Thursday, October 31, 2013

Happy Halloween!


Afternoon Readers,

A princess, a crayon and a bumble bee all walk into a bar.

And the bartender says, "Thanks for coming to pick up your mom."

Kidding.

A little bit.

Probably going to spike the apple cider later with some bourbon.

The motley crew I just described are beyond excited, and it's probably my fault for fueling them up this morning with pancakes, syrup, and overly-high expectations of how fun it is to run through the rain and beg things off of strangers. 

I'm going to spend the day running around, buying a two pound bag of candy, dressing people up, sending them out to get more candy, and subsequently eating the candy I bought by myself.

I might even get a shower after everyone goes to bed, but you know me, I hate spoiling the end of any good, horrifying, possibly unsanitary story. 

So, from myself, Husband, Belle, the Crayon, and a baby who doesn't realize he wants to be a bumble bee, but will be forced into that fuzzy costume no matter what...

Happy Halloween, Readers!


Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Put a Cork In It, Kid

"Now, Mrs. Kellerman, if you'll step this way, we'll let you blindly pick out one of three insults you can live with for the rest of the day."

Morning Readers,

I have to admit, being a perfect parent would go a little smoother if my children would stop saying things like, "You, leave me alone."

Sometimes, I don't think any of them realize I'm trying to look better than all the other parents of young children, and they shop lift a tin of mints anyway.

I suppose they get points for only clogging the toilet one out of the last three times they tried this week. Then again, soggy toilet paper and petty theft are dull in contrast with the talking back that's been happening on a daily basis.

The baby gets a pass. He's sitting in a salad bowl right now, and looks adorable. 

Before I had children, my Big Book of Parenting came with tables and charts, lists and vin diagrams about how my kids would respond to me when I spoke. For instance, page. 748 had clearly printed-out dialogue for years three to four:

Thursday, October 24, 2013

Zombies and Harlots: A Free Chapter of Horror

"Paige, I really feel like you picked hunting zombies over cleaning up after the kids a little too quickly. But, let's get a move on."
Morning Readers,

On a scale of "I just stuffed the baby's shoes full of marshmallows" and "I still haven't cleaned the pee off the play kitchen that was victimized last night," I'd say, this morning, the Kellermans are operating at about a...

"Why are you two kicking each other in the face again?"

Moving on.

Halloween's right around the corner, which means I'm about to bathe myself in Kit Kats. However, because I can't pull out that giant bag of chocolate, pretend it's for trick-or-treaters, and then eat it by myself in a closet just yet, I've decided to hand out something else instead.

"Is it a Halloween themed post on how to craft pumpkins from felt, Paige?"

Do I run six miles every morning?

So instead, please sit back and enjoy "Zombies and Harlots," chapter four of At Least My Belly Hides My Cankles: Mostly-True Tales of An Impending Miracle, and I'll see you all next week.

Lights, please...

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Explosion on Register Eight

"Ok, I looked up "disaster" in the dictionary, but what do you mean you're never going back to the store again?"
Morning Readers,

Fun fact #250

If you try taking pen marks off your dining room table, using only a Magic Eraser and wishful thinking, it'll take the finish off and leave you with a table that only makes you cry in certain types of light.

But enough bragging about my shellacking skills. Let's talk about what's in the cabinets.

Because we don't have a pantry.

Huh?

I'm not really sure. I think the builders of this lovely abode were too concerned with putting it on a crappy foundation to worry about things like shelves that hold ten pounds of canned goods and possibly a large bag of flour.

Circa 1969....

Friday, October 18, 2013

We Made You Breakfast

"Hello, room service? Yes, we'll need two bowls of cereal. Oh, and bring a bottle of Scotch for our mother."

Afternoon Readers,

     Plans to deal with the Split level are up and running, but that doesn't mean I haven't lost massive amounts of sleep, staring at the back of my eyelids and wondering whether we really should pack everyone up and join the next passing circus.

The only problem I have with this is that the baby just learned how to walk and wouldn't have a talent to contribute, besides letting us shoot him out of a cannon and running to catch him before he landed in someone's lap and slapped them in the face.

You see my dilemma.

What?

No, I'm not worried about the rest of the family. We look fabulous in sequins.

So, I blame the astronomical sleepiness which contributed to my huge lack in judgement, when I fed Sundance breakfast this morning, and decided to shut my eyes for the few minutes before the boys woke up.

*Idiot alarms of the world go off in unison*

I suppose it was the first sloshing sound, or perhaps Sundance yelling, "Get the towel," but, either or, I knew I didn't want to open my eyes.

So I lay there and listened to my fate:

"She's gonna love it."

"Just pour a little more."

"Makin' the breakfast."

There are times in this parenting gig when you know you were irresponsible and the mess awaiting you is totally your fault. So you accept it. But there are other times when the scale of what awaits you is so huge, you're not sure who let you have children in the first place.

As the baby and I walked down stairs (me in a shirt and no pants, and him in pants and no shirt), the twins presented their work with such a flourish, I had no words.

Mostly because I'd stepped in chocolate milk and was completely disoriented.

And then I found my words, and they were something along the lines of, "What the hell?"

Sundance smiled from behind the coffee table. "We made you breakfast."

I surveyed the middle of the living room. "Ahh, yes. We're not close enough to Christmas, so I was wondering why all the condements are open and put into groups."

In the center of the spread, stood what I surmised to be the main course. I've broken it down into a quick recipe here so you can make it for your family, if Fear Factor announces they're coming to dinner at the last moment. Or, if you make meth and can't remember how to cook:

Don't heat the oven. 

1. Spread a base of expensive cookies from the bakery on a flimsy plastic tray.

2. Sprinkle cookies with a generous helping of chocolate-covered raisens you were going to eat while writing later that evening.

3. Season with half a bag of Skittles.

4. Evenly spread a layer of off brand Lucky Charms over a solid, not-safe-for-diabetics base.

5. Carefully, pour chocolate milk over the entire tray. Put any extra chocolate milk in a a pretty white bowl next to the main course. I don't totally understand toddler culture, but I think this may have been for dipping.

6. Prepare the yogurt glaze. The baby was supposed to eat the yogurt, but, seeing as the children don't particularly care what he thinks right now, he can eat bread crusts.

7. Gingerly drop dollops of yogurt over the now heaping and highly unstable masterpiece.

8. Lay out all empty containers. This not only creates ambiance, but also informs the resident adult that a large part of the grocery shopping the day before was a huge waste of time.

"We just wanted to make something for you."

They were the words which stopped my head from spinning all the way around. There's nothing I find more annoying than things that are my fault, dished up with a large helping of good will and smiles from children who think underwear on their head is the height of fashion. 

And now, I must leave you all and continue the house hunt. I also have to work on finding some pants.

Until Next Time, Readers!











 

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

In Session

"We'll now take a short recess for the new episode of Bubble Guppies."

Afternoon Readers,

While I deal with the financial Rubik's Cube that is our house situation, I've found my thoughts over the last week have been somewhat short of linear, and more along the lines of, "I think I left the house without shoes on again."

Move or stay? Fix the foundation problem or continue blogging from China? I can only hope the Chinese government welcomes us with open arms, when, much to their amazement, the Split level comes flying out of the ground and positions itself, teetering, somewhere on the Great Wall.

The children, as it turns out, don't particularly care whether the house is collapsing, and continue instead to make ridiculous requests. This week, I tried desperately to form them into a counsel of sorts, but I'm afraid we're getting nowhere.

*Bangs gavel*

Thursday, October 10, 2013

This Week's Inventory of Broken Things

"The kids have broken everything except our spirit and the starch we attack our collars with."

Afternoon Readers,

Before plunge, headlong, into all the serious things we usually cover here at the blog, I need to take a minute and congratulate the winner of The Biggest Fall Reading Giveaway Ever.

*drum roll*

*more drum rolling for effect*

*still more drum rolling while I get more coffee*

Congratulations, Sandy Dewrock! You're one lucky lady, who's mailbox is about to be assaulted with all sorts of shtuff. Perhaps "assaulted" is too strong a word. Nothing you won is particularly dangerous to handle, unless you like to throw books at people who wander onto your lawn. But you know what? We never specified what you're allowed to do with your winnings, so, if you feel you must throw a copy of my book at the back of some poor person, just make sure to tell him or her they can also get one for Kindle.

Now then, where was I?

Oh yes, time to take this week's inventory of broken things. A lot of people ask me what I do when I'm not writing, and, after a peel one child or another hanging like a sloth off my back, I'm always happy to answer...

"I watch my stuff get broken."

"You do?"

"I do."

"Sounds rough."

"It's awful."

"Saw a lady like you on TV once."

"Oh, really? I didn't. Because my TV is broken."

Kidding, the TV's not broken yet. But stay tuned.

Watching things shatter around the Split level has become a spectator sport with only one spectator, who cries herself to sleep at night. The children don't seem to think anything's amiss. Careful observation confirms they might actually consider the ongoing destruction as work of some sort.

This is only an educated guess, as, occasionally, I'll hear, "We're workin'," right before the sound of something exploding.

Things Broken This Week

1. One Coca Cola glass shattered on the bathroom floor.

2. Hole in the living room made larger by a baby who's taken a sudden interest in remodeling, and developed a taste for old termite damage.

3. Two coffee cups broken by the author of this blog. She blames her frazzled nerves and children screaming like they're being impaled by 15th century broad swords. 

4. One dining room table indelibly marked with pen.

5. One Halloween costume ripped, after the wearer swore it would not get ripped if worn before Halloween.

6. One packet of cocoa from 2012 exploded on the computer. The keys are still working ...for now.

7. Three noses almost broken due to various face planting techniques.

8. One of Husband's razor attachments broken, which he won't know about unless he reads this.

9. Disk drive removed from this laptop. Disk drive refuses to go back in.

10. One part found mysteriously floating around the bottom of the dishwasher. Dishwasher still works, so I chock this piece up to being non essential. None of the children seem to be to blame for this, but I can't rule out the baby's new obsession with trying to lock himself inside of said machine.

11.) One sweat jacket drawn on with washable marker which turned out to not be washable.

12.) Approximately ten new food stains added to the living room rug, two new ones to the couch, and one fairly suspicious-looking one in the twins' room.

Now that I see everything typed out, it doesn't really seem so bad. At least, that's what my coffee cup tells me. But he's really not that realiable. After all, he's simply a surviver at this point, and probably won't make it to next week.

Until Next Time, Readers!










Monday, October 7, 2013

I'd Be Pleased To Welcome Gwyneth Paltrow

"Paige, what's that lovely scent wafting from the kitchen? Ahh, yes. I thought it smelled like a budget."
Afternoon Readers,

Things ran on a pretty even keel at this weekend. Nothing blew up, I put on a real shirt with buttons, and Husband watched the kids while I went to the grocery store by myself.

Never fear, just because the Kellermans didn't experience anything tragically comic this weekend, doesn't mean I have nothing to share with you today. Actually, I'm taking this opportunity to announce that my super sweet friend, Ilana from the blog Mommy Shorts, got her own TV show.

And you're all like, "Hold on, Paige. I need to insert some applause up in here."



*This space reserved for blog author to get up and get coffee while her Readers are cheering various announcements, good news, or hoopla of import*

So Ilana says to me, she says, "Paige, who would you interview, if you could interview a celebrity your living room, like I do?"

Thursday, October 3, 2013

The Midnight Tango

"If you're taking requests, "I'd like to hear, My Children Don't Sleep, and Now I'm Hallucinating."

Afternoon Readers,

It's a stormy day here in Kansas, and, while the winds are slightly intimidating, I refuse to be concerned with the weather unless it busts out a window and knocks over the box of Reeses Pieces I'm eating.

I'm actually hoping for a thunderstorm. I find them delicious and exciting. Not as exciting as candy-coated peanut butter, but thrilling enough to press my face against the glass and whisper, "This is really dirty glass. Who's supposed to be cleaning this place?"