Author Archives: ParentingIsFunny

About ParentingIsFunny

Wife and mother of three beautiful girls and a baby boy. Although they sometimes make me want to cry, I find that laughing is much more fulfilling. Hence, my blog. Enjoy!

Losing your pet spider

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“I forgot to tell you,” my husband says, “When I was in my office today, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I looked over and there was a spider on my shoulder.”

My eyes widen in horror.

“It was just a little one.”

My eyes relax a smidge.

“My first thought was to brush it off, but then I remembered this is October. I’ll just walk around and introduce it to people as my pet.”

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“Hewoo. Will you be my fwend?” [Image by Clker-Free-Vector-Images from Pixabay]

“But then I forgot.”

Me: “You forgot?”

“Yeah. I must’ve gotten distracted. I forgot all about it.”

“So what happened to the spider?!” Read the rest of this entry

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Catlish

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On our walks to the mailbox, the neighbor’s cat, Callie, comes out to greet us with a meow. I respond in kind.

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Callie the Kitty

Callie often accompanies us the rest of the way to the mailbox, but today, she stopped short.

“You coming, Kitty?” Joe asked.

She merely looked at him.

“Mom, ask Kitty if coming,” he said in his sweet two-year-old way.

And because I speak Cat. Obviously.

What’s a mom to do? I turned to Callie and said, “Meow. Meow. Meow meow?”

Here was her response: Read the rest of this entry

I know you’ve missed him.

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Just like last time, the grocery store check-out line got long once I entered it, so Chex Mix Guy was called from what I assume is referred to as “the back” (even though it’s near the front of the store).

I watched him push through the thick hanging plastic doorway that separates the riffraff from the employee-only Cave of Wonders and scurry toward the check stands. When he looked up and saw me smiling, he hung his head and shook it.

“You’re always causing me trouble,” he said.

Here I had two options for how to respond. See if you can guess which I chose:

A. “I’m sorry. Just bad timing, I guess. I hope you weren’t in the middle of something important.”

or

B. Roll my index fingers around one another in a wide arc like a spinning hamster wheel and say, “Rapido! Rapido!”

The last time I was at this store, so were the cops. Apparently shortly before I arrived, someone couldn’t be bothered with the whole check-out process and simply walked out with a basket full of expensive liquor. CM Guy was off to the side speaking with the police. I guess not even cops warrant passage to the mystical magical “back.”

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Mibryant of pixabay.com was kind enough to take this photo of my liquor cabinet to illustrate this blog post.

So on this visit, I, “Crazy Chex Mix Lady,” had my line all ready to go should I get the opportunity to speak with CM Guy.

“I saw the cops here last week,” I began. Read the rest of this entry

The Predator Becomes the Prey

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I found this story in my drafts folder from about two years ago!

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Raccoon photo courtesy of Pixabay.

We spotted a raccoon. In our yard.

Normally this would be met with a little excitement, mingled with a twinge of fear as in: Don’t let the kids get close; it could be rabid.

But tonight the sight meant: We have chickens! Get that b*stard out of here!

No one said that, of course. The children, after all. But Hubs and I were thinking it.

He grabbed a stick and chased after the raccoon, which jumped on the lattice fence. As it was crawling down the other side, Hubs jabbed the stick through a hole and got the racoon in its belly. It fell the remaining two feet and scurried off.

[If you love all creatures, great and small, including chicken killers, my apologies.]

“That will keep him away. But not for long,” Hubs said.

The children went on the offensive. Armed with sticks and a surprisingly functional  homemade bow and arrow, they kept guard, marching back and forth along the fence. Read the rest of this entry

Mom, look what I can do!

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Joe called me into his room after I’d put him to bed last night, asking for a drink of water.

DSCN8754Classic stall technique.

He also held up his finger and said, “Get rid of it.”

As it was dark, I fumbled to find the end of his finger, where, what I thought was a broken fingernail, was hanging off. I easily removed it and tried to throw it in the trash, but as it took several tries to scrape the sticky substance off my own finger, I asked,

“Is this a booger? From your nose?”

Though I couldn’t see his beaming face, I could hear it in his voice.

“I got it myself!”

The last time I removed a booger from his nose, I had to wrestle him into the corner of the couch and use the jaws of life to pry his hands away from his face. (How is a two-year-old so strong?!)

So I said, “That’s good I guess.”

As I left his room, thinking maybe I won’t have to struggle to evacuate his nostrils again, it occurred to me that I had effectively taught my son to pick his nose.

Yep. *I* did that.

Sigh.

 

On grocery clerks and birthdays

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Have any of you made friends with the staff at your local grocery store? (If you have, tell me in the comments. I’d love to hear about it.) The meat guy at one place always says hi and makes small talk. One of the check-stand ladies in the same store calls me “girlfriend” or “little momma.”

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Remember this guy? Exhibit A: Boy

Another lady, when I was pregnant with Joe, said that she was telling her daughter, “You know the lady with three girls, two are redheads? She’s having a BOY!” Not only are we chummy, she talks about me to her daughter—wild.

Then, of course, there’s the CM Guy, who can’t seem to be rid of me. On my last visit to his store, there were two lanes open—neither manned by him. But, since both lines were backed up, the checker in my lane picked up her phone and called, “Check stand help,” or something.

A minute later, scurry scurry—because that is the only word that accurately describes the CM Guy’s speedy and purposeful walk. The man takes his job seriously.

So he scurries past the bagging side of the check stands, lifts and arm to point, and says, “I can take the next customer over here.”

Since I, as fate would have it, was the next customer, I moved over, saying, “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“For you, yes. At least, that’s what I’ll say to your face.” Read the rest of this entry

“You again.”

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“You again,” the Chex Mix Guy said with a smile. “Is there a sale on I don’t know about?” (If you missed it, you can read the first installment of the Chex Mix Guy saga here.)

I gestured toward my few non-Chex Mix items displayed on the conveyor belt before him. “You’d know it if there were.” He’d already scanned my, ahem, two cartons of ice cream.

chexmix“What you got last time should last you a few months.”

“I don’t know about months,” I said. “Maybe weeks.”

He nodded his agreement.

“Did you read the latest post about you?”

“Yes, but what about from the last time you were here?” he said.

“I was going to, but I thought people might be getting tired of these stories.”

“There should be a post every time you come,” he said.

So, in compliance with my enabler supplier, that’s what happened yesterday. The time before that, when I arrived at the store on the appointed day–the day highlighted and circled several times on my calendar–the day, you guessed, that my special shipment of Rain Check Cheddar Chex Mix was due to arrive, I first headed to the produce section to pick up some plums. (See, I can buy healthy stuff too.)

Someone scurried past me. I turned to look. Read the rest of this entry