Something's fishy

My relationship with fish, cooked or uncooked, alive or dead, has never been a good one.  I absolutely hate any kind of fish or anything that comes out of the water for that matter.  Ichthyophobia is the term for this aversion to fish and I'm confident I have this to the fullest extent.  I hate the smell, taste, texture, appearance, feel, creepiness, and evilness of fish.  When I say "fish", I want you to open your mind to include all of those other little sneaky, eerie sea creatures like crabs, shrimp, scallops, oysters, lobsters, clams, mussels, and of course eels, sharks, and sea snakes.  Nothing sounds worse than a sea snake.  That's like the worst of both land and sea worlds, a snake that lives in the sea...or those you might find in a lake and such.  God made the sea snake as a terrible, sick joke.  Much like spiders.  

Now, I am not cold-hearted so therefore I love those cute little sea lions, seals, penguins, dolphins, and things like that.  But I am justified because these are mammals, therefore warm-blooded and not included in that nightmarish posse of freaks that we call seafood.

Anyway, dang I just got way off subject.  So my experience with fish has never turned out to be even remotely pleasant in any case.  Since I don't eat them, swim with them (if i can help it), or even tolerate them, why would I own them?  Until my daughter came along.

Here's my experiences with owning fish.  Avary watched "Shark Tale" and asked if she could get a fish.  We went to PetSmart and bought a male betta.  Got it some food, grassy decorations, rocks, and a pretty little decorative bowl, because we had to class it up somehow:)  Brought it home, named it Lola even though it was a male and set it up in the bowl.  I felt nauseous for the rest of the day with the thought of a fish in my house.  Kinda feel nauseous right now writing about it actually.  But Lola seemed happier than a pig in shit for a couple of hours but started slowing down and just floating around.  Avary had questions so I told her Lola was probably tired and needed a nap.  The fish had a big day!  Before bed, Lola was REALLY floating around if ya know what I mean.  After the kids went to sleep, the husband poked the fish and it was clear.  We had killed it.  So we did our research and concluded that we "froze" the fish.  I didn't realize that fish can be picky and need their water between 76 and 82 degrees.  Gah, anything else I can do for you Mr. Picky Fish?  At 10:30 p.m. I sent the husband out to get a replacement fish while I watched "Pretty Little Liars"...cause that's what we are.  You may have seen that posted on facebook.  I'm still keeping this secret.

Husband comes home with replacement fish who is a female.  If you know bettas then you know the males are all colorful and frilly looking with their flowing tails and all that BS and the females are brown, ugly, and angry looking.  Go figure.  He even bought a bowl thermometer and water de-chlorinator and room temperature bottled water just to be safe.  We acclimated the fish and all was good, for two days.  On day three, Avary realized that replacement Lola was floating.  Great.  Two fishes down in three days.  The kids gave her a burial in the front yard.  What did we do wrong this time?!

No new fish yet but this takes me back to when Avary wasn't even one year old I remember trying out this fish thing.  I bought a betta for her nursery while the husband was deployed.  Named it Anchovy and he did pretty well until we went to NC for a month and left him home alone.  When we came home the poor fish was motionless so I threw in some food.  Two days later he was swimming around!  WTF?  Frankenfish?  I thought, "This fish is a beast!"  So next time we headed out of town, I just knew he would be okay.  Not the case because this time he must've had enough of my crap and gave up the ghost.

So I bought another one.  Yea, I know.  Don't judge me.  I believe we had this one, Sushi, for about a week until he became a floater.  But as I poured him into the toilet and was fixing to flush, I swear I saw him wiggle his tail and he just might have turned and winked at me like, "Sucka!".

Thinking back on all the fish we've had, and killed, I'm beginning to think that they all committed suicide.  All of my friends say that their fish won't die and it's hard to kill a fish.  But I've got them dropping like flies and claiming that they'd rather go night fishing with Scott Peterson!!  OMG, too soon?

I'm scared to get another pet and I look at our dog and wonder if he's secretly trying to escape.  He does bolt out the door and leap off the porch like a gazelle when the door is cracked even an inch.  I'm pretty sure I've seen him flatten himself out like a ferret to get out the door.  But the dumb dog always comes back.

I think from now on, we will stick to watching Finding Nemo and I will turn away when they talk about Darla because I'm sure that how fish view me:/  I reckon they are all God's creatures and have a purpose in their own creepy little way.  Except for sea snakes...and spiders.

Why would I catch the vomit?

Most people, especially women, know what comes along with raising children.  The late nights, early mornings, saggy boobs, the "mommy shelf" belly, incessant screaming, constant eating, nagging, whining, destruction of home, mind, body, life, and drained bank account.  But I believe there are a few things that got looked over on the radar of raising seemingly savages.  Earlier in life, I chose to back out of a medical career  likely dealing with other humans body waste only to realize that I had entered a life of constant poo, pee, vomit, spit, snot, gunky eyes, funky ears, stinky feet, boogers, runny noses, and a child's strong aversion to self hygiene...and so much more!

I was recently chatting with a friend online after posting about my adventures with juvenile upchuck and she was totally disgusted.  She does have two children herself but she is also currently pregnant so detailed talk about my children's vomit was probably a stomach churning event.  However, this discussion brought to my mind just how many repulsive barf incidents I have encountered lately.  There were so many times in the past where my children would so kindly hand me the contents of their stomachs and I wouldn't even flinch.  I just thought, "hey, this is a mom's life" and went on about my business.

Just last week I went on a vacay with my whole family to Myrtle Beach, SC where we made the ALWAYS bad decision to visit a local carnival.  Carnies, sketchy rides and funnel cake are never a good idea anyway but what do ya do?  My oldest nephews, Taylor 14 and Cole 12, wanted to ride the Gravitron several times with me.  Now, I know I'm just 21, okay okay 29, but going around and around and around does nothing for a stomach of any age.  As we are exiting the ride, Cole says, "Shannon, I'm seriously about to throw up".  What do I do?  Stick my damn hands out and catch his dinner.  Why?  I don't know.  It's like my brain shut down and said, "Catch those chewed up french fries, NOW!!"

Nevertheless, I put that incident behind me.  After the beach, we drive to my parents house to stay a couple of weeks for the summer.  I end up getting pretty sick with the flu or malaria or the plague.  Needless to say, I was dying.  Of course I pass it on to my youngest and one night it hits him like a ton of bricks.  With my whole family and a few friends standing around, I see Collin gagging and what do I do?  I stick out my damn hands and catch his dinner.  Why?  I don't know.  Brain shut down again I reckon.

Speaking to my pregnant friend and hearing her aversion to catching throw up makes me wonder what is wrong with me?  After all, I quit being an emergency medical professional because I couldn't deal with other people's bodily fluids.  The one career that repulsed me has become not only one that goes on 24/7/365, but one that I will probably never be able to quit!  Sure, my kids will grow up and move out one day.......Hallelujah!!  Then they will bring their own pooping, peeing, spitting, boogery, vomiting bundles of joy to me....and it starts all over.  Sheesh.

I love you anyway

Although my children destroy my house, my sanity, and occasionally my spirit, I love them with every ounce of my tired heart.  I tend to complain about my woes and "misfortunes" when they mutilate my belongings, but the truth is, I am nothing without them.  I crave time to myself and a minute of rest but I miss them as soon as I'm alone.  I can't wait until bedtime most days but when they're asleep, I watch them breathing.  My heart swells with pride and joy and burst with love when Collin cannonballs on my head at 6 a.m.  I grouch about my husband but when I look at him, I see a man who is my partner in crime.  I say crime because we committed one in creating two demon spawns.  However evil they may be, they are beautiful from the inside out.  Mostly on the outside and this is why they are still alive.  I suspect that their insides are full of bugs and goo and kryptonite, especially Collin's.  He's mad all the time and this is the only explanation for his rage.  What else does a two year-old have to be so upset about other than bugs in their insides?

I gave up my freedom, my body, and my own life to become a part of theirs and them a part of mine.  Yes, they have completely taken over my life and twisted it around and torn it into tiny pieces and made confetti out of it to spread all over my floors for me to clean up, but I'd honestly have it no other way.

I'm not sure where my life would be without Avary and Collin.  Avabear and Colley Monster.  I think that our babies have made Matt and I closer and we have formed a bond that we will forever be strong.  Partly because we have to team up to survive around the house.  I have his back and he has mine.  They are sneaky and can get you from any angle.

No matter what they do to us and how much they break our spirits, we will love them anyway.  To the point that we embarrass them when we pick them up at school when they are 14 years-old.  Also when their boyfriends or girlfriends come to pick them up for a date, we will show our guns to portray just how much we love them.  Sorry Avary, that is mostly your father's doing.  Whatever the level of embarrassment and utter mortification they will experience from the evil revenge of us, their loving parents, we will always show them more love than any parent has ever shown.  They will always be cared for in the best way.  And they will always be my little demons..  

Homemade Depot

Found this one that I wrote a while back....same story today!

My dog has been following me around all day.  He is stressing my life out.  He is wearing out my nerves.  And this is just my dog.  Let me tell you what my kids have done today....

"Homemade Depot", as Avary calls Home Depot, is conspiring against me.  I thought that I'd do a little house project and take my kids to Home Depot.  First ridiculous, should-have-seen-it-coming move of the day.  I can't get them in the car without them breaking something or making me break a sweat.

Immediately inside Homemade Depot, Christmas displays are strewn about in all their glory.  Why did you do this to me Home Depot?  We spend the better part of the hour playing with gigantic snow globes and singing Elvis stockings.  I break them away with promises of puppies and fairy tale endings.

I am in Homemade Depot to get materials to re-stain my kitchen cabinets.  Why do I take on such projects when my husband is out of town?  Whatever, it's cool but all in all, it's actually not so bad this time in the store with the kids.  Amazing!  Well, except for all of the miniature paint cans and brushes that Collin secretly stored in my purse.  I could have gotten arrested but I'm almost wishing for that at this point in my crazy life.

I do my business, get out of Homemade Depot and get home, but not without stopping for two overpriced Wacky Packs from Sonic.  We fight over drinks and toys and who got fries and who got apples on the way home.  I take my genius idea to a whole new level and decide to actually re-stain the cabinets while the kids are awake.  Big mistake.  Collin stained a cabinet by himself.  It looks spectacular.  So I send them out and put up the gate to work in so-called peace.  It goes well.  I'm scared.

I need to take a bathroom break.  I walk through the house, flip on the bathroom light, take two steps and BAM, BANG, CRASH!!!!!  Who hit me??  Who threw me to the floor?  What tha??  I lay there for a minute trying to figure out that the heck just happened.  As I try to gather myself and get up, I get caught up in, what is this?  Dental floss?  Yes, it's dental floss.  My kids have booby trapped the bathroom with my very own dental floss, the whole roll.  They went from the sink faucets to the bathtub shelves to the cabinet handles to the tub faucets to the toilet lever to who knows where else.  Wherever it went, it tripped me and sent me flying to the bathroom floor but not before banging my head on the side of the sink and the toilet.  This is funny to them.  Mission accomplished!  Mommy has a concussion!!  Whoo hooo!!!!!

I try to get myself together and not flip out on them, and avoid DSS, by doing a little more cabinet work while they watch Marmaduke.  Come on Marmaduke!  I'm counting on you to babysit my kids!  To my dismay, Collin brings me his diaper.  Yep, the one he is suppose to be wearing.  He is naked.  "Here mommy!"

"Thanks Collin but where are your clothes?"

"I peed the couch."

I cleaned the couches today.  Spec-effing-tacular.  Well, that explains his nakedness.  As if my couch didn't reek of pee and animal and spoiled chocolate milk anyway.  I clean and clean as my children continue to secretly sniff cocaine in another room.  I think their meth lab is in the shed.  They jump and run and tumble and destroy for a few more hours until the glorious time comes for them to go to bed.  There is no better time of the day!  It's like God has given me some special gift as I'm emerging from the depths of hell.  After all, I am still, in fact, in the second level of hell......or have I moved on down?  Only time will tell.  

But they can't take away my dignity...

I have acquired quite the bad driver reputation lately.  Actually, I have acquired a "high risk" driving reputation.  I will admit, I have never been the go-the-speed-limit kinda driver.  I have even at times felt like I was above the driving laws.  I think this is hereditary stemming from my daddy.  He has as many tickets as he has hairs on his head.  Wait, there are very few of those these days.  Okay, so he has as many tickets as he has smart-ass comments to make, which is quite a few.  My dad is notorious for getting two at a time.  I have fallen into my dear old dad's footsteps.

Before I met my husband in 2004, I had never had a speeding ticket or a ticket of any kind.  I think that maybe this is because I lived in a small town.  Heck, who am I kidding, I had a few uncles high up in the police force in my home town, that's why I never had any tickets.  In my high school years, I think I was probably pulled over about 15 times!  Never a ticket!  Phew!  Made it through that one flashing my Hallman last name!  Sweetness!!!!!!

So once you get married and put on that ring, does all your cuteness or please-don't-give-me-a-ticket power go away??  I think so.  Within months of getting married, at the age of 21, I got  three tickets, at the same time.  I was actually moving all of my belongings down to Pensacola, Florida to move in with my husband.  I had my Altima loaded down with girly stuff and my girly dog on the last stretch of highway before coming into Pensacola from Lincolnton, NC.  I'm rolling about 20 over the speed limit and get the blue lights.  Mind you, my girly dog, Louis, named after my favorite designer, Louis Vuitton, is climbing all over my head and I cannot see out of any of my windows due to all my clothes and gifts from housewarming parties.  The officer, a Florida state trooper, says, "Ma'am, you were going twenty over with expired license plate and an inspection that has been out for a few months."  Well, damn.  Guess as a married woman, it isn't up to my parents to take care of my inspection and registration any more.  Big fat sad face:(

This doesn't upset my new husband terribly.  At this point, we are still new and this just seems like a fluke.  I pay it off, get up-to-date on all of my affairs.  I'm good to go!  No big, it's over and all is well.  Little did I know that all the fun was about to begin.

Before moving to Norfolk, VA, our current place of residence and duty station, my husband moved to San Diego, CA for training.  I stayed in NC with my family until we made the move to VA.  While he was in CA, he was cited for 105 mph in a 65 mph zone.  I let it go.  We are even across the board at this point.   Although in my heart I know that I am the better person because my ticket was at a much less speed.  Welllll, I guess I did get three tickets in one so maybe I'm not the better person.  Either way, we are square.

On his way to VA, he gets yet another speeding ticket.  Ha! I laugh.  So what!?  It's funny!  It's only funny because on our way back to my hometown before VA, I got a speeding ticket as well!!!  Tricked ya!!!  So we are 2-2 at this point.  Is this some kind of sick game?

Once in VA, we go for a stretch without any tickets.  Until, Matt goes on deployment.  That is when the tickets start racking up.  At first, I just hire lawyers to take care of my mistakes with the extra deployment money that we are receiving.  I go for another good spell with no tickets.  Then I get my Pacifica and it's like a cop magnet.  I think that in the two years that I had that car, I received or EARNED seven tickets...give or take.  Mostly give.

There was even a time when Matt was deployed again that I received two tickets at one time, again.  I was going about 18 over.  With an expired license.  Okay so I live in a different state!!!  I had just had a baby and I was on my way to NC to get my license renewed in Lincolnton!!  Give me a break people!  So the trooper comes up to my window as my children are screaming their heads off.  He tells me, "I should call a wrecker to pick up your car because technically you don't have an operator's license but with those, ummm, kids screaming I'm just gonna turn my head and let you go on."  I almost kissed his face off.  There would have been nobody to come and pick up Avary, Colicky Collin, and me.  My parents were still five hours away as was Matt's family.  I got a lawyer for this one.

There was one ticket that I got a couple of months ago that I didn't tell Matt about.  I told all my girlfriends and my sisters but I was so scared to tell Matt.  I thought that I could maybe raise the money myself to pay for the ticket and get a cashier's check.  This way, I wouldn't have to pay out of my bank account and Matt would never find out!  Epic fail.  I couldn't raise the money in time so I had to confess. He was sooooo mad but mainly because I had kept it from him for a month.  He paid it and came to my rescue once again, angrily.

After many tickets, I moved on to straight up wrecking the shit out of my car.  I was driving in my neighborhood and hit a pothole so big that it busted my tire.  I panicked and drove the couple of blocks home before assessing the damage.  When I got out and looked at it, I felt sick.  I might have even vomited.  My tire was completely shredded off the rim.  There was just a bent up retarded looking rim where my tire used to be!  I call the husband, he freaks on me but we call State Farm and get it fixed.  Almost $1500 later on our part, I have four new tires, an alignment, struts and a new rim.

A week later, I go visit my parents in NC.  Deer jumps out in front of me, swerve, mailboxes, ditch, totaled car.  Thank God the kids weren't with me!  I totaled the shit out of my car!  I wait until morning to tell Matt.  He doesn't believe me at first.  Wait, there is a funny story about this that I must tell.  I had just left my best friend, Sabrina's, house.  After the wreck, I call her and she sends her husband.  When he arrives on the scene, I tell him to drive to my parents house to wake them.  The next day, my dad tells me that Jonathan, Sabrina's husband, knocks on the door as he was asleep and my dad jumps up to answer.  Jonathan says, "Shannon have rick."  My dad says, "Uhhh, no she don't.  Rick is right here."  Rick is my parents dog. Jonathan is Costa Rican and has a strong Spanish accent and he thought Jonathan was saying that I had Rick, the damn dog!   He says again, "No, Shannon have rick!!!!  She is on Buffalo Shoals Road and she have rick!!!!"  My dad catches on and is like, "Shannon, Buffalo Shoals Road, WRECK!!!  Let's GO!!!!"  So back to Matt, he doesn't believe me until the insurance company says, "We will issue you a check for $12,000."  I think Matt sees motorcycles in his future.  He's happy, that I'm okay, of course;)

What I did not tell Matt is that only days before this accident, I had gotten yet another speeding ticket.  This one I was sure I could get the money for and pay without him ever knowing.  I ask my sister, a former police officer, and her husband, a current CMPD Sergeant to give me advice.  "Is this going to be on my record since I'm out of state?"  These procrastinating fools never give me an answer!  What's the good in having police officers in your family if they never give you helpful info!!!!!

A few weeks after the wreck, I still haven't confessed the wreck to Matt.  I raise some money and borrow some from my friend, Shelbi to pay for my ticket.  Among all my girlfriends, this is a secret!  No husbands involved and all of these ladies are so loyal to me that they hold true.  I think I am in the clear! I paid the ticket and it's over and done with!

As Matt and I are traveling back from a dear friends wedding in GA, I am asleep but awakened by Matt's loud conversation with his mom.  She is explaining to Matt that she received a letter from State Farm stating they are dropping me from our insurance policy.  EEEEEKKKKKK!!!!  Panic rises in my stomach.  After he hangs up, I "wake up" and talk about it with him.  Later in the day, I confess to him that I had gotten another ticket which is probably why State Farm is dropping me.  He stays calm, amazingly.  But the storm is yet to come.

State Farm is dropping me due to two wrecks and upwards of seven citations.  Boo.  Matt pleads with them to not drop me because what insurance company will take me now!?  He battles with them for days.  "Please just let us stay with State Farm because we have been with you forever!"  They tell him they will let him know.  

Now, I realize that State Farm may take away my insurance but they cannot take away my dignity!  I drive most of the time with screams from the back seat, flying toys, Veggie Tales blaring on the radio and spoiled sippy cup milk stench in the air.  Not to mention that I have to drive half of the time from the back seat because someone dropped a toy and won't quit crying about it!  I want to give up my driving privileges.  I hate driving.  I would rather sit in the passenger seat and relax or sleep) than constantly be made a victim of!  Okay so maybe I am not the victim but my kids make me feel that way.

State Farm has decided to keep me with an increase in premiums and with the agreement that I be placed in a "high risk" category.  They are giving me, "ONE MORE CHANCE!".  Bite me State Farm because we pay you a million dollars a year already.

One day, I will be able to drive in peace where my kids sit contently in the back seat, valuing their lives enough to leave me alone and let me drive.  I wonder, sitting behind the wheel everyday, "How did we make it this far??"

Where did the stork fabrication go?

Today, my four-year-old daughter, Avary, asked me how mommies get pregnack (pregnant)?  I sat in silence for a minute, not only because I was racking my brain on which version of this story I should give her, but because I thought I had time to prepare for this.  At least a few more years to think it through and decide what route I want to take.  Never underestimate Avary because she will drop a bomb on you everytime. 

In most cases, I have tried to be completely honest with my kids on the fundamentals of life but Avary isn't content with the "as is", she needs the who, what, when, where, and whys.  However, I am not above telling my kids that they will go blind and their eyes will rot out of their heads if they sit too close to the TV.  I will nod my head in agreement with my sister when she tells her kids not to wonder off in the store because there are monsters hiding all around in the place.  I know that's a big MINUS in the good parenting column but you gotta do what you gotta do. Don't judge me monkey!

Okay mommies out there, what happened to the stork?  Does anyone use this anymore?  I considered spouting off this stork humbug but I didn't want my kid being the only kid out there who believes that babies come from big white goofy birds in blue mailmen hats.  Running out of time, I digress and use old reliable, God.  Hey, He did say, "If I bring you to it, I'll bring you through it", right?  So I'm counting on You God.  You know how God sometimes doesn't answer your prayers?  Maybe He just needs a good laugh from time to time.  I say to my sweet little cherub awaiting my answer in the back seat of my car, "God gives babies to mommies and daddies."

Avary, not able to leave it "as is", ponders this and comes back with, "Where does God get the babies?"

Ugh!  "We'll Avary, it goes like this, when a mommy and daddy love each other, they tell God and He decides to give them a baby.  It's like a gift from...umm....somewhere where God makes His gifts."  Huh?  Please don't ask anymore questions my child.

"But mom, you told me that me and Collin came out of your belly."

"Well, you did but God put you there.  Welllll, at least God helped put you there."

Little Miss too-smart-for-her-own-good asks, "Does he cut the mommies bellies open and put the babies in there?"

Geez, is this a test?  I am not prepared for this quiz!  Can I go home and study?  Phone a friend?  Somebody throw me a freakin' bone!  "No Avary.  He doesn't do that.  See, when the mommy and daddy love each other, they get together and they make a baby through love."  And love comes in an essentials kit:)...see Brian Regan's "Standing Up", to get that joke.

"But mom, how does the baby get in the belly!"

"AVARY, the baby just gets in the belly, okay?!  It just gets in there somehow!  It's complicated and God sure did think of a crazy way to make it happen and He sure made it super awkard to explain to kids!  Honey, one day I will be able to explain it to you better and you will understand."  I think this is a lie.  I don't think that I will be able to tell her how this happens 10 years from now.  I'm not sure I want her to hear about how this happens until shes like 30....ish.  "In fact, Avary one day a long, long, long time from now, a really long time from now, you will get married and get pregnant and have kids of your own!!"

Silence.

"Mom?"

"Yes Avary."

"Sniff.  Mom, I don't want to be pregnack!  I don't want God to cut my belly open and put a baby inside!  Sniff, sniff.  I'm scared!!"

She started to cry and become frantic now.  It's not like I said, "By your fifth birthday, you must move out and find your own place and produce children!  Go young one, do not delay!"

Throughout my children's lives, I have realized that I have become my mother because I have started wishing things on my kids that my mom wished on me when I was young.  I have cursed Avary by saying just as my mother did, "One day, I hope you have kids just like you."  Well, all this baby talk has probably gotten Avary near panic attack mode.  In her poor little head, she is probably thinking that she is going to soon have babies and evil ones at that, since I jinxed her with one day having children just like her.

She sniffs and whines until we pull up at the mall.  When she realizes we are going to the play area, she jumps out of the car smiling like that whole deal didn't happen.  Let's keep it that way, I think in my head.  We go inside and I can't help thinking that in a few short years, she and I will have this conversation again.  With more detail and possibly more questions.  Hopefully with a lot of "ewwws" and "yucks" because as we all know, boys have cooties.

I have delegated Collin's birds and bees talk to Matt.  I'm sure a father and son can relate better...wait, nevermind.  Maybe I should have the birds and bees talk with Collin.  Matt might just try to give him some pointers. 

Either way, I look at my girl and don't feel like a total idiot.  By no means did I handle it well and I didn't exactly dodge a bullet because this one will come back around.  Hopefully, I will be ready to give the full truth.  But I made it though with no help from the untrustworthy stork.  I should have known though.  He didn't help me back when I wanted to have babies.  He didn't bring them to me in a basket with a big bow.  He didn't stand outside and smoke a cigar with my husband.  No, he was a big no-show and I had to do it on my own by getting pregnack.  With a few sprinkles of fertility medications in there to get it done. Yeah, yeah, and Matt helped a little bit too;)  But the stork didn't help me then and he sure didn't help me today.  Oh yeah, and thanks God! 

Stork Story"

By Shel Silverstein

You know the stork brings babies,
But did you also know
He comes and gets the older folks
When it's their time to go?
Zooms right down and scoops them up,
Then flaps back out the door
And flies them to the factory where
They all were made before.
And there their skin is tightened up,
Their muscles all are toned,
Their wrinkles all are ironed out,
They're given brand-new bones.
Ol' bent backs are straightened up,
New teeth are added too,
Tired hearts are all repaired
And made to work like new.
Their memories are all removed
And they're shrunk down, and then
The stork flies them back down to earth
As newborn babes again.       

We will just starve then!

Yep, I said it.  We will just starve before I take that little spawn of Satan to the grocery store with me ever again!!  All of the mothers out there with two or more kids, NOT babies..they can make the trip almost as miserable, know what I'm talking about.  Well maybe you don't.  Maybe you were blessed with those normal kids who are content to sit in the cart or walk along beside you.  Heck, I'd even let my kids hang over the basket or sprawl out on the rack under the cart if they would just stay there.  I'd even go as far as to let them ride on my head and back if they would just leave stuff alone!

Yesterday, I made the mistake of taking my youngest, Collin, two-years-old, to the grocery store with me alone.  I thought it was going to be a breeze because I didn't have Avary, our four-year-old, with me.  Did you ever have a teacher tell you that to ASSUME makes an ASS out of U and ME?  It's true.  Never assume that your child will do well in any situation at all.  They make you out to be a fool every single time and they laugh in your face all the while.

It's pouring down rain and Collin insist on walking from the car into the store because he's a BIG boy!  Drenched, we make it in and he refuses, and I mean kicking a screaming, to sit in the front of the cart and be strapped in.  At some point in this epic battle, he spotted that stupid, humongous, goofy, red car that is attached to the front of some carts for kids to ride in.  GRRRR!!  It's like steering an aircraft carrier through the grocery store!  My whole family could fit in that goober of a cart.  So, he promises to sit in the car cart and be a good boy, blah blah, lies lies!  We get as far as the produce before he Houdinis out of the "secure" straps and makes a run for it.  I'm no dummy so I just stand there and watch him.  I'm not chasing him.  I'm too tired.  Never mind that I am on my cell phone because it rings constantly and if I don't answer I am neglecting or ignoring my friends and family.  NOTE: I am not neglecting or ignoring you.  You don't want to talk to me anyway because you won't be able to hear me over the screaming from whatever catastrophic event is going down at the time.  Back to the grocery store.  As Collin is running, he is looking back at me to see if I'm chasing and BAM!  He collides with a wooden fruit stand and bounces off like a Sumo wrestler.  Well Mom of the Year, not me, runs over to check on my child and begins telling me where he is hurt and condemning me in her mind for being on my phone.  Looky here, Mrs. Perfect, I saw what my goofy child did and he deserved it!  Don't act like a jerk and run from me in the store and you wont experience an Americas Funniest Home Videos moment.  So I get some grapes and apples and go on my way.

All goes well for a couple of aisles and I think that I'm gonna get some stuff done.  Wrong again.  I was told three times that I better watch my child or he's gonna fall out of the cart!  Twice by the same woman, once by a man.  Shut up man!  I don't see any preschoolers with you trying to get groceries.  And by the way, last time I checked this kid came out of my body.  When you give birth to your kid, do what you want with him or her and let me do what I want with mine! We make our way to the dairy section and while I'm comparing the sugar in yogurts, because Lord knows my kids need less of that, I see Collin reaching over again and again.  Before I realize it, he has taken a bite out of almost every pack of unopened cheese!  OMG!  I look around to make sure no one was watching and got the heck out of that aisle before I had to admit that my kid did it.  Oh, and sweet little Collin offers me a grape:)  Yeah, he ate almost the whole bag of grapes!  When I get to the register the grapes are going to weigh like two ounces.  Who buys two ounces of grapes?   But I'm not going back to get more.  

I go down a few more aisles, bumping into displays and plowing down Grandmas with my monstrous, mega cart.  This was seriously the monster truck of shopping carts.  I should have had all-terrain or mud tires on it.  Maybe some Super Swampers or Mickey Thompsons.  It's time to check out and I don't care that I have more than 12 items.  I see two aisles open, one with 35 people in line and one with nobody in line.  I look at Collin and see a conniption, which by urban definition means to get wickedly mad pissed, coming on and head on to the express lane.  So what I have 20 items.  The little chick standing there says, "Ma'am, this is the express lane and you MUST have 12 items or less."  As I'm unloading my groceries onto her little moving belt thingy, I explain that I MUST be above this rule today or my child's head is going to start spinning and projectile vomit is in the near future.  She agrees because dang, the other chick is working her butt off and she is just standing there with no one in line.  I don't get it.  Shouldn't that rule be void when there is no one with under 12 items?  Do I need to write my Congressman about it?  Common sense people, let's get with it.  She rings it up and I swipe my card.  $57?  For what?  Grapes, milk and chicken nuggets?  Highway robbery!  Because Collin is pissed he didn't get any candy, shocker, he hits the cancel button on the credit card machine.  Little turd!  No big, I just run it again but at this point, I'm so done with him.

Out of the store and it has upgraded from pouring rain to monsoon.  Good thing Matt and Avary are
 comfy and cozy in the gym getting in a uplifting but relaxing workout.  It's a whole new ball of wax when we get home because the driveway is full of gasp..........  MUD PUDDLES!