Conversations in the car

Squishy while investigating her leg: “I can’t find my booboo.”
Me: “You can’t, is it all better now?”
Squishy: “No, my booboo is broken.”

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Crazy: “I’m tired.”
Me: “You can lie down when we get home.”
Crazy: “Can I ride my bike when we get home?”
Me: “I thought you said you were tired?”
Crazy: “Well no Mom, I’m not tired in the garage, I’m only tired when we get to the apartment.”

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Squishy: “hfhvhdjsiwjdhfnvncjdj”
Me: “Pardon?”
Squishy: “hfhvdjfjwidhfndmdkwjenf”
Me: “One more time Sweetie.”
Squishy: “jfjvdjdkdjfnvhdjsksjd”
Me: “Ohhhh, you took your shoes off”
Squishy: “Yes” followed by deep sigh of exhaustion, while dropping her head into her hands, as if trying to make me understand was more tiring than running a 100 m dash.

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An open letter to the morons who live next to me.

Dear morons,

I realise that you are 19 and therefore have no real understanding that the world is made up of people other than yourself. I was there once myself, and I would like to take this opportunity to send out a blanket apology for all the times I was loud and obnoxious when the people around me wanted nothing more than to be left in peace.

I would like to remind you that you live in a shared residence, your closest neighbours, ie us, live approximately 6 cm away from you, ie the thickness of our shared walls.

I realise that this means we sometimes need to compromise on our life styles a little bit to live harmoniously. For example, I don’t let my kids run around screaming outside your bedroom window at 7 in the morning; that would be inconsiderate of me.

I, like every other inhabitant of this building except you, am willing to compromise, to make sure my life impacts yours as little as possible, now, you are an adult, it is time for you to man up and do the same.

No one, but you and your friends wants to hear your music shake the walls, especially after midnight. The reality of my life is that weekend or weekday, my kids are up at 7. And believe me, tomorrow, you will know it too.

Now of course there are exceptions to every rule, and all of us neighbours are willing to put up with a party from time to time, but in civil society, it is time to time, not every two weeks, and you provide forewarning so that we can leave if we so choose.

As a hint, let me tell you about these places called bars. They are filled with like minded individuals, and are designed with the appropriate sound insulation. Go party, celebrate, have fun, be 19, but do so somewhere else and let me sleep.

Sincerely,
The old lady who lives next door.

One of my kids might be a drug addict, and the other one thinks I’m pretty

I was having one of those days, you know the ones, you think to yourself at 4 p.m. “I have to go pee”, then suddenly it’s 8 p.m. and you still haven’t gone.

It wasn’t a bad day, or a particularly stressful day, and I wouldn’t even qualify it as hectic, it was just full.

Crazy went to the dentist today, he went with his father because I am all burned out on dentist appointments and I couldn’t manage it anymore. Apparently he was exceptionally uncooperative. They were trying to measure the height of the teeth to put on his baby dentures. This required him to open his mouth, and he was adamantly refusing to do so. The dentist decided to use laughing gas to calm him down.

Rumour has it that he panicked at little at first, and calmed down quite quickly after inhaling the fumes. When he seemed fully relaxed, the dentist removed the mask from his face and asked if he was okay. His response was, “a little bit more please”. My four year old was high, and asked to get higher…

After the two hour long appointment, they were liberated, and Hubby called to tell me how it went while driving a sleeping, hungover Crazy home. Shortly thereafter, with my still full bladder, I went to pick up Squishy, who greeted me with a big screaming hug and “Mommy, you are pretty”. I gave her a big hug back and said thank you. Then she just stared at me for awhile before saying “and me?”

These two little stories got me through the next few hours. Crazy was of course emotionally wound up, and totally exhausted, so you know, he was challenging. Squishy, well, sweet Squishy, I don’t know what the frig was up with her, but I suspect it involved teeth as well. She was throwing fits, and crying because she didn’t want to eat, then because she did, then because she had a sticker stuck to her hand that she couldn’t get off. On a side note, watching a two year old trying to get a sticker off her hand, only to get it stuck on the other one, over and over again is hilarious.

A few hours after that, I finally went pee.