Apparently, my television likes to turn itself on and watch
children's shows at the unholy buttcrack of dawn. I mean, I don't SEE anyone,
so it must be the television. Wait- I hear giggling. Must be a ghost, then,
because none of MY spawn would dare challenge a big, mean, scary, uncaffeinated
ogre before the the sun has risen and that bitter nectar of sustenance has
passed his lips.
Hey! Motherfuckers at the USDA - a can of V8 Fusion juice is
NOT a serving of fruits and vegetables. Neither is a can of fucking
SpaghettiOs. Food is food, you eat what you can to survive, blah blah fucking
blah, but don't allow companies to package Grade A bullshit and try to pass it
off as nutritious. An APPLE is a serving of fruit. 15 grapes equal a serving of
fruit. A cup of greens is a serving of vegetables. A can of V8Fusion, however,
is just a can of fucking juice. It's sugar wrapped in a sweet little lie,
bitches. And I'm not even going to delve into the SpaghettiOs conspiracy. Eat your vegetables.
R: "On "How it's Made", they are belting creamy chocolate rapers. Maybe something about goats."
Me:(after watching the show for a minute to see what the crap he's talking about) "Wafers, son. Say that word about a dozen times. Cream-coated chocolate WAFERS." Great. Now I can't even look an Oreo in the eye.
I'm standing here watching out my window as my kids play
peacefully with each other in the backyard, and all I can think is "Man,
if I just had a couple of water balloons, their lives would suddenly get a whole lot more
Ro effectively ruined my chances of getting a good nights
sleep last night. He came stumbling out of the boys bedroom, whimpering -
"I think something's wrong with Gaius." Instant panic sets in, as
Mommy and Daddy rush to the bedroom to see what's the matter. Gaius is sleeping
"What do you mean, something's wrong, Roman?"
Mommy asks quietly.
"Well, I was talking to him, and he didn't say anything
To which I reply, in a shouted whisper - "It's because
he's friggin' ASLEEP! Which you should be! GAHHHH!!!"
Mommy did good, though, and thanked him for telling us when
he thought Gaius was in trouble.
It's the one thing I dislike about being a parent. Panic
mode. Everything else, I can deal with. In panic mode, my head immediately goes
to worse case scenario, and it sucks. Sucks sucks sucks sucks SUCKS.
Confession time. So. I have a little secret - I'm sort of a food snob. Not in the snooty "I only eat caviar massaged from the wombs of virgin beluga floated to me on crackers made of angel farts" way, but in the "I feed my kids tons of organic fresh fruits and vegetables and meats and very little processed food so when you offer my kid a Twinkie I'm liable to insert said Twinkie into the most uncomfortable orifice on your person" way. So when moms would tell me "All my child eats is peanut butter and jelly," Ialways thought - and I think I may actually have said this to several moms - "It's because you don't know how to cook well, or you are choosing not to feed them good food." Yeah. Well, turns out, I'm kind of a jerk. I have my own reasons for hating PB&J, and I never really took into account the kids side of it, that they might actually like peanut butter and jelly. Until now. When it is the only thing my children request to eat. For every meal. Ever. My children. The broccoli loving, fast food hating, water guzzling, juice-is-too-sweet-for-us champions of healthy, constant consumption.These kids would rather have a peanut butter sandwich than PIZZA. PIIIIIZZAAAAA!!! In fact, they actually HATE pizza. What. Thehell. I mean, I know it's not the healthiest food, but C'MON! I thought that was every kids go-to food. Self-doubt sets in. I'm sobbing in the corner going "What have I done wrong?!?! Why?! Why do they hate me?! WAHHHHH!!!! Is it my cooking? Does it actually suck, and all this time people have just been being nice to me, when really, they thought I was feeding them roadkill skunk scraped off the freeway, slathered in frog sauce and slapped on a plate?" I'm a feeder. I like to feed people. So this is just not acceptable. I have to find a way to turn peanut butter and jelly on its head. Or stop buying it altogether, but then I'm afraid my kids will stop eating... what to do, what to DO?!
R: "DAAAAAA-DUH! Boogie just took that teacup out the butt of
her pants and put it on my head and now it's going to go through my head and
into my brain and into my eyeballs and I'm gunna get pink eye and pink brain
from her BUTT PARTICLES!!!"
So, had a random text conversation with a complete stranger. Here is the transcript -
“Hey ya there”
Identify yourself, heathen!
“You got it. I’m heathen is gale there?”
No, but Wendy just blew through…
You are, after taco night…
“I don’t get it? I am wendy after taco night? Oh shit never mind I blow hurricanes off anything.”
Yeah, you do! I remember this one time, we were over at Pike’s, and you were LOADED, and you ate like 5 lbs of fries and a sammmich the size of your FACE, and like an hour later, we rolled up on these shorties, and you were all, “Daaamn, you fiiine,” and then you farted so hard you shit yourself.
“When was that at pikes”
Like you’d remember. Ask K.
“You think i’m someone different. Plus who’s k”
Who texted whom?
No thanks. I have someone for that.
“Is it k?”
“If your god whats my middle name?”
It's *you're, *what's, and your middle name is whatever the fuck I want it to be.
“God doesn’t say swearss.”
I invented swearing, bitch. Check this shit out - I’m the goddamned motherfucking cocksucking kick-ass king of the whole cunttastic universe, you twatwaddling smegsucker. Also - bollocks. And penis.
Damn straight. Now stop texting me. I’ve got stuff to do. Creating life and smiting and shit.
Okay. Boogie named these “Leaf Soup Muffins.” I have no idea why. Neither leaves nor soup come into play in the making of these muffins. Anyone having insight into the mind of that child, you let me know.
Sift together about 3C of Gluten-free flour substitute and 1t Xanthum gum (This is simply 3C flour for those not going gluten-free)in the biggest fucking bowl you have, because you’re going to need it. If you don’t have a big bowl…use a roasting pan. A bucket. I don't care. Have your 2 year old add and whisk everywhere (because there is not a snowballs chance on Vesuvius that he will be able to keep it all in the bowl, hence the biggest bowl you have being implemented in an effort to reduce spillage) -
2T baking powder
1/2t Ground Fennel seeds, because, hey- why the hell not. He’s already added a dash of curry powder.
Fight with same 2-year old that "pepper is not necessarily a good ingredient for these muffins!"
Add 1 grind pepper to stop the screaming.
Sift that all together.
In a wet bowl - help your 2-year old whisk -
1C packed brown sugar
and about 1 and a half to 2 sticks melted butter, whilst your 5-year old twins put the muffin cups in the muffin tins, and argue loudly about who is the fastest.
Have the twins THEN fight about who is going to pour the wet ingredients onto dry ingredients, then do it yourself, spilling about a cup on the countertop in the process when the 2-year old bumps your arm in his attempt to get up on a chair and “HEP!”
Stir a bit, just enough to moisten dry ingredients evenly.
Right about now, kick everyone out of the kitchen because they are in your way, and you stubbed your toe on the bottom of one of their chairs.
Then, to the giant bowl, add about 3C leftover cooled Bobs Mighty Tasty Gluten-Free Cereal to which there has been added a shit-ton of cinnamon, a dash of nutmeg, and 2 whole chopped apples during the cooking process. Mix briefly until mostly not lumpy.
Call the crying kids back into the kitchen and watch their faces light up when you tell them they can put the muffin batter in the muffin cups. Stand back. Expect that ½ of the batter will end up either on the counter or on the muffin tin and the other half mostly in the cups. Have the 2-year old top with brown sugar and whatever spices he happens to add last second. Cook for 15 minutes in a 400 degree oven. May take a little more or less time, depending on your oven and whether or not you (or your sneaky, sneaky children) subbed in some stuff.
You know what's cool? Just Dance 3: Electric Boogaloo. The songs are awesome, but the REALLY cool part is the fat guy. I think he's from one of the first games, but he makes a guest appearance in JD3:EB and I'm like - "Sweet! A fat guy that dances! If he can do it, so can I!"
So I do my warm up stretches (I attempt - in vain - to touch my toes. Once.), crank it up, and begin. This feels good. I feel good. I'm EXERCISING!
I start breathing like a hippo with asthma about a quarter of the way through. Halfway into the song, my legs have suddenly lost rigidity in the bone, and my vision is starting to blur as I flail about the living room like Gumby with a seizure. 3/4 of the way in I'm gasping and clawing in the general direction of the television "MAKE IT...-*huh...huh...HUHHHHHH*-...STAAAAP!!!" By the end I'm trying to stab myself in the ear with the Wii remote but the fucking rubber sheath mocks me. "Heh heh heh, fatty - you're not getting off that easily." About that time I realize my decision to choose Infinite Shuffle may have been a bit of a lofty aspiration, only my fingers are too weak to turn the damn thing off. CURSE YOU,ELECTRIC BOOGALOO!!!
We were riding the bus, and a well-dressed African-American gentleman got on the bus. Boogie looked at him and said - loudly - "HEY! He looks like President Obama!" Several people on the bus visibly cringed, and the gentleman scowled first at me, then at her, and exclaimed "Excuse me?!" I looked at Boogie and said "Sweetheart, tell him why you think that." She looked at him and said "You look like President Obama because you have on a blue tie."
I think we as adults project our own insecurities, prejudice, bias, and fears far too much into the words of our children. Stop perpetuating. Start progressing. Much love.
Anyone else have that math/physics/logic nipple problem where you look down at your shirt and see that, because of the cold, your erect nipples create a crease directly between those 2 points and so, understanding Euclidean distance, you know that this crease is the shortest distance, but then, your REAL science brain (Star Trek) kicks in, and you remember spatial warp physics which state that the shortest distance between 2 points is to bring those points together, and so you have to explain to your wife why you are trying to get your nipples to touch each other, and she walks away muttering something about what our poor children have to deal with? Yeah, hate that.
If anybody asks why I don't take my girl on shows like "Toddlers and Tiaras", I like to think I have a pretty good reason. Other than common sense, I mean. Boogie would elbow check every one of those painted tarts right in the juicebox. Then she would go to work on their kids. Pa-DOW! She is sweet, and loveable, and intelligent, and absofuckinglutely ruthless. This one time, when she was a little over 2, she and her brother were playing in the play area in the mall, and this 5ish big ol' bully came along and pushed Roman down. When he got up, he pushed him down again. Little jerk was prancing around the play area, so proud of himself. Boogie, in all her innocence, was sitting at the top of the slide, and, calculating speed and trajectory, and factoring in the kids inflated ego, pushed off at the right time to take him out at the knees. He buckled, then pitched forward, slamming into one of the foam cars and split his lip. Boogie got up, dusted her knees, then STEPPED ON HIM, and went on playing. The child's mother was livid. "Aren't you going to do anything?!"
"You're right - BOOGIE! Come here please." Boogie walked over.