That’s Mad Mommy Dearest….I swear before all I hold dear that the following is true.
Yesterday I get a text message from Elvis in the middle of the day:
We just had a food fight
Laughing, I show my co-worker–bad mommy. I’m getting ready to text him back when I get another that says:
I didn’t get in trouble
He knows me MUCH too well.
After work I hit the grocery store. I have to buy extra food because tomorrow is the last day of school and my little Hoovers will be at home full time playing XBox and eating anything they can get their hands on. I won’t tell you how much I spent but I could fund a small country with my food bill (or buy myself an Audi). Anyway…
I get home and we’re unloading and cleaning out the fridge and Elvis says, “What about this Twix. Can I throw this out?” all while giving me a smirky look.
Moi, “No. It’s mine.”
Kevin says, “But you havne’t eaten it and it’s been in there.” (more than 48 hours)
Moi, “And in three weeks when I go looking for it, it better still be there or heads will roll and blood will flow.”
Elvis rolls his eyes because he already knows the answer.
Moi, “Because when the PMS hits I want to come out here, pull my Twix from the fridge and enjoy it.”
Kevin, “What’s PMS?”
Sweet baby Jesus kid….Moi, “It’s right before I have my period when I get real cranky and bitchy.”
Kevin, “Ewwwwwwwww! You had a period?”
As if I’d only ever had ONE in my life (i wish).
Elvis laughs, “Don’t be stupid….See I’m smart. I KNOW when mom’s all cranky and stuff so I stay on her good side.” (unlike you is totally implied here)
Kevin, “Mom…I hate to tell you this but you’re always bitchy.”
Mutual torment and harassment amongst the boy-children commences, forcing me to yell a couple times. Kevin cries. Elvis walks to Walgreens for a finger splint–due to a previous injury.
FFWD to bedtime….
Elvis comes in my room laughing. “Ham got punked.”
“I think Ham got punked by Kara…I think she farted on him.”
Moi laughing, “OMG does he smell like shit?” (did I just say that in front of my kid?)
“Yeah and it’s really bad!” Elvis goes running down the hall, “Hey Kevin, your cat got punked by my dog.”
And that’s a fairly normal night. I wonder how many more grey hairs I’ll sprout before summer vacation is over?