No doubt, the first weekend of wonderful weather leaves a feeling of not enough hours in the day, and too many events in one weekend... Time once again to begin our children's direct I.V. connection of sucralose nectar from thirteen half-drank Hug jugs, commonly consumed and wasted at every back yard function. Was the summer's new artificial flavor red40 or blue1? Either way, they packed the enthusiasm of drinking directly from the hummingbird feeder and have the nutritional value of slurping from a sandbox shovel in a mud puddle. However, it just wasn't summer without the permanent colored mustaches, fighting over flavors, and complaining of foil lidded cuts, until late September.
Now enjoying that time of year where you live out of your car, constantly traveling from event to party, sport to picnic, and never home doing the crap you should be... The backseats already looking like a child's school locker, and a bag of snacks, the blankies, and extra kids clothes go everywhere. Spare shoes and band aids as well-- for you were mom, but lost round one of the you're not wearing those battle, yet knew in only an hour the cheap plastic sandals, three sizes too small, would soon be defeated!
My preparing to leave for these kind of days were always the same-- I ran through an obstacle coarse, collecting extra clothes, sweatshirts for later, kicked toys out of the way, let the dog in, found the missing shoes, packed the food, answered the phone, told the kids to go change, again; and the husband packed his 6pk, leaving the empty ice cube trays, whined he couldn't find his hat, and pissed in the driveway while I loaded the car... Every time!
But, we made it, and when first arriving to a child's birthday party who hasn't felt like-- dumping the gift out on the lawn, kicking part of it in the bushes, and throwing the un-opened card immediately in the trash..."ah, and here's your unresponsive Your welcome and I don't want to be the one asked to bust this shit from its packaging later...
And never a kid's event without the damn pinata; was your kid going to be the winner of the bat through the front teeth, or turn into the instant pain in the ass with the largest bag full of teeth rotting agent? Either way your child wasn't leaving with the same good attitude or the set of teeth he arrived with. I say, put that hired clown to use; catching a rabid raccoon and throwing it in the trampoline enclosure, surely you'd have the similar outcome of screams of a sugar over-dosed batch of children...and without the cavities!
It saves the yelling to "back up," "take turns," and my favorite, "make a line!" They were attempting an adequate line, and with the same functions as Black Friday shoppers, or people running from a burning building, no one wanted to be at the back when that sucker split! But, after 15minutes of tirade, not a single piece of candy falls-- two front teeth have dropped, little four eyes lost his left lens, and super dad was rocked to his knees by the chubby little freckled girl's swing to the nuts...
Apparently, for the sake of entertainment; this is the wiser solution to greeting at a party with a measuring spoon and the canister of sugar off the kitchen counter. Unfortunately never happens, simply because we can not part with sweaty mauled sucker sticks of filth, the half-chewed wads and candy wrappers later covering our car floors.
"Welcome, glad you could make it! Here is your favor bag of cheap non-functioning China shit (always a must) and open your mouth...here's just a little thank you of 9tbsp. of sugar, and also your container of frosting instead of wasting three cup cakes! Now if you need to wash it down with a hug jug, there are eleven open ones on each table, and your kid's lips will share ten of them before the party ends..." Enjoy!
Sitting at a group of picnic tables under a tent; I watch in aw as another mother frantically peeled the skin off her child's hot dog. I suggest, "simply walk over to the grill and melt your fingerprints off and destroy your nails, by wrestling a hot piece of charcoal" and hand your kid the bag of Doritos already! Now immediately yell to your child, nine times, to come and eat it...you may still offer it to your husband, and place a glob of ketchup before given it to the dog...and here, you can sit swatting flies off this jello bowl all day, instead of at a mangled hot dog no ones going to eat anyhow!"
Another mother, continued watching her child through the bottom of a wine glass, never comprehending the kid's deep cherry red image was simply because of lack of sunscreen, not Merlow reflection. But, later in the evening, as she was wrapped in her jacket, and he still un-shirted, she finally asked, "aren't you cold?" She then stupidly, places her hand on his back, "He doesn't feel cold, Hun!" Of coarse he didn't feel cold, his goosebumps were so sun burnt he was like grabbing a hold of hot curling iron!
I often wondered why someone wasn't just greeted with, "No one really cares for you... and someones about to get drunk and share this, and before we sacrifice three bottles of water and waste the last un-burnt hot dog on you, I think you should just leave now!?
At this time, my toddler drops his pants and pees directly under the food table. Not noticing, I was intensely begging one of the balloons on the trampoline to pop already, so the screams from the loudest-mouthed brat would be muffled by the choking of latex pieces. Instead, my entire outfit would be greeted by my two year-old's hands, urine drenched shoe lace, and his hot dog bun containing 9lbs. of ketchup. He was happily eating just the wienie, fully bathed in ketchup, with his black little hands and dark finger nails, standing proudly over his puddle of urine.
So, I asked my husband for napkins, naturally by the third time, I received recognition of my speaking...
and he brings me one frick'n napkin...one! My pants look like I had assisted an elephant in giving birth and the child looked like he squirted ketchup down the chimney and then slid down it multiple times.
What the hell was I going to do with one napkin...one cheap napkin wouldn't even successfully block his air way if I chose to cram it down his throat...
Now, Mr. conservative today, yet if we were talking of his use of laundry soap or him pouring a toddler an over-flowing mixing bowl of cereal, for collecting flies on the table the remainder of the day...no acknowledgment of waste.
Same thing always went for baby wipes-- You could have an infant clutched by the ankles, spinning its covered ass around like an auger, and he'd hand you two wipes! Really, I was thinking more of cracking the window open and feeding in the garden hose...but two wipes? (and nearly dry because no one could ever shut the lid tightly on them) Two might get the shit caked out of your wedding ring and possibly your thumb nail... But, they weren't handing you only two wipes and then taking the baby off to the tub...apparently, they were waiting around to see a damn magic show, with two little white barely damp, squares and what looked like a septic back up on the living room carpet...
Possibly, we could capture some attention on this matter with magically turning his 30pk into a 6pk, next time we grocery shopped, conservatively.
Keep your "one" napkin, I could do a better job with the dog licking and then skimming the floating shit off the kiddie pool and splashing its kool-aide and toddler piss mixture to my face. And weren't we always thrilled that the first thing ever asked when arriving, "Did your kids bring their swim stuff? ...We also have a slip'n slid"...just as disgusting, only more hazardous as the landing is sharp rocks and the bon-fire pit!
But, I changed them to go collect bacteria-filled scrapes, grass stains, and goosebumps anyway-- Should have just whipped one of their shoes across the neighbor's lawn, threw their dry, clean clothes directly into the piss pool, and rolled the towels in ketchup and the sandbox before it all began. I could have as easily, smashed two heads together, jabbed a rock through his foot, and passed out kisses and band aids immediately, instead of later interrupting my buzz and having to leave my chair. But, soon enough, there's crying and bleeding, we can't find hair barrettes and sunglasses, or missing shoes (and never the too small, cheap pair, always the newly expensive ones to get left behind) I have successfully covered my children in enough filth to ruin their bed sheets tonight, as dragging them from the car would be enough excitement, there just isn't need for attempting baths.
Kids are intoxicated in sugar, over-tired with exhaustion, and like wrestling sticky, wet gators into car seats. When I finally have one to the car and go for a second, there's a Popsicle on pavement sized melt down, and your husband and the first child are missing once again! But, with patience enough for two more hours of, time to go tragedy, summer is just approaching, and the calendar is already filling; I'm sure the best of melt downs and sugar comatose moments are yet to come, and if you can't handle the heat...make them eat the damn hotdog skin, and take a little dunk in the kiddie contamination pool!
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