My youngest child likes to lick her “sweaty, salty” hands

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As a mother of five kids I have learned that it’s part of a normal (ugh!?) childhood for young children to put everything in their mouths. You have to be very vigilant. No matter how much you clean up and remove things from within their reach, they will find the most disgusting things possible to put in their mouths.

I have jammed my fingers between Firstborn’s little rose bud lips and extracted half eaten large black ants covered in baby drool. I can’t be sure if the poor creatures drowned or died of dismemberment. All my kids ate sand. After the first two I decided there must be something healthy in it and just let them sit behind the curtains and swallow that organic earthy goodness. If nothing, it helped them develop a great immune system.

Middle child was even more adventurous and once managed to down some phenol liquid (used as a cleaner). How she managed to climb up to a high shelf and retrieve it I don’t know. She also managed to unscrew the tightly closed cap. Anyways I thought she may have learned her lesson as the little blisters that popped up in her eyes, mouth and nose lasted some days. It was so painful, but she was ready for her next gastronomical adventure soon afterwards.

The twins delighted in feasting upon soap and tubes of toothpaste. When caught they would scream bloody murder as the soap and toothpaste were snatched away from them and their mouths washed out. I would explain to them lovingly, “we don’t eat soap and toothpaste.”

They would screech back, “we do eeef foap n toofpase!”

Then Twin 2 did the stuff mom nightmares are made of. She managed to get her hands on a bottle of Mortein liquid mosquito repellent and drank it down. She was playing happily after that and when I gave her a kiss I told her she smelt funny, my mom senses started tingling. She told me it was the funny thing she drank and then it hit me. We rushed her to the hospital and I had to hold her down while she got her stomach pumped. They usually keep the parents away at that time, but the two nurses and the stomach pumping guy couldn’t manage to keep her still so they called me in. Good times, good times.

Unfortunately none of my kids got any super powers in return, you’d think they would have. I honestly feel I deserve that much. I was positive Firstborn would be bestowed with Ant girl powers or Twin 2 would have some sort of super cleaning, mosquito repelling gifts that would benefit the world in some way or another.

Ah well, at least I am over that stage. Or I thought I was until I discovered Twin 2 licking her hands randomly as she watched T.V.  She didn’t even realize she was doing it. I stared at her for a minute.

“Did you just eat something chocolaty?”  I asked.

“No. Why do you have any brownies?” she asked hopefully.

“No, I don’t have any brownies. Why were you licking your hands?”

“I wasn’t!” she laughed.

“EEEWW! You were licking your hands! We saw you!” piped up Middle child happily.

“Yeah mommy, she always licks her hands!” added Twin 1 triumphantly.

Everything is a damned competition. Always.

“No I don’t!” Twin 2 is the worst liar ever. She had a guilty smile on her face. Then she dove into my arms when I gave her the look.

“Why?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she was still laughing.

“She likes the sweaty, salty taste!” Middle child exclaimed and then went into peals of laughter along with Twin 1. This is somehow considered a victory for them.

“Listen, you are almost eight. I thought I was done with this stuff by now. Do I have to keep running after you to make sure you are not putting everything into your mouth like a baby?”

“No. I’ll try not to.”

“Good.” Hugs and kisses and cuddles. I love being a mom.

I had to remind her fifty different times after that to stop licking her hands. She’s trying to remember not to lick them.  Her sisters have agreed to help by reminding her when they catch her doing it.

“Does she do it a lot?” I asked Twin 1.

“Mmmhhhhmmmm!”

I am beginning to wonder just how good that salty, sweaty taste is. Maybe I will lick her hands when she’s asleep to find out. Oh I wonder what kind of super powers could possibly come out of this?! Keeping my fingers crossed.

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(Top pic from Google Images)

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You know you are Desi when…

I don’t want to make other races feel left out or anything and I am sure a lot of you could relate to the following traits, but there are just some things that really let you know you are desi.

You know you are desi when…

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“We are out of groceries” looks like this.  Desi people have this insane fear in the back of their cranium somewhere that when the apocalypse comes we won’t have enough groceries. So we should always be prepared with a surplus, no amount of groceries are ever enough.

You know you are desi when…

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Your freezer is full of containers that are highly misleading as to their contents.  For example you will not find yogurt, ice cream or cream cheese (who keeps cream cheese in the freezer?) in any of these containers. Surprise! If you are desi you will know that they all contain some type of curry. You can never have too much curry, never know when the zombies might come.

You know you are desi when…

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This is something you use for an earache.

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You have used these for toothaches.

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This solves every gastric trouble in medical history.

And this…

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…is the solution for every other ailment under the sun.

You know you are desi when…

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…every cupboard contains a bag …that contains countless bags. Every. Cupboard.

When the zombies come we will have plenty of bags to tie them up in. Of course up here in Canada we won’t have a zombie apocalypse,  that kind of stuff only happens in America.  We will of course send the bags to our American neighbors. Polite Canadians.

You know you are desi when…

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This bin is overflowing every two days.  I fear the day when garbage pickup will be scheduled for every other week.

You know you are desi when…

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…you still think the kids are feeling cold.

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Dear white lady, please excuse my curry aura.

Rural Indian Woman cooking food in the Kitchen

Desi cooking. It is the epitome of a love hate relationship. Love to eat it. Hate to smell it. The smell of spicy curry on rice is slightly different when it lingers on your clothes. Your walls. Your couch. Damn it even the cat.

It takes a small fortune on fabric fresheners, candles, and what not to keep our houses free from the infuriating curry smell. Curry which we cook many times throughout the week.  Dry wall loves curry. The entire house just soaks all that spicy smell up and that contraption known as the kitchen exhaust is a useless noisemaker.

There needs to be some kind of innovation in house making seriously, special materials for people who do a lot of eastern cooking. Yes I have to include the entire east because our lives depend on garlic, onions, and spices. And bak choy. Have you ever smelt the after effects of cooking bak choy?  Ugh!

We eastern cooking people are the reason the scent industry will continue to flourish, prosper and cause the remaining ozone layer to vanish completely.  We have cans of air freshener in every corner of the house, which we use fervently especially in winter when windows can’t be opened. Winter is the worst when it comes to curry…aromas.

The day of the winter concert my daughters were super excited to be performing (for the one millionth time). We were invited in the evening to watch them. My husband had forgotten about it and suddenly came down with every ailment in the book when reminded of the evening’s agenda.

I let him off the hook and offered to just go by myself. Even I had been trying to talk the girls out of it. (Don’t judge me, I usually get excited about watching them perform every year even after hearing the songs every day for two months from all three of them.)But it had been a very tiring week.

I was running late, I wanted to get dinner cooked before I left so the kids could come home, eat and we could just wind the evening up. By 7pm I am so sleepy I can fall asleep while eating dinner. Curry facials are not good for your skin.

Spaghetti and meatballs for the kids. Desi guy doesn’t like pasta. At all. So I had decided to cook bihari kababs that day for him. Biggest mistake ever. In my haste to get to school I just grabbed my coat after I turned off the stove and ran outside. Ignoring the yells of the spray cans containing various scented toxic liquids that decorated our house.

I herded the girls in the direction of their classes and then went to the gym to await the performance. There were no seats left so I had to stand at the entrance. Where it was nice and airy. Till my friend spotted me and dragged me back with her because she had an extra seat (she pulled her youngest out of said seat and sat him on her lap for the whole evening-I love my friends). It was crowded. Packed. You could smell snow and salt. And bihari kabab.

I felt like kicking myself. I whispered my horror to my friend who smiled and said, “yeah I wondered what you had been cooking. Great korma smell!”

“Bihari kabab,” I said.

“Well I don’t mind,” she giggled.

But the white lady sitting next to me did. A lot. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her stiffen. I saw her slowly rise and leave. To sit on some chair she was lucky enough to find in that packed gym away from me. Dear white lady from the winter concert at the school gym, I am extremely sorry, please excuse my curry aura.

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Arranged Marriage:Dear (Not So) Suitable Boy

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Contrary to the Indian movies that often portray every young girl’s goal in life as securing that Suitable Boy’s proposal, most girls just wanted to have fun.

Dear (Not so ) Suitable Boy,

I have been meaning to write to you for some time now (about 20 years) but somewhere along the way, after I realized you most certainly were not my knight in shining armor, I married someone else and had five kids. So yeah I was a bit preoccupied. No, I didn’t end up marrying the knight in shining armor. He still hasn’t shown up. Curse you, Disney. Curse you.

I remembered you and your audacious proposal yesterday night as I was scooping fat cat’s dehydrated poop out of the litter box. Please don’t be offended, you do not in any way remind me of dehydrated cat poop. I just get random thoughts scooping poop.

I just want you to know that it never would have worked. I was done the second I realized I was about to be shown off like prize cattle, when I saw you sitting there in my aunt’s drawing-room with your mom, your dad and your female sibling. I am surprised you didn’t bring your grandparents. I stopped at the door and I checked you out. Sorry I wasn’t raised in Pakistan, yeah I checked you out and you did not even make my “last guy in the world list”. But let’s be honest, you were there with your family to do the exact same thing. I just beat you to it.

Yes, in those few seconds I was able to sum you up and sweep you aside. I was a narcissistic nineteen year old what could you expect? I knew I was on every eligible bachelor’s mom’s list, most likely first or second, because I fit what every desi mother-in-law wanted. Tall, thin, fair, but most importantly, Canadian National. God bless our hypocritical, stereotypical desi double standards!

Besides being turned off by the fact that I was about to be paraded in front of a guy I did not know (why can’t people just arrange a normal lunch with lots of people?) it was the moustache. That ridiculously thick moustache that made Tom Selleck look like a fuzzy lipped female. Had you never heard of Johnny Depp? Apparently not. You looked like a forty-five year old, (yes I am aware that you were not actually forty-five, but damn that was some ‘stache!) a forty-five year old who was accompanied by his parents and little sister to check out a nineteen year old chick. That is not a good first impression.

I did my utmost to be as obnoxious as possible to your mom and little sis. I refused to go into the drawing-room to meet you, I didn’t see the point since I had already decided we were most certainly NOT meant to be. So they came to meet me in the other room. I disagreed with everything your sister said, I mocked the fact that she didn’t enjoy Jane Austen which she was required to read for school. I love Jane Austen. The second a tray of drinks was brought in I hopped up and rudely grabbed a drink for myself to the shock of both my aunts.  And your mom. I wanted her to realize what Canadian National meant. It meant I was not the standard docile girl who had been embedded with the concept that I had to marry whichever Suitable Boy thought I met his mom’s standards. I would not be cajoled into an arranged marriage just because everyone thought you were a Suitable Boy.

Fourteen hundred years ago my religion gave me the right to decide if I liked a guy enough to marry him, but along the line somewhere all that got lost in stupid cultural backwardness. Up till the point where girls were displayed to be evaluated by a boy and his family. To see whether or not she was good-looking enough, submissive enough, to make a good daughter-in-law and wife. Then the poor girl waited, hoping not to be rejected as Prince Charming went on to check out the next eight girls on Mama’s list.

The point of all this is, you probably have kids now. Unless you jumped off a cliff in a fit of drama, your ego bruised by a girl who had the impudence to refuse.  If you have a daughter please don’t parade her in front of dozens of young men and their families. Let her peek in the drawing-room first. And if she doesn’t want to go in and meet them, don’t make her.

Sincerely,

The Canadian National you are so lucky not to have gotten hitched to.

P.S. Do remind her however, that the knight in shining armor rarely shows up, she should not waste her precious time waiting for him.

Resident Evil: Messy Kids

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Friday is the last day of the week the house stays clean. As the kids come home from school, my neat and clean abode slowly turns into Boxing Day aftermath.  Yes my kids have issues. They are suffering from “our mom is too good to us syndrome”. Yeah I need to work on that.

By Saturday there are dirty dishes in the sink. On the dining table. And on the coffee table, under beds, near the computer table and yes even in the bathroom. Unwashed clothes decorate floors in bedrooms and outside the clothes hamper, the litter box needs to be emptied and toys need to be put away. The walls are screaming their discontent at being adorned with what seems to be yesterday night’s spaghetti dinner. And this is the start of my weekend. Sound familiar? Well at least I’m not alone.

I am the mom, I do not get tired, I am never sleepy, I do not need to relax. My only aspirations in life are to cook for, feed, clean, wash, and pamper anything I have given birth to or married. I realize that: “you look tired today”  is not my friend sympathizing with me. That is her  saying “Woman you need a face lift, hair dye and a week at the spa.” The only thing I can afford from these options is the hair dye, which I am not gonna do anyways. Honestly I rather be grey than have to scrub that dye from the tub every time I wash my hair. Being perfectly coiffed is so over rated. I am just going to embrace my inner Carol. I mean just look at her!

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I have some suggestions on how we should deal with these problems:

1. Pack up all their stuff in black garbage bags and inform them it is being donated to the Salvation Army.
2. Take it out to the front yard and put up a garage sale sign.
3. Collect it all in the backyard, surround it with a circle of rocks, light it up and roast marshmallows over it.
4. Bury it in the compost heap.
5. Take pictures of it, especially close-ups of underwear and then post it to their Facebook walls.
6. Invite their friends over for a get together and not let them know about it.
7. Pack our own bags, get in the car and drive to South America. Take all their electronic goods to pawn off along the way.
I am thinking either # 3 or #7. Let me know which worked out best for you!

Dollar Shop Masterpieces

Winter Vacation is coming up and if you have tyrannical offspring under the age of twelve you know that means countless whining sessions of “I’m bored” and even “come and play with me”, “color/draw with me”, “cut and paste with me” in general just “do something with me!” And you probably won’t have time to stop and take a breath with all the cleaning and cooking the holiday season brings. That and the stress of trying to be super woman and not breaking a sweat in front of the in-laws or your other “competitive company” i.e. the women with the perfect manicures, well-behaved children, spotless picture perfect homes and designer clothes who serve up gourmet delicacies they cook themselves. We should actually be thankful for their questionable existence, if it weren’t for them how many of us would actually try to workout once in a while and change out of those baggy plaid PJs?

A trip to the dollar shop can turn up some real treasures, yes and also cheap “use today, break tomorrow, dump in recycling on Wednesday” items imported from China. So you have to be careful. If you go in the aisle that has all that artsy stuff you will be amazed how many things you can find that will actually keep your kids busy for at least fifteen and if you are lucky sometimes a little longer.

Cutout pieces of colored paper, glittery fomic sheets in bright shades, sequins, beads, glitter glue, pom-poms and feathers are great for making cards, murals and other holiday themed decorations. Kids love decorating boxes and empty jars that you can use to give gifts in or candy in. You can make an outline of Santa, candy canes, reindeer or whatever else and have them decorate it as they like or even use old coloring book pages if you aren’t that great at drawing. If you have older kids threaten to take away their Xbox controller or with hold shopping money till they draw an outline of a big fat snowman on a sheet of chart paper for their siblings.

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Twin 1 and 2 made these, all this stuff came from the dollar shop.

Empty jars and odd left over pieces from tea sets or serving sets can be made into very pretty center pieces for the coffee table. You could also get stuff from the Thrift store. The pine cones, dried flowers and shiny little pebbles that you find in boxes under the kids’ beds are great to use for these. You can even find elegant (and cheap) glass candle holders to use at the dollar shop.

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We made this one ourselves. I got the tray from a thrift shop, pebbles we collected from the beach and you can find little candle holders at the dollar shop (you can tell this is my favorite place.)

Don’t forget to bake some extra cookies to use as a bribe to get them all to clean up their mess. And if that doesn’t work then you can always remind them of the gifts they won’t be getting, that often helps in convincing them to cooperate.

 

Laws of Mom Physics

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There are about four days left before school reopens, and I have mixed feelings about this. Summer is ending, this is a nostalgic and often bittersweet kind of feeling. After a certain age it reminds you that  you are at that late summer stage in life.
I will miss sleeping in and being awoken by my twins acting like lion cubs and lounging on me, late and lavish breakfasts and the no stress late nights because no school the next day.
However I also miss the few hours of peace and quiet, the clean house, the lack of screaming after every five minutes and the time away from the kitchen because summer vacation is also basically just one big “I’m hungry…” all the time.
You’ve got to have both experiences or life would be pretty boring…which made me realize that two extremes of people commit suicide : those that have everything and those who have nothing. No this has nothing to do with my blog post, sorry for that depressing thought. It’s just my brain has all these tabs open at once, you know all that creativity and stuff.

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What I wanted to blog about today was the “Laws of Mom Physics”
1. The amount of a mother’s love is constant,  it simply changes from one form to another from mother to mother and even in the same mother. Like “overprotective love” to “please get out of my hair because I don’t want to hurt you” love.
2.  Every action from a child will cause an increased reaction from a mother. For example a hug from a toddler will result in a much tighter hug and many smooshy smooches from an exuberant mommy. A ridiculous demand from a teenager will result in a higher decibel verbal reprimand and an increased possibility of house arrest. 
3.  The stickiness of the floors is directly proportional to the necessity of the reopening of schools.
4.  The capacity of a mother’s bladder increases exponentially with her number of offspring.
5.  The angle of projectile vomit spewing from a noxious child can be calculated perfectly by mommy ready with the plastic bag.
6.  Dinner ready and set on the table will always result in all the kids NOT being hungry at the given point in time.
7.   Pi(e) is always equal to happy children especially when served with ice cream.

There are many more laws, please feel free to add yours.

Kids in the car

Every time we go out with all the kids we swear it will be our last trip. We remind our snarling, fighting brood as they cause pandemonium. I write this post ( on my treasured S3) in the car as their drama unfolds in a very familiar way…

Middle child: Mom! She pulled my hair and choked me!
Twin 2 : she’s lying!
Middle child: No I am not!
Twin 1: Eww who farted?
Twin 2: It was you!
Teen 1: SHUT UP!
Me: STOP IT ALL OF YOU
Middle child: Stop pushing!
Twin 2:  then look out your own window!
Middle child: That is my window!
Twin 2: Idiot! Stay on your own side!
Twin 1: Someone keeps farting! (lots of laughs)
Twin 1 : You aren’t allowed to look at my window(in a very whiny voice)
Teen 1: SHUT UP!
Teen 2 : YOU SHUT UP!
Twin 2 : (whispering)You’re ugly!
Middle child : No you’re ugly!
Desi guy (husband):We are never taking you guys anywhere again! (laughs and giggles from the back seats)
Twin 2 : I need water I’m thirsty.
Me : No you had water before we left…
Twin 2 : But I’m thirsty again!
Me: Its only been ten minutes.
Twin 2 : Mommy!
Me : No then you have to go pee again and we aren’t stopping every fifteen minutes for that.
Twin 2 : I’m hungry.
Teen 1 : OMG SHUT UP! Mom why do we always have to bring them?
Twin 2: :Stop saying that you are so mean!
Me : What are you looking at?
Desi guy : Nothing
Me : Yes you are!
Desi guy: Its nothing
Me (snatching his cell) : Stop it and keep your eyes on the road!
Middle child : Hey motorcycle dude!
Me (hissing) : Stop that!
Twin 1 : But its a motorcycle dude! (Lots of giggles)
Me : The window is open, motorcycle dude can here you!
More giggling.
Teen 1 : SHUT UP!
Desi guy : THAT IS IT WE ARE TURNING BACK!
Silence for  thirty seconds.
Twin 1 : Who farted?
Middle child : Ewww!
Twin 2 : I’m thirsty!
Twin 1 : Move over and stop looking out my window!
Teen 1 : SHUT UP! ( loud Indy music coming from earphones)
Teen 2 : oh my god you shut up and stop screaming shut up!

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Acting like angels as soon as they realize I am taking a picture.
Desi guy :  what are you doing? Put the phone away you made me miss my turn!
Me : SERIOUSLY?
Desi guy :  yes. STOP TAKING PICTURES!
Drive in silence for two minutes, then stop at our destination.
Desi guy : Ok only teen 1 and 2 are getting off with mom. You three stay in the car with me.
Middle child : Awwww why?
Me : You dont need uniforms
Twin 1: But we wanted to play hide and seek and this is the best store for that!
Me : Are you kidding me?
Twin 2 : Puleeeeeeze?
Teen 1 : SHUT UP!
Teen 2 : oh my god you shut up, you’re louder than all three of them!
Teen 1 : nobody shut up!
Five minutes later
Me : Come on we cant buy uniforms today.
Desi guy : What happened?
Me :There is a one hour wait at least.
Desi guy : You’re exaggerating
Me : Nope.They made a waiting area. And it is full..must be at least fifty people sitting there. You wanna wait in the car with these three?
Desi guy : Nope. Let’s go
Twin 1 : Awww!
Twin 2 : Yay!
Middle child : Move over!
Twin 2 : I’m thirsty!
Teen 1 : SHUT UP!
Desi guy : THAT IS IT WE ARE NEVER TAKING YOU GUYS ANYWHERE AGAIN!
One minute silence.
Twin 1 : Who farted?
Desi guy : Damn it I missed the exit again
Twin 1 : Dont lick me!
Me : Stop licking your sisters.
Middle child : I’m not licking her. I just  licked my hand.
Twin1 : Yeah and then she touched us with it!
Me : Where are you going?
Desi guy : What? Oh damn it missed the turn again.
Me : I think you should teach me to drive now…
Twin 1 : who farted?
Oh my god I need a vacation.

Extreme Parenting or How to Fix Your Obnoxious Brat

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You know that parent you find in random aisles when you go shopping? The one with a UNICEF Ambassador’s concerned expression and the tact of a woodland creature surrounded by hungry wolves?

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Their child is sprawled on the floor causing a ruckus that would shame a South American howler monkey. And they stand there being a good parent and continue to give this writhing, howling hell child “choices”.

“Honey, you can’t have both, you have to make a choice. Do you want the (sugar laden, cavity causing, hyper-activity trigger) cereal (made with loads of genetically modified stuff) or do  you want the (excessively salty) chips (full of saturated fatty acids that will be sure to make you a candidate for cardiovascular diseases in the future) ?”

Devil spawn gets up glares at the parent and knocks down everything on the bottom two shelves. Because it couldn’t reach any higher than that. Not effective parenting.

I say, yes give the child choices. In fact I would give the child three choices.

“I can either whoop your ass: 1 here, 2 at home or 3 you can shut up.”

Being a bad ass parent literally means you have to be bad ass.

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My dad’s cousins were bad ass mothers. These aunts of mine, they are oh so awesome! To this day they evoke respect and can make their grown sons shake in their boots. They believed in extreme parenting. Once one of their very young sons let them know that the story about the stork bringing babies was a lie, babies came from tummies. My aunt’s reply?

“Really? Well come here and I’ll cut your tummy open, let’s see how many babies we can find.”

Needless to say, the son never questioned the authenticity of her explanations again. Their children did not throw tantrums. Sometimes being extreme is the best option.

Some Extremely Effective Options:

1. Your child needs to go pee and refuses to acknowledge this. Options:

“Honey your bladder will burst and you will have a pipe attached to a pee pee bag that you will carry around for the rest of your life. Or you can go to the bathroom and save me a trip to the hospital.”

2. Your child can’t fall asleep because it is too hot. Even with the A.C working perfectly. Options:

“Honey I can stick you in the freezer. Or you can just go to sleep in your bed. Immediately.”

3. Your child can’t fall asleep because it is too cold. Replace ‘freezer’ with ‘oven’ in above option.

4. Your child is unhappy with you because you are an unfair mother. Options:

Pack a bag with some of their clothes and drive them to an ominous looking building. “This is the place for children with moms that aren’t fair. There are no x-boxes, no ipods, no birthday parties and no snacks ever. They are served only with leftovers, they wash their own dishes and clothes, and no one tucks them in at night or tells them stories. You can stay here or you can come back with me and live with my rules.”

Teens?

5. Your teenagers don’t listen. Ever. They don’t even deserve an option, post their bare bummed baby pics on Facebook, Tumblr and Twitter. Don’t forget to tag them. Another great pic is the ‘first time on potty’ pic.

6. They forgot to take out the trash? Dump it on their bed, that should improve their memory.

7. They don’t put away their stuff? Throw it in the driveway.

8. They don’t like what you cook? Kick them out of the dining room and lock the pantry. After two days of starving everything will taste gourmet.

And every night at bedtime don’t forget to tell them how much you love them. BTW I have used #s 1, 2,3,4, and 7. Extremely effective.

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(all pics from Google Images)

Daily Prompt: Copies

The sincerest form of flattery (or extreme source of annoyance) is to copy something you admire. I have always loved the poem Indian Summer by William Campbell. We had to memorize it in grade five. Which I could not, I was an extremely introverted misfit and would go blank at just the thought of having to say anything to anyone. My fifth grade teacher was a mortifying copy of Ms. Finster (you know from Recess!) I blame some of my trauma on her. Actually I blame her for 89% of it. Here is Indian Summer and my rendition below it:

“Indian Summer”

Along the line of smoky hills

The crimson forest stands,

And all the day the blue-jay calls

Throughout the autumn lands.

Now by the brook the maple leans,

With all his glory spread;

And all the sumachs on the hills

Have turned their green to red.

Now, by great marshes wrapt in mist,

Or past some river’s mouth,

Throughout the long still autumn day

Wild birds are flying south.
“Kidsindahouse Summer”
Within the walls of smoke-filled kitchen,

The offspring burn their toast.

And all morning I bury skull in pillow,

In sleep I am engrossed.

Now by afternoon the house is still standing,

Although a filthy mess;

And all my brats claim innocence

None of them confess.

Now its high time I got out of bed,

I really need some tea,

Throughout our abode the kids do scatter

‘Cause I’m petrifying to see.

Finster

 

My fifth grade teacher actually looked just like this.