November 29, 2005

Well, it with a heavy heart that I tell you this. I might have to stomp on my husband’s ASS. Hear me out. Maddy is 5. She’s a pretty smart 5. Very perceptive. Very “old soul”. But of course she’s still very much a little girl and sometimes doesn’t pronounce a word here and there correctly. She’s been talking since like 18 months old but like any other kid, has her own pronounciation of words or her own take on things. So alot of times, when she comes home from school, she’ll ask me to make her a “girl” cheese sandwich. It’s the cutest darn thing……….well it WAS the cutest darn thing. A couple of days ago, she asks daddy to make her a “girl” cheese. Weeeeeell daddy, says, oh it’s not a girl cheese honey, it’s a grill cheese. WTH? I see him writing it down for her and he hands her the piece of paper and she’s saying, oh ok, grill cheese, grill cheese, grill cheese. I jump up and ask him what he thinks he’s doing? Why is he telling her that? He’s looking at me like I’m on bad crack and I’m sure he’s thinking, OMG she’s clearly……..weird (Ya so what, get over it). I explain that I loved the way she said “girl” cheese and how cute it was and how it was so darn sweet. He says to me, “Well, I don’t want my little girl to go to school and be like 15 and tell people she loves eating girl cheese sandwiches. They’ll think she’s not all there.” Ummmm, okay, I’m pretty sure at 15, she’ll have figured out the difference and NOT still be calling them girl cheese. Like holy. So now she refuses to say it like the way mommy loves it….”I can’t say that mommy, it’s not the correct way to say it.” The correct way? What are you, like 45? Sooooooo, the “girl” cheese era has come to an end I’m afraid. Sigh. Well it was cute while it lasted.

November 27, 2005

Today I was thinking about Ryan when he was little….like around 3 years old or so. I really should have called him Dennis. As in Dennis the Menace. That child was…….active. I remember being in Canadian Tire with hubby and Ryan and we had turned our backs for a milli- second. Literally. Ryan was/is soooo fast. He’s a disappearing act in a small body. He’s a modern day Houdini. We realized quickly that he was missing, so of course I begin the standard chain of panic talk. OMG he’s been kidnapped. OMG he ran out into the street. OMG he’s climbing a ladder somewhere and going to fall and get hurt. Wait……….OMG he’s into something and is causing damage and destruction. That was Ryan’s usual MO. He didn’t usually run off just to disappear but to explore. Ummm ya. So we start going up the isles one by one. My heart is beating a mile a minute, frantic. Hubby is less concerned. Not because he doesn’t care but because he’s reasonable. I’m clearly not. It’s a known fact. It’s been proven. If you’re a few minutes late, well your dead in the ditch with the car rolled on top of you. Hubby would think, well, “so and so” got held up in traffic or stopped for a coffee. See what I mean by he’s the sane one and I’m, well, not. Anyway back to Ryan…..we’re peeking down isle after isle until we come to the isle that has hardward stuff. I say stuff because nails and crap does not interest me in the least. So it’s just stuff or crap or stuff and crap. Anyhoooo, in one isle they have rolls of chain. Some of it’s narrow chain and some of it is wide chain. I’m not sure what someone does with a big roll of chain or even some of the roll of chain (maybe use it to make your own dog leash? I have no clue.). Well, Ryan has found the rolls of chain. Big deal right? Ummmm, he unrolled it. All of it. There are big piles of chain links all over the place. I’m thinking, is he possessed? He’s laughing like he just saw the best Circus show in town. The toddler giggles are flowing out of him like warm sunshine on your face. Part of me wanted to string him up by his ears and the other part of me wanted to help him unravel the last little bit of the chain…it did look fun. However I had to be the sensible one in this situation. So trying to be as adult as I could, I took him by the arm and ran as fast as I could out of there so we wouldn’t get charged with unlawfully unravelling chain. Or chain abuse. Or whatever the charge would be. That’s my Dennis.

November 26, 2005

Maddy wants a talking My Little Pony. It comes with a baby bottle, moves and talks. She’s been asking me for one for weeks now and I keep telling her that maybe she’ll get it for Christmas. Now I had never seen one of these talking pony’s. I’ve seen other My Little Pony’s and normally they’re pretty cute. But recently while at the grocery store I saw it. Well, let me tell you, this pony ain’t all that friggin’ cute. It’s face is way too short and wide and honestly, it looks kinda ‘tardish. It’s eyes look waaaaay too big, the nostrils are flaring like gaping black holes and really, it looks not quite right. I came home from Christmas shopping and immediately Maddy tackled me, asking if I’d bought this pony for her. Well first Missy, I would certainly not tell you if I did because that would spoil the surprise and suspense. Second, honestly honey, it’s kinda fugly, no offense to My Little Pony’s all over the world. Well she rolled her eyes, threw up her hands and proclaimed at the top of her lungs, that indeed it is a beautiful freakin’ pony (her words) and that she will just ask Santa then. Nevermind mommy, because I’m going to ask Mr. Santa and I bet any money he doesn’t think My Little Pony talking pony is fugly and he’ll get Mrs. Clause’s opinion and she’ll think it’s beautiful too. And the elves will also say that it’s beautiful and mommy will be the only person in the whole wide world that thinks it’s fugly. Hmmm really honey? Because I was shopping with Angela and she saw it too and she thought it was fugly too, so na nana boo boo. My five year old looked at me and said……whaaaaatever. Anyhoooo, mommy is picking it up next week.

My husband is doing work for a guy we’ll call Myron. I’m sure he’s a nice man. I bet he’s a wonderful provider for his family. I’m not questioning his character. However, I am questioning his “doh factor” and I’m pretty sure it’s high. He called a few weeks ago for my husband…I answered the phone. It went like this:

***Ring Ring Ring***

“Hello?”
“Hi.”
“Hi?”
“Hi. Is Anthony home?”
“No, I’m sorry he’s out right now. Would you like to leave a message?”
“Ok.”
Big pause. Ummm hello? This is the part where you speak up and LEAVE THE MESSAGE.
“Hello?”
“Yes, I will leave a message.”
“Okay, go ahead, I have a pen.”
“This is Myron.”
“Ok.”
“Ok, so the message is from Myron.”
“Ummm, yes I got that part.”
“Ok.”
Another big pause. What is this guy’s deal? His Happy Meal is definately short a few fries.
“Ok, Myron, what’s your number?” (I figure I’d better help him along….ya.)
“Ok, my number is *****.”
“Great, I’ll tell Anthony that you called.”
“Ok. This is Myron.”
“Yes, I got that.” OMG.
“Ok. Here is the message. Tell him that Myron called.”
“Yes I wrote that down. Got it.” Holy shit, is this guy for real?
“Did you get that written down?”
“Ok Myron, got it all written down.” I wrote down that Betty called….oh wait I wrote MYRON because you told me like 20 times.
“Ok. So tell him that Myron called.”
“Ok Jack I will.” Gawd, someone poke my eyes out.

That was painful. The guy is not normal. Oh joy for me, he called again a couple of days ago. And just my luck hubby wasn’t home. Great. Here it goes:

***Ring Ring Ring***

“Hello?”
“Hi.”
“Hello?”
“Hi. Oh is Anthony home?”
“No I’m sorry he’s out for the evening. I can take a message if you like.”
“Ok.”
Guess what??? A BIG FREAKIN’ PAUSE HERE.
“Ummm hello” Would you like to leave a message?”
“Ok.”
“Ok. Well I have a notepad and a pencil…I’m all set.” Holy shit, what crack is this guy smoking?
“Ok. I’m going to leave a message.”
“Great. I’m ready.” I’m ready to beat your ass with this phone in my hand.
“Ok. This is Myron.” Super.
“Ok Myron, what’s your number?” I know your number it’s 555-DUMBASS
“Ok. We’re going to go with the message.”
“Ummm sure.” WHAT? Am I on Candid Camera?
“Ok. My number is *****.”
“Great. Got it Myron. I’ll tell hubby that you called and he can give you a call back in the morning since he’ll be out late tonight. Is that ok?”
“Ummm, I’m going to leave a message.”
“Ok, yes, you did, I got your name and number.”
“No. I mean I’m going to leave a message message.”
“Ok?” A message message? Huhn? I’m going to stick my head in the oven and put it on broil because that would be way more fun than trying to get your cryptic messages down on paper without totally losing my mind.
“Ok here is the message. He can come on Monday to finish the back.”
“That it?” Sure you don’t want to tell me your name again? I didn’t quite catch it the first 765 times you told me.
“Yes. Oh tell him the message is from Myron.”
“I sure will.” But first I have to come through the phone and beat your ass and shake the shit out of you because clearly you’re not all there.
“Ok. Bye.”
“Bye.” Please don’t ever call here again Myron. Call my husband’s cell phone because you’ll put me over the edge, for real, if I like ever have to take another phone message from HELL from you.

November 24, 2005

….that my friend Nicole cuts up her potatoes with a steak knife? Holy. Who would do that? She must be insane. I can’t think of why someone would look at a tater and say, Hmmmm, I think I’ll cut you with a steak knife. What was she thinking? Clearly she wasn’t. Nicole, I’m going to send you a potato knife to cut your potatoes. Love ya.

November 23, 2005

***Ring Ring Ring***

“Hello?” (Notice I DIDN’T say, Good Morning Economy Glass….Ya, well, that’s because my house ISN’T Economy Glass.)
“Oh hi, are you open for cutting?”
“Ummm……cutting? Cutting what?” (Cutting the cheese? Cutting the grass? Cutting a tree down?)
“Ah, hello? Glass!” (Says in a voice much like a BEEYOTCH.)
“Ummmm…….I’m pretty sure I’m not.”
“Well fine then!” (Said in a possessed demon type voice and then Phone is then slammed in my ear. Well not literally in my ear because, wow that would hurt like a SOB. Whatever that means.)

I look lovingly into my son’s eyes at the supper table.

“Sean?”
“What mom?”
“You know what?”
“What?”
“I hope I live long enough to be a burden to you.”
“Ummm thanks mom.”
“No problem honey.”

Last night Maddy had dance class and usually, without fail, she asks, “Can I get a Happy Meal from McDonald’s.” Well she surprised us last night by asking for Subway. We were like, sure! So we went over to get it while she was at class. I had to translate her order slightly. She tells me that she wants a “little subway with bologna, pepperoni, Miracle Whip, tomatoes and pickles and I don’t like the cheese mom, so don’t get that okay?”. I have to order it like “a 6″ cold cuts on Italian bread, mayo, TWO tomatoes and ONE pickle. No cheese please.” The clerk looks at me when I say 2 tomatoes and one pickle. Ummmm, look lady, she’s 5 and very particular, don’t ask questions, just do it. Please. Maddy ate the whole sub. I was so thrilled that she chose the sub over the greasy burger from Rotten Ronnies!