humor

Sisterly

February 10, 2011 By Blonde Mom 4 Comments

I’m in the bathroom getting ready to go to the grocery and I hear the girls playing Wii in the den.

“You’re doing good!” I overhear Miss C say.

I peek my head around the corner, “Hey, that was a nice thing to say Miss C.”

“What?!” she shouts in reply, fully engaged in gamer zombie mode.

“That was a nice thing to say!”

“WHAT?!”

I step into the den. “I said, ‘That was a nice thing to say…that she’s doing good!”

Miss A: “Mom. She said, ‘You’re GONNA DIE.”

Me: Ohhhhhh.

(When did my 5-year-old start regularly referring to me as MOM? Sigh…)

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Filed Under: Blonde Moments, My Girls, Parenting 4 Comments

If Eric Carle Was A Disgruntled Mother

March 29, 2010 By Blonde Mom 28 Comments

Brown bear, brown bear what do you see?

I see a wad of gum where it shouldn’t be.

Red bird, red bird what do you see?

I see laundry multiplying before me.

Yellow duck, yellow duck what do you see?

I see fingerprints staring back at me.

Blue horse, blue horse what do you see?

I see tufts of dog hair floating in the breeze.

Green frog, green frog what do you see?

I see dirty dishes calling out to me.

Purple cat, purple cat what do you see?

I see crumbs on the floor beckoning to me.

White dog, white dog what do you see?

I see an old dog who can’t hold her pee.

Black sheep, black sheep what do you see?

I see too much Sponge Bob and Wizards of Waverly.

Goldfish, goldfish what do you see?

I see a bathtub filled with bubbles and Barbies.

Teacher, teacher what do you see?

I see a backpack filled with papers I must read.

Children, children what do you see?

I see a margarita on the rocks, and it’s not for me!

Filed Under: Bad Hair Days, Parenting 28 Comments

From The Ted Nugent Parenting Handbook

December 30, 2008 By Blonde Mom 6 Comments

Edited to add: OK dumb blonde alert. My husband just read this and was mortified that I’d said he told the girls an animal had killed the deer. So I’ll set the record straight. He told the girls that a coyote or fox had probably been nearby, not a wolf (apparently we don’t have wolves in Tennessee…who KNEW! I mean I only grew up here…) since they found some reddish gray fur near the deer. But he never told them that an animal had killed the deer. He just never brought up the subject of how the deer died. I’ll blame my poor retelling of the story on holiday brain, but Miss A did want the deer bones as a souvenir. THAT part I got right, dammit.

We had a lovely Christmas but by Sunday afternoon I felt the need to escape from Alcatraz, I mean home, as it had turned into a disco, High School Musical, Barbie, My Little Pony, dollhouse love-in and even the dogs were starting to look at me like, “Can you please restore boredom and order to this house so we can resume or leisurely grooming and squirrel gazing?”

I hadn’t been out really since Christmas morning, unless you count a quick trip to the grocery store on the day after Christmas. I met my brother and sister at the movies to see Slumdog Millionaire (which I highly recommend) and while I was out the hubby took the girls for a big nature walk at Edwin Warner Park. They wandered upon a partial deer skeleton, which was just the skeleton from the torso down. Had it not been for the hooves still intact with a bit of deer hair (sorry for the graphic visual), the girls probably wouldn’t have known it used to be a deer.

The hubby got a shot of the deer skeleton on our video camera and used the stumbling upon dead wildlife incident as his own little Nova episode to teach the girls about nature and predators and told them that a wolf had probably killed the deer for its supper. Although Miss C was a little scared of the skeleton, Miss A was completely fascinated with the deer skeleton and wanted to bring it home.

Later that night as the hubby was tucking Miss A into bed, he asked her what her favorite part of the day was and she shouted back, “The dead deer Daddy!!”