Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Code Bedhead

This morning I woke to Thing Two's sweet face standing at my bed.....

"Mom. Are you awake?"

"Mom. Are you awake?"

"Mom. Are you awake?"

Bliss. As I slowly open my eyes, dragging my mind from a sexy dream involving David Brinkley and a hot air baloon, her sweet face...

"Holy shit it's the alarm GOGOGONOW!!!" Thank God Pete is here to supervise the crisis.

I knock Thing Two and her tutu over in my mad dash downstairs, past Thing One, at whom I snarl, "YOU are in TROUBLE!"

"I didn't do anything."

"Maam? Is everything okay there?" says the futuristic box on my kitchen wall.

"Yeah, we're all right, it's just my son..."

"Please enter your bypass code, maam."

I am frantically trying to enter the bypass code while simultaneously digging in my ears with freshly cut fingernails in order to retrieve my earplugs.

Thing Two is yanking on my underwear to get my attention.

"Maam. The code."

"Mom! I want a kiss and a hug"

"Um, it's...I think it's...wait that's for..."

"Mama! I wanna KISS. You kiss me, mom."

"Maam, please state your security code."

"Mom, can I have a honey and turkey sandwhich for breakfast?"

"Mom! A kiss!"

"Maam, if you don't enter the bypass code we have to send a squad."







I just...wait here it...Oh ferchrissakes just send em. I could use the help.

You see, my kids do stuff.

Stuff for which there is no warning, no explanation, no adequate retaliation.

They ply the dog with goldfish crackers and then frame him for their petty crimes.

They wipe boogers on my walls.

They wear, walk on, and make tents out of my clean laundry.

They fight over who gets to say, "fubba fubba John."

They grab my skirt to break their falls.

They disable me with pretend laser guns.

They stick their grimy little mitts in my mouth when I'm not looking.

They spill stuff.

They wreck stuff.

They dump stuff.

They do stuff.

They scream.



They use my sewing supplies for surgical tools.

They paint their own fingernails.

They set off alarms.

So by all means, please send a squad.

Every morning at 7.

And have them pick up some turkey, woudja?

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Wednesday, March 4, 2009