so i get up and realize that my desk chair, where i sit to catch up on news in the morning, is gone. 9yo has co-opted it so that her stuffies can sit and watch her play a game on her computer. there are like 10 other chairs in the house. but somehow i was the bad guy when i asked for my chair back. *sigh*
so today i come home after a very long, seriously awful day and go looking for my monkeys. 6yo is in the bathroom. when i go in to say hi, she announces that she has gone no. 2 and needs help wiping. this completes my day.
got home today and before i could even put down my purse and bag, 6yo runs up to me with a bloody top lip. apparently she was trying to do a handstand and somehow kneed herself in the mouth. *sigh*
the upside is that she made one of her slightly loose front teeth looser.
quickly followed by…
9yo: daddy smartly hit my shin.
me: daddy, give her scooter back!!!
9yo: oooh, hand to hand combat!!!
me: daddy, stop biting the children!!!!!
9yo has decided that daddy says so many inappropriate things around them that she is going to hold daddy word lessons on how to speak around children. LMAO
while at disney…
6yo: you know there are 8 dwarves.
me: no, i’m pretty sure there are only 7.
6yo: no, there’s 8. the 8th one is named crazy and he runs around with a chainsaw like this. [holds arms up above head like wielding a chainsaw and makes a horrible face and yells.]
me [to daddy]: can we leave her here? she’s starting to scare me.
this is what i hear while the girls are getting ready for bed:
6yo: fee fi fo fum i’m gonna bite a superman’s bum.
9yo falls on the floor laughing hysterically
on the way to taco bell. i ask 6yo what she wants. she is very specific and says that she wants a spicy beef soft taco with cheddar cheese (read: soft beef taco with whatever cheese they put on it). i ask her twice if she is sure she doesn’t want a gordita like mine, since she always wants some of mine. she is adamant that she wants a SPICY. BEEF. TACO. WITH. CHEDDAR. CHEESE. so this is what i order for her and 2 gorditas for me (so i can have one for lunch tomorrow).
we get home and i am putting the food on plates.
6yo: so maybe i can have half of one of your gorditas.
me: no way. i asked you several times if you wanted one and you said no!
6yo: but i could have half of one.
6yo [play pouting]: yes, i can.
me [sighing in resignation]: maybe, just MAYBE, you can have a little bit of one.
6yo: so that’s like half.
me: no, that is like a little.
6 yo: which means half. [big smile]
me [trying not to smile]: which means a little. maybe.
6yo [frowns while thinking about this for a minute]: when i say a half, i MEANT a little. i don’t think things mean the same thing you think they mean, but you didn’t ask me what i meant, so i couldn’t tell you that a half meant a little!
me: *smh* whatever.
annoyingly, after giving the little varmint a HALF, she didn’t eat A DAMN BIT OF IT!!! >.<
4yo: why did the bunny cross the road?
me: i don’t know. why?
4yo: to get donuts at the donut shop.
daddy: so the bunny got some donuts? cool
4yo: no, the donut shop was closed and they were out of donuts.
i woke up on saturday and walked out into the family room. 6yo is sitting on daddy’s lap and proudly announces: mama, daddy taught me how to cut people in half with a chainsaw and i did it all by myself!!!!! [huge smile and lots of giggles]
it takes me a minute to figure out that they are playing some godforsaken game on xbox. i then narrow my eyes at daddy and shake my head while exiting the room.
drive to school this morning.
daddy: oh no, here comes the sun!!! if we were vampires, we’d all be dead!
9yo’s response: i’ve been working on my chicken impression. it’s coming along quite well.
so i have barely woken up and am in the bathroom. the kids have spent most of the weekend playing “clubhouse” in our closet. (yes, the same closet that the 9yo ran away to live in. clearly our closet is fascinating beyond what i can see.) i sit down and then i hear CRASH from the closet. half naked, i jump up and throw open the door in time to see the back wire rack shelving that 1/3 of our clothes are on has come out of the wall and nearly landed on the kids. 9yo is crying about her toe, but 6yo is relatively calm. apparently 9yo was trying to climb up on a bench/storage box we have in there and held onto the rack to pull her 65+ lb self up on it. thankfully no one was hurt, but our closet is wrecked and daddy – who has done an awesome job of taking care of the kids while i was out of town – now has to spend the day fixing the rack.
so how was YOUR morning? *sigh*
kids ambush me as soon as i get home and ask me to play a game they made up: cakery bakery(TM). so one of them is supposed to make me a cake from like 3000 different options that they gave to me, and the other is supposed to entertain me with jokes. 9yo “bakes.”
6yo: what is the difference between a jellyfish and a violin?
me [tired after work]: one is a jellyfish and one is a violin…
6yo: no, you can’t strum a jellyfish.
whereupon both kids pretend to be patrick from spongebob and grab a pretend jellyfish and strum him, laughing loudly. clearly they watch too much tv. bad. tv.
6yo: what is the same between a tree and a dog?
me: they both have a bark?
6yo: NO, what is the difference between a tree and a dog?
me: i don’t know. one has leaves?
6yo: NO, IT’S ABOUT THE DOG.
me: it has fleas?
6yo: no. what is the difference between a fox and a dog?
me [wondering what happened to the answer to the tree/dog joke. what is this, like a game show where i get the wrong answer too many times and have to skip to the next? wtf? but then i think of one of their favorite songs]: a dog says woof but we don’t know what the fox says? [laughing]
6yo: NO, WHAT DOES THE FOX SAY?!?
[both start singing ring ding ding ding ding….. and dancing and laughing hysterically]
6yo: want a banana split without the banana?
me: [brain explodes]
O.M.G. rearranging 9yo’s room so we can fit in her new bookcase. the amount of paper and plastic we found (mind you, only weeks after I spent 2 days cleaning up the majority of it) could fuel a small country, and the amount of cheerios and m&ms could feed it!!!! AND THIS IS MY NEAT CHILD!!! *collapses on the floor in despair*
does anyone else have a child who LITERALLY can take 15 minutes to put a pair of sneakers and socks on???? and i’m not talking about just sitting there for 15 minutes not doing anything (though she has done that a ton of times too). she has to roll up pants/leggings, wiggle her toes into the socks, adjust the line on the socks so it is just right, …..
outside the gym, waiting for it and the children’s area to open up. 9yo is telling jokes, so i tell one i saw recently on facebook.
me: why was the lobster not good at sharing?
9yo: ummmm, i don’t know
6yo: because he was crabby?
me: no, but good guess. because he was shellfish.
both kids laugh.
6yo: i have one like that. why was the carrot not good at sharing?
me: hmmmm. no clue.
6yo: because he was…..crummy.
so i walk in the door and the kiddies are in the family room watching daddy play a video game. 6yo turns to me and says, “daddy says it’s a big peanut butter.” i just stared at her for a minute in blank confusion before i remembered that daddy has been making an effort to say “peanut butter” instead of cussing. LOL
after waking me up indirectly by sneaking into my room and whisper arguing over who did what to whom at any ungodly hour (which prompted me to bellow at them to get out), the kids just informed me while i was eating breakfast that they have taken almost all the clothes out of 9yo’s closet and put virtually every pillow and beanbag and half the stuffed animals (we have about 3000 in our house) in there to create “Camp Fuzzy.”
9yo: if you need us, mama, you know where to find us – CAMP FUZZY!
(please note that the closet is actually quite wide, so the full effect is lost in a picture.)
this would be eternally cute save the fact that i am entirely sure they will never put all of this stuff back and, per our normal rules and my earlier directions, this will lead me to have to: (a) confiscate all of my 9yo’s clothes; (b) tell them they can’t go to the carnival today; and (c) listen to inordinate amounts of screaming, crying, and temper tantrums as a result of (a) and (b). vive la motherhood. [collapses on desk]
daddy [eating frozen slushee]: whoa
6 and 8yo: what happened?
daddy: you know when you eat ice cream too fast and you get brain freeze? well it was like that, but in my chest.
6yo: oh, i know. i got brain freeze eating a sno cone at school one time, and i was dead for a while.
6yo: but then i was like, oh, i’m alive again.
daddy: [nearly crashes truck laughing]
6yo [talking from back seat on way to library]: i love going to new libraries. it’s cool to go see new libraries. and new things. it’s cool to see new things. too. you know, even tho i like my booster seat with the back on, it’s okay with the back off too. i like it both ways. i’ll make a decision by the time we get there about which way i want it to be. because i have to make a decision. the last time we had the back on was before we took it off was when we went down to see mimi and papa. i still have red ink on my hands from drawing earlier. it didn’t come off. look, there’s our gym. do you like the ellipticals there? you don’t like them there, do you?
my brain: [boom]
i walk in and say good morning to 6yo.
6yo: 8yo and i switched our brains so that daddy wouldn’t have to give them to us and give them out to other people and use his extra smart brains and give them to people who need extra brains….
me: [leaves room before head explodes]
daddy is acting, well, like daddy.
8yo: _____ ______ _____ [daddy’s full name], stop that right this minute!
6yo: we’re gonna call grandma!!!!
me: [cracking up]
daddy was wrestling around with 8yo and poked her in the ribs to tickle her.
8yo: daddy, don’t poke my boob. if you poke my boob, my kids will end up having unpasteurized milk.
8yo [at dinner table, eating pizza]: this pizza is great. it has crumbs on the bottom that you can like.
me: um, what?
8yo: little yellow crumbs on the bottom. i like to lick them off. [demonstrates the licking for me]
me: you know you are weird, right?
8yo: the crumbs like to visit my face. they have this thing about my eyebrows.
8yo: to avoid the crumby eyebrow thing, you have to eat quickly.
me: um, yeah. [shakes and hangs head]
8yo just used daddy’s socks to give herself shouldermpads. LOL
We were eating lunch at Red Robin.
6yo: the burgers and pizza here are chewy, and that’s why they have a picture of chewy on the wall.
6yo: [points to picture of Chewbacca on the wall.]
me: [smiling] yes exactly.
oh geez. i was just asked how to spell “feel” which means one of the girls’ famous notes is coming. this one is by 6yo who is going to tell us she is upset that she cannot sleep in our bed for like the 2,000th time. *sigh*
i come home and go into the bathroom after i change. when i come out, there is a note on the floor in front of the door from 8yo asking if when i come out, we (and it specifies that by “we” it means her, 6yo and me) can have a wrestling match on my bed. there’s a box to check yes or no.
5 minutes later i am being attacked by both kids on the bed. 8yo makes up rules as she goes along, said rules always going to her benefit. this time it was no tickling, which is one of the few advantages i have when being attacked by both of them. naturally, i completely ignore this rule. in the middle of my tickle attack, 8yo yells: you may pull my spleen, my liver, and my guts out of my body, but i will never surrender!” WTF?? clearly i need to pay more attention to what they are watching on tv.
after the wrestling match was over (i won, of course – no one said moms can’t cheat), we try to get them ready for bed. which results in two half-naked girls running around with underwear on their head and their pjs tied around their bodies while squealing and riding scooters through the house. sigh. on the plus side, i grabbed the video camera and recorded them – GREAT blackmail material for when they are teenagers!!! 😀