Montana Momoirs Column
Good morning small children. I hope you have received and reviewed the memo I placed next to your pillows last night. Oh. I forgot that neither of you is old enough to read. Allow me to recap the highlights for you.
In short, I have a lot going on personally and professionally right now that is creating great stress in my life and, in case you have missed the obvious as of late, it is putting me in an extremely foul mood. We will all be a lot happier if you comply with the following new house rules that have been instituted this very minute:
a) No complaining. No whining. No fighting. No crying. In fact, let’s just do it up right and say that talking, singing and laughing are also forbidden. We will pretend we have taken a vow of silence. Won’t that be fun?
b) You must eat every bite of your meals. Happily. Even if it is sautéed Swiss chard, always a 2- and 5-year-old’s favorite. Even if it is broccoli — without cheese sauce. Do I hear complaining? Refer to Point A above.
c) There will be no gas-passing. There will be no bending over and cheek- separating for pretend gas-passing. There will be no blaming of me for gas passing, as in when one of you passes gas, usually at the dinner table, and then looks at me and gleefully announces, “EXCUSE YOU MOM!” before collapsing with fits of hysterical laughing.
d) You are not allowed on any of the furniture. Not that our furniture is especially nice — at least it isn’t nice anymore after five years of sticky hands and faces, trampoline usage and fort building. You will sit on the floor. But not on any of the new rugs. You will enjoy the nice hardwood floor, which also isn’t so nice anymore after five years of trucks and ride-on toys.
e) Since we have taken a vow of silence, this shouldn’t be an issue, but I’ll throw it out there anyway. No repeating of questions or phrases. Just because I do not respond to every one of your utterances within milliseconds of words hitting air does not mean I did not hear you. I heard you — the very first time.
In short, you are no longer allowed to act as if you are 2 and 5 years old. You must act as if you are very well-behaved middle-aged people, who just happen to be very quiet.
Now that we have the new rules established, what shall we do today? You want to do a craft project? OK. Let’s get out our supplies. No. Wait. I will get them. No. I said no.
Hmmmm … perhaps if you’d listened and allowed me to get out the craft supplies, then that giant bag of feathers wouldn’t have exploded causing our house to resemble a chicken coop for fuchsia and turquoise poultry. Let me get out the vacuum.
I know we have the loudest vacuum on the planet and that it scares you, but using the broom will not work. So put the broom away. Put it away. No. Using the broom will only make the feathers fly around more. You just hit me on the head with the broom. I know you’re sorry and that it was an accident, but it still hurt and since I am already in a bad mood, I will stagger around as if Wile E. Coyote just dropped a grand piano on my head and I have an eight-inch lump growing out of it with stars circling. Unbelievable! You just hit me on the head again! Put that broom down!
Why is the glue out? I’m still trying to clean up the feathers. Put the glue back. Why are you pouring glue on that piece of paper? Stop. Stop! Give me the glue bottle. What am I doing? I’m trying to scrape an entire bottle of glue back into the bottle. No…put the broom down! Put the broom down!
Well. Now that we’ve all been tarred and feathered, let’s go into another room. Let’s do something quiet. And easy. Let’s look at one of our library books. Oh no! Quick! Go get a towel! Faster! I know it was an accident. And I’m sure this isn’t the first library book to be returned with coffee spilled on it. What will the library do? I’m not sure. But really, the more important question here is, What am I going to do? That was the last of the coffee!
Let’s go outside and have a snack. How about some raisins? Raisins are easy. What can possibly happen with raisins? You did NOT just shove that raisin up your nose. Blow it out. Blow hard. How far did you stick that up there? I’m not paying for another food item to be extracted from your nose by an emergency room doctor. I’ll do it myself. Where are my tweezers? You got it! Good job. You have a big booger in your nose? Well, I don’t have any Kleenex right now. Here. Use my shirt.
What’s next? You want to have a squirt gun fight? All right. But don’t squirt me. Hey! I said not to squirt me! Ha! I’ve got the extra squirt gun! You’re in trouble now! I got you! All right - laughing is allowed during squirt gun fights. I will also allow gleeful shrieking. No, you don’t have to act like old people anymore. I guess it’s OK for you both to act like little kids.Labels: Columns
Good morning small children. I hope you have received and reviewed the memo I placed next to your pillows last night. Oh. I forgot that neither of you is old enough to read. Allow me to recap the highlights for you.
In short, I have a lot going on personally and professionally right now that is creating great stress in my life and, in case you have missed the obvious as of late, it is putting me in an extremely foul mood. We will all be a lot happier if you comply with the following new house rules that have been instituted this very minute:
a) No complaining. No whining. No fighting. No crying. In fact, let’s just do it up right and say that talking, singing and laughing are also forbidden. We will pretend we have taken a vow of silence. Won’t that be fun?
b) You must eat every bite of your meals. Happily. Even if it is sautéed Swiss chard, always a 2- and 5-year-old’s favorite. Even if it is broccoli — without cheese sauce. Do I hear complaining? Refer to Point A above.
c) There will be no gas-passing. There will be no bending over and cheek- separating for pretend gas-passing. There will be no blaming of me for gas passing, as in when one of you passes gas, usually at the dinner table, and then looks at me and gleefully announces, “EXCUSE YOU MOM!” before collapsing with fits of hysterical laughing.
d) You are not allowed on any of the furniture. Not that our furniture is especially nice — at least it isn’t nice anymore after five years of sticky hands and faces, trampoline usage and fort building. You will sit on the floor. But not on any of the new rugs. You will enjoy the nice hardwood floor, which also isn’t so nice anymore after five years of trucks and ride-on toys.
e) Since we have taken a vow of silence, this shouldn’t be an issue, but I’ll throw it out there anyway. No repeating of questions or phrases. Just because I do not respond to every one of your utterances within milliseconds of words hitting air does not mean I did not hear you. I heard you — the very first time.
In short, you are no longer allowed to act as if you are 2 and 5 years old. You must act as if you are very well-behaved middle-aged people, who just happen to be very quiet.
Now that we have the new rules established, what shall we do today? You want to do a craft project? OK. Let’s get out our supplies. No. Wait. I will get them. No. I said no.
Hmmmm … perhaps if you’d listened and allowed me to get out the craft supplies, then that giant bag of feathers wouldn’t have exploded causing our house to resemble a chicken coop for fuchsia and turquoise poultry. Let me get out the vacuum.
I know we have the loudest vacuum on the planet and that it scares you, but using the broom will not work. So put the broom away. Put it away. No. Using the broom will only make the feathers fly around more. You just hit me on the head with the broom. I know you’re sorry and that it was an accident, but it still hurt and since I am already in a bad mood, I will stagger around as if Wile E. Coyote just dropped a grand piano on my head and I have an eight-inch lump growing out of it with stars circling. Unbelievable! You just hit me on the head again! Put that broom down!
Why is the glue out? I’m still trying to clean up the feathers. Put the glue back. Why are you pouring glue on that piece of paper? Stop. Stop! Give me the glue bottle. What am I doing? I’m trying to scrape an entire bottle of glue back into the bottle. No…put the broom down! Put the broom down!
Well. Now that we’ve all been tarred and feathered, let’s go into another room. Let’s do something quiet. And easy. Let’s look at one of our library books. Oh no! Quick! Go get a towel! Faster! I know it was an accident. And I’m sure this isn’t the first library book to be returned with coffee spilled on it. What will the library do? I’m not sure. But really, the more important question here is, What am I going to do? That was the last of the coffee!
Let’s go outside and have a snack. How about some raisins? Raisins are easy. What can possibly happen with raisins? You did NOT just shove that raisin up your nose. Blow it out. Blow hard. How far did you stick that up there? I’m not paying for another food item to be extracted from your nose by an emergency room doctor. I’ll do it myself. Where are my tweezers? You got it! Good job. You have a big booger in your nose? Well, I don’t have any Kleenex right now. Here. Use my shirt.
What’s next? You want to have a squirt gun fight? All right. But don’t squirt me. Hey! I said not to squirt me! Ha! I’ve got the extra squirt gun! You’re in trouble now! I got you! All right - laughing is allowed during squirt gun fights. I will also allow gleeful shrieking. No, you don’t have to act like old people anymore. I guess it’s OK for you both to act like little kids.
Labels: Columns
posted by Sara @ 5:47 PM
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