Showing posts with label m. Show all posts
Showing posts with label m. Show all posts

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Straight to Hell

M: MOM.* Why do that Mormons have a statue of Mowgli on top the thingie on their temples?

Me: Because they're telling Jesus "You!I wanna be like you-oo-oo I wanna talk like you Walk like you, too! You'll see it's true! Someone like me can learn to be Like someone like me Can learn to be Like someone like you Can learn to be Like someone like me!"

(*aside - M starts EVERY sentence she says to me with MOM. Not a question, not an alert that she means to speak to me, just a single word demand. MOM.)

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Meow

Because M doesn't have any siblings, I worry that she'll grow up weird. Lots of only children do, you know. Siblings keep you grounded. Literally and figuratively in most cases. Mind you I don't worry enough about it to have another kid though, IN CASE MY MOTHER IS READING.

To ensure that she arrives in adulthood with the normal quotient of odd ticks and personal issues, I endeavor to recreate the sibling experience by torturing her in much the same way a sister would. For example, by making fun of her hair and her taste in boy bands. Or saying "IS THAT YOUR BOYFRIEND" every time she mentions a boys name. Also, I like to point to random ugly boys and announce that he is her new boyfriend. I steal her stuff with out asking and then whine when she takes mine. Which she does A LOT. One of my other favorite pranks are whipping open the bathroom door and doing my best impression of a slasher film victims dying scream while she's taking a dump. That one is ALWAYS hilarious. It's amazing the kid can even poop at all, really. Then of course there's the classic "I'm not TOUCHING you" sing-song as you wiggle your finger an inch from someones face. She bites though, so I've pretty much given that one up.

Recently though I've discovered the master of all ways to annoy her. Meowing. Seriously. I meow instead of answering her questions. I text her the word meow at midnight. But the best? The best in meowing in time to the song on the radio ala the Meow Mix Cats. I'm not even kidding. She goes MENTAL. The madder she gets, the louder I meow. It's the perfect crime. What can she do about it? NOTHING.

It's awesome.

And anyway, I'd hate to think she'd run out of things to tell her therapist.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Worst. Kid. Ever.

(after noticing a particularly disheveled and unattractive woman dropping her children off at school)

Me: You're so lucky to have a pretty Mom.

M: I'm ADOPTED?

Me: I hate you.

M: I know.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

14 is the new 4

(scene: My house, 10:30pm)

I notice M's bedroom light is on and open her door. She quickly stashes something behind her back.

Me: Bedtime, dude.

M: ALREADY?

Me: Yep.

M: But I'm dooooing something.

Me: What?

M: Uh, not playing with my new school supplies if that's what you're thinking.

I close the door and wait silently in the hall way and then whip it open and scream

Me: A HA!

M: OH MY GOD. You made me color outside the lines!

Monday, August 10, 2009

Thanks y'all!

Taylor made it to the finals of the Arizona's Next Top Model contest! Woot!



BUT now she needs your votes again! Click here to help her make it all the way through!



How can you say no to someone this pretty?

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

They Grow Up SO Fast

M is at my parents house for the summer. And while I would normally be jealous, it's just as hot there as it is here, so HA HA.

Now that she's a little older in addition to the regular summer activities of camp and camping and walking to the community pool, she's spent a lot of time with my sisters. Going to the aquarium or kayaking on Lake Union or just hanging out with the grown ups.

Yesterday, KL & L took her to the Experience Music Project to see the Muppet exhibit. M was OVER THE MOON excited and called me about six times in the preceding days. Hell, she called me twice from the museum itself. Just to tell me she was there.

Then, I get this picture by text from my sister



You can't really see her, but that's M in the green hat. Flirting with a boy. Which of course my sister thought was hilarious. Because M? Has got no game. And also? Is a little clueless, because right after this picture was taken she got hit on by a girl but didn't realize it.

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Dumification

M: "Aren't Dodo's like the national bird of Canada or something?"


Me: "uh, no."


M: "Oh. That's right. Canada's flag has a leaf so they don't have a national bird"


Me: SIGH.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

As you wish

When I was about eleven my mom went back to graduate school and money was fairly tight. When my birthday came around there wasn't a lot of money for presents, so instead, that morning at breakfast my mom declared that as my gift I could do and eat whatever I wanted.

So we ate ice cream sandwiches for breakfast and corn on the cob and tuna sandwiches for dinner before my dad took my two besties and I ice skating where we got hot chocolate from the snack counter and came home to cookie monster cupcakes with frosting so blue your teeth were stained for the next three days.

I'm sure I must have also gotten presents, though I can't recall what they were. I remember though, is that no matter how odd the request (cookie monster cupcakes? For a kid with a cosmo subscription? LOL) my mom said "sure".


As M has grown up, I've tried to continue the tradition. Some birthdays have meant that we rode roller coasters and ate nothing but food from 7-11 and others have meant hoards of little girls swarming from every corner of my house. Mostly though, it's been dinner and a movie and shopping for something that I usually would say no to.


Yesterday, she got up before I left for work and ate cherry ice cream topped with fresh cherries for breakfast. For lunch she dove into the Veggie Straws and by the time I got home she'd spent ALL DAY on the phone while IMing and also texting. Then we loaded up into the car and headed to the movies to see UP. (side note, WTF, Disney? Ellie dies? In the first ten minutes? The hell? So sweet and heartbreaking, not a kids movie really.) Then we went to Fudruckers Hamburger Bar for dinner. Because it has a cheese fountain.


before heading to Baskin Robbins because miss "PLEASE CAN I GO TO A RAVE? PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE?" wanted a clown cone. Too bad they were out.

she consoled herself with pistachio ice cream over a scoop of birthday cake flavored topped with Kissables and rainbow sprinkles.

And then? She went home and moaned that her belly ached.

I'm calling this birthday a win.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Thank you, come again.

I swear to you guys that I never beat my kid about the head. I mean, sure, she's brain damaged, but that was totally not my fault. And anyway, I think the fact that she's "special" has less to do with getting her head slammed through a window and more to do with the fact that she's blond.

I could seriously have an entire blog about the retarded shit that M says. But then y'all would think that I let her eat a bowl of Lead n' Paint Flakes for breakfast and then wash it down with a glass of stupid.

But sometimes, OMG, sometimes she says some things that make me sit back and regret that I huffed gas fumes while I was pregnant.

Last night as we sat watching Paris Hilton's My New BFF she turns to me with deep concern and complete seriousness and says

"Can you get mittens with out the little thumby thingy? You know, like for people who don't have thumbs or whatever?"

Completely desensitized to such completely idiotic questions I replied

"Yeah, they're called SOCKS"

before thinking that HOLY SHIT, My kid is going to grow up to be a Wal-Mart greeter.

Friday, June 13, 2008

Pass the dutchie to the left hand side

In addition to being Fathers Day, this week it's also my grandmothers 41st 39th birthday, my dads birthday and my mother in laws birthday.

I, of course, treated this with my usual lack of attention. So I just got the stuff in the mail yesterday. Except the cards that my child lovingly drew with her collection of 1,457 Sharpie markers. Those I carried around in my purse until today.

But since it's suitably last minute, I figured I better whip those bad boys out and get them in the mail. So that they at least arrive in the same month. Because I care.

So there I am, flipping through the cards, signing my name and J's to them, when I come across this;

Is that a marijuana leaf? On a birthday card FROM MY 13 YEAR OLD? *TO* *MY* *DAD*?

Yeah. I thought so.

You know what makes it worse? Clearly the little monster is Bogarting the doobie.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

More Gods, More Veggies; SAME THING

J: I can’t believe they let a card-carrying pagan like you become a minister!
Me: That’s why I love the Internet.
M: If you’re a pagan, how come you eat meat?
Me: What?
M: Pagans? They don’t eat meat? You know, like vegetarians only crazier?
Me: um, you mean vegans.
M: Whatever. Can I have your cheeseburger?

Spoonful of Lithium

M is 12. For those of you who've never had the pleasure of the close company of a teenage girl, I have one for sale, cheap. For those of you who *have* can I just say Midol should be free and dispensed like Pez, don't you think?

Anyhoodle, like most teens of the current day, she's got two obsessions the color black and bad Emo poetry about the terrible angst that comes from having parents who just do not understand. But, like every one of these hopeless, desolate victims of injustice, she also needs cash. Cash that Mom, (cruel, horrible, NONCOMPASSIONATE Mom) refuses to provide without some sort of (DEMEANING) labor being preformed first. And that is just NOT FAIR.

So, in an effort to thwart the control of the MOM-Ster she has begun babysitting.

Now, knowing M as I do, I figured it would last about an hour before she would be calling for back up. This is because she is not so much about things like hard work and perserverance as she is about finding the easy way out. I was surprised, nay, flabbergasted to find that not only does she like babysitting (if someone was paying me $7/hr to yell 'stop eating your booogers!', eat pizza and watch t.v., I'd love it too) but that the kids like her. They beg for her, they squeal in delight at the sight of her and then, dragging her by the hand demand to know if she can "sleep ober this time? Puhwease? Mommy said Otay!" and then climb her like sticky little monkeys as their mothers escape, gratefully, blissfully unaware that the person with whom they have trusted their dear little ones is currently sporting a Sharpie tattoo of a skull head and the word DEATH TO AUTHORITY on her left calf.

The other day, as I dropped the Queen Of Bitterness off at her job for the day, I mentioned how odd I found the adoration of her Dora quoting minions she thought for a moment, clutching her copy book festooned with the Grim Reaper and then says;

"It's because I'm the freakin' Goth Mary Poppins"

Best.Mother.Ever. STILL

(laughing)
“What?”
“Listen.”
(from the kitchen: DAYYYYOOOO, DAYaYaYYo, DAY LIGHT COME AND ME WANNA GO HOME)
“That’s how you know you’re giving the kid enough chores; they sing slave hymns while they work..”
“We’re the best parents ever.”
“HIGH FIVE!”

It's Not Stalking If We're Friends

One of M’s more annoying habits is the drill I like to call “Ten Million Questions”. Last night in the car, she’s all;

“Who do you like better, Oprah or Dr. Phil?”
Seriously, has this child EVER met me? I would think, by this point, my obsession with Miss Winfrey would be pretty obvious to everyone. So I say;
“Duh, OPRAH. I love Oprah.”

And she goes;
“You LOVE Oprah? She’s like 50!”

How dare that like monkey speak disparagingly about my potential future best friend and TV? co-host? So I’m like;
“Yes, I LOVE Oprah. I have loved Oprah since 1988. I loved her when she was fat and I loved her when she was skinny. I loved her when she made over hookers and confronted Baby-Daddies and I loved her when she built a school in South Africa. I loved her when she had big hair, when she had big earrings and when she got a weave. I love her book club and her favorite things and when she pretends to cook and when she has Martha Stewart on and when she and Gayle go on road trips and when she gives us tours of her house. I lover her clothes and I love her fake eyelashes and I love that she’s got ninety two dogs. I love her. I’m going to go on her show one day, you know?”

So then, the Brat formerly known as M says;
“For What? Being a stalker? You’re a freak, Mom.”

So I’m all;
“You don’t even UNDERSTAND. It’s Oprah, okay? She’s more influential than the PRESIDENT. She’s got like a billion dollars and she earned every one of them and she’s lost like a thousand pounds and she is OPRAH.”

And then, my precious angel says;
“I am so writing Oprah a letter about this conversation. I bet she’ll have you on so they can psycho-analyze you.”

Whatever. I’ll be on Oprah and that, that will be the beginning of my destiny as the New Best Friend who Replaced Whatshername. Then me and Op’s will do each others hair and shop for purses and she’ll loan me her awards show dresses and I’ll wear them around the house while I vacuum and everything will be perfect.

Perfect.

Best.Mother.Ever!

Yesterday I found a torn out piece of memo-sized notebook paper on the floor in the hallway. Where of course, it had been stepped over or on ten million times by certain other household members. But I digress. Before crumpling it up and throwing it at the dog (what?) I turned it over and read;
I love Rocky
I love Rocky
I love Rocky
I love Rocky
I love Rocky
I love Rocky
I love Rocky
I love Rocky
I love Rocky
I love Rocky
I love Rocky
I love Rocky
I love Rocky
I love Rocky
I love Rocky
I love Rocky
Which can mean only one thing. SOMEONE LOVES A BOY NAMED ROCKY. And because I am the worlds best mother ever, I asked the likely suspect;
“Who’s Rocky?”
To which she replied
“Just a boy”
So I’m like “Really, a cute boy?””Uh, I guess”
“A boy that you want to kiss”
“NO!”
“Is he your boyfriend?”
“NO!”
“Do you want him to be your boyfriend?”
“NO!”
“Really?””Why do you even KNOW about Rocky? What are you; like spying on me?”
“Oh, I know, because I know.”
“Whatever.”
“You know what else I know?”
Then I whip out the paper and start singing
“M loves Rocky, M loves Rocky, M LLLLOOOOVVVVEEESSSSS ROOOOOCCCCKKKYYYYYYY”
Then, for some reason, she slammed her bedroom door and yelled out
“I CAN NOT WAIT UNTIL I AM 18!”
So they can get married, I bet.

Either Way

“Mom”
“Yes?”
“What’s an oldtomato?”
“A what?”
“An O-L-D-T-O-M-A-T-O”
“Use it in a sentence”
“Um, Kelly said she gave her boyfriend an oldtomato that if he didn’t quit cheating on her, she was going to break up with him and go to prom with Frankie”.
“I think you mean ultimatum”
“Oh. I guess that does make more sense.”

Funny Because It's True

I love how little kids get things almost right, but still very wrong.
When my sister CK was little she couldn’t for the life of her determine why everyone was all in an uproar that Dolly Parton had the Best Little Warehouse in Texas.
Not that I’m one to talk, I was like thirteen before I figured out that thespians and lesbians were not the same thing. Well, not always anyway.
The other night, in the throes of middle school drama, M lamented “God, I am a complete social leopard!”
It probably didn’t help that I was laughing *at her* not *with her* after that.

Jazz Hands!

On Wednesday night, M comes dancing down the hallway, pausing at its door.
Suddenly she breaks into song

"Mom I’ve got a proposition for you a PROPOSITION for YOU!
We are out of cheesy popcorn,
Yes it’s true, yes, its true
There is no cheesy popcorn, and I am feeling blue!
Feeling blue! Feeling Blue!
If you will buy some cheesy popcorn I will eat it all!
Eat it all! Just for me! None for you!
So, PLEASE mom, CAN we HAVE some CHEEESSSYYYY P.O.P.C.O.R.N?"

Or something like that. Complete with dance moves and an ending on bended knee with jazz hands.
I had to give her props for the most creative begging I’d seen in a while. Almost as good as when she was four and she spelled out “PLS by Choclate” in Alpahbits, ABC magnets and the dust on the TV.

D.U.D.E.

Some time ago I let M sign up for an email account. Well, actually, I signed her up so that I would know her password. I check her account every couple of days and it’s mostly back and forth bitching about school and comparing who gets to watch what and who’s dating whom (on the OC or something). But every now and then I come across a real gem, like this one: (I deleted the names)


So I was talking to my friend b yesterday {we're partners in ccrime at home and by home I mean arizona} and for some reasen I started rambeling on about my plan to take over the universe and Inslave the earth hahahahaha theare was alot of EVEL and I don't mean evil I mean EVEL cackleing and then I thought ya know b's not a EVEL mastermind I should e-mail T she wants to take over the world to we should work together.
HERE IS MY PLAN TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD MOHAHAHA

Step 1.get good grades in school and go to the militery acadamy and become hi ranked officer
Step 2.Learn valluble goverment secrets
Step 3.when the goverment let's us go home for a while to see are family's I will contact them from my EVEL lair which is built inside a volcano on an uncharted Island somewhere over the pacific ocien and hold all the goverment sercrets for a ransome and treaten to tell them to enimy countrys if they do not reach my list of demands within 48 hoars.
Step 4.As soon as I get everything on my list of demands I will keep moveing from country to country until I have control of the whole world then inslave it and continue to be an EVEL dictater who rules with an Iron fist
Step 5.People who I don't like or have displeased me will be brutaly flogged then ripped lim from lim then left out in the middle of the desert so they can die slowly and painfuly.
Step 6.Live forever so I can make peuny mortals sufer.
Step 7.Only people who I reqally like and I guess family won't be inslaved.

And we all live unhappily ever after the end.

I noticed a number of alarming things.

a) This kid can’t spell. Good job Public School systems new “total child” education plan. That’s working out great. Not only does her handwriting look like Sanskrit, she can’t spell for shit either. But she can “conceptualize number patterns”.
b) She should probably watch a lot less “Austin Powers” and “Pinky and the Brain”.

Then last night, in the car she was telling me all about this plan. I asked “Why do you want to take over the world” and you know what she replied?
“Why not? Lots of people have tried but no one’s accomplished it, so I could be the first. Plus, I would never have to go to bed when a good show is on again.”

Sound reasoning I guess. And the plan *does* involve staying in school and getting good grades, so I can’t really quibble with it too much. Other than the part about ripping people limb from limb and leaving them to die in the desert. I suggested that she think about being a benevolent ruler instead, because everyone was always trying to kill “evel dictators”.

She thought about it and said “Okay, you can be Arch Duchess of Canada and in charge of making people think that I’m a nice dictator, but I’ll still be secretly evel.”

So I asked “What if I fail? I mean come on; people are bound to notice you’re evel after a while”.

After a moment she though about it and said “I guess I’d have to demote you to peasant then.”

Nice. Even the mother of the dictator isn’t safe. I wonder if there’s a support group? We could have a catchy name like “Mothers for Understanding Dictatorial Evelness” or “D.U.D.E” for short. We could even get shirts made up that said “My Kid tried to take over the world and all I got was this crappy tee-shirt” and we could meet in a church basement and compare casserole recipes and drink coffee and knit bomb cozies.

Maybe Mother Hussein could bake the cookies….

Organ Trains

My favorite thing that kids do is get something *almost* right but still horribly, humorously wrong.

For example, when M was about two, I got a tattoo. She was very thrilled by this and wanted to know if I got the rub on kind or the kind you put on with water. I explained it was put on forever with needles. This apparently made sense to her. Several days later, she announced to my mother, "Look at Mama's tattoo! It's the sew-on kind!"

Last year, while watching Titanic she wanted to know who the actors were. Kate Winslet and Leonardo Di Caprio, I tell her. She pauses for a minute and says. "Isn't he the guy who painted the Philistine Chapel?"

Last night she comes home from school and asks,

"If you get your organs taken out, will you die?"

"I suppose" I tell her.

I can see the wheels turning here and she says

"Even kids?"
"Yes, kids are the same on the inside as adults" now I'm curious "Why?"

"Well at school today they told us that kids who didn't have parents used to be put on ORGAN trains and sent out west. Isn't that mean? Just 'because they don't have parents doesn't mean they should kill them!"

"Uh, I think you mean ORPHAN trains. You know, like Orphanages?"

"Oh."

Hee hee. Conversations like that are the reasons to have kids