Just random funnies because I’m tired. Tired of winter, tired of the whining and complaining (both mine and theirs), tired of dealing with a stubborn old house.
I decide to put self-reflection on hold, watch Dirty Jobs and sip herbal tea. Unfortunately Dirty Jobs happened to be about lice and now I feel all itchy.
I also made pumpkin muffins. I’m the Helping Parent for Zach’s preschool class tomorrow, which means I’m responsible for bringing snacks. Remember that Seinfeld episode where Kramer test drives a car and pushes how far it will run on empty? That is me with grocery shopping. Thus the homemade muffins.
*Wait, had I not mentioned that I caved on both the homeschooling preschool thing AND the church-based preschool? Awwwhhh…yeah, well.*
Hopefully the delicious muffins will soothe any falsehoods (or truths) that he might have mentioned to his teachers… like that Mommy hates wrestling. Unless it’s with Daddy at dark time. You know, stuff like that. Or the deer-in-headlights look on my face each time I have to interact with his teachers. A lifetime of unmedicated ADHD… teachers kind of make me nervous.
From the mouth of Zach:
Mom, your Geotrax track looks nice. But it sure doesn’t work.
(To the dog after she escaped the backyard) “Misty, you are NOT allowed to leave the yard without a grown up. You get on that rug and think about it.”
After two days of the new preschool, with a large huffing sigh. I didn’t learn to read today. I guess will learn that on Friday.
Don’t phunk (pronounced fuck) with my heart. Pause. Um, Mom, is that an okay word?
Well, not the way you are saying it, no.
Z: “Mom, I love you anyway even though you have a plump tummy. But you should do some more sit ups.”
My first thought, though I didn’t say it out loud: “Hey, how ’bout you shut the fuck up, m-kay?”
He followed this up by him announcing to everyone at Kohl’s that I “was shrinking and would soon look like an awesome Mom.” I patiently explained (while ignoring the cough-laughs from the women behind me in line) that we liked people because of what they are inside, not their size and shape.
To which he responded, “well, I like your insides, but your belly is on the outside”.
It’s either laugh or smack him.
From the mouth of Elliot:
“Look a CLUE!” A la Blue’s Clues–as he jumped up and down, pointing to a muddy paw prints on the kitchen floor. Then he shrieked at me the whole time I was cleaning them up.
To Fluffy Sheep “JUST FREAKING EAT YOUR DINNER!” I got nothing. It was a particularly annoying Elliot-eating-day.
“Zachary, you killing me” On a side note– he’s the only person in this house that calls Zach by his full name. Oh wait…we do it when Zach is in trouble. Hmmm…
“Look at me… I’m Joker. Wah-ha-HA”
My exchange with him on Zach’s first day of preschool:
Me: “Do you miss Zach?”
Me: “Well, what do you want to do this morning?”
E: “Geotrax. ALL MINE!”
“I do it, I do it. I do it myself.” Pause. “UGH. I can’t do it.”
Then there was the other morning– I yelled at him pretty hard. In my defense, it was the 15th time I had said, “please go brush your teeth”, I had misplaced a rather large check that needed to be deposited, and Zach kept pacing right in front of me worried that we’d be late. ‘Course none of that matters to the 2 year old and realistically I was harsher than necessary. We both had to sit down for a few minutes taking deep breaths to calm down.
Elliot in the car, reading The Night Before Christmas (why… because my car serves as extra storage) and talking to himself.
“Santa yell? Nope, Santa never yell at Mooses (reindeer). Santa no scare Elliot by yelling.”
BIG PAUSE as his eyes meet mine in the rear view mirror.
Sigh. They are the best mirrors to our souls and behaviors aren’t they?