Bred for Its Skills in Magic

G:"Guess what I am, Dad. I'm a TINKA!!!"

Me:"Dude - you gotta give me a second to guess. And I already knew you were a stinker."

G:"No, a TINKAAAAA."

Me:"So, what's a "Tinka"?"

G:"Me."

Me:"No, I get THAT. I mean, What is a "Tinka"?"

G:"A Tinka ith me. Itth half tiguh, half eagle, half bunny, half lavaaa - *pauses to flex muscles* - an' ONE THOUTHAND PERTHENT AWETHUM."

Me:"Well, of course. You'd need at LEAST that many halves to contain that much awesome. It goes without saying."

It Stands to Reason

A parent should never have to tell their child more than once to stop giving themselves hickeys.

Tis the Season

All you parents who are feeling the effects of the season (winter, yo) and are finding yourself ...curt, also irritable, cranky, short-tempered, and feeling guilty for being so - you're not alone. It really is the season. Cabin fever has me being an ornery bear, and -as you know by now, I'm sure - I hate bears. So I'm making every effort to hang with friends and family. Let the kids babysit themselves. Have a drink. Unwind. Because HOLY FUCKING FUCK are they getting on my nerves!!! GAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!! Ahem. Carry on.

Goin' campin'

Another "campout" movie night. My children are sleep slapping each other. 500 sq ft of floor space, and they have to fight over... actually, I have no idea what they're fighting over. They're asleep. Little weirdies. Happy Thanksgiving, allabodies!

Es no problemo

Sitting down to a heaping plate of scones, the boys start arguing about where they want to sit.

G:"I want to sit ova dare, 'cuth datth where da one I bit ith."

R:"Well, I want to sit THERE, because the one I want is right THERE."

G:"Well, I not movin'."

R:"Me NEITHER."

Boogie, who has been observing this whole exchange, sighs, reaches out, and turns the plate. Problem solved.

I make and sell soap...

Bacon gives me zits. WTF, bacon?! Good thing I make my own acne soap. ^-^

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From bacon fat.

I kid!

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Or dooooo IIIIIII....?

Pancakes Are Love

I set breakfast on the table this morning.

G: “Wuth dat?”

Me: “Uhhh…blini. Blini with plum and apple compote.”G:(snarling) “dath fwiggin’ gwoth.”

Me: “No way, dude! This shit’s delicious! Try it!”

G: “I’n not eatin’ compotht!”

Me: “not Com-POST. Com-POTE. It’s, like…fruit sauce. Jelly. Hot jelly.”

G:(Eyeing me and the blini skeptically) “No.I’n not eatin’ dat.”

Roman sits and begins eating his breakfast with gusto. “Oh my GAWD, DAD! This is the best thing you have made EVER.” He then turns to me, his face away from Gaius, huge smirk on his face, and winks theatrically.

G: (glaring)“You methin’ with me, Wo-man?”

Roman: “No, it really is tasty!”

G: "I don't bleeve you. I'n not gonna eat dat."

I head back to the kitchen to finish making the rest of the blini.

Hollering from the stove, I ask: “Gaius! You want just some plain ones?”

G: “MMHMHFMF!”

Me: “What?!”

G: (swallowing)"I'N EATIN THE PANCAKTH. DITH THTUFF ITH FWEAKIN’ DEE-LICIOUS!” He proceeds to devour the entire plateful.

I win.

Love Potion No. 96

Biscuit: (running into the room with a vial and a green marker) "Daddy, can I PLEEEEEATH make human blood potion?"

Me: "For WHAT?!"

G:"Humanth! I wanna make blood potion for humanth."

Me:"Uh, no. Also, humans don't have green blood."

G:(looking intently at his marker) "Well, no, this ith for Minionth blood. They need more sinth I drank all theirs..."

Me:"Uh...NO POTIONS! Go build a volcano or something."

G:(Grabs my face and eyes me resolutely) "I'n makin' blood potions, not thtinkin' volcanoes. I'n tryin' to thave LIVES, HERE! Lemme make blood potionth."

Me:"First, tell me what ingredients you are going to use."

G:"Kitchen sthtuff."

Me:"Um, no. Be more specific. There's a LOT of stuff in the kitchen."

G:"All of it."

Me:"No."

Roman:(chiming in) "We'll use all good stuff. Like water, and blackberries, and mint, and some liquids from the kitchen, and some liquids NOT from the kitchen - 

Boogs:(interrupting)"And a FISH! 'Cause I'm makin' a mer MAN!"

G:"I DON'T WANT ANYONE TO BE A MERMAN! I need blood potion to mix with my other potion to cweate a WAINBOW potion! Wainbow potion is love potion, an' I'n gonna dump it on everyone in da world, and dey will all luuuuuuuv each other! Like you love MOMMY!"

Me:"Oh, that might be kinda messy, the way Daddy loves Mommy. Why don't we cut it with wine, or rum, and then everyone will love on each other, but they'll all be embarrassed and awkward about it come morning."

Gaius:(quizzically) "And then they eat pancakth?"

Me:"No, their brunch will probably be coffee, shame, and possibly crow."

Boogie:"I WANT A MER MAN!"

Me:"Yeah, that's...that's neat, Boogs."

DANCING IS MY LIIIIIIIIIF-UH!

R: "Daddy, I really want to be a girl."

Me: "No you don’t."


R: "Yes I do."

Me: "Nope."

R: "What’s wrong with being a girl?"


Me: "TONS!"

R: "I thought you said it was okay for people to be whoever they wanted, and for girls to love girls or boys, and boys to love girls or boys."

Me: "You bet! It’s called “equality.” And trust me - there's NOTHING equal about it."

R: "So why can’t I be a girl?"

Me: "Oh, you can - you just won’t WANT to when you learn what it’s like to be a woman."

R: "WHYYYYYY?!?!?!"

Me: "Well, for starters, there’s the whining, and the blubbering, and the crying about body parts, and rights, and who has the right to do what with their own body parts. And that's just from everyone around you. I won’t even begin to tell you about the bleeding and the mood swings."

R: "What?!"

Me: "Yeah! Some people think they can tell other people what they can do with their OWN body parts. The people doing the telling are almost always men, and the people being told are usually women. You want to be bossed around by a bunch of guys telling you what you can and can’t do with your vagina? Nobody in their right mind wants that."

R: "No, about the bleeding and swings."

Me: "What? Oh. Well, if you want all girl parts, they have to do a lot of surgery and give you things called hormones that totally fuck with your emotions. You’re a hot mess from the word “GO!”."

R: "Well, how about, I’ll be a man that dresses and looks like a girl. But I’ll still have my man parts."

Me: "You still wouldn't want to be a girl."


R: "But I’d have man parts! And nobody would tell me what I could do with them."

Me: "True, but would you call yourself a man or a woman?"

R: "A girl."

Me: "See? Still a problem."

R: "What? Why?"

Me: "Well, what job do you want to have when you grow up?"

R: "I want to be a scientist!"

Me: "Girl scientists get paid less than guy scientists for the same job."  

R: "That’s not fair!"

Me: "Psh. Fair. Stay a man. It’ll be easier for you in the long run. If you look like a woman, talk like a woman, dress like a woman, people are going to either try to tell you what to do, or judge you for being different. Just stay a man. It's easier."

R: "But that’s not who I am. I want a vagina. And boobies. And dresses. And makeup."

Me: "There are lots of girls that don’t have or want most of that."

R: "Well, I do. And I don’t care if there’s blood or whatever. I can make more.

And I want to DANCE!"

Me: "So you want to be a girl dancing scientist?"

R: "Yes."

Me: "Even after all that crap I just told you? About the pain, and emotions, and unfairness, and people trying to tell you what to do with your bits, and the people judging you because you’re different... even after all that?"

R: "I’m not gonna change who I want to be. I just want to be me. And that me wants to be a girl."

He’s nothing if not resolute, I’ll give him that.

Wag the Dog

Giovanna: "Mom, who is that? It looks like Professor McGonagall."

Mommy: "It's Ruth Bader Ginsberg."

Roman: "What does it say about her?"

Mommy: "That she's against voter suppression."

R: "What's voter suss-pression?"

G: "Vader expression?"

Mommy: "Voter suppression. Ok, voting is one way a group of people can make a decision when they don't agree. Like if we all want something different for dinner. If you three kids want--"

G: "BACON!"

Mommy: "Ok, you guys want bacon for dinner, and mommy and daddy want--"

R: "HOT DOGS!"

Mommy: "Ok, hot dogs. So that's three votes for bacon and two for hot dogs. What would win?"

G&R: "BACON!"

Mommy: "Right! So what if mommy and daddy said 'well, we decided twins can't vote.' Now how many votes do we have?"

R: "Um, 1 for bacon and 2 for hot dogs."

G (looking horrified): "Then hot dogs would win!"

R (angry monkey face): "That's not fair!"

Mommy: "That's kind of like voter suppression. Some people say some other people's votes don't count, and it's not very fair at all."

Gaius: "... Can we have bacon for dinner?"

I Ain't Afraid of No Ghost!

R:(Attempting to scare his sister at "wake time" aka "ass-crack of dawn")moans loudly: "Boooogggiiiiie... BOOOGGGIIIIIIE...I'm coming to GET YOUUUUUU..."

B: "How 'bout you come get a punch in the face, mister ghost fairy! How 'bout THAT?!"

NOT a morning person.

HASENPFEFFER!!!

B:"DAAAAAAAD! GAIUS IS TRYING TO COOK MY BUNNY!"

Me:(from the other room)"Tell him to wrap that fucker in bacon!"

B"WHAT?!?!"

Me:"Nothing! Gaius- be nice to your sister!"

I AM your father...

R:(responding to my request for him to pick up his mess in the living room)"You know, most Daddies don't tell their kids to do stuff, like clean and stuff. So that's how it's going to be, FROM NOW ON." Fixes me with a look of serious intensity.

Me:"Your Jedi mind tricks will not work on me, boy. Now put your shit AWAY."

Mopes away with his toys to his room.

I can't believe I'm using the Dark Side to make my kids do their chores. I figured by this time in my life, I'd be, I don't know...in charge of the planet. Or at least a small moon.

Deuce Bigalow

B:"Dad, I'm feelin' MUCH better now."

Me:"Oh yeah? That's good, baby."

B:"Yeah, I just dropped one big dookie. It was THIS (holds hands about 2 feet apart) big. It was all coiled like a python, ready to STRIKE!"

Me:"Ew, dude. You should have stopped at 'dookie.'"

You look a little young to drive a forklift.

"You ran in front of a moving vehicle piloted by a 3-year old speed demon. How did you THINK that was going to turn out?"

Dad is great! Give us the chocolate cake!

Celebratory chocolate cake for brekkie for the first day of summer vacation. It has bananas on it, so it's healthy Nomalicious! I didn't have any butter for the recipe, so I subbed duck fat. I wonder if they'll notice?

Dance...Fight?!

Gaius frenemy Rowan is over for a playdate, and this conversation just happened:

Rowan: “Otay, I’m gonna teach you how to do ballet.”

Gaius:” I know how to ballet.”

Rowan:”IIII went to school. And I FINISHED. So I should teach you.”

Gaius:”Do you know how to ballet FIGHT?!”

Rowan: (matter-of-factly)”Yep. I’m going to pick someone to ballet fight me. Eeny meeny miney mo…Daius! You ballet fight me.”

Gaius: (going immediately into a Mario/Link-style spin attack) “AAAAAGGGGGGHHHH!!!”

Rowan:”NO! Not like that. I know a special Chinese style.”

Gaius:”But we didn’t have Chinese yet. I like Chinese. Do you like Chinese?”

Rowan:”I LOOOOVE Chinese!”

And they collapse onto the floor in a fit of giggles.

Try the Spaghetti, Freddie

So, I make all this delicious food, these tasty dishes, these culinary masterpieces, and you wanna know what my children scream are "DELICIOUS!" and beg for more when I add them to their lunch plate and throw a fucking shit-fit when there aren't any? Crackers. Plain boring old bland motherfucking saltines. Fucking. Hell. On the plus side, I see a drastically reduced grocery bill in the near future...

Follow the Butterflies

I love sitting in the cool shade of the cedar tree, watching my boy play with the chicke-OH MY GOD THERE ARE ONE JILLION SPIDER BABIES RAPPELLING ONTO MY FACE! GAHHHHHH!!! GETEMOFFGETEMOFFGETEMOFGETEMOFF!

I love you, Nature. Why you fuck with me like that?

Know When to Hold 'Em...

The kids are playing an imaginary card game in the pool called Got Your Wish where the cards are only visible underwater, and are guts, fish, 33's, rocket fuel, apples, and couscous. But no privates. But belly buttons. Actually, a hundred things on the whole world. And the cards are SUPPOSED to be green. Oh, and synchronized splashing is shuffling and dealing the cards. So randomly they all stop together and splash frantically, then stop splashing and resume playing. I <3 my creepy little weirdos.

Do as I Say, Not as I Do

R:If I fell, like out of this tree, and my arm broke, I'd be just like mommy.

Me:Do you WANT to be just like mommy?

R:(Eying the ground intently)Mayyybeee...

Me:You get the fuck out of that tree.

We are Controlling Transmission

The twins are censoring themselves.

"I'm gonna pop some taaags, only got twenny dollahs and my pocket-"

"No, not "and." "In.""

"Well, I'm gonna sing it whatever I want."

(together) IIIIIIIII'N GONNA POP SOME TAGS, ONLY GOT TWENNY DOLLAHS IN/AND MY POCKET, UH UH AHM HUNTIN', LOOKIN'FOR A COMEUP, THIS IS BLEEPING AWESOME!!!"

"I wear your Grandads clothes, I look in-cred-uh-bull-"

"You DO look incredible."

"I know! You like my dress?"

"It's bleeping AWESOME!"

Gaius:(at the top of his lungs)"LINK! HAS COME TO TOWN! HAS COME TO SAVE! THE PRINCESS ZEEELLLDAAA!"

Cue riotous laughter.

That bitch be cray cray...

Guest post by my sweet love! -Greybeard

*   *   *

So there we were, all five of us waiting impatiently for the train with our week's groceries. Some random young woman (who shall henceforth be known as Crazy Lady. For simplicity’s sake) was talking at some other woman about how petite women and non-petite woman gain weight differently, and that SHE (Crazy Lady) was TRULY a petite woman, which is why she gained the way she did, so it wasn't really her fault that she weighed 400 pounds.

Okie dokie, then.

Then she walks up to us and this was the conversation that followed (please forgive any paraphrasing; this was way too much crazy to remember verbatim)…

Crazy Lady: "I have a question for you. Well... I haven't actually formulated a REAL question yet... but you all are wearing greens and look very natural and your kids are wearing unusual clothes, and that looks like some kind of skirt on your son*, and they have the most amazing blue eyes and I was just wondering about you guys."

*(Side note: our 6yo DS wears skirts or dresses sometimes - he usually calls them kilts, and the one he was wearing today was dark khaki with pockets like a utilikilt)

Grey: “Ok, what do you want to know?”

(Me glaring at Grey for opening up this conversation.)

CL: “Well, like, what’s your heritage and faith?”

Grey: “Just mixed up Americans. And agnostic atheist.”

CL: “So what’s your blood type?”

Grey: “What? No. I don’t want to share that with you. That’s a bit bizarre... Why do you want to know?”

CL: “Seriously, is it positive or negative?”

Grey: “Seriously, I’m not gonna tell you.”

CL: “Well, I was just asking because…” The following are a few of the highlights of her next five minutes of talking nonstop… 

• Because her blood type is negative, Crazy Lady is of angelic lineage. (O_O) 
• Crazy Lady’s mom was adopted (not pertinent to the conversation, unless she thinks her mom’s real parents were angels) 
• Crazy Lady “became a Christian and read the bible” ALL BY HERSELF “with no help from anyone” while residing in some kind of psychiatric home 
• Crazy Lady KNOWS that she's directly descended from the nephilim because of the giants dying out, and that the blood typing and extinct giants are all spelled out in genesis, which makes it literally true. 

One thing you might not want to do is misquote the bible to an ex- Jehovah's Witness who has read the bible 8 bazillion times. 

Grey: "Oh, wow, they did blood typing back then?" (some random bystander giggled) “Anyway, I didn't know mythological creatures even HAD blood types.”

CL (balking momentarily): “Well it’s all written there, in Genesis, so it’s true. Also? Your children’s eyes are AMAZING. They MUST be Indigo Children with eyes like that.”

Grey: “What the hell does that mean?”

CL: “Well, eyes that color mean they’re descended from angels, too.”

Grey (lifting sunglasses): "Um, their eyes are that color because that's the color of my eyes. It’s genetic. For real.”

CL: “Well, anyway, I’ve been thinking of getting married recently. BUT, I don’t know if it will work because the guy I like doesn't want to raise kids in the city, so we'd have to move to Montana out in the country..."

Then our train arrived and we boarded and laughed and laughed and laughed.

And that was our weekend’s entertainment. 

I've faaalllen, and I can't get uuuuuup...

Sweet crap on a cracker. Why do people not understand the words that are coming out of my mouth? When my son falls, or coughs on some water, or runs full tilt into a tree, and I don't move to help him, and you do, and I say "Please leave him alone," and you don't stop, and I get louder, and you don't listen, and I tell you "DON'T TOUCH MY CHILD," I am not asking - or giving permission - for you to go pick him up and nurse his boo-boos. Leave. Him. Alone. 

I thought for awhile that it was just me that had to deal with this. You know - at-home dad, "doesn't have the ability to nurture" (yes, I've been told this), maybe they think I'm lazy or neglectful, but it doesn't seem to be limited to just me. I've seen many moms deal with this same issue. The part that really annoys me is when it's other moms with kids the same age. If it's a grandma, or an older lady, I can understand if they are hard of hearing or whatever, but when it's a mom with kids in the same age group and they run over to my child to kiss their owie and make it better - what the hell, lady?! NO TOUCHY! No touch. 

I am not a heartless monster. I am not inattentive. I simply don't see the need to mollycoddle. I am not raising a helpless baby - I am raising a child, a person, an individual. I want him to assess himself, to see what the damage is, to be able to determine what is attention-worthy, and what is just a bump, a scrape, a little water down the wrong pipe. I want him to learn independent thought and personal strength. To know that he can take care of himself. Because if he really needs me, I will be there in a flash. 

I know my child. You don't. And the one thing I definitely know about my child that you don't - but you will find out in about 2 seconds - is that he hates being touched without his consent. That boy has a very close bubble that surrounds him, and anyone entering that bubble better have his express permission to do so, or there will be hell to pay. So when he blows out your eardrums with his siren scream, bloodies your nose with a right cross, and kicks your tit off, don't look at me like I raised some kind of demon. I asked you, I told you, I raised my voice at you not to touch him. It's on your head. 

You can't handle the tooth!

Good times. The twins have both discovered they have loose teeth. It's going to be a goddamn faeriefest up in here. That's gotta be, what- 4500 teeth? And guess who gets to assist in their removal?  Yeahhh...as I stated - good times. Really, it wouldn't be that big a deal, but the boy has this ear-shattering fire engine wail whenever he's in panic mode that on a good day I can't stand to be in the same room with him while he's crying. Now I will be right next to his screaming facehole. Joy. The cool bit, though, it's that I can drill holes through the teeth once they're yanked and wear them as a necklace. Yay! Accessories!