But Mommy Doesn’t Want Three Titties…

It’s hard to believe that we’re nearing summer’s end.  Only 1 month and 1 week to go until the kiddos (and I) return to normalcy with the start of a new school year.  I am looking forward to being able to keep the house clean during the day.  And the glorious quiet.  But I digress.

This summer has been trying.  Not only am I learning about the new baby in the house, but I’ve got Little Man and Mini Me under foot.  We also have my 14-year-old step son visiting from Utah, who has lovingly been named The Enforcer.  It suits him well.  He is a lover of enforcing rules and a lover of rough housing. He likes to let others know who is boss and usually that would be him, even when an adult is around. Mix him with my two and I’m extremely surprised that there has been nothing broken and no one drowned in the pool.  They feed off each other.
While there have been plenty of instances where all three are getting on my last nerve and if anyone asked me one more time to go to Steak and Shake for dinner I might have exploded with rage…
they sure have made me laugh. And say what the fuck. And wonder whose children they are, because I swear they could not be ours.

We Mike took to curbing the boys’ swearing and misuse of the word rape by putting a bar of soap in their mouths.  Then Mini Me had to be involved because she repeats everything without regard to what she’s saying.  Then we had to begin the rule that whomever tattles on a person who swears gets it twice as long…do you see the cycle here?

There were games played that involved dressing up as Islamic women.  I overheard Little Man actually tell Mini Me that only her eyes and hands could be exposed.  I chose to not know what that was about.  I’m pretty certain that The Enforcer was dressed as a turtle, by closing himself almost completely in a green sleeping bag…I have no idea how the turtle fit into their game.  There were days of endless Monopoly playing – some weird sped up version that took less than an hour and involved outlandish deals for properties.  There were games played in the pool that really just looked like they were trying to drown each other.  I guess you can call anything you do a game if it’s fun, right?  Kind of like the movie Saw….

I’ve been watched. Stared at by an unspeaking teenager…and not in a mopey, angsty sort of way.  In a smiley, strange, stalker way. Waved at a million times.  Said hello to when that same person said hello to me just two minutes before.  Pouted at.  Asked a thousand gazillion questions and been stunned by the things that come out of the mouths of a child.

On the morning following my birthday dinner, Mike was making breakfast with the kids as I listened from the bedroom:
Mike: “Let’s slow down the talking a little bit now. I’ve got a massive headache this morning.”
Mini Me: “Is it from drinking?”
Mike: “NO! I had 4 drinks!”
The Enforcer: “Would you like me to go to Target to get you some migraine medicine?”  (He’s a “helper”. I forgot to mention that.)
Mike: “No. We have some good stuff here.”
The Enforcer: “Is it booze?”

The other night, we were taking a walk to 7-11 for a slurpee fix and Mike said we couldn’t walk three abreast along the sidewalk.  Later in the walk:
Mike: “Walk, Mini Me.”
Mini Me: “But, Mommy doesn’t want three titties.”
Adults in unison: “Whaaaaaat?????”
Chicken: “Do you mean abreast?”
Mini Me: “Yeah. Titties.”

Sometimes you just have to shake your head, try to act invisible as you walk away, and remind yourself why you don’t take them out in public.  Like the time Mini Me told the Olive Garden waiter that she wanted 10 kids when she grew up…all with different daddies.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “But Mommy Doesn’t Want Three Titties…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s