Wednesday, April 3, 2013

10 Signs I Need to Get Out of the House

It’s Spring Break BABY!!!  

Feel the sun..smell the air...spray the Lysol.  Since Friday night, both Carlee and I have been down and out.  
Carlee was the worst this weekend.  She is recovering but now I am the one that feels really bad.   Darren is back to work, and poor Connor has to just sit in the house with us and our germs.  I really hate it for him, but Connor has such a wonderful imagination that he really has entertained himself (and me and Carlee).  I’m really happy to be with C. and C., but Two Kids + Lots of Energy + Inside the House all Day= CRAZINESS.

Today C. had a stack of every pillow in the house, jumping off the bed into the pile like a flying trapeze artist, before I could call a TIMEOUT.  No broken arms please.  I have been in the house for four days straight.  I was so mad at Darren because he got gas on the way home.  I WANTED TO GET GAS!!!! 
Don’t you understand?  I need to feel the wind in my hair, the gas in my nostrils!  We need out of this house soon.   

10 Signs I’m Been Inside the House for TOOOOO Long:

1.  I think my kitchen tools are possessed.  

I’m not kidding.  They procreate.  They give birth to dishes while I’m not looking.  Dishes are suddenly everywhere.  If I have to run a rag over the same counter top again I’m going to scream.   
Why can’t my kitchen just stay clean for 45 min.?  What is my family doing?  Grabbing a cup every time they take an individual sip, while holding a knife and fork?

2. I think I'm Obsessed with Wrestling. 

At first I was simply annoyed by all of Connor’s talk about this match and that match.  I even wrote a letter to WWE Raw about the appropriateness of the matches for children the first hour.  
Now I’m not suggesting these fellows get into the ring and give each other BIG HUGS and sing about Rainbows.  
But I also don’t define The Funkasaurus with two half naked women, doing the “Funkette” into the ring via butt bends and stripper moves (while the opponents talk about kicking a**)  as TV-PG.
These are what we call extended popcorn breaks.

This is the response:
We understand how important it is for parents to take an active role in their children's free time. WWE is committed to creating family-friendly, TV-PG broadcast programming. Like any other action film or televised drama, WWE content is scripted and performed by trained professionals. We encourage all parents to help their children select suitable entertainment, and to understand the differences between fantasy and real life.

You know why they want parents to watch?  so we become addicted too.  I think I screamed at C. to move from the front of  the TV last night, I almost missed a move.  I turned redneck before my own eyes:
ME:  “Oh my gosh, don’t do it, don’t pour the ashes..oh my gosh...Undertaker is so going to kick his butt... he is dead, dead. Really he is dead.
Triple H. needs to get that arm breaker.  Sean Michaels needs to work out so he can help........”

Maybe I’ve thought about selling my wedding band to pay for Wrestlemania on paperview.  Don't judge me!  I'm out of chocolate.  That will make a girl do crazy things.

3.  I think I have Worldly Stains (and not in a spiritual sense).

When I look at my shirt at the end of the day, the stains are literally in the shape of (but not limited to) Russia, Italy, and Bangladesh.  I can’t always identify the source of the stain.

4.  I think I can take a test based on the information on the back of all shampoo bottles, conditioner bottles, and face creams in my bathroom.

I read them to extend the time I can sit down while in silence.  Darren must think I have major gastric issues.  That is if Darren is home.  Otherwise, its a party when I go to the bathroom and everyone follows me like a parade. 
I took a ten minute shower this morning and Carlee managed to throw about 15 of Connor’s crayons in there with me.

5.  I think I will do anything.

I mean it.  I will pull out the measuring cups, the remote control, computer cord, grandma’s pearls, tax returns...whatever you need for 5 freaking minutes of quiet.    Here let me pull down the junk drawer for my kids.  Take out all the stuff and throw it across the room if it will entertain you..but I CAN NOT sing The Wheels on the Bus anymore.

6.  I think my kids could join the circus with the amount of food they can eat.

You want to eat again?  
We just had lunch.  You both weigh like 20 pounds??  How can you both eat so much?  
No, I don’t have ice cream.  No, I don’t have cookies. No, we are not going to McDonalds.  Your starving?  
Here is a can opener and some peas.  

7.  I think I am an expert.

I wrote an Amazon book review.
It was a parenting book.  
I gave it two stars.
I signed in as Texas Walker.
I always wondered the type of people to write these reviews.  
Enough said.

8.  I think I could write better for Disney Tweens. 

Are you kidding me with these story lines?  these songs?
PLOT:  Someone pretending to be someone else, someone looses a kid to a laugh track, someone says ‘fart’ ten times, someone lies to someone, in the end they all sing “Friends Forever” to synchronized dance.  
It all makes John Cena’s rap music look like a work of talent.

9.  I think I forgot the last time I brushed my hair.  
It feels fine when I touch it.

10.  I think I really hate the game Candyland.

I mean I really am hating it.  For goodness sake someone sneak me a copy of Monopoly..slip it through the door...throw it down the chimney...or anything.  
This is my prayer:  Please get two purple squares instead of one orange to get this over with..Please draw a Grandma Nut  card so I can slide past this Jerk Licorice Man who made me lose two turns. Yes, I won!  It’s over.
...and then a sweet little boy voice, "Want to play again Mom?"

I really hope we all feel well enough to enjoy the PARK or a dirt pile or even the bread section at the store soon.  I have to do something in the next few days or else I might start tuning into QVC and before you know it I’ll have a pair of panty hose over my head, rocking back and forth, up to my neck in waffle irons and Maria Osmond dolls.

No comments:

Post a Comment