Random Questions After Half a Bottle of Cheap Wine
Posted by Heather in A Bunch of NothingAfter a half bottle of cheap wine, I have a few questions to ask.
Since it’s hotter than the crack in Lucifer’s ass right now, there isn’t much the boys and I can do outside. We’re stuck inside all day and, I don’t know, after an hour or two, okay 15 minutes, I get fed up being assigned the role of referee in their FAVORITE sport – Annoy the Shit Out of Your Brother.
It’s only June. We aren’t supposed to be confined to inside until late July/August. It’s going to be a LONG summer. But what an opportunity to expose my children to classic literature through OnDemand movies!
We watched The Secret Garden, and at the beginning of the movie the narrator talks of how Mary’s parents think only of themselves and give her no attention. Payton watched that scene and said…
“Wow, they’re even meaner than you, Mom.”
What the hell?
Wally asked me to make banana pudding for Father’s Day. Now, I hate banana pudding (where’s the chocolate?) but I made it for him because I’m a domestic martyr like that.
I don’t know what it is but almost every dessert I touch turns into the legendary pot of gold under the rainbow. I hated banana pudding until yesterday. But now that I’ve laid my magic baking hands to the dessert I could eat it every day until I die the death of a bloated beluga whale.
Why can’t I have that kind of culinary leprechaun magic when it comes to preparing something low-fat, like tofu and grass clippings, so that one day I might fit into my size 8 jeans again?
Someone wrote and asked if there’s a polite way to tell a friend, hey, I’m not doctor but I sure think your kid is autistic!
Well, is there? Let’s find out over here.
(Any of your advice on the autism question would best be heard over at The Mouthy Housewives site since my mind is already made up on the subject. I don’t know that the person who asked will come over to my site so it would be most helpful over there.)
Entries (RSS)
Yeah – pretty sure there’s no ‘right’ way to tell someone you think their kid is autistic
Unless you’re OK with getting struck by lightning as you leave their house
But if you don’t believe in the whole ‘God’ shit, go right ahead I reckon
And size 8 jeans? oh those were the days…
JT
x
I could live on banana pudding. There was a diner that served the BEST pudding ever when we lived in Tennessee, when I was pregnant and I used to get 3 to go and suck them down in the car. Heaven. And the reason why I’ll never wear my size 8s again.
Telling a friend something like that is hard. However, wouldn’t you want to know? I would. Perhaps get some literature or a printout of some of the signs of autism. It may be a milder form. The sooner an austic child gets help the better their chances are of living a more normal life. Through therapy children have overcame their austism to the point that you really can’t tell much difference.
You know that it is a law that if it contains good fats, like BACON, yum, and sugar and other things that are not good for you it will taste delish. Low fat and no fat can sometimes be absolutely gaggy.
Oh, I wouldn’t touch that comment with a ten foot pole.
On the other hand, others don’t seem to find any trouble at ‘tall with telling me my child is autistic. In fact, it appears they believe it is the very reason they were birthed.
To let me know, just in case I didn’t notice the quirks and pops and whistles and widgets that make my child THE AWESOME KID THAT HE IS!!
Yeah, I noticed, isn’t he great?
I just commented over there and I feel so strongly about this whole subject that I always get people’s backs up. I just want everyone to know that really, I am a nice person
I adore banana pudding.
cream cheese, a tiny bit overripe bananas, nilla wafers, pudding.. homemade whipped cream. nom nom nom nom hint of vanilla..
demmit, Heather. I”m gonna have to go to the store now and that’s gonna knock the whole shred thing right out the window.
as to ‘how to’ ummmmmm… I don’t have a clue and wouldn’t even delve into those waters. sooooo… mwah.
See.. you are such a perfect Southern gal
Wine and Banana Pudding .
I guess this is our version of snow days, only we burst into flames when we open the door.
I have a few other games going on over here, like, I am hungry, even though you just fed me 30 seconds ago, let’s strewn every belonging we have in the world all over the house and watch as our 8.5 mos pregnant mom bitches as she bends over and picks it all up, or my favorite, it is so funny when I try to kill my brother and he screams. Oh the fun we have.
I am just glad to know their are other southerns out there hiding inside from the heat. Here I thought I was mean for depriving my children of sunburn, heat stroke and breaking the hinges on my door asking to come inside every 30 seconds.
If you come up with any solutions for that whole trapped inside because it’s an inferno out there, we’re so bored, what can we do now, Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? thing, please, share them with me. Then wait eagerly at the door for I wil show up with more wine AND chocolate as a sign of my thanks.
Oooh, was it the banana pudding that has layers of bananas, pudding and vanilla wafers? That is to die for!!!! Now I must make some.
I thought it was a brilliant well-thought-out answer with just the right touch of humor to ask the person to lay off! I would comment at the site but some how the website doesn’t like me commenting there!
Not that you asked explicitly, but here are my favorite things to do on days when we’re all stuck inside our little cabin feeling cabin-feverish.
1. Make an obstacle course. A tunnel, some couch cushions, a blanket — basically a few things to leap over, step on, crawl under, in a complex pattern, then a lap of the house, then do it all in reverse order. Time each kid. Advantages, no one fights b/c all want their turn, also a game they can play for a solid hour. Disadvantage: you have to time them for AN HOUR OH MY GAH. Trick: make up times after the first few. Then you can blog or answer email or read. Just tell them some laps were slower than others, and you’ll have them all clamoring for a personal best.
2. Depending on their ages, chores are fun. Just make them all races. Who can pick up all the toys fastest? Sort the clothes into the biggest piles correctly? Wipe the mirror cleanest? Prizes = 1 M&M per winner. Lots of work for small reward. As long as they get to spray stuff or wipe with sponges, they’re generally happy.
3. Tell them each to draw/color four pictures out of their minds (no peeking). When they’re done, have them narrate a story to you that links the pictures together. Type what they narrate, print it out for facing pages, and make a book.
4. Bake something. The more ingredients the better. Get out the stools, aprons, spoons, let them make a mess. Then, let them stand on the stools so they can reach the sink to wash. I can’t account for it, but they LOVE to wash things at the kitchen sink.
5. My father invented a game called EUPHORIA. All children lie on floor, very still. First child to make any noise loses. We thought the name sounded extremely exotic and wonderful. We didn’t get that the joke was on us until we were in high school — long past the time where we’d gleefully played the game for years.
Good luck. And here’s hoping you don’t burst into flames from the heat.
Buy a Super Soaker. When the “Annoy the Shit” game starts, spray them. As long as you don’t worry about water on the floor. It’s how you train dogs and it’s a helluva lot nicer than shock collars. And likely more legal.
Or the favorite in The Man’s family…. the dying cockroach. Make them lay on their backs with their arms and feet pointed in the air. Make them lay like that until they can’t. I haven’t been successful with this so I stick with #1.
Even if #1 doesn’t work, you still get satisfaction out of it. Especially after a couple glasses of wine or a nice cocktail…..
I thought of you and Payton when I read this post:
http://centerdownhome.blogspot.com/2009/06/story-about-seeing.html
What, there’s a mom meaner than you? No way. . .
It is SO damn hot in Austin. WTF? Yesterday I posted a sign in the playroom that reads, “NO TOUCHING YOUR BROTHER.”