Monday, August 13, 2007

"Bummer of a Birthmark, Kristy."

Five Things I Didn't Particularly Enjoy This Weekend:


1.) Being hit in the back by The Pukes.

You know it's just never a good start to your weekend when you're driving to Best Buy and you hear, "Hey, Mama, I think I need to..." right about the time the splash of Rocket Vomit hits the back of your seat. Try not tossing your own cookies with Essence of Hurl wafting throughout the van. (Or seeing the road with your t-shirt pulled up over your head.)

2.) Having the phone ring at eight o'clock Saturday morning.

I was blissfully enjoying a cup of tea on the couch in my t-shirt and undies, the rest of the house still visiting the Sandman, ahhhhhh, when the phone rang. I answered it and this is what I heard from the very perky gentleman on the other end: "Hi! Well, Good Morning! I'm with the Real Estate Company that helped sell your house. You would really be doing the Investor who bought the property a gigantic favor if we could show his clients your house in ten minutes."


Ha! Good one! I laughed. Out loud. ...And then asked for maybe, please, an hour to de-funkify things.

3.) Finding a nasty little surprise in the garage.

We discovered, as we're scrambling to clean up a wreck of a house that has been off the market and in the "Relaxed Stage" for two weeks (man, it stinks to be nice!), that a potato had fallen behind the bottom shelf of our garage pantry and gone unnoticed months? Who knew a potato could smell like that! After we called in a Team of Biohazard Professionals to determine that it was, in fact, a potato, we strapped on some rubber gloves and planned our attack. The Offending Object was well past the Multiple-Eyes stage of " potato gone bad". It was in the Grotesquely Rotten Dead Rat stage of decay. We removed the Big Nast from the premises and hit the remainder mark hard with many dousings of bleach and lots 'o Lysol.

...All the while Sophie was yelling and gagging from the corner, "Pew! It stinks! Really, really bad! ...I think I'm gonna vromic!"

4.) Thinking all along that your Three Year Old is human, only to discover in Dillard's that she is actually part Pod, part Spawn of Satan.

Okay. So. Why is it always when you're trying to do something nice and fun for your child that they turn into a Crazy Disobedient Bratty Freak-a-Zoid?

Russ wanted to look for some sunglasses at the mall, so we told Sophie that she could play on the "Jumping Jaxes" and at the mall playground area. Yay! Super fun AND a great way to release wads of energy.

When we were getting out of the van she asked, "May I walk, please, Mommy?" I thought, Aww. What a blessed, mannerly, sweet-from-heaven child. So I told her, "You can walk until we get to the place with Daddy's sunglasses, then you have to sit in your stroller." She nodded okay, held my hand, and off we went into Dillard's.

No sooner had we entered the building when she broke loose and took off running Tazmanian Devil-style through the racks of women's clothing. I said, "Sophie, stop!" She kept running. Russell said, "Sophie, stop!" She kept running, whizzing past mannequins and mazing her way through clothes and shoes - almost tripping several little old ladies. Russell took off after her, ordering her to stop, while she faked deafness and continued her mad spree throughout the store. And, to make matters that much niftier, she was below the clothes level, and therefore, almost impossible to find! She ran all the way across the store, to the other side of Dillard's, before Russ was able to get her in a choke-hold and drag her back to where I was standing, red-faced and fuming. We both wanted to commit a teeny murder before it was said and done and the little hellion was captured and back in her stroller.

How do kids know JUST when it's the perfect opportunity to misbehave without immediate repercussions? I mean, they do. They sense it or something. They feel the perfection of the timing long before they actually get into the prime misbehaving situation. They know you're in a public place. They know everyone is staring, offering themselves as witnesses. And they KNOW there are no available tree limbs handy to rip down and tan their little fannies with right then and there.

What they don't know, however, is that there are secluded corners where you can hold them hostage for one delicious moment. The moment where you have them look you in the eye, firmly squeeze the dickens out of their little cheeks, and tell them in the Scariest-Of-All-Scary-Moms voice that they just made a supremely BAD decision. A decision that will cost them their ticket at the Jumping Gym and Mall Playground. (Man, it was sad to watch her have to sit there and just watch the other kids play and have fun, a little stream of tears trickling down her face-and I wasn't sure at first who I was punishing, since no energy was being released. ...But it was certainly an effective punishment. She woke up first-thing this morning and said, "I won't run away from Mommy or Daddy ever again!" ...Yeah, right. But certainly a noble goal, Sophs!)

5.) Plopping down in a nice big, sticky puddle of goop in our IHOP booth.

Ahh. Glued to the seat. Butterscotch syrup warming through to my buns. No further explanation necessary, I'm sure, on why I didn't particularly enjoy this.


Anonymous said...

I had forgotten that Far Side picture. Thanks for letting me walk down Memory Lane. Love, Mooms P.S. I don't think you should have to help that investor sell HIS house! Love, Mooms

Kristy said...

Yeah, well, that's the problem, until we close in a month, it's still OUR house.

We're just trying to keep the investor happy while we wait for the closing (especially since NOTHING is selling here still). We just feel fortunate to have a contract pending.

sarah p said...

nicely done. sounds like a doozy of a weekend. =) i could picture little sophie running under the radar in Dillards, dodging the people and clothing. man, i'd be fuming for sure. =)

that Far Side cartoon is one of our favorites!

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