Just a few years ago, my husband and I really got a kick out of comedian Bill Engvall's skit "Here's your sign." In case you need a refresher, it was about stupid people needing to wear a sign that alerts the general public that they are, in fact, stupid...thus preventing the non-stupid majority from depending on them for anything of true importance. (Example...a guy stopped on the road with a flat tire, get's asked "What, did your tire go flat?" "Uh, nope. I was driving along and the other three just swelled right up on me." Stupid person's reply: "Well, the heat will do that.") So you can appreciate this, even if you are not one of the stupids, because you have probably been asked the "Here's your sign" kinda question from time to time.
Because we have ourselves been sign-worthy at times, and because we concede that we are raising a generation of 7 "stupid" people, we can to this day laugh at the same old skit. Our days and weeks are often filled with new material for the old stupid skit. Well, this weekend was no exception, and I am hoping it is the end all, be all of stupidity and that we will never top this one.
Nope not even the time dear daughter #2 wrote her name on the bedroom wall in sharpie, and then tried to blame it on her non-writing sister.
Not even the time that the same daughter wrote the sharpie word "pantry" on the pantry door. (Thanks honey, we would have never figured that one out.)
Not even the time that the baby (who is a weenie grabber) reached down and took his diaper completely off for full access, fell asleep, and then woke himself up by peeing on his face. (Can something be sad and hilarious all at the same time?) Nope...nothing has been met with such full-on stupidocrity. (I know, but it sounded good.)
Saturday we attended a birthday party at a friends house. They decided to have a party for all of their kids at once (great for the host, not so great to be the guest needing to bring 4 gifts) and it was a great party. Truly, my friend is a great hostess. She made sure she had shade, tables, chairs, lots of bottled water, iced tea, popsicles, the works. As we all hung out in her front yard (Front yard/garage cul-de-sac parties seem to be sweeping the nation, this was our second in a matter of weeks, and because of the popularity, we can almost forget about not being welcomed to come inside, or even allowed in the back yard) we watched the kids slide down the enormous water slide, and they were having a great time.
Personally, some of my favorite moments were getting "lei'd" (Yep, it was a luau theme), getting repeatedly squirted by the squirt gun wielding boys, and sweating.
This is where our fun weekend of stupid begins. Squirt guns. First of all, a big thank you and shout out to our host and hostess friends for giving the boys the weapons in the first place, but secondly for the brilliant advice given to the boys.
"Do not squirt the adults."
Yep, it was kind of like telling the kid at the state fair to only use his blow gun on the styrofoam target. (Again, courtesy of Bill Engvoll...you've gotta listen to that one!)
So, after 2 hours of getting caught in the crossfire of squirt guns (a little here, a lot there), I again hear the hostess say: "If you shoot the grown ups, you will lose that squirt gun." (Here's your sign, my dear...what do you mean "if?")
At this point, her point was moot, I am already dripping with arm pit sweat and the squirt gun is the only thing keeping me cool.
So after being told when to play, when to eat, when to watch present opening, and when to play again...we decided that we had had about all the fun we could stand. Hot and tired, wet and sweaty, we headed home. Hearing on our way out, "Don't forget your squirt guns!" Dang it.
Our first order of business was the "don't squirt that in the car" lecture, and my kids seemed to be obeying pretty well. We also followed with the you can play with that when you get home speech. Do you see where I am going with this?
It gets better, my friends.
Some friends of ours cancelled a date with us, not naming any names (April), and as luck would have it other friends called for a last minute "we don't have kids" get together. We were on it. It had been a long day of family togetherness, and we were ready for our night out with the potty trained. We ate, visited, and decided that it would be oodles more fun to rent a movie and go home. (Stupid is as stupid does, where do you think the kids get it?)
In fact, instead of the theater, we decided we would rent a flick, pull up a comfy piece of couch, and watch at home. These were comfortable friends, heck they have even slept over before, so the chill out option really seemed great.
Until we got home.
My oldest (15) had been in charge of his siblings, and while I am always thrilled to come home to find the house is not burned down and the kids are conscious, nothing could have prepared us for the level of stupid that awaited us. It was a whole 'nother stupid...as Forrest Gump would say.
We walked in with our sweet friends and were in the kitchen putting away the Haagen Daz we just picked up for movie night, and realized that the floor was a little wet, oh, and maybe even slightly sticky. Not a strange occurance in a house with 7 kids. So, I kept putting away the other groceries.
I walked over to the TV to set the movies next to the DVD player, and again, thought intently about the sticky floor. I mean, we wanted a movie theater experience at home, that is why we have the home theater system, but the sticky floors I could do without.
Upon closer inspection, we saw the shimmery splatters of stickiness everywhere. Floors, cabinets, countertops, refrigerator, walls, and as I began to figure this one out, my angry mom brain started to leak smoke.
"Son, what happened here?"
"I dunno."
"Really, you were in charge, how could you miss this?"
"I dunno. Maybe it happened when I was giving the baby a bath."
"There was nothing odd to you about sticking to the floor everywhere you walked?"
"I didn't see it."
"Son, you didn't have to see it...you can feel it, you have to peel your feet off the floor just to take a step."
"Maybe it was Son #2...I saw him drinking Pepsi."
"Son, there is no way that these splatters could come of drinking Pepsi, unless the child was riddled with bullet holes and the Pepsi was spraying out of him."
"I DUNNO! I DIDN"T DO IT!" (Yes, this child has mastered teenage attitude and eye rolling.)
Since the witnesses were all asleep, the mystery would have to wait a while. Needless to say my hubby and I had to resort to mopping the floor, just to be able to sit with friends to watch a rental. (Oh yes, we all deserved signs tonight...us for electing to Blockbuster it, and the kids for going crazy with the carbonated sugar.)
As we watched our movie, and zombies began to emerge from their beds for that all important drink of water, we were able to engage in a little detective work. Our CSI experience went like this:
"Daughter, what happened tonight that the floors got all sticky?"
"Oh, Son #1 and Son #2 filled squirt guns with Pepsi and had a squirt gun fight."
"Daughter, please take off your sign, I need to borrow it."
As I summoned Son #1 (because #2 was fast asleep and there is no waking him), I had to ask:
"Son, your sweet sister tells me that you filled the squirt gun with Pepsi and that you and Son #2 had wars in my kitchen?"
**Here is where he practically says "Hold my sign, I don't want to lose it!"
"No, I filled it with Pepsi, but I dumped it right out."
"Son, I may be holding this sign, but I am, in fact, simply a carrier. Please tell me the truth."
"Honest. I just dumped it out."
Yeah, kinda like you just googled that word the other day merely to find out what it meant.
As other witnesses emerged and we got a majority rule on the matter, it was deduced that Son#1 (Helloooo....you are almost 16) did in fact fill the squirt gun with Pepsi, numerous times, and unleashed the carbonated trigger all over my maple cabinets and granite counters. Tonight, as I was cleaning for company tomorrow night (Cinco De Mayo, baby), I found the lovely carbonated carmel colored concoction all over my stove, backsplash, refrigerator, pantry door, dishwasher, baseboards, and most probably, but undetectably the carpet.
(In fact, as I have given this more thought...the only reason that son #1 probably bathed the baby was because he was caught in the crossfire of Operation Pepsi and would have been a dead giveaway.)
I have a good sense of humor, and I have even been known to instigate a raw egg fight in my sweet little kitchen. One so awesome that showers were immediately needed. I get why they might have done this and why it might have been fun, but here is what I don't get.
Dude, the parents are coming, the parents are coming.
Wouldn't you have at least tried to clean it up? Why would you bathe the baby, but leave the evidence everywhere else? Wouldn't you have thought to yourself, "get the mop real quick and wipe off the counters...and she will never notice the walls, the fridge and the baseboards!" Even a half baked cleanup job would have been admirable.
Needless to say, tonight, I am awarding Son#1 the "Here's your sign" award.
And I actually might sleep a little more soundly as I contemplate their futures. With this kind of stupidity in the house, they won't likely be getting away with much!
Here's your sign.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Thursday, May 1, 2008
The Maid trades in vacuum for soapbox!
Hear Ye, Hear Ye...
Now that I have your attention, well, where should I start.
"Let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start, when you read you begin with A, B, C...when you sing you begin with Do, Re, Mi..."
Kinda makes you want to go to a musical, right?
Let me just say, that I hope that it is not a 5 & 6th grade choir concert! I mean, the Sound of Music, they are not, but we love those little pipsqueaks so we go, eh?
My daughter came into my bedroom before maidservice began, and announced that she was all too excited for her impending choir concert this evening. She was nervous, though, or so she said. Maybe she was just looking for a bit of encouragment from mom, but apparently maids with sheets still stuck to their faces are not good at this. I believe I mumbled something about you will do fine...now don't miss the bus. (Touching, I know.)
A quick background on said daughter...she is beautiful, she is delightful, she is unassuming and very sweet...so I never mind attending and supporting her. She maybe even has some musical ability and talent. (Yes, friends, I was quite the musical genius. I know you thought it was her piano playing, professional drumming father, but alas, she must get it from me. I was Gretyl in the Sound of Music after all.)
I went about my day...appointments, driving, drop offs, pick ups, more drop offs, shopping, more drop offs, and scattered throughout were diaper changes and feedings...and I still managed to get to the cafeteria (lovely place for a concert, if you ask me...wink) with time to spare.
I saw that it was filling up, my hubby and kiddos had saved me and the boys seats, and realized that I would need to stand near the back because of the stroller. I did have a good view though, so I waited expectantly to hear this delightful little program. Entitled "Opera tunists." A skit/play entwined with adapted versions (altered lyrics) of famous operatic pieces.
? Hello ? Opera ? 5th & 6th Graders ? What are we thinking ?
I remained hopeful.
As the not so eloquent, nonetheless sincere, chorus teacher took the stage, she thanked everyone for coming and told us how hard the children had worked on this and "made it their own" (that is code for if it sucks, don't blame me) and then proceeded with the much anticipated - sarcasm - program.
Again, let me remind you that I truly wanted to be here...I really wanted to hear the program and support my daughter...but apparently not badly enough to filter out all of the things that I had to endure at said program. Things that annoyed the crap out of me.
What? You ask?
Let - me - tell - you. (Get a coffee, this will be a minute.)
1) Terrible sound system, or at least a lack of knowledge as to how to use it. 200 kids are on stage and you can't hear anything they are saying because the microphones are placed poorly, the kids don't project, and the teacher is too "busy" to notice that we can't flippin' hear the dang show. (They can hear the announcements in the morning across the street from the school, but they can't figure out how to pipe the sound into a tiny little cafeteria.)
2) The lights throughout the whole cafeteria...not known for mood lighting I suppose...were on full blast. Would have been nice as a "hint" to other attendees if the lights had been dimmed...maybe they would have shut up so that we could hear just how bad the sound system was. Or maybe we could have at least not have had to look at all of the idiots with bad manners around us.
3) Families (mine included) showed up to support their siblings, however, some idiotic parents were too self-centered to take their squawling brats out of the "theater" so that others would have the privilege of "not hearing" a little better. "I gotta go potty...I goootttaaaa goooo pawtttyyyy!" Take the dang kid to the potty already.
4) Some of the kids my peeps go to school with have dads who feel it is appropriate to hang out at the back of the "theater" and carry on an entire not hushed conversation...and they do! Hello...shut up, I am trying to hear this. Step outside or go to Hooters if you need a beer and a chat, you can sit outside and be as loud as you want.
5) Some of the kids my peeps go to school with have moms who feel it is appropriate to bring squawling brat to the chatting dad and assert "Your turn" as loudly as she can so that dad will shut up and take this kid to the potty that he has been screaming for and they have been ignoring for 20 minutes now.
6) Apparently my kids also go to school with other kids who own heelies...um I know, I bought them too...but wheeling around the back of the cafeteria during our priceless opera is inappropriate. Kid - You would know this if your mom would get off her cell phone and discipline you.
7) Some kids don't have heelies, but apparently ignorant parents. So they think it okay to get up and jump all over 3 rows of people and bounce in and out of the row where their parents are sitting as the parents completely ignore her shenanigans. Don't pretend that you are so into the program that you don't see it...you barely even speak English. Hello? Se Habla Ingles? Since I don't know what the Spanish word is for brat, can you plant her little butt down, before I escort her to the border? Gracias.
8) Apparently bouncing children aren't the only ones who need an escort to the border. (And I am not talking Taco Bell.) Several parents took their children to the drinking fountain, the bathroom, and even the front of the freaking cafeteria to take a picture and wave to "sissy" right in the middle of the program! Oh, no that is not distracting at all. Kind of like your hubby's wife beater shirt and 50 tattoos, and 5 cell phone calls. (No disrespect to t-shirt wearing tattooed readers, you more than likely would be polite enough to remain seated and stay off of your cell phone.)
9) With 7 children, and a predisposition to tardiness, I am not opposed to those who must enter late. It happens to all of us. Let me just say, that if you do enter late, please do so discreetly and quietly and don't let the BIG METAL CAFETERIA DOOR SLAM behind you. Thank you. (Over and over again...slam, slam, slam, slam, duh? What happened to trying to casually slip in when late and carefully buffer the door with your hands?) UGH!
10) Not a soul was in sight from the school...no principal, no other teachers, no other staff, no security, nobody! Had just a handful of name-badge wearing Public School officials been present to man the doors, the back of the room, and the side of the "theater" which housed the restrooms, well...maybe we could have had a real theater experience, eh?
Lest you think I am a goody two shoes that brags about everything my child does and scrapbooks each bloody nose, let me tell you that I was as happy as everyone else in the room that it was over. In fact as the cheers from the crowd erupted, I was thinking "You can't fool me for a minute with that fake applause crap" I knew it was not "Yay sweetie...that was awesome...encore!" But rather it was "Woohoo we can get our peeps out of here and go out to dinner", where we can quit acting like we are interested in all those other dang kids and just spend time with ours. I know...I've got your number.
As for my sweet opera singing little 6th grader, she stole the show in a too tight, spaghetti strapped shirt that was against school dress code, fur lined winter shoes, the wrong pants (needless to say dad got her ready) and chewed gum the ENTIRE time. Since I asked, she informed me that it was okay because she just pushed the gum to the side when she had to sing. Yep, that is my future "Soprano" and most probably future Heidi Klum reject. ("You are off...please exit the runway")
As designer Christian from Project Runway would say, she is a "hot mess."
Now that I have your attention, well, where should I start.
"Let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start, when you read you begin with A, B, C...when you sing you begin with Do, Re, Mi..."
Kinda makes you want to go to a musical, right?
Let me just say, that I hope that it is not a 5 & 6th grade choir concert! I mean, the Sound of Music, they are not, but we love those little pipsqueaks so we go, eh?
My daughter came into my bedroom before maidservice began, and announced that she was all too excited for her impending choir concert this evening. She was nervous, though, or so she said. Maybe she was just looking for a bit of encouragment from mom, but apparently maids with sheets still stuck to their faces are not good at this. I believe I mumbled something about you will do fine...now don't miss the bus. (Touching, I know.)
A quick background on said daughter...she is beautiful, she is delightful, she is unassuming and very sweet...so I never mind attending and supporting her. She maybe even has some musical ability and talent. (Yes, friends, I was quite the musical genius. I know you thought it was her piano playing, professional drumming father, but alas, she must get it from me. I was Gretyl in the Sound of Music after all.)
I went about my day...appointments, driving, drop offs, pick ups, more drop offs, shopping, more drop offs, and scattered throughout were diaper changes and feedings...and I still managed to get to the cafeteria (lovely place for a concert, if you ask me...wink) with time to spare.
I saw that it was filling up, my hubby and kiddos had saved me and the boys seats, and realized that I would need to stand near the back because of the stroller. I did have a good view though, so I waited expectantly to hear this delightful little program. Entitled "Opera tunists." A skit/play entwined with adapted versions (altered lyrics) of famous operatic pieces.
? Hello ? Opera ? 5th & 6th Graders ? What are we thinking ?
I remained hopeful.
As the not so eloquent, nonetheless sincere, chorus teacher took the stage, she thanked everyone for coming and told us how hard the children had worked on this and "made it their own" (that is code for if it sucks, don't blame me) and then proceeded with the much anticipated - sarcasm - program.
Again, let me remind you that I truly wanted to be here...I really wanted to hear the program and support my daughter...but apparently not badly enough to filter out all of the things that I had to endure at said program. Things that annoyed the crap out of me.
What? You ask?
Let - me - tell - you. (Get a coffee, this will be a minute.)
1) Terrible sound system, or at least a lack of knowledge as to how to use it. 200 kids are on stage and you can't hear anything they are saying because the microphones are placed poorly, the kids don't project, and the teacher is too "busy" to notice that we can't flippin' hear the dang show. (They can hear the announcements in the morning across the street from the school, but they can't figure out how to pipe the sound into a tiny little cafeteria.)
2) The lights throughout the whole cafeteria...not known for mood lighting I suppose...were on full blast. Would have been nice as a "hint" to other attendees if the lights had been dimmed...maybe they would have shut up so that we could hear just how bad the sound system was. Or maybe we could have at least not have had to look at all of the idiots with bad manners around us.
3) Families (mine included) showed up to support their siblings, however, some idiotic parents were too self-centered to take their squawling brats out of the "theater" so that others would have the privilege of "not hearing" a little better. "I gotta go potty...I goootttaaaa goooo pawtttyyyy!" Take the dang kid to the potty already.
4) Some of the kids my peeps go to school with have dads who feel it is appropriate to hang out at the back of the "theater" and carry on an entire not hushed conversation...and they do! Hello...shut up, I am trying to hear this. Step outside or go to Hooters if you need a beer and a chat, you can sit outside and be as loud as you want.
5) Some of the kids my peeps go to school with have moms who feel it is appropriate to bring squawling brat to the chatting dad and assert "Your turn" as loudly as she can so that dad will shut up and take this kid to the potty that he has been screaming for and they have been ignoring for 20 minutes now.
6) Apparently my kids also go to school with other kids who own heelies...um I know, I bought them too...but wheeling around the back of the cafeteria during our priceless opera is inappropriate. Kid - You would know this if your mom would get off her cell phone and discipline you.
7) Some kids don't have heelies, but apparently ignorant parents. So they think it okay to get up and jump all over 3 rows of people and bounce in and out of the row where their parents are sitting as the parents completely ignore her shenanigans. Don't pretend that you are so into the program that you don't see it...you barely even speak English. Hello? Se Habla Ingles? Since I don't know what the Spanish word is for brat, can you plant her little butt down, before I escort her to the border? Gracias.
8) Apparently bouncing children aren't the only ones who need an escort to the border. (And I am not talking Taco Bell.) Several parents took their children to the drinking fountain, the bathroom, and even the front of the freaking cafeteria to take a picture and wave to "sissy" right in the middle of the program! Oh, no that is not distracting at all. Kind of like your hubby's wife beater shirt and 50 tattoos, and 5 cell phone calls. (No disrespect to t-shirt wearing tattooed readers, you more than likely would be polite enough to remain seated and stay off of your cell phone.)
9) With 7 children, and a predisposition to tardiness, I am not opposed to those who must enter late. It happens to all of us. Let me just say, that if you do enter late, please do so discreetly and quietly and don't let the BIG METAL CAFETERIA DOOR SLAM behind you. Thank you. (Over and over again...slam, slam, slam, slam, duh? What happened to trying to casually slip in when late and carefully buffer the door with your hands?) UGH!
10) Not a soul was in sight from the school...no principal, no other teachers, no other staff, no security, nobody! Had just a handful of name-badge wearing Public School officials been present to man the doors, the back of the room, and the side of the "theater" which housed the restrooms, well...maybe we could have had a real theater experience, eh?
Lest you think I am a goody two shoes that brags about everything my child does and scrapbooks each bloody nose, let me tell you that I was as happy as everyone else in the room that it was over. In fact as the cheers from the crowd erupted, I was thinking "You can't fool me for a minute with that fake applause crap" I knew it was not "Yay sweetie...that was awesome...encore!" But rather it was "Woohoo we can get our peeps out of here and go out to dinner", where we can quit acting like we are interested in all those other dang kids and just spend time with ours. I know...I've got your number.
As for my sweet opera singing little 6th grader, she stole the show in a too tight, spaghetti strapped shirt that was against school dress code, fur lined winter shoes, the wrong pants (needless to say dad got her ready) and chewed gum the ENTIRE time. Since I asked, she informed me that it was okay because she just pushed the gum to the side when she had to sing. Yep, that is my future "Soprano" and most probably future Heidi Klum reject. ("You are off...please exit the runway")
As designer Christian from Project Runway would say, she is a "hot mess."
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