Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Where The Wild Things Are, or RIGHT HERE AT MY HOUSE SEND HELP, by Allison

First, I do not want to turn my baby blog ( Note: baby meaning new, not meaning about babies) into a Mommy Blog  --   Because I am totally inept in all the things those blogs and magazines (and in saying this I am not insulting those Mommy writers or their readers, I am just saying it is a world that is foreign to me) discuss and recommend, especially the crafts. 

Maybe the below saga would not have happened if I DID read them, will ponder that, but I do enjoy things both with and without the kids and don't want that to change.
I am much less horrible to deal with if I get some Allison Time.

So I am trying to refrain from mentioning the girls a whole whole bunch, since I insist (I insist this to myself, repeatedly, whether it is true or not I do not want to actually know) that I am my own person as well as mom of V, E, and M.

But even though I have recently discussed said children, and should be writing about something totally unrelated to them, I cannot.
Because I am currently TOTALLY mad at them for turning into feral cat savage lunatics when I was on the phone.

It was not just a regular phone call.

I had prepped them (Maybe that was my mistake? I would know this if I read actual Mommy Blogs) with, "Guys, I am getting a call from my friend about our trip to music festival
(Which sidenote: SQUEEEEEE! Am going to most awesomenest music festival this fall with excellent fun friend AND NO KIDS. Or husbands, actually, they will be dealing with the kids, and I say good luck with that.)
so can you guys be chill for a while?"

(Note: They have been fed nutritious food and not sugar or crack, they are bathed and in pajamas and appear to be normal, civilized human children.  Subnote: Looks can be deceiving).

So I get maybe two seconds into our phone call, in which organizing and hotel choosing and which band to see when discussing (and I must say here that my friend has fantastic taste in music, otherwise known as, we agree on all the bands we want to see, and I have firm belief in my Excellent Taste In Music and no one can convince me otherwise, many have tried and failed.) is going on, so not just regular "hey, what's up" type call.

Decisions involving music festival fun must be made!

This is important.

So of course my girls go completely psycho.

I am not lying, or exaggerating at all, and in fact think I may force them to write letters of apology to me, my friend, and all of the bands we were talking about (the ones we want to see anyway) for their complete meltdown into rabid hybrid scary animals from some sci-fi movie.

Actual quotes that are going on around me as I try to talk about how I totally want to see The Shins and James Mercer is so fantastic:

Feral Child:  "MOOOOOM, She hit me with a bat!"
(Note: this is a souvenir baseball bat from local baseball team, no idea where they found it and also no idea why they are hitting each other with it but am totally throwing that thing away immediately)

Me: "Shhh. Stop it. No hitting with bats."
(my friend probably thinking, whew, twin boys seem much less stressful right now than that house of girls)

Feral Child: "MOOOOOM, She threw her iPod at me!"
(Note: that is not true, we take iPods seriously around here and nobody throws iPod.)

Me: "Shhhhhhh. That is fake iCarly talking remote, not iPod, I am on the PHONE stop it."

At this point I relocate myself to another room.

They follow. 

Because the only time I am urgently needed is when I am on the phone or we are at Target and they start hustling me for stuff.

Feral Child: "I am bleeding from my eye!"
 (Note: This is not true, but she is screaming it very loudly and I am sure my friend is now thinking I am raising werewolf children, which I am not, I am very much pro-vampire on that whole debate and right now a vampire kid who talks to you by touching your face and NOT YELLING sounds very good to me)

Me: "No you are not bleeding from your eye. You are screaming and embarrassing me and acting like savage and my friend is going to think this is insane asylum. Each of you go in a different room from each other."

Feral Children then fight about who gets to go to what room. 

Which somehow results in a shoe incident that I am not fully understanding, and let me say this: for the most part, I am not raising lunatic crazy wrestling things, they play the violin, for heaven's sake. Ballet!
You can't bite or whatever in ballet!

But right now, I need taser and a Magic Mute Spell (must get out Harry Potter again) because they are being just plain awful.

Me: "Seriously guys, this is not cool. You are really being terrible and I am trying to talk to my friend who has not met you and now thinks you are savages, stop!"

During this whole thing I am making every mad face I have (I have LOTS) and scowling and holding up hand in silence signal and shhh signal and shoo signal. 

Not a thing works.
Luckily for me, my friend is cool (this is why it will be fun to go to awesome music festival with her) and does not say anything like "You better go, I've got a call to child protective services to make" or "Have you thought about hiring the SuperNanny?"

But the girls WILL NOT STOP. 

Someone is blinded by fake eye injury, someone let the bad dog eat Frankie, and I do not know who or what Frankie even is, everybody is yelling at top voice, or crying, or screeching, all at the same time, and I really need to learn that mute spell from HP right away.

Miraculously, my friend and I figure out all the fun details of awesome trip, and I swear, two seconds after I end phone call, the girls are silent, doing something constructive (collecting the remains of Frankie, the unknown thing whose eyeball I just stepped on),
and Matt walks in (from his medical meeting otherwise known as having dinner at a steakhouse with a bunch of other sneaky doctors getting out of dealing with their kids)
and I try to describe the horror and of course now I look like the crazy one, so it is like whatever movie or show where the sane one seems crazy
(I am sure there are movies or shows with that in it, I can't think of one right now since my brain is melted by savage children screeching)
and he is all "Ok, Allison, calm down.  I'll take it from here."

And I am all, "Oh, you will take it from here?

From this place of NON savagery and NON fake eye injury and NON screaming and yelling and following me from room to room pitching fits while I am trying to talk to my friend about plans and THEY WILL NOT STOP WITH THE AWFUL? 

The awful that was occurring while you were at your meeting otherwise known as eating steak? 
That seems like a fair trade. 
You get them to bed, I am going to go Write A Document."

So of course they are now in bed reading or asleep, and Matt is making the Oh Allison You Are Overreacting Again face, and now I am plotting.

Before I go to awesome funnest music festival, am stocking the house with the following:
Lucky Charms cereal,
Full Size Candy Bars,
Pixie Sticks of sugar even if I have to order them off ebay and they are old and from some creepy person who keeps old candy in their basement,
Full On Real Fruit Juice,
DVD of Alvin and The Chipmunks: The Squeakuel,
and glitter glue.