Sit down, hold on and if you’re easily offended take a hike on this one, really, I mean it. I try to keep things somewhat tame on here because of the grand kids, some family and a few others that I really don’t want to offend. But you know what? After the day I had (I’ll get to that in a minute) I needed a laugh and my family certainly provided it.
So the first the day:
Had to pack for vacation. No, I didn’t do a freaking thing all week even though I’ve known for months that this day was coming. My “special” son turned 17 today which means a house-load of kids, chaos, and Xanex. So here’s my day.
Coffee
Tanning
Laundry
Shopping
Chocolate covered strawberries (preparing)
Grocery shopping.
Pay business bills
Pack
Yada, yada, yada…..
Crap! It was 3:45 and I hadn’t taken a shower and everyone was going to be here at five for the party. In the shower doing all of my showerly duties I feel a lump. Shit! Freaking Shit!!! The minute I touched it I knew what it was and I totally panicked. Of all times to notice this problem, now was not one of them.
BLEEP! BLEEPING BLEEP!! I have a staph infection, MRSA to be exact. Seems the nasty little creatures have been roaming my house for six years just waiting for the right time to attack me and it’s usually right before, or during, vacation.
Now it’s 4:10. The pharmacy closes at 6; I leave at 5:30 in the morning. I have the on call doc paged. I wait and I wait. She calls, sends in a prescription and I pick it up about 5, when everyone is supposed to be here. My stress level is now in the exosphere. I still have to make dinner (sorta), do party, pack, blah, blah, blah.
“Oh wait, what was that you said dear husband? You have to leave for a while to talk business just when everyone is arriving and nothing is packed? What-the-BLEEP-ever.” My bubble thought: "What the freaking BLEEP did you do all BLEEP BLEEPING day?"
Then the fun starts with my 28 yr old un-named Karli and Michelle daughters begin slapping the other kids with ham. The next thing I know is that ham is now flying across the kitchen and dining room while kids run everywhere. I’m sitting there too tired, too stressed to do anything but shake my head. They’re laughing and talking about some “Real Housewife” show. About that time a certain grandchild Jakob decides it would be a riot to throw it at Nana.
War’s on. He saw me get up and he started to run. There was a daughter on each side of him, he couldn’t get away. I won’t tell you where I ended up placing the ham on him, but let’s just say that no one would touch the ham after that, and everyone kept asking him if he smelled bacon.
Now every child calms down and makes their sandwiches, sits at the table and the “fun” begins. Here are a few snippets of conversation from the table tonight. Like I said before, leave now if you don’t know that I have tattoos, go dancing with my older kids and have raised very open children that feel that it’s completely acceptable to talk about anything with the family. When the smack started I grabbed a pen and paper and started taking notes. These are some of the comments of the kids from 10-28:
Daughter 1: Megan Fox is HOT, but she’s such a whore
Daughter 2: She’s beautiful but a total loser.
Daughter 3: NS! Oh sorry Mom.
Grandson: You know that she’s dating a stripper named Tinkerbell (how does a ten year old know this?)
Daughter 1: She’s pretty, but she’s such a beee-oootch!
Daughter 1: You know that (insert Broken Boy’s name here) used to drink vanilla when mom and dad left? He had them convinced that he liked the taste and they believed him because they are reee-taar-ded!
Grandson: I wear studs. (WTH?)
Daughter 1: Did you see that Kathy Griffin got a Brazilian and had her va-jay-jay bedazzled?
Daughter 2: What? You mean with a real bedazzler?
Daughter 1: Mom, don’t you get those? Does dad like the landing strip or monogram?
(I’m staring not really sure what to say)
Daughter 2: Mom, are you taking notes? I feel exploited!
Grandson: The other day I walked in on my mom and she could use a wax. I thought I saw a forest. Then she told me to bring her the kitchen scissors and a comb.
I drop my head, now I’m embarrassed. My grandson not only knows his mother's "playing field" needs trimming, but he's fetching her the scissors!
Daughter 1: Well I needed a trim. You know Mom uses the peanut clippers.
Grandson: What?
Daughter 1: The clippers she uses to trim your neck.
Grandson: GROSS!
Daughter to son: What do you call that? I mean a girl’s parts?
Grandson: I call it West Virginia.
Special Son: Actually wouldn’t be more like SOUTH Virginia?
Broken Boy: laughing until he cries
Daughter 1: When I was in seventh grade in health class they made us call them “Carolina” and “Tallywhacker.” Then when they tried to describe “O’s” they compared it to a sneeze that builds and builds and then when it happens you feel better.
Daughter 2: So are you supposed to say “God Bless You” after?
Daughter 1: Mom you never answered my question.
(Mom’s not about to answer!)
Daughter 2: So Kathy Griffin really bedazzled? Like, how did she do that?
Daughter 1: Sister, do you know what a “merkin” is?
Daughter 2: A what?
Daughter 1: Mom google it.
I google and show Daughter 2 what a “Merkin” is.
Daughter 2: THAT”S disgusting…..wait is that real hair?
(Front door opens)
All kids: ssssssh! Dad’s home! SHHHH!
A hush falls upon the house. Jeff walks in, makes a sandwich and sits down at the table. The kids make small talk.
Me: Jeff, have you ever heard of a ham fight?
All kids grow pale.
Dad stares down kids and says : I’d better never see you throw food in this house!
Me: Jeff wanna know the conversation you missed?
All kids light up like Rudolph’s nose. They’re even quieter than before.
I read my notes.
Jeff: I’m not praying for any of you anymore.
“Special” Boy blows out candle on his chocolate covered strawberries then opens gifts.
Special Boy: Oh cool it’s an Army survival guide from 1970!
Broken Boy: Yeah it was that or one on hand to hand combat and I didn’t think that would be appropriate.
Special Boy: Oh this card is from Mom and Dad!
Daughter 1: Well aren’t you special!
Special boy: Yes I am, special I have autism.
Daughter 1: No, I mean Mom
never does cards.
Me: Dad put it in the basket. I don’t do cards.
Daughter 1: you
used to do cards before you adopted all these kids!
Special Boy: But I AM special….I have AUTISM!
Daughter 2: So back to the “merkin,” are they made of real hair?
Grandson: Why do they call it a “tallywhacker”
The Daughter 2 shows my this and asks what it was. They were stuck in the cupcakes I picked up for the party. You tell me:
After the night's conversation, it certainly doesn't appear to be just a hammer!
These are my kids, I mean are they really MY kids?
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