a little bit of everything...
when your children ask you if they can do something, anything other than a firm "no!" means yes. a firm "no!" means wheedle and cajole, and daddy will probably cave.
to the parent, anything but a firm "yes!" means no. a firm "no!" means, boy, i will fuck your shit up.
happy mother's day to one and all. i think the vast majority of my pals list is now mothers. predominantly stay-home mothers. our little coffee clatch, as mother hoodlum (the original) would say. this particular coffee clatch sure is an odd lot. but we're fun. last year i listed off special mother's days to all my friends who were moms. pardon if i don't do it again this year. the honest-to-god truth is that there are only two moms who really deeply matter in my life. and i already told both of them on seperate occasions that i loved them. still, not to sound the asshole, hahahaha, (too late) i hope all you mothers had a wonderful day. not just mother's day, but each and every one.
while lost in portland in a car with my two whiney kids, a sore thumb, a headache, and my mother, rest assured she (my mother) will have countless stories to share about relatives i have never met, many of whom are deceased, and will, furthermore, argue with herself about unimportant details ("it was may of '47...no, maybe it was june of '47. no, it couldn't have been june, because your great aunt winona hadn't come to visit yet. maybe it was may of '46. no, i'm pretty sure it was may of '47, see? 'cause aunt winona came in june, and it happened just before she came to visit..."). i will half-listen, gleaning tidbits that might actually interest me or that i find interesting (i have some kind of connection with my late grandfather (i only vaguely remember him at all, he passed when i was 3 or 4) and the more i learn about him, the more connected i feel with him), whilst nodding and making noncommital noises like, "mmmmhmmm. yah. yiiiiiip. hmm hmm hmmm."
i have been eating right, and working out faithfully. the wife is working out two times a day six days a week while gone, and i don't want her coming back all rock hard and hot as hell (well, she is anyways) to a flabby pale hubby who has done little but sit on his ass all day. i drink a ton of water. if my pee was any more clear, it would be tap water.
the kids continue to battle bedtime like it is the evil villian in some kind of existential video game that they play in their minds (which would make a cool movie). i'm hoping to god and sonny jesus it is simply a transitional thing that will settle after awhile, cause i horde that time after they go to bed with miserly greed and avarice.
i have decided that when i am alone with my children, i have begun to sound a bit like milton from office space. i have a consant litany of thoughts, admonitions, and suggestions being mumbled at a just barely audible volume, (gbbl not do that stppl rabbl gonna get hurt fppl gip bmmbl red swingline stapler stimpl rimple gumble it would be easier if babbl lippl dip gonna burn this place down.)
it was about 2:30 in the afternoon some idle thursday. 2:30 is the time when someone has pulled the plug on my energy pool and i am doing good to keep myself upright and functional. i am drinking coffee like it is the essence of life.
no. 1 says, "i wan' cokkit milk, pease!"
i shuffle into the kitchen, get out two cups, plop a scoop of nesquik in each (because i know that no. 2 is a bandwagoner, and will want some too.)
not this day. he runs in, annoyingly perky, considering my own state of unenergetic, and says, "i 'ant jooss!"
"you can't have juice, i already put the chocolate into the cup. you can have chocolate milk."
"i don' wan' chokkit mewk. i 'ant jooss!"
"you can have chocolate milk, i'm making that now."
"i don' wan' chokkit."
"i'm not giving you juice. you can have chocolate."
"i don' wan' chokkit. i 'ant jooss!!"
"tell you what, you can have ritz crackers or chocolate milk and that is it."
"i don' wan' riss crackews. i don' wan' chokkit mewk. i 'ant jooss!!!!"
now, o beloved and long-suffering non-existant reader, i do something of which i am not proud, and which i am sure has put my father of the year award on "status pending" yet again, but i was tired and worn out and fed up with these kinds of circular arguments:
"then fuck off!" i tell my youngest.
he folds his arms high across his chest, tilts his head down while shooting a fiery gaze up at me from just below his brows, and says, as he stomps away:
"no, dadda, i don' wanna fut off."
i felt like a heel, and told him, and apologized. of course, the story afforded many laughs later for my wife and friends, who can totally see no. 2 pulling that kind of stunt.
but he ended up drinking the chocolate milk.
darth sardonic
to the parent, anything but a firm "yes!" means no. a firm "no!" means, boy, i will fuck your shit up.
happy mother's day to one and all. i think the vast majority of my pals list is now mothers. predominantly stay-home mothers. our little coffee clatch, as mother hoodlum (the original) would say. this particular coffee clatch sure is an odd lot. but we're fun. last year i listed off special mother's days to all my friends who were moms. pardon if i don't do it again this year. the honest-to-god truth is that there are only two moms who really deeply matter in my life. and i already told both of them on seperate occasions that i loved them. still, not to sound the asshole, hahahaha, (too late) i hope all you mothers had a wonderful day. not just mother's day, but each and every one.
while lost in portland in a car with my two whiney kids, a sore thumb, a headache, and my mother, rest assured she (my mother) will have countless stories to share about relatives i have never met, many of whom are deceased, and will, furthermore, argue with herself about unimportant details ("it was may of '47...no, maybe it was june of '47. no, it couldn't have been june, because your great aunt winona hadn't come to visit yet. maybe it was may of '46. no, i'm pretty sure it was may of '47, see? 'cause aunt winona came in june, and it happened just before she came to visit..."). i will half-listen, gleaning tidbits that might actually interest me or that i find interesting (i have some kind of connection with my late grandfather (i only vaguely remember him at all, he passed when i was 3 or 4) and the more i learn about him, the more connected i feel with him), whilst nodding and making noncommital noises like, "mmmmhmmm. yah. yiiiiiip. hmm hmm hmmm."
i have been eating right, and working out faithfully. the wife is working out two times a day six days a week while gone, and i don't want her coming back all rock hard and hot as hell (well, she is anyways) to a flabby pale hubby who has done little but sit on his ass all day. i drink a ton of water. if my pee was any more clear, it would be tap water.
the kids continue to battle bedtime like it is the evil villian in some kind of existential video game that they play in their minds (which would make a cool movie). i'm hoping to god and sonny jesus it is simply a transitional thing that will settle after awhile, cause i horde that time after they go to bed with miserly greed and avarice.
i have decided that when i am alone with my children, i have begun to sound a bit like milton from office space. i have a consant litany of thoughts, admonitions, and suggestions being mumbled at a just barely audible volume, (gbbl not do that stppl rabbl gonna get hurt fppl gip bmmbl red swingline stapler stimpl rimple gumble it would be easier if babbl lippl dip gonna burn this place down.)
it was about 2:30 in the afternoon some idle thursday. 2:30 is the time when someone has pulled the plug on my energy pool and i am doing good to keep myself upright and functional. i am drinking coffee like it is the essence of life.
no. 1 says, "i wan' cokkit milk, pease!"
i shuffle into the kitchen, get out two cups, plop a scoop of nesquik in each (because i know that no. 2 is a bandwagoner, and will want some too.)
not this day. he runs in, annoyingly perky, considering my own state of unenergetic, and says, "i 'ant jooss!"
"you can't have juice, i already put the chocolate into the cup. you can have chocolate milk."
"i don' wan' chokkit mewk. i 'ant jooss!"
"you can have chocolate milk, i'm making that now."
"i don' wan' chokkit."
"i'm not giving you juice. you can have chocolate."
"i don' wan' chokkit. i 'ant jooss!!"
"tell you what, you can have ritz crackers or chocolate milk and that is it."
"i don' wan' riss crackews. i don' wan' chokkit mewk. i 'ant jooss!!!!"
now, o beloved and long-suffering non-existant reader, i do something of which i am not proud, and which i am sure has put my father of the year award on "status pending" yet again, but i was tired and worn out and fed up with these kinds of circular arguments:
"then fuck off!" i tell my youngest.
he folds his arms high across his chest, tilts his head down while shooting a fiery gaze up at me from just below his brows, and says, as he stomps away:
"no, dadda, i don' wanna fut off."
i felt like a heel, and told him, and apologized. of course, the story afforded many laughs later for my wife and friends, who can totally see no. 2 pulling that kind of stunt.
but he ended up drinking the chocolate milk.
darth sardonic
Labels: attempts at being a dad, mother's day, office space, randomness
posted by darth sardonic at 2:17 PM
8 Comments:
Thank you for making me laugh the hardest I did all week. i don anna fut off. I think my co-worker in the next room heard me.
Bel
ahhahahahaha!! Me too! Fut off!
Brilliant! i love kids! i had to tell off a little boy in one of my lessons at school for saying exactly that 'fut off' to another boy. it was so hard not to laugh. And the poor little thing was mortified, and had no idea what he had said.
Aren't you just thrilled with the fact that no.2 is becoming so independent and knows exactly what he wants and what he doesn't want? lololol
"I don't wanna fut off" I was laughing so hard and so loudly that Q said, "What?" I told her the story, with my own embellishmeents, and she was rocking with laughter as well.
A tale well told indeed.
Lady Macleod sent me here and I am so glad she did. I've often wanted to tell my kids to "fut off" but feared they'd tell me right back, or worse, my mother-in-law. Thanks for the laughter.
ooohhhh Darth... 'he drank the milk...' number 1 and 2 sons are gonna wipe that smugness right out of you... you know that dont you? I can read between the lines and smell your trepidation... Lol, excellent blog as usual!
Your nos. 1 and 2 sound a lot like mine (a girl and boy). I think they purposely team up to push my buttons. And, like you, when I try to anticipate their desires, it usually backfires and my fuse is blown anyway.
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