Real Men Don’t Need Exterminators

5 Dec
This is EXACTLY how our mouse looked.

This is EXACTLY how our mouse looked.

My yard  is lined with ten pecan trees. Apparently, mice love pecans. My home is also surrounded on three sides by soybean fields, which mice also love.

What happened to mice eating cheese? Were all those episodes of Tom and Jerry based on LIES? What else were you lying about, Jerry????

As I stood on my deck admiring a herd of mice galloping through the soybean field, I noticed one of the mice pointing at me like he was calling me out. I knew it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. Hell, my kids leave mouse-appropriate snacks everywhere . . . word was bound to get out.

That night I informed The Dad that the angry mob of mice outside had been heckling me. Since it was obviously only a matter of time before we were overrun by an irate horde of rodents, I did the only sensible thing . . . . I called the exterminator and notified the authorities.

The Dad grunted at me while simultaneously rolling his eyes.

The Dad grunts at me constantly and not in a come-hither way. Grunts are just his natural mode of communication. But the grunt-eye-roll combo translates into, “Real men don’t need exterminators.”

His solution? Glue traps. I detest glue traps. IF, I say IF you actually catch a mouse in one of these contraptions . . . . what the hell are you going to do with a LIVE mouse that is GLUED to a PIECE OF PLASTIC?

The Dad ignored my perfectly logical reasoning and strategically placed glue traps throughout our home.

The next morning as I’m slaving away to cook a breakfast that my children totally take for granted, I hear my two youngest calling for their mother. I rush towards their room only to see my three-year-old son with both feet and one hand stuck to a glue trap. His two-year-old sister, Madeline, also has one hand stuck in the trap and is trying to drag her brother towards me.

Me: Samuel? What are you doing?

Samuel: I stuck.

Madeline: And I save him, Mama.

About that time, a mouse ran by, shot me the bird and told me this was his turf now. That may not have been his exact words but you get the picture.


Alliance, Unite!

4 Dec

spy kidIt’s 3:00 a.m. and the four children are gathered around a small table in their play area. They always meet in the dead of night to keep their alliance secret. Do not let their innocent demeanor fool you for that is what they hope for. They are always conniving . . . always scheming . . . . to thwart the evil ways of their mother.

Melissa: Let’s get started. Lauren says she has obtained important information regarding the Evil One’s plan to convert Daddy over to her side.

Lauren: Yesterday, at approximately 16:00 hours, I emerged from the school bus at Blue Bird’s house.

Samuel: Blue Bird? Who is Blue Bird?

Melissa: That’s Grandma’s code name, stupid.

Samuel: Oh, yea. Blue Bird. Sorry, I forgot.

Lauren: Anyway, Blue Bird informed me that we would be staying at her house Friday night so that the Evil One could apprehend Daddy and go on a date night.

Samuel: What’s so bad about that?

Melissa: You fool?  Don’t you see? We will be imprisoined in Blue Bird’s lair, forced to watch re-runs of The Young and the Restless.  Poor Daddy won’t have us to run interference. There’s no telling what she might do to him. Lauren, did you try any preemptive tactics?

Lauren: Of course I did, but Blue Bird is just as sly as the Evil One. I suggested that we accompany the Evil One on this so-called “date night” so that we might protect our father. Blue Bird informed me they were going to a restaurant that did not allow children.

All Children: Gasp!

Samuel: What kind of sick place doesn’t allow children?

Melissa: Poor Daddy.  The Evil One more than likely plans to make him eat all sorts of vegetables. This sick woman already controls our lives, our candy . . . . and now she wants to control our father. All may be lost.

Madeline: Fear not, brother and sisters.

All look towards the dark corner where the two-year-old was sitting. She drains her sippy cup in one quick gulp and slams the cup on the table.

Madeline: You have all forgotten our basic strategy. Drain her energy! Drain her resources! Do not give her time for basic hygiene! Do these things and she.will.fall. Stick with the plan and I promise you not only will we have control of the candy, but control of the TV as well! Now, I’m pretty sure I can hustle up a suspicious looking rash on my bottom. That’s a start but it won’t be enough. What do the rest of you have?

Lauren: Tomorrow morning I’ll spill something on my clothes just as the school bus arrives. I’ll make sure to hide all my other clean clothes under my bed first. She hates it when I do that.

Samuel: A kid at daycare owes me a favor. He’s got a pretty nice runny nose . . . . I’ll just ask him to spread the joy, if ya know what I mean. My new found runny nose along with Melissa’s ability to turn any cold into bronchitis should be enough to foil the Evil One’s plans.

Melissa: Ok, guys. That sounds good.  I don’t hear the Evil One’s snores anymore so now might be a good time to adjourn. We’ll meet back here tomorrow at 03:00 to assess the situation.  Good night and good luck.

Every Mom Needs a Little Al Green

3 Dec
Al Green is an effective parenting tool.

Al Green is an effective parenting tool.

One Saturday morning not too long ago, a devoted mother awoke in the wee hours of the morning to prepare a breakfast feast for her four darling children. The mother would cook each child’s favorite as a special treat to begin a fun and special Saturday.

Sausage and eggs for her 8-year-old girl. The 5-year-old daughter prefers pancakes. Bacon and grits for the 3-year-old boy and biscuits for the 2-year-old girl.

There was not a fruit or vegetable in sight! The children would be thrilled. The mother only hoped that the children could contain their gratitude long enough to consume this breakfast feast of all feasts.

Devoted Mother: Oh, beautiful children! Come! Come quickly and partake of the bountiful banquet I have prepared for you!

5YO:    (while rubbing her eyes) Huh?

Devoted Mother:  There you are, my sweet Melissa.  Always the first to come and greet your mother in the morning.

5YO:    Huh?

3YO:    Mommeeeeeeee!

Devoted Mother:  Samuel, my fine boy! Come! I have a chilled cup of chocolate milk for you.

3YO:  Mommy! I pee-pee my pants.

Devoted Mother:  Err, what? I mean, fear not dear son. I can remedy that. But wait! I hear your sister! Come beloved Madeline and hug your mother!

2YO:    Eat-eat! Eeeaaattttt!!! (She runs past her mother and seats herself)

Devoted Mother: Do not worry child. There will be time for hugs later. Yes, go and partake of this divine breakfast spread.

8YO:  Is there school today?

Devoted Mother:  Lauren! Fear not! There is no school today!!!!

8YO:  What?

Devoted Mother:  Rejoice child! For there is no school today!

8YO:    It’s 7:00 in the morning. Why did you wake us? And why are you talking weird?

3YO:    Mommy! I pee-pee my pants!

5YO:    Huh?


8YO:    I mean, after we eat what are we supposed to do all day?  You should have just let us sleep.

5YO:    I don’t like pancakes today. I want Froot Froots.


3YO:    Pee-pee!

The devoted mother, sensing that her normally congenial children must not have slept well the night before, flew into action. The Boy was outfitted in fresh clothing and the children were seated at the table, their plates laden with all of their breakfast favorites.

Devoted Mother:  Now, my darlings, gorge yourselves on this fine breakfast!

Surly 8YO:  This is the wrong kind of sausage. I like the kind that is in patties.

Ungrateful 5YO: I said I wanted FROOOOT FROOOOOTS.

Piglet 2YO: (Her face covered in syrup and grits) More eat! More, more, more!!

PeePotBoy: I no like chocolate milk today. Fix it Mommy, FIX IT!

Surly 8YO: Ow! She touched me!

Ungrateful 5YO:  Did not!

Surley 8YO:  Did too!

Ungrateful 5YO: Did not! You’re stoo-pid!

PeePotBoy: Fix my milk, Mommy!

Piglet 2YO: Me want cay-cakes wid stirrups on dem.

As the devoted mother watched the scene unfold, she realized her beloved children were idiots. Did her offspring respond positively to the nurturing and caring of their devoted mother? No. They acted like the buffoons that they are. The mother resorted to the one tactic she knew would work: torture.

The mother cranked up her music. She saw the fear and realization wash over the face of her children when they heard the opening blasts of the horns.

The devoted mother sang along loudly . . . . and badly.


I’m so in love with you

Surly 8YO:  Mama, please! No!

Whatever you want to do

PeePotBoy: Why you making dat noise, Mama?

Is alright with meeeee

The two-year-old begins dancing while cramming food in her mouth.

Surly 8YO: Mama! Stop it! Your singing is horrible!

Cause you make me feel so brand neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewww

Ungrateful 5YO: What do we do, Lauren? How do me make her stop?

And I want to spend my life with yoooooooooooouuuu

The devoted mother is really getting into it now. She’s singing and dancing and oblivious to her dumb-ass children.

Let me say that since — oh yeah — since we’ve been together

Surly 8YO: Maybe she wants a hug or something.

Could they really be that stupid?

The devoted mother continues to sing and dance as she pries the sticky hugs off of her.

Loving you forever is what I need-eee-eee-eee-eee-ed.

Ungrateful 5YO: That just made it worse! She’s singing louder.

Oh let me be the one  you come running toooo-ooo-ooo-oooo

I’ll never be untruuuuuuuuuuue.

Surly 8YO: Just tell us what you want and stop torturing us!!!

Still singing . . . .

Eeeeeaaatttt!  Eat your damn breakfast

Eat it whether you like it or not

You un-grate-ful snots!

Surly 8YO: I’m pretty sure your horrible songs doesn’t go that way.

Oh tell me why, why, why, why, why, why

You children are so stupid

And do not even realize

I can sing this stuff all day-a-a-a-ay.

Ungrateful5YO: That doesn’t even rhyme, Mama.

Surley8YO: No, Melissa.  She’s trying to tell us that she’ll keep doing this until we give her what she wants. Everybody, just eat and maybe she’ll stop torturing us.

To my fellow mothers: Never underestimate the power of Al Green.