Save me…

As you all know by now, my children are nuts. I thought for this post, I would put together some of the headshaking moments that I have had to deal with. Are you ready? Good, because I’m not ready to relive most of these. Sometimes I wonder if anyone will come and save me from this asylum and these children. Their actions and some of the things that come out of their mouths are…ugh, where do I even begin? Here goes nothing…

 

I am probably the only mother in the world that has had to hide a jockstrap from her 8 year old son because he tried to wear it around like a pair of a**less chaps. Do you know how disturbing it is to tell your son to try on his cup for football to make sure it fits, and he comes out into the living room singing “I’m Sexy and I Know It” all the while dancing, gyrating, and twirling around in the jockstrap…without the cup…just jockstrap?! It’s really disturbing just in case you were wondering. But, it’s not the only time he did it, no. About every other day he would come out of his room and out of the blue, his a** was hanging out of the damn thing and he would jiggle when he walked just to add emphasis to the fact that he had his butt hanging out of this thing. It didn’t matter how much we threatened, and followed through with, grounding, he would constantly put that effing thing on and prance around. Hence, why it finally had to be hid from him. No one wants to see an 8 year old’s naked bottom twerking. Just. No. One. Who does that?!

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Then, there’s my daughter. I’m pretty sure she’s going to grow up to be a serial killer. She’s just creepy! Listen to the song she made up and was singing. Actually, it was her Barbie singing it at its make-believe concert, but none the less, my daughter made up the lyrics. I was a little terrified that she may be genuinely disturbed in the head, and wondered what she honestly thought her father was capable of. I stood in the doorway, listening and contemplating whether or not I should call the cops and have them keep an eye on her in the future…just in case. Here’s the song:

If you break my heart, my dad’s gonna tear your legs apart

If you break my heart, my dad will shoot you in yours

If you break my heart, they’ll never find you ‘cause my dad’s an officer

If I don’t like you anymore, I’ll tell my dad you broke my heart

**Anyone else as worried as I am?! Mind you, she was five when she made this song up. Yeah…**

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As I’ve said before, my son sleep walks. In turn, I don’t get very much sleep because I have to constantly chase after him in the middle of the night. It’s exhausting. I wouldn’t be surprised if the bags under my eyes flew to Paris without me. I’m a very light sleeper (thankfully, because my husband has found a way to practically die when he sleeps—no waking him up) so my son’s homebound excursions aren’t usually a big deal…until they are.

He is a wrestler, and a very good one at that. A few months ago, he was invited to be on an elite team that would represent Illinois in a nationwide children’s wrestling competition. It was down to the final day (Sunday) and his team was in line to win first place. The team to beat was Pennsylvania and the kids from there are tough. For starters, we didn’t get back to the hotel until 10 pm Saturday evening; that in itself sucked, because I’m usually knocked out by 9. After we got in, we went through the whole “wash you’re a***s, brush your teeth, then get in bed” thing. Then, after wrestling for two days, his compression shorts and singlet needed to be washed before the funk from the two knocked his poor opponents out before the whistle even blew. Washing that crap (along with some other dirty clothes) took forever and cost about the same as our mortgage…stupid hotel drying units. Finally the laundry was done and I could start laying out everyone’s clothes for the next morning and packing everything up. After all was said and done, I laid down and looked at the clock; it was almost 3 am when I finally fell asleep.

I heard shuffling at the end of my bed. There were a thousand things running through my head…”Were there critters in the room? Did I forget to close the door all the way and someone broke in? Is our friggin room haunted?!” I looked over at the clock…4 am. WTFudge?!? I have to get up in two hours! I peek over the blankets to see my son jumping up and down, going through his usual warm up routine before he hits the mat, and pacing at the end of my bed. **Seriously?! The kid hadn’t sleepwalked in a couple months and he’s going to pick tonight (or in this case, the a** crack of dawn) to start?! FML.**

Me: What in the hell are you doing?

Son: I’m getting ready for my Pennsylvania match. He’s gonna be tough to beat. I haven’t lost a match yet and I want All American. I just gotta beat him.

Now, I know it can be detrimental and dangerous to wake someone up during one of these episodes. That’s why whenever he has one, I play along with whatever fantasy is going through his head and say what I need to say to get him back in bed. But this, right now, eff that.

Me: If you don’t get your a** back in bed right now, the Pennsylvania kid is going to be the least of your worries. I. Will. Kill. You.

Son: But I…

Me: GET THE EFF IN BED!!!!!!

**Side note: His team went on to win the entire competition and my son went undefeated, only giving up one point the entire weekend He was worried about nothing.**

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The innocence of children and the cold hard fact that this world is messed up, never cease to amaze me. While I was folding laundry, I heard the kids were in the living room reading a Ripley’s Believe It or Not book. In that book was a blurb about a man who could squirt milk from his eye for so many feet. The kids start arguing as to whether or not this feat was actually possible, and after about five minutes of arguing, it got quiet. I figured the argument was over. Right about that time, I finished folding and went to put the clothes away. I walked past my son’s room and saw him and my daughter on his computer Googling something.

Me: What are you two doing?

Bradley: I’m looking up “squirting” so Lexi can see that it is possible to squirt milk from your eye.

In the search box: squirting…then he pressed enter. AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! I ran to the computer and shut it off. I had never been so thankful that we had sucky internet than I was in that moment. My son stares up at me, dumbfounded.

Me: From now on, you don’t Google anything without asking me if it’s alright first. And, yes, it is possible to squirt milk from your eye, I will look up a video for it on my phone for you guys. You guys just don’t google anything!

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As I sit here reminiscing, I worry that I’m not going to survive many more years of dealing with crap like this. I wonder if there is someone out there who will come save me from this mess and give me a break. I suppose it is after all, my burden to bear. Like they say…what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.