I have noticed something lately. I have not been clumsy in the last few months! This is a real breakthrough as usually I am walking into walls and using large glass jars filled with miscellaneous items as offerings to the cold W-mart concrete floor. I'm the girl that drops something and then as I try to pick it up, I kick it 3 feet ahead of me. Usually there are an average of three kicks and much spawn laughter until I sigh and say "Just get it, OK?!! Unless you would enjoy an extremely long stroll home, Mrs. Makesfunofmom!! (this is her Indian name)!!"
Well to me, going to the store at Christmas time is torture. Once I am in their however, I tend to roam aimlessly and scream "Oooooh,, shiny thing!!" because I was a crow in my former life. Being poor exasperates this as I know: I can haz no shiny things... (this is where you and I pout together and then you throw me a green olive from a few feet away and we celebrate that I caught it in my mouth as I did a triple back flip and an arabesque because, lucky for you, I wore my bedazzled Tu-Tu today!)
The girls want to buy things for their friends for Christmas, which I understand, but having no funds to back this up I have to get creative with my thinking and rope them into lesser items.
"So, how many friends are we talking about, DramaGirl?"
"Let me count" (insert Jeopardy theme)
Her eyes glaze over as her head tilts back and she goes into a trance where only her fingers and lips are moving. I stare at her feeling defeated every time a finger gets pointed and quickly calculated into the figure.
"17, and,,,,, maybe a FEW boys."
"There will be NO BOY GIFTING,,,UNLESS he is offering me cattle for your hand in marriage!"
(you see, I have figured out that my humor DOES have an audience, but it is normally NOT my children, yet still I expose them to it, because they are my only captive audience..)
"Huh? Cattle? What's wrong with you, mom?"
(these are the after-effects of "unqualified captive audience" humor, as you can see it's not very gratifying for me.)
(I now do the ceremonial plane trip with fingers over her head)
"How about you MsDebate?"
"Really? How did it just so happen that you have the SAME amount of close friends? Will I be getting any cattle with THIS transaction?"
(awkward silence as I hope the eldest would pick up on my humor attempt)
"I don't even know what you are talking about right now mom,,, seriously?!?!"
"Can we make them something?" I say in an attempt at being frugal.
(The following statement was said with heaping amount of disdain)
"Like a CRAFT????"
( I was not aware that this option had been officially rated "L" for --L-A-M-E--- by the pre-teen association of America, but it is! You may want to notate this if you have pre-teens!)
I smile, and once again insert undetected humor with a large amount of fake enthusiasm.
"YES, toilet paper cozies with pink yarn pom-pom's!!!!!!!"
"AGAIN, I don't even know what you are talking about, mom".
MsDebate looks at me sweetly, as she touches my arm in a condescending way and says:
"If it will be burned, like normal, then NO...."
"NO mom!!!!" Squeals DramaGirl, in her typical over reactive manner.
"I won't burn it..." I say defeated as I stand wishing I would have eaten my young at birth.
Both children perk up to the thought of making food and eating the damaged food specimens. I perk up to eating copious amounts of raw cookie dough with no regard to my safety, thinking salmonella is also a fun word to say!
Food is always good, have you ever had anyone turn down a plate of cookies? I mean Fruitcake maybe, but not cookies or candies..
So the plan is set into motion.
"But Seductress", you ask while caressing my blog page: "I thought this post was about being clumsy" you say, curious of my lack of post continuity, and as you continue,,, YOU MOCK ME BY SAYING:
"I don't even know what you are talking about right now, Seductress!"
Here ya go....
Here ya go....
Before I leave the store, I drop a jumbo sized jar of applesauce. It falls directly on its bottom, spewing forth a 360 degree volcano strength eruption. The 150 snowbirds in the aisle buying dried prunes and sugared dates have now been christened with applesauce from their shins downward. Here is a basic chart of their unhappiness, cleverly drawn in the form of an apple:
My children quickly walk away from me, the pool of sacrificial applesauce and the jaded Snowbirds. I smile and do that cute little "sorry" finger wave as "CLEAN UP AISLE 12" blares over the sound system, interrupting the jovial Christmas tunes.
Now....Off to buy supplies to make you Toilet Paper cozies with pink yarn pom-pom's!!!