So. I’m still feeling pretty shitty, but I’ve thought about it and I don’t want my last post of 2015 to be the angry, sad, mess that I wrote the other day.
This is going to be a “Shit My Family Says” post, but with cheating. Cheating because it’s shit I’ve already posted on my blog’s Facebook page. But maybe *gasp* you haven’t liked me on Facebook! Then, ALL THIS WILL BE BRAND NEW. Lucky, lucky you. Now go like my page.
If you have already liked my page, some of this might be new to you anyway, because Facebook has this stupid trick they call an “algorithm.” (I just gave up trying to spell that word and the red line went away. Huh.) Anyway, they want to show you what you want to see…and they guess what you want to see by what you “like” or share or comment on. So maybe THIS WILL ALL BE BRAND NEW TO YOU TOO.
And now, I present you with the Best Shit My Family Said in 2015:
And now, I change the title to the Best Shit From August to December 2015, because I am tired and I guess I post a lot.
“The other day I was attacked by a horsefly and it bit me three times. I was seriously wounded with blood and everything. Yesterday I was looking at it to see if the swelling had gone down and my sweetly concerned son said, “Ohmygod, put that away, it’s so fat and gross!” So that’s how I found out that it is still swollen and he is a dick.”
6-yr-old: If you see any slime – stuff around here, don’t touch it because it’s my boogers.
She’s so considerate.
Husband: Sorry for being a pain in the ass.
Me: It’s okay.
Him: You always say okay. You never say, “You’re not a pain.”
Me: Yeah. Cause it’s okay.
6-yr-old hid a bunch of old Easter eggs in my bed. Under my pillow. Everywhere. This morning I woke up to discover that they weren’t all Easter eggs. Some of them were Silly Putty eggs. I now have silly putty all over my head. *Note: I was able to get the shit off my head, but there are still spots on my comforter that look really gross and NOT like Silly Putty if you know what I mean.
“I know that I have allergic reactions. I know they are sneaky. I know they can be dangerous. I know what they feel like.
But I just spent a damned HOUR absolutely CONVINCED that 6yo had brought home head lice, because my head was itching so bad.
It wasn’t until my entire body broke out with hives that I stopped giving her the side-eye.”
“So, you guys know how I don’t know how to use my phone? Well. Yesterday was a Very Bad Day. I was laying in bed, just sobbing, completely losing my shit, and I hear these clicking noises. Click click click click click. I look over and find MY PHONE TAKING UNAUTHORIZED PICTURES OF ME. Unbelievable. I have like 10 pics of my red, snotty face. This thing is out to get me.”
6yo: Wow, that’s really melted.
Me: You have to eat ice cream cones fast.
Her: I wasn’t even eating it! I just sat it down here to save for later.
My Facebook ‘memory’ from a year ago today:
You know you’re raising your child right when you tell her “not right now” and she says, “Fine. I guess monsters will just eat your face.”
Last night we were playing this Head’s Up app where you hold your phone up to your forehead and people try to make you guess what’s on the screen. We’ve played it for hours, two nights in a row, and I just can’t stop loving it.
It was my turn, and my husband shouts a clue at me. “Our 20s! What we were doing in our 20s! Where we spent most of our 20s!”
My children looked at me expectantly while everything, EVERY SINGLE THING I did back in the day flashed before my eyes. I could NOT think of EVEN ONE THING that I wanted to say in front of the kids.
I’m not good under pressure. I did lots of good-person things in my 20s. I just can’t think of them when you put me on the spot like that, jerk.
The answer was “a bar.”
“I literally just said, “you’re not sleeping in my bed with a box on your head.”
What has happened to my life? I’ve turned into a foul-mouthed Dr. Seuss.”
“I am so screwed. I just made a new rule and my 6-YEAR-OLD daughter replied with, “Eh, you’ll forget about that by tomorrow.”
Today my husband told me a lot of things, as he does often. “You’re beautiful.” “You’re a great writer.” “Taking care of yourself is the only thing you *have* to do.”
“She reminds me of you. Wears a black leather jacket and boots and is an asshole to everyone.”
I love that man.
“Stats as of 9:45 a.m.
Inanimate objects screamed at/threatened: Approximately 34.
Times I’ve cried: Once
Tasks accomplished: Two, because I put both “scream” and “cry” on my to-do list.”
In case you’re wondering if my state of mind has improved, I just looked in my t-shirt drawer and yelled, “Fuck you, you sneaky bastards!”
I’m not used to people being at my house during the day.
I had just taken a bath, opened my bathroom door a crack, and said, “I hope no one is in here, cause I’m coming out and all I’ve got on is sneakers and a little bit of cheese.”
Either they didn’t hear me or I’ve found a very effective child repellent.
***I found the cheese in my shoe, if you were wondering.
Things my 13yo has said to me in the last 30 minutes:
Me: GET IT IN GEAR!
Him: *sitting in the floor, not dressed, banging a spring against his bed, looks up, with a completely straight face* MOM. I’m in 5th gear.
Him: *screaming like a maniac.*
Me and everyone else: *running* What happened?! Are you okay?
Him: Oh, man, it was awful! I tried to put this tube top on the cat and–
And that’s when I walked away.
“Omg, my 6yo has like a hundred million presents under the tree.
You know what she’s crying about this morning?
She’s afraid that after Christmas I won’t let her have the bowl of pinecones on the table.
I could’ve saved so much money had I known the little shit just wanted seeds.”
6yo is playing with Barbies, all dressed up in their finery. I assume they are attending some ball, or maybe a wedding. I walk by and hear this:
Barbie #1: I never liked him. It was all part of my mission.
Barbie #2: We’ve got him now. Good job, agent.
Annnd, that’s all I’ve got in me right now, folks. Happy New Year. I love you guys. ❤