Wednesday, September 19, 2012

The Warrior Mom

I like to think of myself as tough. Not tough in a brutish way, but rather tough minded, driven by a strong will. So, when my sister-in-law recently asked me if I'd be up for participating in a Warrior Dash with her, I thought "why not?" I've survived combat with the General, the Tank and the Destroyer and I am unscathed, not counting mental wounds, surely I could handle trekking through a little mud. Later that afternoon, I told the Bear that I was thinking of running the Warrior Dash with my sister-in-law. His growling laughter was not the reaction I had expected. "What's so funny?" I barked. "Do you know what the Warrior Dash is?" The Bear couldn't contain himself. "You don't even like to get dirty!" His laughter was now booming through my ears. "I can handle the mud! I go quading with you and the boys and get muddy!" I responded defensively. "Yes, and you also carry baby wipes. And you're riding on a machine, not crawling through the mud. I think you better do some more research before you sign up," said the Bear. Truthfully the thought of actually crawling through the mud, didn't sit well with me. I decided to google "Warrior Dash." This is what I found, "Warrior Dash-A mud-crawling, fire-leaping, extreme 5k run from hell. Warriors conquer extreme obstacles, push their limits and celebrate with music, beer and Warrior helmets." I was horrified! Fire! My sister-in-law never mentioned fire. And helmets? Unless my children would be chasing me with sticks to get me to run faster, why would I need a helmet? And, I have to be honest- running through mud to celebrate with beer at the end doesn't excite me. However, if wine were waiting for me at the end of the race, I may consider running through mud AND fire. God, I hate to admit when the Bear is right.

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Not Me

Seems my kids have a new friend. He tailed my kids home one day from school. He's a pest, run amuck in my household and won't leave. He was totally uninvited and he’s rude. Apparently, he's been frequenting homes across America. Now, normally I am a non-violent kind of Mom. I prefer to scream so loud at my children that I set the house alarm off. But, seriously, this nuisance needs to be exterminated. His name is Not Me. I'm sure anyone that has kids knows him. He's the one that probably broke your favorite vase but "didn’t mean to", or spilt maple syrup on the table and didn't wipe it up, so when one of your other kids sat down to do their homework, the paper stuck to the table then tore apart into shreds when you tried to remove it. Not Me has also taught my kids some new choice words. He'll stand directly behind the Tank, hiding himself like a coward, and drop the "F" bomb. Then he'll run right off before I can catch sight of him. This is his M. O. He's got his disappearing act down to a science. We'll it's time to pull out the big guns and make Not Me disappear for good. Next time Not Me decides to write on my walls with crayon, everyone will be punished. It's time my kids learned what my Mom taught me- You're guilty by association. So, choose your friends wisely.

Friday, July 8, 2011

A Little Game of Cat and Mouse

I think I may change the Tank's and the Destroyer's names to Tom and Jerry. Only problem is I haven't decided who's Tom and who's Jerry.

My middle son and my youngest have an on going rivalry that mimics that of the famous feline and mouse. Much like the cartoon, my two characters have developed a relationship that often involves mayhem and destruction. However, when need be, they can set aside their differences to achieve a common goal.

Recently, I took my troops shopping for party supplies for the General's birthday party. I needed bird seed for a party craft that I had planned. We were on a mission and before we set off into the store I strategically laid out my plan, to ensure that nothing would run amuck.

"We are going in to get bird seed only. You are not to wonder more than five steps away from me and you are not to pick up any toys that we may pass on the way to the outdoor center. Does everyone understand?" I commanded.

To which I received a general nod.

Off we went into the store.

We were off to a good start. We made is safely pass a display of kickballs and everything around us was still intact.

"This is awesome." I thought. I can see the garden center straight ahead. I told myself to keep my eye on the target and not to get too cocky and veer from the plan.

We made it safely to the garden center. And I spotted the bird seed straight away. But so did the Tank and the Destroyer (or I should say Tom & Jerry). Simultaneously they picked up the giant bag. And instantly a battle began over who was going to put the seed into the cart. Within 3 seconds flat an entire bag of birdseed was all over the middle of the isle.

Instantly I was consumed by panic. I screamed "I told you not to touch anything!"

The Tank was quick to retort, "You said not to touch any TOYS!"

I was infuriated and the purple hue that took over my face and the steam that seeped out my ears must have tipped Tom and Jerry off. Because, I've never seen my kids move so fast. The Tank and the Destroyer sped down the isle next to us and returned with a kitty litter scoop and small pail.

"You got to be kidding me?" I scolded. "What are we suppose to do with that?"

Unsure, the Tank uttered, "We can scoop up the birdseed with it?"

My tone of my voice was rising as fast as my temper at this point, I was about to explode, "It has holes in it! It's useless!"

At this point, I thought I was starting to hallucinate as a very kind gentleman walked our way waving what I thought was a white flag. (Turned out he was trying to break the tension and was waving his white hankie.)

My knight in shining armor made light of our situation and told me that he would have someone come clean up the mess.

I apologized for my rogue brigade and the gentleman assured me that "they're boys, it's just a phase, and they'll grow out of it, you just wait and see."

Considering that Tom and Jerry had one of the longest-lived rivalries in American cinema, I think I'm in for a long wait.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Random Act of Kindness

I have always had faith in humanity and that there are people out there who want to make a difference in our world. People who want to spread kindness as if it is a contagious disease. Although, these folks are a rare breed, they do exist. In fact, I had a memorable encounter with such a person yesterday.

Yesterday afternoon, I took my boys to the bank to cash in our coins, for our up coming road trip to Fl. While were were standing at the Penny Arcade, giggling at the machine munching away at our coins, a woman walks up to us and says, "looks like you all are having some fun. What is this thing? I've never seen such a machine."

So I quickly explain that it's a Penny Arcade, basically a machine that counts your change. While I am telling this woman about the machine, my boys are still emptying their jug and and cheering as the machine devours their savings.

The woman still amazed, I'm not quite sure if she was more taken with my boys excitement, or the wonder of this magnificent machine. She asked my boys, "Did you save all those coins for something special?"

And the Destroyer quickly replied, "Yes, Disney World!"
The General followed up with, "Yeah, we saved our money for a whole year!"

We finally finshed feeding the coin machine and it spit out a ticket for us to go and claim our cash. The woman wished us a fun trip then continued on to the teller infront of us.

The boys waited as patiently has they could while the woman fished up her business. When she was done she turned to us and said, "it's so nice to see a young family so excited about saving their money. Here I want your boys to have this." And she handed me several crisp bills.

Stunned, I said, "Wow, this is really kind of you. But, I can't take your money. You don't even know us."

The kind woman insisted, "Please, take it for your boys. I don't have grandchildren of my own and it would give me great pleasure if you let me do this for your children."

There I stood speechless; utterly taken aback by this woman's generousity. When then General stepped forward and said, "Thank you."

"Yes, thank you!" I said. "I can't believe this, Wow...Thank you!"

"Have a good time with your family," her kind words touched me as deelpy as her random act of kindness.

As she departed our prensence she left behind an aura of warmth that left a lasting impression on our hearts.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

MAD- LIBS for You Valentine!

Dear Princess Peach,

What are you doing after Transformer practice on Valentine's Day? Want to come over to my kettle? We can ride the school California, or, if it's a bright and icky day, we can fall. If you stay for dinner, you're in for a sticky treat. My dad loves to barbecue prime cats. He is practically a gourmet tree. His steaks are juicy, cute, and guaranteed to melt in your eyeball. And my mom makes chocolate chip shoes that are out of this princess. You'll be eating them until they come out our butt-cracks. After dinner we can go to the movies. Wand Impossible is playing. And, because it's Valentine's Day, I'll even pay for the happy popcorn.

Johnny Bo Bonny

Monday, January 24, 2011

The Naughty Finger and the Naughty "F Word"

Yesterday morning, I was sitting at my kitchen table, finishing my breakfast, when the General came up to me and flipped me "the bird..." and asked, "What's it mean when someone sticks up their middle finger up at you?"

I nearly choked on my granola. Avoiding the question, I followed up with a question of my own, "Who did you learn that from?"

From the look of the General's face, I could tell that he knew that he was in a hole; naturally he started to try to dig himself out.

Thinking quickly the General responded, "No one. I just know that if you stick your first finger out that it means that you're pointing at something. So, I want to know what it means if you stick your second finger out."

Trying to dance around the meaning, I gave the General a very generic answer, which I thought would satisfy his burning curiosity, "It means a swear word. Something that you should never say."

I just added fuel to the fire.

"You mean, like- I swear to God?" The General continued, "Because, I've sworn before; I swore that I wouldn't throw the Wii remote at my brother, again."

I explained that the swear he was referring to was more like a promise and that the swear that I was referring to is a naughty word that he isn't allowed to repeat.

Again, more fuel to the General's inquiry.

"What swear word does it mean?"

I could tell that the General was going to be unrelenting in his pursuit, so I gave in and told him, "It means the naughty "F-Word that you're not allowed to say."

The General looked baffled, "It means Fat?"

Laughing,I relished in my son's innocence, before telling him ,"No, the other naughty "F Word."