Exorcism, Possession and Animal Role Play

You may have heard me say this before, but if I had a penny for every time I said:

My kids are possessed, or 

My kids need an exorcism

I'd be rich. Not the richest. But pretttttttty rich.

Usually, what precipitates these phrases is when my kids pretend they are animals. You may have noticed on your own that when kids pretend they are animals it's either cute AF or creepy AF. Because my kids take everything too far, it's for sure creepy AF. Since I like to help others, and because I have extensive experience in children pretending they are animals, I have outlined below the three stages of animal role play. Enjoy!

Stage 1

This is your sweet, innocent dog/cat role play. This stage has you thinking:

My kids are using their imagination!! No one can judge me for too much TV time now!!

Should you encounter this stage more than three times per week, it's a red flag that Stage 2 is imminent. Mine usually let me know they are approaching Stage 2 when they help themselves to cups or bowls from their kitchen set, fill them with water and then proceed to lap up the water. All the while meowing and barking. Also, in this stage they become humans only to momentarily shout back to your plea for please no mess by saying:

But MOMMA!! We're cats/dogs! That's what cats/dogs do!

In Stage 1 it's fine to pick your battles because you aren't Code Red just yet.

Stage 2 

This stage is  more severe. This is your lion or tiger or bull or longhorn role play. You actually sometimes in this stage have to yell say:

STOP IT!!!! You are going to kill/hurt yourself/sister/brother!!!!

You can't pick your battles in this stage because of risk of serious injury. Timeout is a nice starter. After which, they will go right back to a less aggressive lion/tiger/bull/longhorn. I'm warning you now, this won't last long before someone takes it too far again and you need to act fast. Because injury/death is near. Not to mention it's starting to feel creepy. 

Stage 3 

Code red, holy crap, this is the stage where they have truly crossed over to the other side. You worry about their mental health because they are so IN character. There is no less than 100% certainty that you will say:

OMG. They are totally possessed.

And you have the Internet search history to prove it with gems like, "Exorcism in Frisco, TX." This stage has the most obscure animal role play to include: ring tailed lemurs, crocodiles, panthers, wolves, squirrels, fish, dolphins, etc. Writing this I wish I didn't know these from experience. The dolphin was especially interesting. 

When my kids pretend they are reptiles or ring tailed lemurs wtf? it's usually after watching Wild Kratts on PBS. This show is a blessing and a curse. A couple years back, my children were ring tailed lemurs and they were on all fours and proceeded to rub their butts and backs on every wall in the house. When I protested this, they said:

But this is what ring tailed lemurs DO!! We are IN OUR natural habitat!!

Trigger word for me here is their use of the word "our." Like they are truly not able to distinguish between human child and lemur child. And let me tell you this!! I will not add to my search history "Natural habitat ring tailed lemurs" or "Ring tailed lemurs rubbing off on walls." For one, I don't care. I don't want to know that information. And for two. No! No, no, no. Whatever. So, I left it at:

Great. Don't break anything. 

While I likely poured myself a large glass of wine and cried in a corner - both out of need and fear. Because you never know!!! With Stage 3 animal role play ANYTHING can happen. It's also impossible to discipline in this stage because they are so far gone. I mean they literally think they are the animal. If you get here, pray that it's short lived. 

I have now armed you with what I think are the necessary things to watch out for to determine your kids level of animal. And if all else fails - WINE. 

That time I smoked some serious crack

For the record, crack is metaphorical. I have never smoked literal, actual crack. But metaphorical crack? I would be classified as an addict. When I come down from my high, I usually learn a life lesson. It is what it is, kids.

Last Fall, after picking up Abigail from preschool one afternoon, there was a flier in her backpack about registering for the 2016/2017 school year. Abigail would be going to our assigned public school for Kindergarten but Mae! Mae would absolutely be going to preschool!! Over the course of the following months through about January, it dawned on me that I was not comfortable with Mae going to preschool. After discussing the option of not sending her with my mom and a few other trusted friends, I decided to keep her home with me. She has a November birthday, so her school career is going to include many, many years. 

Here's where I put my metaphorical crack in a spoon and took a lighter to it and went to town ...

I will be able to do so many THINGS with her! We can do library THINGS, story time THINGS, musical THINGS, park THINGS!

Then, I decided that I needed more metaphorical crack, because I still don't know my limits as a 35 year old, and actually said ...

It will be SO easy having JUST one at home!

I'll let you process that for that a second. I said it out loud ... to other people!! To other mom's!! #iwasanass

See what I mean about the crack? WHAT WAS I THINKING!!! Then at some point we also decided to get a dog? WTF? WTF WAS I THINKING. I mean. Clearly, I overdosed.

You see, we live in a society that places a LOT of emphasis on this math equation:

MORE of anything = HARDER than everyone else

HARDER than everyone else = BETTER than everyone else

And it really drives me bat shit crazy, because it isn't true AT ALL. As you can see from my experience above, I bought into this equation back in the Fall - three kids is harder than one kid. Three kids and a dog is harder than one kid and a dog. Three kids and a dog is harder than a dog. WRONG. Wrong. Wrong. wrong.

A kid, or kids, and/or a dog aren't JUST. They are living beings that rely on their parents, or their owners, or foster parents, or adoptive parents; to care for, and love them. Whether you have one of these or six of these, or some combination of all of the above, it's hard. Hard work. Living with a dog is like living with a mime. You are constantly trying to figure out what they are thinking, why they aren't listening, what hurts them, why aren't they listening? OH right. It's cause you are trapped in that box. *eye roll* #mimesarecreepydogsarecute

We need to do a better job of appreciating everyone's life and recognizing that whether they have more or less than we do, they are doing hard work.

Ask me how many of those THINGS* I actually do, that thought I would be able to do with JUST one at home?

None.

Because it's hard. Taking care of one is hard. Trying to get anything and everything done with one is hard. Having a dog is hard. My God, let's give each other some credit. Cut each other and ourselves some slack. Moms and fur moms alike need a tribe, NOT one more reason to overfill that wine glass at the end of the day.

I have no regrets keeping Mae home with me this school year. I understand this is time I will never get back and I love being able to experience cleaning and laundry and dishes and carpool and errands with her by my side. But none of it is easy because loving a living being, someone other than yourself, isn't to be taken lightly and certainly isn't easy.


*Fun fact: In an effort to give Mae some of those experiences I wanted to back in the Fall, I signed her up for a tots soccer class. It will meet once a week for eight weeks. Well, they just called to say it was cancelled because they are getting new turf.

The TGIF Shit gods

It's 9:45 am on Friday and I've already bathed the dog and Mae. If I saw that sentence on Facebook I'd be all Shut your face, you overachiever. Or maybe even Oh good for her, she's finally mastered time management. Well, get ready to feel better about yourselves kids! 

The dog, Walter, has had a bath because he was rolling in his own shit in the backyard, got all muddy, and was later drinking from the toilet. My kid has had a bath because she shit herself AND the stairs. The events of this morning have changed my day. I had hopes of making a spaghetti squash in the crock pot with my own meat sauce for dinner! What!!!?!? However, now, when I think of dinner, I think of the shit I just wiped off my kid; so dinner is might be a bottle of wine and a big ole middle finger. It's fine. 

You are probably saying to yourself, How does all this happen? What are you doing while everyone is shitting themselves? Happy to explain, especially since I'm in the business of making people feel like they have their shit together, while I do not. When the dog goes out, Mae goes out. She brings everything with her to go out: sippy cup, bowl of fruit and a toy. While I'm out with the dog she will want to go back in. Because WE APPARENTLY WANT WHAT WE CAN'T HAVE ALL THE TIME. Mae can't open doors. Which basically translates into me either letting people in or out of the house all day. As most of you know for shit to get real it takes about 5 seconds. I'm also allergic to whining. Highly allergic. There was a lot of that as I let Mae inside. I made it stop and got her a drink of GD water while the dog was outside, in the backyard that's fenced in, unattended. I even thought I'm sure the dog will be fine for like .5 seconds. WRONG. Hence the shit, mud sequence. The toilet water came when I was cleaning Mae's shit off the stairs. Mae ran upstairs in her room, where she was probably playing with her shit, and the dog went into the downstairs bathroom and was drinking the toilet water. Mae shits herself because she's still in a diaper. #judgeaway

When shit like this happens to me and involves actual shit, I want all the sympathy, all the kudos, all the reassurances that I don't have SARS or ebola or (insert awful disease acquired by shit here). Because it's so. disgusting. By the way, isn't Friday when we say Thank God It's Friday!!! I mean WTF, Friday?!? This morning the only god that heard me say Thank God It's Friday!!! was the god of shit. Friday Shit Gods I surrender. This is not a weakness issue but rather a sanitation issue. You are gross AF. Let's collectively hope, for the dinner options for my kids if nothing else, that this day gets better. 

The Curious Case of the Pussy Pocket

Like you, I hate the p word. The details listed in this blog are not ones that I am proud of as a parent, but I had to share because I just can't even sometimes. At the time the p word was used, it was in the most innocent way. Lastly, it's sad that there are two parts to this story and I will move mountains to ensure that there's not a third. Pray for me.

Part 1
Last week, while I was straightening my hair, Matthew was playing a game on my phone in my room and Abigail and Mae were watching a show in the family room. (Which is right outside our first floor master bedroom.) The girls were perfectly calm and occupied and I have a hard time doing two things at once, especially with a hot iron in hand, so I wasn't giving Matthew much attention. With one ear open I think I hear the word pussy? I told myself:

No way, you're just hearing things.

Because there's absolutely NO logical reason why annnnyone in my family would use that word. So, I continue to focus all my attention on straightening my hair, keeping one ear open. Then I hear Matthew giggle and say:

Siri. Show me a picture of Boushie Parker. (Read: He asked Siri to show him a picture of Mae)

Now, that both my ears are open, I hear Siri, clear as day respond with: 

I'm sorry. I can't find any images of a pussy pocket on the web.

At this moment the only thing that comes to my mind is:

Fuck.

Matthew starts giggling and comes into the bathroom with a big innocent smile on his face and an eruption of laughter and says: 

Momma!! I asked Siri for a picture of Boushie and she said A PUSSY POCKET???!!!!! WHAT EVEN IS THAT??!??? I know what a pocket is but a PUSSY???!!!!! WHAT'S A PUSSY!?!??

As he's talking I'm all WTF, Siri!!! Also, slightly surprised and grateful she couldn't find a picture, doesn't the Internet have a picture of everything? I have so many weaknesses as a person and parent and one thing that I clearly need to work on is thinking on feet and becoming better at lying. Because I told my  9 year old the severity of the word "pussy" ... while he's giggling ... because that's what you do when you hear pussy pocket for the first time.

Sweet Mother of God, then there's Part 2:

Yesterday was a wash from the get go. Mae came into our bed at zero dark AF thirty and neither she nor I fell asleep til around 5 am. At 6:30 Matthew came down, got the dog out of his crate - at which point Mae was up and out of bed to participate - they took him out to the backyard to do his dooty. Mike was up at 7 to get ready for work.

Usually in the mornings, I try to stay in bed for as long as I possibly can - desperately hanging on to any small fragments of sleep that the kids will allow me to capture. While lying in my bed I am able to yell into the family room from my bed when I hear things getting out of hand. Depending on how much sleep I got, I sometimes try to convince by babies to come in and snuggle. That wasn't the case yesterday. I tried my hardest to keep them relegated to the kitchen until it got to the point where I felt like I was being a bad mom.

Mike left around 7:30 at which point I got up and put my contacts in. I came out into the kitchen to find Mae at the dog bowl, eating dog food with the dog. Wait? What??!???? As I scream at her to:

OMG!!!STOPIT!!!OMG!!!

And pry her mouth open to try and remove as many remnants of dog food as I can, the dog goes into the dining room and pees on the rug. Awesome. Is it too early to drink?!?

In the afternoon, I took the kids to the mall. I was on a unsuccessful quest for a new handbag. During this excursion I was told I was the meanest mommy ever because I wouldn't buy them every GD thing they saw or touched. In every story they asked when were were going to leave because they were soooooooo bored! So, after the millionth time they asked, I responded with:

Never. Keep asking and we're staying here until the store closes. 

The we love you so much, Momma's and the you are the best Momma ever's came rolling in after that.

After providing free birth control for everyone at the mall, I took the kids to get take out Chipotle for dinner because Mike was at a team dinner for work. Back home, after the kids have finished eating and are running around playing puppies, I'm cleaning up reflecting on how the day seemed to have redeemed itself from the morning's antics. That's where I went wrong, you think I would have learned by now to never reflect on how your kids redeemed themselves when there are still waking hours in the day. As if reading my mind and wanting to prove me wrong, Matthew comes up to me at the kitchen sink with this gem: 

Hey Momma!! When the dog is being bad we should call him PUSSY POCKET!!!

SHUT UP. Are you kidding me? I have to digest these words AGAIN!!???!!! What did I ever do to deserve this??? While he's giggling uncontrollably, my eyes are as big as saucers trying to stifle laughter and process all of this. At which point Abigail, not to be outdone by her older brother, strips off her shirt and screams:

LETS GET NAKED AND HAVE A DANCE PARRRRRRTYYYY!!!!!

Today's agenda:

1. Dropping my kids off at church.
2. Leaving them there until they are AT LEAST 30. At. Least.

Treasure Box

Some people hate the words moist or panties. I hate the words treasure box. For me, they are only associated with whining, nails on a chalk board ... waterboarding.

Dick.

You see a sweet, adorable chick hatching out of an egg. If you held it you'd be able to tell that it's an eraser.

I see an asshole. All because Matthew brought it home yesterday along with these words: 

I got to go to the treasure box!

I was happy for him, proud even but cringed because I knew that in no less than five seconds the tears, the begging, the whining would start. You see, it's a given from Day One that when someone w/ treasure = them w/o treasure that THE WORLD IS OVER. Treasure box for parents has the intrinsic ability to immediately transport us to that Special Ring of Hell (I have VIP seats).

I wish I could tell you that there's a cure for treasure box, but there isn't a cure. There is only time. In time, the item will get lost (accidentally or on purpose) or it will break. And then you cross every finger and every toe and hope to GOD that your next interaction with treasure box is far, far, far off into the future.

Proud Parenting Moment

Earlier this morning while the kids were watching TV, this happened:

Matthew: That is such a disrespectful place. 

Abigail: They just fill it with GERMS!!! And the children get sicker and SICKER!! 

Matthew: They should just plow it down and build a mall so we can buy toys. 

Me: Guys. What are you talking about!?! 

Matthew and Abigail: CHUCK E CHEESES MOMMA!!  

Abigail: IT HURTS MY FEELINGS THERE!!!

 

What did we learn?
Propaganda works. Years and years of tireless propaganda WILL eventually work.

How can I get started implementing propaganda in my home?
We all have those places that we will never take our children. Use rhetoric that instills fear when describing those places. As you can gather, words like disrespectful and sick and children are the trigger words that really got through to Matthew and Abigail.

Do I need to start at a certain age?
Much like reading to your children, it's NEVER too soon to start.

You've basically nailed parenting, what are you going to do next?
Realllllllly start driving home the fact that life isn't about buying toys.

Zen

Typically, when we get in the car, or are riding in the car, my kids think:

Fire up that loud 

This causes me to want a (during and after, said car ride):

[Another] round of shots 

My bet is that Lil Jon, and DJ Snake for that matter, never imagined that Turn Down For What would define a white, suburban mom's whip with her shorties. But it does and it did yesterday, as I achieved zen in the car.

Angela how???!!! Share your secret with us!!!

Well. I tranced out is that even a thing? my kids with 43 minutes of Turn Down For What on repeat.

Wait. I thought you said you achieved zen??? 

Let's not put lines and barriers around zen OK? Let's appreciate it for what it is ... No talking. No crying. No nothing. Just relative silence.

So, I'm namaste-in that this will happen to everyone, or us ever again, but it was a true miracle. It allowed me to have an actual thought process in the car, as opposed to my usual sheer gangster rage. Allow me to share below.

~~ Begin thought process ~~

Amazing, right?!?!

I totally agree with NPR that the album Compton (quote below for reference):

... feels more like a grand group effort than a single man's vanity project. As always, that is Dr. Dre's trademark, even though he is -- once again -- standing at hip-hop's center stage. 

This is so applicable to my life, especially as I have gotten older. I mean as you age, you realize that the people in your life who you revere and respect help make you who you are today. It's a group effort not a singular one. My gosh, I can't EVEN with those people who not only have criticized Dre's album but EXPECTED it to sound like he did 16 years ago!! GIVE ME A BREAK. That seems so immature to me!! And that they haven't fully grasped gratitude.

I mean, like, if I was the same person that I was in the past, and wasn't grateful for everyone that helped me grow and evolve into the person that I am today then:

1. Matthew would be Eminem
2. I would be Eminem's mom
3. I would have at least three children by probably three different fathers 
4. Binge drinking would be my favorite hobby
5. Binge eating would be a close second favorite hobby
6. **Imagine the acne**

~~ End thought process ~~ 

For the record, I'm sure I had some fleeting thoughts about when I was going to get to shower or what we should have for dinner. But those were the two that stuck out for me the most. Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth.

So, see?!? Thanks to two regular guys named Lil Jon and DJ Snake, I experienced zen. Now go!!! GLEAN your zen!! Don't forget, you might find it in the most unlikely place. 

Namazte friendz.