Showing posts with label dancing matt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dancing matt. Show all posts

Monday, July 2, 2012

My Parenting is so full of WIN.

My children recently had their semi-annual plaque scraping and professional tooth polishing appointment.  Even scheduled early in the day, we spend most of our morning there.  Three kids, three cleanings, one oral hygienist...Yeah.  It takes a long-ass time.  
 We came prepared, having brought a backpack filled with crayons, coloring books and reading materials, but it was the Mancala board that got the most use:
Mancala Tournament: Hour Two
By the time the last child was released with healthy teeth and gums, we were nearly starving.  I promised to feed the heathen spawn, so we headed to McDonald's.  (Where else can I poison my family for under twenty dollars?) On the way there, the girls decided that British accents were just what our boring old car ride needed.  The next twenty minutes on the interstate were very entertaining.  Did you know that anything and everything is not just funny in a horribly exaggerated accent, but freaking hilarious?
The fun didn't stop when we reached the drive-thru at McDonald's.  
While I wasn't savvy enough to order the food in my semi-convincing accent, I did greet the cashier who took my money with an enthusiastic "Ello Guvn'a!" making Madison nearly shoot a snot rocket at the windshield trying to stifle her laughter, while the two in the back brayed like donkeys.
Having still not had enough fun, we kept it up all the way home, the hilarity of the situation causing the two smallest campers to increase their volume with each word they spoke.  Finally, I had to ask them to bring it down a notch, saying, "You know what, guys? I don't think they yell everything in Great Britain. I can't recall the last time I heard someone announce: "IT'S TIME FOR TEA!"
Just then, the high pitched, and overly affected voice of Samantha piped up from the back of the van and yelled, "MERRY CHRISTMAS, BITCHES!!!"

I'm still trying to decide whether that's a parenting fail or a parenting win.
 
Which do you suppose it is?
 
 
(If you are guilty of grinning at this, please share it with your friends.  If you thought it was a ridiculous waste of your time, share it with your enemies.)
 
 

Monday, June 25, 2012

Marvelous Thrift Store Finds and Leg Amputation.



On Saturday, I visited Goodwill.  I told myself I was only going in to look.  Just for a second.  (That's all it takes, isn't it?) I don't need a cart.  If I get a cart, that'll make me put stuff in it and then I'll buy that stuff and then we'll have too much stuff again and need to get rid of that stuff.  The circle is vicious.
Nope, I'm just going to look.

Riiiiiiight.

Now, I have to tell you that I've planned to buy new stools for my kitchen for a while now and hadn't yet found a set I absolutely had to have...until Saturday.  Because Saturday I found these.

Ignore the peeling vinyl, I'm going to re-cover them.
The best part?
$3.38!  Each!!

At that price, you'd better believe I trotted up to the front of the store, grabbed myself a cart and shoved those suckers in it faster than a ...faster than...faster than something already fast performing a difficult task IMPRESSIVELY fast.
Those stools were MINE.  I staked my claim. After giving me a bit of trouble, I finally convinced the bar stools that they needed to come home with me and they fit into the cart obligingly.   This is important.  If you put something in your cart, that's like writing your name all over your school supplies or licking the last piece of pizza.  It says "Mine".  And no one else will get their grabby Saturday-thrift store mitts on them.  Unless they want to tangle.  *threatening face*



I was pretty stoked about this stool purchase.  Until.  Until I found something even better!  An air hockey table for only forty bucks!  FORTY!  I whipped out my cell phone and sent Sugar Daddy a text telling him of our incredible good fortune.

"Rejoice!  I have found the air hockey table of our dreams!"

I imagined our days filled with the soft hum of the table and the clickiety-clackity-smack of the puck as we battle for a tiny plastic replica of the Stanley Cup.  

"Basement or garage, which do you think it'll fit in?"

He sent back, "Um...no."

WHAT?!   Are you kidding me?  This is the end-all-be-all of family entertainment devices!  We NEED THIS.

"Aw, why not?  It's only $40.  C'mon, man.  I WANT IT!"

As Miss Madison will recognize, he sent back the same message we send to our oldest daughter when she tries to push the envelope: "The answer is no.  This will be the last text about this.  Further texts will result in consequences."

Now, it's true that we really don't have much room for an air hockey table anyway, and his idle threat had me giggling in the middle of the store, but I couldn't very well respond to Sugar Daddy with anything supporting his logic, so I instead sent:

"*pfft*  Dude. That's whack."

Whatever.

I got the stools.


And these are GREAT bar stools! 

Sadly, once I got them home I remembered that there is a difference between "bar stool" and "counter stool".  That difference is about 4 inches.  My counter is simply too short for their awesomeness. 

But wait!  I have a dad.  My dad has major power tools.  I'm very hopeful that the combination of my dad and the major power tools will be just the ticket to taking them down a notch...or four. 




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Edited to add:  I sent my father a text asking if he'd be willing to cut four inches off 8 legs...belonging to no one he knew, and if so, when would be a good time. 
"Now."  He sent back.

Seriously?  Sweet!

I hurried over to my folks' house where we performed partial amputations on the bar stools with a table saw...and laughed while we did it with sickening glee.   Hobbled, they now look like this:


And they fit perfectly under the counter. 


I took the severed legs home with me.  If the stools give me any more grief I can always flaunt them with a menacing look that says, "There's more where this came from."
 



Now that I think of it, I might use them in my next giveaway.

  


If this made you laugh, will you share it with a friend?






Friday, June 22, 2012

How Lily either helped someone drive to Texas or buy drugs on an otherwise normal Friday morning.

I forgot to tell you guys what happened with Lily and me last week.  She and I were out picking up stuff for her birthday party that day ...so this was...Friday...and as we were leaving, we passed a young couple, maybe in their early twenties, holding a sign that said: "Out of gas.  Need to get back to Texas.  Anything helps." 

Still driving, we chatted just a little bit about how far away from home they were but the discussion ended there.  Listening to the radio, Lily's mind was still working on the couple. 

Soon she said, "Mom?  ...Could we give them something?" 
I said, "Would you like to?"
She nodded.
"See what I've got in my wallet." 
She said, "You've got five bucks." 
"Do you want to give it to 'em?" 
"Well, can we?" 
"Sure!  Let's go around the block." 

And so we did. 

She leaned out the window and handed the young man a five dollar bill.  His face lit up and he thanked Lily, thanked me and his female counterpart chimed in with a happy "God bless you."  I could tell their appreciation was genuine.

Now, I don't know what they were driving through Iowa for, but I saw their car nearby in the lot (they had actually been standing near it when we pulled in) and it did have Texas plates on it, so there was no second thought of Gee, I hope we're not helping them support their crazy glue addiction.  But you know what?  Despite that little nagging voice of skepticism, it still feels better to give SOMETHING, doesn't it? 


They were grateful, she felt wonderful and I was extremely proud of my kid.


What about you?  Would you encourage your child to give to a panhandler? 

Some Other Stuff I Wrote