Have you ever just stopped doing something....right in it's tracks...just to think...what the hell is the matter with me?
Yesterday was a day long of chores. My moment was vacuuming trying to get that string off the floor. You all know "that string" we have all had one. I used the vaccume to no avail, the string just sticks to the floor. I roll over it again for it to move two inches upward on the carpet, then 2 inches backward as I roll back. Then I am pissed so I roll it back and forth back and forth back and forth really fast. At this point I have whacked the vaccume into a wall and my kids are watching now as I am cursing under my breath and growling. I am not going to pick up a freggin string. Finally my son comes to my rescue, walks over, and picks up the string, giving me a sideway glance, letting me know that I lost. This was my moment of mental illness.
My children decided that they were going to be mentally challenged this weekend as well. I went to the store for 45 minutes and came home. As I am approaching my home I see a neighbor in his car talking in his car pointing at my house. I'm thinking great...the house is on fire. Then I see it. My sons decided that the easiest and most 'fun' way to take the TV out of their sisters room without her knowing it (as she was in another room) was to go out the window. Creative yes...dumb? Absolutely.
The neighbors were looking at my sons ass sticking out the window, and him holding a TV. It looked as though someone was breaking and entering. I was waiting for the cops to show up, as we have a very strict neighborhood watch, and homeowners association. I truly was expecting it as last month my son took his basketball hoop out to the curb and that is not allowed, so one of the other homeowners actually snapped a picture, ans sent a warning letter that if this were ever to happen again, that we would be fined.
To prove my point that mental illness does run in families, my favorite story is of my very blonde daughter. I was out one evening with a new cell phone that was not working properly. She was trying to call and could not get though so she thinks she should call 411 and get the number, since I did not leave it, knowing I always answer my cell. When I came home that evening she tells me the story of not being able to find the number. After being assured everything was ok, they just wanted to know if they could eat all the pizza, I asked what happened to her calling information, that I never got a call. She said that she could not remember the number to 411.
I have never laughed so hard in my life.
This tops it all:)
Almighty Heidi and her not so right kids:)
10 comments:
Stuck to the floor string sucks. It's a matter of principle with me never to pick it up. Homeowner's associations suck....our neighborhood does not have one, thank goodness..
Kids su...well, never mind...but sometimes they can be dumber than doorposts....just like their parents.
ps: Oh, I was primarily thinking of outrageous experiences with my kids when I made that comment (your post brought back some memories)...and the fact that they inherited their tendency to brainfart from me..
schaumi..no worries, it is an inherent quality mainly drawn from my mothers side of the family. Remember, everything in life, you can always blame on your parents:)
I don't think that stubbornly running a vacuum cleaner back and forth to suck up a string instead of just picking it up is a sign of stupidity or mental illness.
Believing that a man has snuck into your house to place a static-charged string on your carpet just to drive you crazy? That's a sign of stupidity or mental illness.
As far as the TV heist goes, I'd stick to the creative aspects of it.
I do find it difficult, however, to put a positive spin on the 411 episode. Maybe your daughter was joking? (Sort of a metajoke, seeing that she's blonde.)
"hee!hee!hee!!!..."
had fun reading this!
soooooooo,
you okay? long time no post..:(
Hi Sweetie,
Your dad was busy today on the computer, trying to restore lost information from the last hard-drive fry with old back-ups. I found a link to your blogsite and read all of them -- those I've read and those I've not read before. I laughed my ass off which is good news, especially since it was about 20 lbs overweight...I'm still on my geriatric teeter-totter diet --but I'm not going to put myself on the scale tonight. And I had to cry a lot, too. Yep, all the exquisite insanity, compulsive string sucking brain-pharting (nope, x.dell, the 411 number lapse wasn't a mega-blond joke, it was a real moment of numeric memory lapse, similar to the Almighty H. dialing phone numbers on the calculator pad and waiting for the ring)is inherited. My insanity was inherited from my children, too. Heidi, both you and I were blond at birth. Your hair is darker brown than mine, like your dad's, so you got the extra smarts from him. I find that as my hair returns to a light color (silver-gray) with advancing age, I have more and more blond moments, too. Only they are how known as senior moments for my generation. Unfortunately using hair color hasn't remedied the situation for me, as you know, but my spelling is still preety gud. You just spell like your Dad. It's part of the genetic problem you mentioned in the shopping blog. I hate shopping too, except thrift store shopping -- in which case it is a matter of a treasure-hunt. Dunno where you got the shoe-addiction, poor baby. I personally hate having to wear any shoes or clothes these days, but I look pretty scary stepping out of the house without the latter. (Getting old sucks.)
You are an incredible woman, a loving mom, a fantastic daughter, and you have a beautiful, intuitive, sweet spirit. Your gift of humor is born partly out of the heartaches and physical pain you endure, and partly of the creative way of "seeing" that you've developed -- noticing the funny things, the ironic things, the things that can be read into other things. And on top of it all, you are so gorgeously beautiful. You are soooo unspeakably and greatly loved.
Love,
Mom
Actually, Mom, I can see the value of dialing a calculator. You can't hear bad news over the calculator.
Better yet, if you talk on the calculator enough, you can just about kill anyone you want, because you have your insanity defense already in place.
Thank you all for your comments. The ALmighty Heidi is back in the blogging business, we will see what comes up in bloggin on heavy doses of percocet:)
Jesus.
Maybe ALL THREE of them oughtta be wearing helmets.
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