Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Three things I know, like, almost for sure



This is how I know I'm raising city kids:
The other day Oliver brought me the empty cardboard oatmeal box he'd filled with sand and dirt and called a "shaker," and asked me to write "free" on the lid. He then put it out on the sidewalk. This is how he thinks you get rid of unwanted things. And it's true: We've unloaded everything from coffee tables to Styrofoam coolers to boxes of baby clothes by leaving them out on the sidewalk. So far, we haven't managed to entice anyone to take the free cardboard cylinder full of sand. San Francisco can be kind of a yuppie town like that.



This is how I know I may have dropped an F-bomb within earshot of my innocent children:
Maggie is an extremely helpful child. She can be a major piece of work at times, but when push comes to shove (and it nearly did today) the kid loves nothing more that to scurry around at the service of another. Need that table wiped off? Maggie's got it. Have a baby in need of a paci rinse? Maggie's your girl. Decide to put together the IKEA table and chairs that's been sitting in your garage for eight months? Maggie is by your side, handing you the unpronounceable screws.

The Mister is away for a few days and in his absence I decided to prove my capability by finally tackling the daunting Levsack. It is a universal truth that assembling IKEA furniture does not go well, and this, my friends, was no exception.

ME:
(grumbling under my breath)
This can't be right. Wait, is this right? Why won't it fit? This is supposed to fit.
Never again. NEVER AGAIN.

MAGGIE:
(pointing to the part that won't fit in the other part despite what the directions say)
Mom, is this the fuck part?

ME:
What?

MAGGIE:
The fuck part. Is this the fuck part?

ME:
Um, what do you mean by that?

MAGGIE:
(looking a little self-concious)
Just, you know, a really fragile part. It's just, um, nothing. Fuck.

ME:
(seeing no need to make a big deal out of it)
I think I've got it now. Thanks.

This is how I know the laser was on:

Yes. Those are burns. On my neck. It cost me $100. And it hurts.

Also, I'm HERE today, talking about reality TV and how the Biggest Loser makes me cry.

5 comments:

Petunia Face said...

Woah woah woah--what are those laser burns from??? Like a laser pointer?

Mike said...

I've seen people drop things on the sidewalk and other people pick them up in less than 30 seconds. Now where is this sand? I need some ...

Up Mama's Wall said...

Petunia Face:
That would be laser hair removal gone wrong. What can I say? I'm of Russian Jewish decent. Our people have whiskers.

julie said...

about a month ago, sabrina dropped a sippy cup, looked down at it and said "fuck". we skipped over it, didn't acknowledge it, and then in the car she dropped her bear and said "fuck". clearly associating dropping something and saying the word fuck. and that only came from me. time for a mouth rinse for mommy. nothing is worse than hearing that come out of a child. well - that's not entirely true...

米色大衣 said...

與其爭取不可能得到的東西,不如善自珍惜運用自己所擁有的........................................

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