Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Oh, chocolate sauce!

Two Minutes to Feller Bedtime...


Why oh why
did I let out a cry
that curdled the 2% milk
when I opened the refrigerator door?

What to my horror
was oozing on the floor
in a sticky puddle of poo brown?

The chocolate sauce
had been given a careless toss
into the fridge door.

And that, my friends,
is where my patience ends
to see that poo brown puddle drown
all the bottles and tubs of food and condiments

Because I would now have to scrub
all the sticky poo brown grub
off all the bottles and tubs
while the children are screaming for milk

This mess will prolong their dreaming
and my wish to stop their screaming
And has started me screaming
new words for their growing lexicon







****

Actually, the whole chocolate syrup puddle in the fridge tonight wasn't that bad. Hubz helped clean up the mess, bedtime was dead on target, and all was well. Of course, neither of the big kids is fessing up. I don't blame them. Beware the wrath of Mom.

****

Sadly, Boompas has picked up on my favorite PMS phrase God Damn It. To be honest, I use it all times of the month. However, I do try try try to exercise caution, and most of the time I do alright unless sorely provoked (you know, I sneak out of the room to take a dump and return to find cereal carpeting the carpet, someone yanking the tail of a seriously PO'ed cat who is screaming in agony, the bookshelf overturned and books ripped to confetti, one little boy streaking past me with a bag of cookies in one hand and the half dull kitchen scissors in the other, toys whipping past my head, maniacal laughter ringing in my ears in surround sound, and basically overall Bedlam). However, during the wonderful pre-menstrual days, I have been known to roar my pet phrase at about 100 dB, drowning out the sound of the vacuum, planes flying overhead and the jackhammers of the construction crews working on the street.

So this last month, during a scene much like the parenthetical one described above, I let loose my pet phrase in a roar that shook the walls and shattered the crystal (haha like I have any crystal--with teens doing the dishes here--that's funny!). Ever since that, Boompas has been using it when I tell him it is bedtime and he doesn't want to go (so that is two times a day at least) and when his big teen brother hides the infamous toy Spider Man under his size 11s and won't give it back no matter what. Or when Eight-Eight Fingers or his twin brother Stink got the good idea to play with just the toy he wanted. So, really, it doesn't take much. Basically he is swearing like a true Irish lad deep in his cups these days. And it's all my fault! Oh, the humanity!

I mostly just ignore him. Of course, that whole unconditioning/reconditioning psychological mumbo jumbo is shot to hell when all three teens hear Boompas screeching out God Damn It and start laughing their damn fool heads off. Oh, well. He'll be a popular one with the principal when he finally starts kindergarten.

6 Comments:

Blogger Her Bad Mother said...

Ah, the perfect antidote to frustration - write a poem! Love it! And followed up by cursing children!

09 August, 2006 07:35  
Anonymous Susan said...

I will never look at the bottle of chocolate sauce in the same way, God damn it!

Don't you find it incredible that they not only pick up on our worst phrases, but they know exactly how/when to use them??!!

09 August, 2006 09:34  
Blogger Overwhelmed! said...

Oh, this is too funny! Our little guy, now 19 months old, is mimicking our every word it seems.

Here's a conversation that takes place between my husband and I (in front of Snuggle Bug) on a frequent basis:

Me: Crap!

Husband: Hey, don't say crap in front of our baby.

Snuggle Bug: Cwap!

Husband: Damn it, now look what you've done. You've taught him how to say the word, "crap!"

Me: Don't say "damn it" in front of our child.

Husband: What about "hell?" Is "hell" okay?

So far, Snuggle Bug has only repeated embarrassing words like, "crap" and "booby" and "hubba hubba" to our knowledge. I'm sure he'll be cussing like a sailor by the time he goes off to Kindergarten, despite our best attempts to clean up our language.

10 August, 2006 00:20  
Blogger Overwhelmed! said...

Would you be so kind as to send me your email so that I can respond to the comments you've left on my blog? :) My email is adoptive_mom_1@yahoo.com. Thanks!

10 August, 2006 08:59  
Blogger HomeFireBlue said...

I ... I-I'm living your life.

Only the kids are scaled down and my fave expletive begins with a labio-dental fricative ("F").

I heart you!

10 August, 2006 12:02  
Blogger Mommy off the Record said...

No one should ever, ever treat chocolate syrup like that. To waste even a drop is just wrong. :)

12 August, 2006 01:19  

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