October 2012

So Mr. TIS, aka Captain America, aka Fun Time Dad, and Twins A&B have been planning for Halloween since July.  They think it’s all great fun because they just show up and put on the costumes. I’m the one who is supposed to make them magically appear, although, last year Captain America did a fine job on a Minion costume for Twin B and even scoured the internet for an orange track suit so he could go as Vecter.  (Wearing that orange get up pretty much guaranteed there was no camping happening in our home that night.) This year they all decided Greek god costumes would make a wonderful family theme, and together they planned and schemed, and Fun Time dad ordered a little archery set for Twin A who is going as Artemis and a shield and sword for Twin B who will be Athena.  I think he’s Perseus or some such.  I’m going as Medusa because it means I don’t have to dress up.

However, this morning they all stared agog at me when Twin A asked, Mom what about our costumes?

What do you mean what about your costumes?  Fun Time Dad got you your costumes, remember?

Fun Time Dad interjected that he only got the Fun Time Costume parts – the weapons and shields and such.  I was supposed to deliver on the costumes.

So today, while the girls were at school we tried to find a Halloween Shop.  You know the kind that might possibly double as a sex shop after Halloween?  You don’t know that for sure, but the other customers creep you out, and you feel like you need to take a long hot shower after walking around one? I guess our new hometown doesn’t have one so we stopped at an evil big box store and came up empty handed until my husband spotted this:

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Then he found these:

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That’s right.  I’m supposed to transform 220 threadcount and some drapery tassels into  Artemis and Athena costumes.  Do you remember what my hands look like?  Let me remind you.

These are not the hands of a well skilled seamstress.

So, tonight if you see some ghosts walking around wearing tassled belts and wielding bows and swords, please swoon and say, My what fabulous Greek goddesses you are! to my kids.

 

 

 

 

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Kitchen Conversations

by Priscilla on October 30, 2012

Supposedly, we parents do our best communication in the kitchen around a table filled with food and fabulous conversation.  Since my brain is taking a break from its normal activity, and I have a serious bout of writer’s block, I thought I’d share a sampling of banter our family partook of  this morning – some avec kids some sans kids. (Like how I threw a bit of en francais from high school in there? I like to think of myself a citizen of the world.) It wasn’t exactly around a table. It was in the kitchen, though. I pour out cereal on the floor,and then all the inhabitants of the house – humans and animals – have at it. It works for us.

1.) Mr.TIS (or Captain America as I like to call him. It has to do with his job.  I’d tell you what he does, but then I’d have to kill you.) : Girls, you can win a game of chess in four moves.

TIS: Would you please not interrupt?  I’m trying to show them how to do jazz hands.

2.) Mr. TIS: Girls, do you know why we say, “God bless you,” after people sneeze?  It has to do with something called the Great Plague….

TIS: I hate to interrupt this “Moment of History” brought to you by Raisin Bran and the letters OJ, but we’ve more important things to discuss like the  Halloween costumes I forgot to make.

3.) Mr. TIS: I like our house.  I think it’s one of the prettiest one in the neighborhood.

TIS: I know. I know. The problem isn’t the house.  The problem is I have no friends.  My friends all moved away.  We moved away . This place is Pleasantville. No one reads my blog. I was supposed to be the next Erma Bombeck, and it hasn’t happened in three months like I thought. The dogs are dying. The costumes aren’t done. I’m eating my weight in fun size. (I stole this phrase from my very funny friend Katie.  I seriously wish all you people could meet my friends, because I have a lot of them that are spit out your coffee/soda/water/JD funny).

Mr. TIS: Okay, we’ll let’s hit the campaign trail. 

TIS: What does camping have to do with anything?! Oh, I get it.  You want wilderness sex.  For the love of all that is holy, I’m depressed, and all you can think about is sex….oh, you said, campaign, as is campaign for friends.  That’s so much work. Making signs, going door to door, speeches, setting up superPACs. I think I’d just rather have camping with you.

4.) TIS: People say I’m…what’s that word…?

Mr. TIS: Gregarious? 

TIS: Gregarious?  Are you kidding me?  Gregarious.  That’s what every woman wants to be called.  Why not just say I’m a Handsome Woman while we’re at it.  That’s it.  No camping for you.

5.) Mr. TIS: You know, sometimes you make grammar mistakes, too.

TIS: Yeah, well sometimes you are gregarious.  See? It hurts doesn’t it?

People! Mr. TIS just called my picture from yesterday’s blog – yes, this one –  Jerry Seinfeld Man Hands.  He is sooooo gregarious.

 

 

 

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Can Someone Please Explain to Me…..

by Priscilla on October 29, 2012

I don’t know if you are aware of this, but at times I can be a touch sarcastic and a tad judgmental.  This can lead to embarassing situations like when I spout off about getting spam from someone named Messi, and my husband has to write in and explain that Messi is a world famous football (That’s soccer for all you Americans.  I write for the international audience.) player, and only someone stuck at home with no life would not know this.

So, I decided that maybe when I see something and immediately think asinine, maybe, quite possibly, I may not know everything and maybe, quite possibly, I could learn from my lovely readers.

I’m going to call this new foray into open mindedness my Can Someone Please Explain to Me segment.

Here’s my first photo and question:

Can someone please explain to me why a shopper might pick this sandwich Seal’r N’ Decruster up and think, Yes, what a fabulous idea, and I indeed willing to pay $2.99 for such a contraption?  Also, can you explain why one would replace the e in sealer with an apostrophe? Shouldn’t there be two apostrophes around the N not N’.  Actually shouldn’t we be using dashes Sealer -n- Decruster? Maybe I missed the Grammar in Marketing class which teaches us we can throw all the rules out when selling Sealers and Decrusters.  I don’t know.  That’s why I’m asking using my non-judgmental tone. Oh, for crying out loud.  I just noticed they spelled it Sanwich. I am so close to going all Frank Costanza on these people.

What I really wanted to write when I saw this was, For the love of all that is holy! (My new favorite phrase.  You are going to see it along with the word asinine a lot more…oh, and stuff about pioneer women.  Cannot get enough of those gals.) This is what is wrong with America, people! Not only don’t we make our kids eat their d*** crusts, we now make more work for mothers everywhere by insisting they part with $2.99 and seal and decrust their kid’s pb&j sandwiches.  Talk about a War on Women. No wonder we are 358th in the world in High School Trigonometry.  We coddle our kids and throw our hard earned money at the people with the spotty bread bags. Wonder Bread. You know what I wonder?  I wonder what kind of  an idiot buys these things? You know who wouldn’t by these things? That’s right.  You got it.  PIONEER WOMEN. You know what pioneer women would use?

 this and these.

In fact I think our dear Fore Mothers are turning in their graves from Indiana to Oregon when they see these kinds of images. ( Yes, those are my fingers, and no I am not a hand model, and yes, having chubby hands doesn’t not parlay well into a career as a pianist at Carnegie Hall.  Just sayin.’)

But I can’t say all these things that I am thinking because I am trying very hard to not be judgmental remember?

The only people who I can think of who might need Seal’rs N’ Decrusters are over- indulgent grandmothers with arthritis who find gripping knives difficult.  I will give them a pass because who doesn’t love an over indulgent grandmother? Also, maybe the nice hostesses at Officer Wives’ teas I used to have to attend years ago. They made everything look delicate and pretty. (My chubby fingers didn’t really fit in at these kinds of functions. I know this may come as a shock to some of you, but I didn’t make a very good Officer’s  Wife.)  I can’t really think of anyone else, though, and in keeping with the spirit of the Priscilla Who Is Trying Very Hard Not To Be Snarky, can someone please explain?

 

 

 

 

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A Suburban Mother’s Sophie’s Choice

by Priscilla on October 27, 2012

But first a PSA from TIS to a woman named Crystal:

 Crystal, I don’t know who you are, but giiiirrrl, you have ticked off someone by the name of Sheila.  I know this because she left a message for you on my answering machine, and I want to make sure you get it because the Holidays could be awkward (read this as a sing songy Awkward!) if you don’t get this message in time:  Crystal, I don’t mess with you and your family life so why would you want to do that to me?  You’ve been talking crap to Kristina, and makin’ life difficult, and that’s fine.  You just do what you want and anything you need to do to make life difficult like be friends with Alice and pump me for information and all this crap.  But you know what.  I’m pretty much done, so why don’t you make other arrangements for Thanksgiving and Christmas because I’m not interested.

Okay, now that, that’s done I get to share with you a funny story from my funny suburban housewife friend who screams at unsuspecting Subway employees.  Let this be a lesson to all of you sweet moms out there who try very hard not to get sucked into the competitive mom thing.  In fact, you make fun of the competitive moms.  You are not a competitive mom… most of the time….not really. 

It was midnight.  There was an All About Me! poster due the next morning in the four year old room of the Itty Bitty Cuties  Preschool and Mensa Center.  It sat there blank, taunting my friend.  Mocking her that if it were not done up right, all of the other mother’s children would grow up to be diplomats and ex- wives of Donald Trump while her daughter would have to settle for Inspector #7 at the Krazy Bob’s Kazoo and Fishing Lure Manufacturing Company.  So my friend, the Subway Screamer, did what any other self -respecting mother would do.

She filled out the All About Me! poster herself.

Normally, quite a rational human being, my friend for some reason (lack of sleep, lack of time, lack of sanity) decided it wasn’t good enough to fill out the poster with pens and markers.  No.  She decided her daughter needed to tell the world All About Me! with individual puffy letters that require tiny fingers to rip the backs off of each and every piece and stick them to the poster.  

She finished all the biggies – her daughter’s name, her daughter’s siblings, her daughter’s birthday, her daughter’s view on the situation in the Middle East (Puffy letters can make anything cute).  Then she got to What I Want To Be When I Grow Up! Like most other four year old females out there, her daughter wants to be a princess.  But my friend had not planned her puffy letters out. The word princess wasn’t going to happen.  Neither was duchess, countess or Honey Boo Boo.

She could, however, spell out d-o-c-t-o-r.  Ohhhhh, this would impress all the other mothers at the Itty Bitty Cuties Preschool and Mensa Center.  Individual puffy letters AND a career in the health care industry.  As moms go – my friend had it going on.

But then her conscious got the best of her. Her daughter has never expressed any interest whatsoever in being a doctor.  I can’t blame her as she was born three months premature and had more than her fill of doctors and nurses during her extended NICU stay  in  the Peyton Manning pediatric wing of St Vincent’s Hospital in Indianapolis. (Shout out to all the good folks there who perform miracles on a daily basis.)

My friend was faced with the moral dilemma of her lifetime.  Did she lie and spell out d-o-c-t-o-r in cute puffy letters? Or did she deface her beautiful, well-crafted All About Me! poster with markers that didn’t match and (gasp!) hand- write the rest?

(These are the kinds of philosophical questions I think Lewis and Tolkein must have discussed and debated over pints at Oxford.)

She did what any self- respecting, competitive mother of a preschooler would do.  She spelled out  d-o-c-t-o-r with cute puffy letters. 

All About Me! presentation time rolled around at Itty Bitty Cuties Preschool and Mensa Center, and when little Evelyn’s poster was presented, her teacher ah’ed, Oh! Evelyn! You want to be a doctor?! How wonderful.

I do not! shrieked Little Evelyn.  I want to be a princess! I do not want to be a doctor!

Oh, Evelyn, my friend, cajoled,  You want to be a doctor.  Doctors are brave and save lives. You want to save lives don’t you, Evelyn? I’ll take you to Chuck E Cheese if you say you want to be a doctor.

No! I want to be a princess! I DO NOT want to be a doctor.

(I gotta tell you.  I’m with Evelyn on this one, and if my friend stopped and thought for one minute about the cost of med school versus traipsing around the south of France on a yacht, she would have written p-r-i-n-c-e-s-s with those stupid scented markers, matchy- matchy letters be darned. )

My friend, embarrassed and ashamed confessed her sins to all the other mothers. Little Evelyn HAD NOT spelled out all the words on that beautiful poster with matchy-matchy letters. She did not want to be a doctor. She did, indeed want to be a princess. It was a watershed moment. Another mother came forward to admit her little Dylan did not draw in beautiful calligraphy lettering, and yet another mom acknowledged that her son wanted to drive a trash truck not head the Securities Exchange Commission. (Although, if he wants a life surrounded with rubbish, he might rethink about the whole SEC thing.) The snack mom admitted she picked up the cupcakes at the deli on the way to preschool that morning, and that the cider was not pressed in her back yard rather purchased at the Walmart around the corner.

Okay, I made up that last paragraph.  The entire thing.  Sometimes it’s hard to end blog posts in witty, wonderful ways so lying hits the spot.  I guess that makes me just as bad as my Subway Screaming, All About Me! poster pretending friend.

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If Jesus Were on Facebook

by Priscilla on October 26, 2012

As you know, I’m on Team Jesus, however; sometimes I don’t show up for practice, much less the game.  I try.  I really, really try especially on the two biggies – Love God. Love Others. Some days I do a great job – between the hours of 11 p.m. and 6 a.m., let’s say. My team concentrates a lot on living like our coach. The honest team members will admit that this is hard. Very hard.  A lot of times we get sacked, or we fumble the ball. Sometimes we throw a Hail Mary (no pun intended), and it works, and we score; but a lot of times it’s intercepted.  There are cheerleaders out there. They like to think they are a part of the team, but some of us really could do without their help.  I know it’s not my place to judge, but I do anyway. They look pretty.  They yell a lot. The crowd seems to like them sometimes. Whether they affect the outcome of the game or not…well, that’s another story.

Anyway, here’s my rendering of putting the two side by side on Facebook – Jesus and the Cheerleader. (My readers are pretty smart so I think you’ll be able to figure out who is who without my telling you. Also,   I’m not picking on real live cheerleaders. This is what we call an analogy so you Cheer Moms settle down before you comment. I used to be a real live  cheerleader back in the day – it was ugly – I have pictures to prove it, but my therapist tells me I need to let this go too.)

Had fun at the temple picnic.  Over 5,000 showed up so it was a little crazy.

Ugghhh.  I am trying to plan a dinner party for 27.  Hubby announced that the corporate office is flying in this week, and he wants to impress them so here I am on Pinterest trying to find something decent.  Any ideas? Good thing DH got that huge bonus; otherwise I don’t know how we’d feed all these people.  Ha! JK!  I love that man.  He works sooo hard, and is such a great provider.  Did I tell y’all he surprised me with an anniversary cruise to Greece! I thank God for his financial provisions.   Sooooo blessed.

Amazed by the love some friends showed for their sick companion. Got to meet him coming through a roof today.  Humbling experience.

Yuck.  We all have the flu! I spent the day doing laundry because the kids threw up all over their pillows last night.  We take turns running to bathrooms.  It’s awful.  Coming out of both ends.  I know. TMI!  LOL! The nurse at the doc’s office said there’s a bug going around and to make sure we all stay hydrated but beyond that there’s nothing to do but wait it out. Ugh! Wish my mama was here to give us all some TLC. She was the best, but the Lord took her home almost nine years ago now.  I know she is looking down upon on with love.  Big.Sigh. Miss her!

Met 10 very sick men at the city gates today.  Hope they are doing well. Remember what I told you, guys.

Hauled 10 kids to the soccer game today. Plus all their equipment.  Good thing hubs got promoted to VP and got a company upgrade to an Escalade.  Wow – the Lord provides doesn’t he?  I mean He knew I would need this vehicle to haul around the kids to all their activities so he blessed us financially.  Soooo good to me! I reaaalllly want to tell you what hubs is making now, but he has sworn me to secrecy.  Heehee.  I’ll tell you this much we’re in the highest tax bracket now which means we can tithe even more. Remember, it’s all God’s anyway, right?

Thanks Aaron and Rachel. Had a great time at the wedding. Good luck, you two.

Just got back from the boutique from Riley’s first fitting. Her dress is GORGEOUS.  The designer did a fab job.  A little expensive, but it’s a wedding right, and she’s my baby? Shhhhh don’t tell hubs the price LOL! Tomorrow we hunt for bridesmaids dresses. Can I just say this is going to be the most beautiful wedding ever. My baby is so stinking beautiful.  I’m exhausted from all the planning – the band, the caterers, the tent people, the parking people and on and on and on. Did I tell you the printer screwed up the invitations?  I know. If I weren’t a Christian, I would call him all kinds of names on here.  I told him I knew his wife was terminally ill, and that I’m praying for her, but that was no excuse for his mistake, and that I expected 10% off because of his screw up. Aaaahhhhh!  Good thing I’m booked at the spa ALL DAY tomorrow. 

Just got back from the wilderness.  Pretty interesting experience.

Just got back from the Best. Vacay. Eva!  Here are 356 of my best pics. My absolute favo is all of us in matching white shirts and tan shorts holding hands and jumping on the beach.  Love it! Oh, and the best part, I rocked the bikini I bought six month ago. Hubs got jealous from all the attention I was getting.  Heehee.  It was a lot of hard work.  Shout out to the Boot Camp Crew and my running buds.  You guys rock! God is good!

A woman who I know couldn’t afford it, poured out all of her expensive oils on my feet and then washed them with her hair. Such love.

Heeeyyyyy, everyone! Look at what my hubs got for me.  Yes, that is a new anniversary band you are looking at.   Does my man love me or what?  I’ve trained him well.  Titter Titter! (A writer’s thank you here to my friend and former coworker, Kellie, who introduced me to the words – titter, titter.) A marriage that places God at the center will stand the test of time.

Today, I did something kind of big for all of humanity. 

OMG are my kids not the cutest in their Good Friday outfits.  I found the girls’ dresses at Nordstrom Rack at 50% off, shoes are DSW and the hair accessories, Gymboree. The boys hate their vests, but I told them that we need to show God our best when we go to church. Soooo tired of all the commercialization from the world at this time.  Bunnies and Eggs?  Really? I worry about our kids’ future as society seems more concerned about stuff than what it’s really all about.  Good thing I know who holds my future.

 

(To my very funny college pal from the city that is home to the Little League World series – I am not talking about you.  I love your  kids jumpy beach pic on FB.  Just wanted to cover my tushy here.)

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Now that I’m all kinds of famous with over 40 Facebook followers, the good folks over at Spam World leave all kinds of comments.  The trouble is, in my eagerness to make it big in the writing world, I can’t tell who is a real fan and  commenter, and who might just  possibly just be using my site to promote spam.  I need your help dear readers to aid me in my decipering efforts. Consider the following :

Messi when Dad also strongly reported a Catalan News, Vilanova said: “Messi this week when a father? I do not know anyway, at least he did not personally tell me it.  

Hmmm. I don’t know. Maybe Messi needs my help, and this is some kind of code to assist him escape Vilanova and the evil band of Catalans.  At least I think Messi is a him, and he might at any minute become a father. Where is Mrs. Messi? Is there a Mrs. Messi or did he father a child illegitimately?  Maybe this is part of the scandal reported in the Catalan News. Perhaps this news is the Catalan equivalent of America’s Trump/Allred news. Wow – this internet thing really does make my world a smaller place.

Uncover your blog really excellent.I also possess a blog, if free of charge to my blog to determine. 

 Awwww.  Now these people sound nice, and look – he or she possess a blog.  What a coincidence!  I possess a blog. These guys remind me of my nice Nigerian friends with the uncle and the whole  banking problem mix up. I was glad I was able to help those folks out.

(See ?  Separating the sheep from the goats is not easy.)

I’m certain he’ll go to see the film, because he’s bought a ticket.This is only the first half.The road divides here.I had to sit up all night writing the report.He knows English better than I.There is a bridge over the river.There is a bridge over the river.I’m home.Be quiet!The book you ask for is sold out.

I don’t know who he is, but I think it is safe to say that, yes, he does know English better than you.

It is relatively excellent to read simple things content material, my super cool buddy. So i might target your websites each day not to mention call your site to read simple things your personal most current content articles, whenever you enhance. Carry on with! We do hope you have a very good day of the week.

Now see this guy seems to genuinely like my stuff. Thank you!  I will carry on with. I’m a bit  offended that he considers my work simple content material, but he did call me his super cool buddy.  I’ve always wanted to be someone’s super cool buddy. Okay – this one’s clearly not spam because it came from a Ralph Lauren. Ralph Lauren reads my blog, people!

Attractive section of content. I just stumbled upon your web site and in accession capital to assert that I acquire in fact enjoyed account your blog posts. Any way I’ll be subscribing to your augment and even I achievement you access consistently fast.

This nice person who left this comment was named Whooping Cough Symptoms.  Don’t you just love international names? I also like the fact that he or she uses a clearly uses a thesaurus a lot. I appreciate a person who consistently adds to his vocabulary.

Hey look! Another comment from my friend Whooping Cough Symptom.  I think he likes me (titter titter.) I’m going to see if I can find him on Facebook.

One other issue issue is that video games are typically serious anyway with the principal focus on finding out rather than enjoyment. Although, we have an entertainment feature to keep children engaged, just about every game will likely be designed to develop a specific group of skills or curriculum, such as math or scientific disciplines. Thanks for your publication.

I have to agree with Whooping Cough Symptoms on the whole video game thing.  I am so going to check out his math and science curriculum. To all my friends who homeschool – you should too!

And finally from somebody named Gucci (sounds Polish): We’re a group of volunteers and opening a new scheme in our community. Your website offered us valuable information to work on. You’ve done an impressive job and our entire community will be grateful to you.

How could I possibly ignore community volunteer schemers?!  Since my information was so helpful, maybe they’ll put my name on the village well or goat or some such.

Thoughts? What would you do if you were in my shoes? Do you see my dilemma? This is some hard stuff here, isn’t it?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Family Picture – Minus the Parents’ Faces

by Priscilla on October 24, 2012

I was a little nervous when I found this on the family room coffee table the other day….

(I know! A two year old picking her nose – egads!)

Not far away – on the floor, of course, – everything in this house is on the floor – was this charming site….

Fearing the girls were learning vood-doo spells in their new public school, I cornered one of them and asked what in the world was going on.  She then showed me this….

I know!  Everyone together in unison awwwwwwwwww. (Excuse me now for a few minutes as I have to update my FB status to include something about being blessed with the world’s greatest daughter.)

I still don’t have an explanation as to why the nice Native American girl doll is shoved into a Ball jar with some rocks and shells.  I see a note home from school about required sensitivity training here in the near future.

 

 

 

 

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Setting:  A beautiful fall Saturday morning, along a stretch of Highway 37 south of Indianapolis. A small caravan enters a gas station/restaurant area with one vehicle filled with a quiet father/son combo turns right and enters into a Burger King drive thru.  Son turns to father and with great respect says, I cherish these moments with you, Father. Dad returns with a long unblinking look into his eyes, Son, I am so proud to call you mine.

The other vehicle contains a raucous group made up of two 40ish mothers – one legally medicated, one stealing the medication – four children in the age range of 4-8, two DVD players, one iPod, seven books and quite possibly a stow away gerbil.  Words like If you don’t stop whining about the Tom and Jerry DVD right now, you will walk to Grandma’s from here! emanate from the car along with shouts of I want French fries! Mom, tell Sister to stop licking my arm! and  Don’t make me come back there!

Characters:  Father (Never seen. Never heard.), Mother 1, Mother 2, Childs 1,2,3,4. Child 5 enters later….I think but I’m not sure.  It’s all a blur.  Subway Victims #1-4, other customers who walk in, hear shouting and promptly leave.

House lights dim. Stage lights come up.

With much commotion the Mom Vehicle Group clamors into the Subway restaurant.

Child #4 – I don’t want Subway.  I want chicken nuggets in a Subway bag.

Mom #1 – It’s going to happen.

Mom #2 – May I have two kids turkeys on whole grain?

SV #1 – Okay, do you want those warmed?

Mom #2 – No, thank you.

Child #4 – Mom, I want Burger King.

Mother #1 – Dad’s getting you Burger King.

Child #4 – I want a Subway bag.

Mother #1 –  Mother #2 is getting two bags, and then you are getting one of them.

SV #2 – What kind of cheese would you like on your sandwich?

Mother #2 – Ask my kids I have no idea what they like to eat.

SV #2 – (With kind smile and nervous laugh) Sure!

Childs #1&2 rattle off their toppings.

Child #4 – Where is my Subway bag?

SV #3 – Would you like guacamole on this?  It costs extra.

Mother #2 – Sure.

Child #3 – Where is Dad with Burger King?

Child #4 – Mommy, Subway baaaagggg.

SV #3 – Would you like guacamole on this sandwich?  It costs extra.

Childs #1&2 – Yeah! Guacamole!

Mother #1 –  (testily) Enough with the Subway bag already.

Childs #1&2 –  Can we get chips?

Child #4 – Chips! Chips! Chips!

Mother #2 – Yes. Pipe down.

SV #4 – Do you want these sandwiches warmed?

Child #3 – Well, if she gets chips, why can’t I get chips?

SV #4 – This comes with a choice of apples or cookies.

Mother #2  – No to the warming.  Yes to the cookies. Can you cut it out with all the choices?  You people are killing me here.

Child #4 – Mommy?

Childs #1&2 – Cookies! Cookies!  Cookies!

SV #3 –  Would you like guacamole on this?  It costs extra.

Mother #1 – Where is your father? Mommy hasn’t had her pill today.

Child #4 – Mommy! Mommy!

Mother #2 – Everything but the jalapenos…and pickles…and red  onions…and …

SV #4 – And what would you like on your sandwich, ma’am?

Child #2  – I have to go to the bathroom.

Child #1 – I think I want Burger King instead.

Mother #2 – Mother #1 where are your pills?

Child #4 – Mommy!  Mommy! I want a Subway bag with chicken nuggets.

SV #3 – Do you want guacamole? It costs extra.

Mother #1 (yelling) – Would you please be quiet and stop interrupting me?!  I am trying to have a conversation here!

Very. Awkward. Silence.

Mother #1 looks up in horror to see SV#3 staring, jaw dropped.

Mother #1.  – No.  Oh, no. No! No! No! Not you!  Not you SV#3 ! I was screaming at my child not you. You are fine. More than fine. You are wonderful.  Is there a customer comment card I can fill out about you, please?  Yes, yes I want guacamole. Lots of guacamole.  Guacamole’s great. I will pay whatever you want for the guacamole. I am sorry.  So very sorry. Very.

Mother #2 –We’re really very nice.  Really. I love Jesus.  A lot.

Child #2 – But we didn’t go to church last week because mom had those letters again that make her all sassy and mean.  She said Jesus would understand. When I get sassy and mean, I have to go to my room, but when Mom gets that way, she gets a big bag of chocolate.  I hope when I grow up I get that thing with the letters.

Child #3 – My mom’s not nice. She just yelled at Dad on the phone before we came in here.  She called him a word we’re not allowed to say. She tells everyone she loves Jesus and the Bible, but she says a lot of words that aren’t in the Bible.

Child #5 enters through  front door – Hey mom! Dad wants to know what’s the hold up.  He’s got the Burger King.

Child #3  – Mom just yelled at the Subway Man!

Child #5 – She hasn’t had her pill today has she? (To SV#1) She has pills she takes that make her nice.

Mother #1 – I did not yell at the Subway Man!  Sir, I am sooooo very sorry.  This has never happened before.  Promise.

Child #4 – Child #2 has my Subway bag.

Mother #2 throwing wads of cash at SV #1-4 –  Please, keep the change. We are so sorry.  We do love Jesus. Really. So sorry. Childs 1&2 run for the car!

Mother #1 backing out the door and humbly insisting – I was talking to my child.  I promise.  I am so sorry. You all have a wonderful weekend.  I promise we’ll never come back. Ever.

Stage lights lower as other customers mumble vegetable names to SV #2 and 4 while SV #1 whispers Serenity Now! repeatedly.

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I just returned from a weekend with friends that included a day trip down to Bloomington, Indiana.  It did not involve pretending I was 21 again on the campus of a major Big Ten university.  It also did not involve checking in on a nephew who attends this major university as something tells me, a pop-in from a 40 something auntie accompanied by his 8 year old cousins isn’t something he’d relish on a weekend. Although, if I had, it would have been perfect payback for the time he used Twin A and Twin B for a photo op, uploading his picture with them as his Facebook profile.  I knew something was up when my girls and I were loading up the car to leave the family reunion this past summer, and Mr. Ignore All Kids Under the Age of 18, suddenly had aunts and uncles snapping away while he posed smiling, centered between my daughters as if he were Mr. Summer Camp saying farewell to his favorite lanyard weavers.

What are you up too? I asked.

Getting dates.  He said.  Chicks dig this stuff.

This.Man.Votes.

A few weeks later, I noticed my pimped out daughters were no longer a part of his Facebook timeline, and I asked him how things were going in the dating department.

Apparently, chicks are a little smarter than he realized.

Anyway, I like the kid so I didn’t want to horn in on his weekend fun, and besides, we were spending the day at my friend’s in-law’s house which included 35 acres in the country on which our children could overturn golf carts in the creek, poke out the eyes of loved ones with glowing marshmellow sticks and exhaust dear aging family pets who ask for nothing but a little peace and quiet.

All these good times, however, occurred after we unintentionally yelled at some very kind, very professional Subway employees who were just trying to do their jobs.

As you parents know, a trip that is supposed to take 60 minutes can turn into a three hour tour when multiple cars carrying multiple kids attached to multiple electronic devices are involved. Thinking we were so smart, my friend and I decided that we should stop for lunch before arriving and invading the grandparents as it would be one less burden upon them.  How good of us. After several phone calls between cars along with several near fatalities, we finally pulled into a restaurant area that offered a few choices.  Some kids chanted for burgers.  Others chanted for cold cuts.  One chanted for the cheap flimpsy kids bag from Subway filled with nuggets from BK.   We should have mooched off the grandparents.

I need to mention a father was present.  I never saw him, though. I think he was was hiding out in the gas station bathroom the entire time.  Yes, that’s how bad it is to travel with us.

All smiles, we entered Subway, lined up and began the ordering process….

Oh, my. It has just occurred to me that some of you out there in blog reading land might be worried that you don’t have any family programming for this upcoming Thanksgiving Day season.  What is family programming? You mean your family doesn’t write and perform plays and skits about the pilgrims complete with white bonnets and large paper collars? You did when you were in preschool, but now that you are 43 your mom doesn’t make you do such things? Can your mom call my mom and tell me this because my mom is not aware that her children -some of them grandparents themselves- shouldn’t be forced to dress as historical figures unless they are performing in an Oliver Stone film based loosely on historical figures.

Well, in case you are wrong, and you do in fact need family programming, I have decided to write my restaurant experience in reader’s theater form. This ensures my work can be printed out, rehearsed and performed in family living rooms all across this great country of ours come November 20ish. ( I don’t know when Thanksgiving is this year, and I’m too lazy to click a few buttons just now.)

However, if I do write out all the parts, and include it in this post,  it will exceed my self imposed 1000ish word limit, so I am going to have to leave you now to work on my soon-to-be Tony Award winning off-off-offoffoff Broadway show. Also, Twin B is calling through the air vents alerting me to the fact that she will die right now if she doesn’t get help with question #10 of her reading homework.  (In tomorrow’s post, the part of Overdramatic Child #2 will be played by Twin B. ) Not to be out done by her sister’s We Love to Sabotage Any Chance Mom Has At A Writing Career antics, Twin A keeps entering my office to ask questions about chess rules….she’s teaching herself to play.  People, this is what happens when you insist on limiting your kids’ TV time. The experts won’t paint these graphic pictures for you, but I will because the truth needs to be told.

Until tomorrow, gentle readers…

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Why I Don’t Post Food Pictures on Facebook

by Priscilla on October 21, 2012

Here’s what I got – a store bought doughnut – possibly a few days old – partially licked – presented on a plastic Hello Kitty plate. (Judging by the singular bite indention, the doughnut did not live up to the exacting standards of its four year old owner.)

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