a little at the same time.

Can't really fault anyone for keeping a little sizzle in their life, but for giving a little bit of the sizzle to a kid is totally stupid and terribly comical.