And so it all ends. Rather abruptly, I might add.

The only stipulation that I put on the men-children and then having all their candy and crap upstairs was that when they ate candy the trash went INTO the receptacle. The only option for disobeying this stipulation was losing all of their candy with no excuses.
It took all of three hours (approximately) and one small pack of jelly beans to make this happen. Good job, men-children. Keep striving for greatness!

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Rabid Bunny Day 2013- WINNING!(Well, not really but…)

Well, it’s upon us again.  Rabid Bunny Day 2013.   This year, I was foiled in my attempts to convince the men-children that this whole bunny-bringing-you-candy-for-no-reason-at-all, was indeed yet another farce carried out by their parental units.  Alas, along with that psychotic, blood thirsty, tooth thieving bitch (that I might add has NEVER left them any $$$) they remain believers.  Along with a fat man in a red, velour suit that breaks into your house and watches you when you sleep…they continue to hold fast.

So, this means that for another 365 days, I shall plot and scheme.  Hoping, that next year will be the year that I prevail.  But for now, baskets are done and I am one sleepy bunny.

UGH. Just, UGH.

Melody’s Pet Peeve of the Day: (and this one is going to piss some of you off)

I cannot stand it when I hear someone refer to their pet(s) as their “fur children”, “fur babies” or fur ANYTHING. It makes the fur on the back of my neck stand up.  Although, this does afford me the opportunity to call my children pretty much anything that I want.  Hmmm…

Yes. I know that many people think of their pets as their “babies”. That is not what this rant is about. It is the actual utterance of one of the aforementioned monikers of endearment that I abhor.  Right along with painting the toenails on your cat, (or trying to, hehehe) a harness on a Guinea Pig (WTF are you hoping to accomplish?!) or a parka on a dog.  

 

Stop.  Please.  

Thank you. Rant over.

I’m just an awesome mom. Always looking out!

One of the items on the boys’ chore list for the week is “Pick up your toys or lose them”. I guess they didn’t take that one seriously. For the last hour, I have been “picking up” their toys and they are being lost. To the trash can. I also took it upon myself to downsize their “collection” of crap in the toy bins. Boy, are they going to be happy that I did their chore for them!!! 
I guess I’m just an awesome mom like that…

And the word of the day is ….. SHIT!

Things are going rather well here this morning.  Watson goes to work, boys are up and fed.  One is dressed and the other well, he’s just lazy.  I’m sitting on the computer, having my coffee and just generally fucking around, doing nothing.  Until I hear this wee little voice coming from the dining room.  “Oh SHIT!”

Now, this wasn’t a little slip of the tongue.  THis was a full-fledged, I just fucked up, “Oh SHIT!”   Needless to say, but I will, I started laughing immediately.  While profanity is certainly not acceptable from children in this house, I believe that there are far worse things that they could be doing.  So, proceeding to do what I thought the “good parental unit” would do, I called Mr. Pottymouth back into my office for a meeting of the minds. 

 He walks back, no doubt trying out scenarios to excuse his momentary lapse of lingual control.  Here I sit, still laughing and I ask him, “Can you tell me again what I heard so I’m not mistaken?”  This kid starts sobbing uncontrollably!  Accompanied by tremors and rolling tears!  I’m still laughing, although now, not at the fact he used the word so precisely and LOUDLY.  Now, I’m laughing at the fact that my child is so terrified of actually SAYING a word in front of me that I fear he may pass out.  Fast forward….. I threaten the use of soap next time I hear him say a bad word. Over and done with.  Or so one would think…..

He leaves and his brother asks, ” WHAT DID SHE DO?!” (you have to imagine the enthusiasm)

To which the little asshole replies, “Not shit.”

(Originally posted on August 10, 2011)

 

 

Non-existent Santa Claus vs. The Very Real Tooth Fairy

Okay, riddle me this….. My kid told me at Christmas that Santa Claus was not “logical”. Tonight, with this loose tooth issue, I tried to convince him that there was in fact no tooth fairy and that it was mom and dad that gave the cash for the tooth. HE DID NOT BELIEVE ME! Let me get this straight….he doesn’t believe in Santa but he DOES believe in a cracked out fairy that has nothing better to do than take nasty, bloody teeth from kids that routinely forget to brush, floss and rinse but, choose to  leave cash for them? WTF?!

Apparently, I have done more damage to my child in his short 69 months here on the planet earth than I could have ever imagined.  Go Melody! 

(Originally posted January 18, 2011)

Zombie Baby. No, really.

Jasper has started doing this “thing” that I have affectionately dubbed, “Zombie Baby”. It’s this jerky movement that mimics one of the Walkers on Walking Dead. You know, when they finally get their mitts on a breather and when starting to eat them, blindly opening it’s mouth, bobbing it’s head until contact is made with it’s victim’s face, neck or available appendage? Yeah, his intended target is normally his fist or forearm but, today he seems to be hell-bent on my jugular. Munch on, kiddo. Munch the fuck on.