“I don’t judge others. I say if you feel good with what you’re doing, let your freak flag fly.”
-Sarah Jessica Parker
Have you ever thought about what people might think if they saw what goes on behind-the-scenes at your house? Do you ever wonder what it would be like to catch a glimpse of someone else’s daily life? Here’s your chance. Today, Karen from Baking In A Tornado extended a challenge and 12 bloggers are inviting you into their homes to be a fly on their wall.
Here is the strange, the terrifying, the uniquely odd… us in our natural habitat.
We’re gathered around the dinner table as a family.
Dinner is coming to an end while everyone catches up about their day.
Kenzie’s head jerks back violently and then she screwed up her face in a look of confusion, pain and you are so going to get it.
I was thinking we might need an exorcism before this meal is completed.
She then announces to the table, ” My fork just attacked me. I was stabbed in the face!”
She, in anger, wags one finger at the perfect fork tip print on her cheek with one hand while flinging the felonious fork around for emphasis with the other.
I was cracking up. Everyone else kept going and didn’t miss a beat.
“That was funny!” I say looking around desperate for approval from some of the only human interaction I get all day.
“Yeah, THAT was sadly normal Mom. She did the same thing with a spoon a few days ago.” Min corrected me and continued talking to her sister.
Note to self: purchase less hostile silverware.
I was innocently sitting on our bed working on the laptop.
Min walked in and was talking to the Handsome Prince who was getting ready.
He farts loudly.
She shrieks at teenage decibels and slugs him in the arm.
They LOVE to tease each other.
He looks over at me with an innocent face and says, “Oops Bupsie.”
“Like pêter is any better.” He says sarcastically.
Min is laughing but asks what the heck he’s talking about.
” When I was a kid, we couldn’t say fart. We had to say bupsie. She (pointing at me) had to say pêter (sounds like Poo-T-A). Pêter! Pêter!.” He shouts.
I can’t help it, I’m now giggling like a 6 year old because he yelled fart in french.
Everything just sounds better when yelled in french.
“I didn’t bupsie! I didn’t pêter! I FARTED!!!” said the man clearly having a break through moment. ” That’s right, I squeezed the cheese! Passed the gas. Make mine cheddar please. Let one loose. Let ‘er rip. I expelled the gas. Air biscuit. Dropped a bomb. Fire in the hole! (he narrated his own soundtrack with a few explosion noises here) Wanna shoot the breeze? Broke wind. You know, I’ve always hated the term ” Break wind”…”
The Handsome Prince then launches into how one really can not technically “break wind” and how fart powered cars could really be the answer.
Min is usually fairly unflappable, went from holding herself up with the foot board on the end of the bed, to melting into a laughing puddle crawling up the side.
He was on a roll and we were clowns trapped in the car.
Min gasped for air loudly.
The air was full of fart, both literally and dripping from the conversation.
“Min, can you paint with all the colors of the wind?” He asks.
Her legs finally gave out and slowly she slid off the side of the bed laughing so hard she could hardly even make a sound let alone continue to do that pesky breathing thing.
“Start up your engines, roar from the rear ( makes cute girly tiger pawing motion)! I seem to have a bad case of fanny halitosis. Beep. Beep. Passing on by! Just letting a toot out the shoot. Better out than in.”
He pauses to see that his audience is laughing so hard we look like our faces got stuck like that. Tears running down our cheeks, looking a bit like fish out of water gasping for air.
He does a runway worth strut to the door as we attempt to get the giggles under control.
He dramatically turns around and says in his totally normal cool as a cucumber tone,
” Excuse me”.
Like that, the liberated Fart Man had rocketed off to work.
I might have gotten caught with my pants down… by my ankles to be exact.
Covered in Tomato Butternut Basil Soup, camera around my neck, wearing an electric blue thong.
I’m not kidding.
You’re not really welcomed to the neighborhood until I flash the workers.
Grab my recipe and find out how my butt gets through this one.
My Handsome Prince erupts from a dream he’s having and almost violently sits up.
He’s sweating and shaking.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him.
“Our roof just got repossessed!” He says, still shaken from his wonky dream.
A 6’6″ HUGE guy, built like a brick and just as solid, knocks on the door.
The Handsome Prince opens the door and is told by the man that he’s repossessing the roof.
The Prince starts to tell him that the roof was paid off by the last owner. Her brother put the roof on himself. He could go ask her, she lives right next door.
(No kidding. In real life, our next door neighbors used to own this house. In fact their daughter that grew up in our daughter’s room, taught our kiddo that lived in her old room 2nd grade. Strange but true fact for your weird-o-meter)
The man walks away and My Handsome Prince closes the door.
A second later he hears a noise and runs outside to find that the whole roof was gone.
Now at this point he was hovering above the house somehow.
There was no ceiling on the house because apparently our ceiling had to go too.
Darn it, I am kind of attached to having a functional ceiling but ya know, it’s an adventure.
As he hovered all ghost-like and spooky above our roof-less abode, what do you think should happen?
That’s right, Eeyore’s big grey cloud appeared and it started to rain.
“It was raining in the house! IN THE HOUSE. (that’s germ nutty guy code for OMG water equals mold. Mold equals… we have to move because the space has been tainted. Tainted I say!)” he says still sweating.
“I’d love you even if the roof got repossessed and you start hovering freakishly.” I tell him.
Our roof, thank heavens.
The Prince needs a vacation.
“What’s vajazzling?” asks Kenzie between bites of Penne De Prince.
“This is all you Mama.” The Prince quickly chimes in.
This is the parental equivalent of screaming “Not It!”
Everyone at the table was staring at me.
Some waiting anxiously for requested information.
Others because they are rotten and know right where this crazy train is headed.
They are no fools. It’s an instinct acquired when you live in a large family… when someone in the family is about to squirm like a worm on a hook, you get popcorn, grab a comfy seat and watch eagerly as they reach down and put their foot squarely in their mouth.
Oh yes, right there at the dinner table we discussed at great length the female anatomy and applying sparkly items with glue to the lady bits.
The look of horror at the idea of having someone wax and apply sparkles to the who ha was worth every funky second of that little chat.
If my table could speak… it would write a best seller.
Bob is in my bathroom.
The Handsome Prince got the framed print when he was 15 years old.
Bob moved to three different states and came to rest on the bathroom wall.
When I moved into The Handsome Prince’s house, Bob lived in the bathroom already.
All these years later and now we are having some major plumbing issues so the kiddos have been showering in our shower for the past couple of weeks.
Luc pokes his head out of the bathroom door and asks if “we’re related to the guy on our wall.”
“This guy in the picture” he says pointing at Bob. “He looks really familiar.”
Nope. Not related to any deceased Jamaican Reggae Artists… That I know of.
“That’s Bob Marley and he came with the bathroom.” I inform him while trying to work.
“OoOoh. (he pauses) Money can’t buy life. I like his music.” my 9 year old says before hoping in the shower.
He just quoted Bob Marley’s dying words?!
I only knew that because of an article I had read years before he was born.
When asked how he knew so much about Bob Marley he said in the ultra suave mini me manor of The Handsome Prince, ” I know a lot Mom. I read.”
He went to his room and turned on the soundtrack to The Lorax, happily singing along.
Followed by a little Zeppelin, Pink, some Cash, AC/DC and then he played the rest of Billy Joel’s greatest hits while he read.
Strange little awesome man.
Have you ever played an ultra annoying game of “That’s what she said”?
Well, it goes a little something like the copycat game or the ‘I’m not touching you but near enough that it’s driving you out of your ever living mind’ but this game always takes a turn for the gutter.
Min and The Handsome Prince start it just to drive K round the bend.
K’s goat is easy to get sometimes.
So I say something like ” Be careful. It’s hot and sticky.”
The race is on to see who can say “That’s What She Said” first between the two of them.
No matter how many times I get after these two, they always manage to make K blush and be inappropriate.
My hearing loss helps them to get away with plenty.
That Handsome Prince can be such an instigator and Min is such a quick wit, I need to market these two bozos.
I think I’ll bring back ‘I know you are but what am I?’
That’s what she said.
Upon hearing that Southern California would be on the receiving end of a cold snap that could include snow in the lower elevations, I panicked.
Some look at that hateful white stuff that falls from the sky, sticks to the ground and freezes everything as a wonderful thing.
I look at it as my arch nemesis.
My freak show gets really panicky in the snow because:
A. I don’t know how to drive in it so I feel trapped.
B. When it’s even near, I am freezing and sad. Snow is my kryptonite.
Naturally my arch nemesis sounded like it might be drifting in my direction… kind of.
I hit the panic button.
Brain crash dumped info and out of my mouth came the stupidest question to ever be formed…
“What is the height of sea level?”
Yes folks, I am ashamed to admit that I totally bugged out.
Not my finest moment.
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