The Bearded Iris

A Recalcitrant Wife and Mother Tells All

Tag: kids say the darndest things

Bucket Head on board

It was starting to drizzle.

Bucket Head and I would need to run for it.

We counted to three and ran from the store to our car while I pressed the button for the automatic sliding door. He hopped into the back and we both buckled ourselves in while I checked my mirrors.

I put it in reverse and was starting to ease backward out of our angled parking spot when I noticed a gangly teenaged boy walking right behind my minivan. I braked and waited for him to pass. “Kids,” I muttered under my breath and made a mental note to remind my brood to be on the lookout for people reversing in parking lots who might not be able to see them.

Once he passed I checked my mirrors a second time and started to reverse again, slowly.

And again, there was something passing by the back of my van, seemingly inches away from my rear bumper.

It was the teenager’s father.

He wasn’t hustling at all, he wasn’t stopping to let me get out of my parking spot, he was simply glaring at me and shaking his head. I hit the brake as he slowly sauntered by giving me the stink eye.

Obviously he had the right of way. If I had noticed him I never would have tried to back out. But the blind spot on my minivan is huge, especially in the drizzle through the rain-spattered windows, reversing at an angle.

Oh—that look! What the hell, dude! Do you think I’m TRYING to mow you down? I’m just trying to get out of my parking spot. I totally would have waited for you to pass if I had seen you. It’s drizzling and I’m dry in my car—of course I want you to pass by safely and get into the store unscathed.

Ack. I hate that. Why did he have to glare and shake his head in judgment like that? Why couldn’t he just hustle by and wave like “Ooops, sorry—didn’t see your reverse lights.” I like to think that’s what I would have done. I probably would have smiled and waved and hustled by. I hope.

But his nasty face and pissy attitude set me off. Where is the common courtesy? Why couldn’t we have shared a pleasant exchange like an “I’m sorry, you go,” “No, that’s okay, you go,” kind of moment? Why can’t real life be more like that Liberty Mutual commercial that always makes me cry?

I know I shouldn’t have, but I exploded.

“I didn’t see you, JAGOFF!” I shouted at him (from behind the safety of my closed windows and locked doors.) You can take the girl out of Pittsburgh, but you can never take the Pittsburgh out of the girl, I guess.

That’s when 6-year-old Bucket Head, who I momentarily forgot was buckled in right behind me said, “How do you know his name, Mommy?” 

And then my heart exploded from the cuteness and my road rage melted away.

I wish every vehicle came standard with a backseat Bucket Head. I think the world would be a better place.

Now I just need to teach him to stop calling people jagoffs.

Everyone needs a backseat Bucket Head by The Bearded Iris

And that’s where baby corn comes from.

I wish you could come over for dinner sometime and see with your own eyes the kind of mayhem that exists around my kitchen table every night.

Just last evening alone, I witnessed:

1.) The Gatekeeper (husband) pleading with the rest of us to have “just one meal without any butt talk or bodily functions.”

2.) Mini-Me (9 y.o. daughter) showcasing a new magic trick: holding her own pinky with the rest of her fingers on the same hand and making it wiggle like a worm. (So freaky and gross! And also, hilarious! Might have to video tape it for you at some point.)

3.) Bucket Head (4 y.o. son) rattling off all the characters from the X-Men cartoon and explaining to us in vivid detail why Jean Grey would never marry Gambit, and then saying “Don’t worry mom, I said GAMBIT, with a G.”

4.) And my favorite moment from the night, a conversation about the origins of baby corn.

photo of baby corn

baby corn

We were having slow-cooker coconut ginger chicken and veggies discovered earlier this week on Pinterest. (Kids hated it, but The Gatekeeper and I had three bowls each. Delish! Thanks Elliot!)

While picking through the veggies for another bite of chicken,  Mini-Me cocked her head to the side and said, “Where does baby corn come from?”

Without missing a single beat, my 12 year old son Nature Boy said,

“Well, when a Mommy Corn and a Daddy Corn love each other very much…”

I swear to God.

The kid is TWELVE years old. He should have his own sitcom.

I’m telling you, I laughed until tears were streaming down my face. And then I saw that look in his eyes, that look of pride indicating, “Yeah, I made my mom laugh. Score!” I know that feeling. It’s the BEST.

Then I told the kids about the classic baby corn scene from Big. You know the one…

And we made plans to watch it together as a family later tonight. I can hardly wait!

(Updated: DO NOT watch “Big” with your kids. Holy CRAP. Totally inappropriate. See comments below.) 

By the way, according to the google, baby corn is just immature regular corn that is harvested before it has a chance to develop into big meaty flossable adult corn. Hey, the more you know. Frankly, I’m relieved. I don’t like to think of my veggies bumping uglies, especially in corn fields where dudes like Malachai could be hiding out with their scary sickles and shit.

So that’s the dealio with baby corn. Little red potatoes though? Totally different story…

Whoa...that is one happy sweet potato!

"The Vulvato" submitted by @NotSoSunshine

I was wondering what that thumping sound in my pantry was! Mystery solved.

Special thanks to @NotSoSunshine of TheFlyingWalleeties for sharing her spectacular “vulvato” with me on the twitter.

Have a good weekend, y’all.

jovially yours,

-Iris

Welcome to Funky Town, population: ME.

Have you ever unwittingly rounded the corner in your own home only to discover one of your children doing something SO stinkin’ cute you thought your heart would pop right out of your chest and roll down the hallway?

If you are a parent, you surely have. Even if your babies are the fur baby variety, this is probably a familiar scenario. Right?

And of course, you never have a video camera rolling at that moment, or even a camera of any kind within arm’s reach.

God forbid you were to run for said camera because you just KNOW that by the time you returned the moment would be gone.

So you freeze and hold your breath and press the “record button” in your mind, hoping to never ever ever forget what you are seeing.

Well, as luck would have it, I walked in on my 4 year old son Bucket Head getting down to the song Funky Town by Lipps Inc. the other day. You know the phrase “dance like nobody is watching”? That is exactly what I witnessed. I’m telling you, it was a sight to behold.

But it wasn’t just his resplendent dance moves, oh no. Homeboy was singing along while he was shaking his money maker.

I held my breath and slapped my hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t chortle and ruin the moment, but once I gathered my wits about me, I realized he was totally botching the lyrics in the most delightful way…and not just because of his well-documented speech impairment.

You know the part in the song that goes “…talk about it, talk about it, talk about it, talk about it…”?

Bucket Head was singing:  “…taco body, taco body, taco body, taco body…”

Hand to God. I will never be able to sing it any other way for the rest of my  life. Instant classic. I’m talking, “Hold me closer, Tony Danza” classic. 

As predicted, once he realized I was watching, he froze up like a deer in the headlights. But because his performance was such a show shopper, I thought I might be able to get him to do a repeat performance on camera.

Boy oh boy, was I wrong.

The following is what we’ll call Just Another Precious Motherhood Moment:

This is why seasoned professionals know better than to star alongside children or animals.

Live and learn. And probably do laundry and/or tend to my personal hygiene more often.

yours truly,

-Iris

Linking this up to Yeah Write because something tells me that those bloggers know a thing or two about how to bring the funk to any potluck.

ADDENDUM: This post won “Lurker’s Favorite” over at Yeah Write this week, which is purdy durn awesome, if you ask me! Thank you Erica and Q!

Muffins with Mommy, aka “Get a lock on your bedroom door.”

Yesterday was “Muffins with Mommy” at Bucket Head’s preschool.

There were muffins.

There were Mommies.

And there was a presentation in which the preschool teachers took turns reading aloud each child’s previously transcribed responses to the “My Wonderful Mommy” questionnaire.

The teachers swear there was no coaching and that they honored the children’s exact words.

Want to know a secret about my Mommy?

"Want to know a secret about my Mommy?"

 

{Ahem.}

The basic template for the questionnaire is something like this:

1.) My mother is the ______________ mother in the whole world.

2.) My mother can ______________ better than anyone else.

3.) She is also very good at ________________.

4.) My mother’s favorite thing in the whole world is ______________.

5.) My mother works very hard ______________.

6.) When my mother’s work is done, she likes to ________________.

7.) She looks especially nice when she wears her ________________.

As you can well imagine, this little activity is nothing short of a recipe for total heart-melting cuteness and/or utter humiliation.

Boy howdy, the moms sure did learn a lot about each other yesterday. And because I’m a giver, I’d like to share some of our secrets with you in the form of these darling cards I made especially for the occasion at someecards.com.

 

someecards.com - Gee, Timmy, I'm glad I don't have the only Mom in our class who is really good at forgetting stuff.

 

someecards.com - My Mommy likes to take lots of naps on the couch.

 

someecards.com - My Mommy is really skinny. She likes to exercise, drink special juice, and clean things.

 

someecards.com - Mom, how'd you get so darn good at doing those donkey kicks?

 

someecards.com - Your daughter is right. You DO look your best when you're not naked.

 

someecards.com - Sorry your kid told everyone at school that

 

So yeah. Teachers of young children know a lot more about us than we realize. Note to self: give extra special teacher gifts this year.

very nervously yours,

-Iris

PS – Linking up with my peeps over at the Yeah Write community, my favorite one-stop-shop for the BEST posts of the week by 50 up and coming bloggers!

Overheard

The other day, I was reclined on the couch, “resting my eyes,” while the kids were having a snack in the kitchen.

I heard one of them take a few steps into the hallway, apparently stopping to gaze at one of their ancestors lovingly displayed on the wall:

Iris' Family Tree

I recognized the sound of those footsteps, it was Mini-Me, my 8 year old daughter. Her eyes fixated on a portrait of my tow-headed little brother and me as young children:

After a long moment of silence, she quietly spoke to her brothers. “Can you believe that was Mommy when she was little?”

I could tell by the sound of her voice that she was captivated and mystified, as children often are when they see photos of their parents as children. My eyes were still closed, but I could tell by the silence that she was transfixed.

Uncle T. and Iris, 1974.

“Yeah?” her big brother replied, as in, so?

Mini-Me: “I can’t believe Grandma would do that to her.”

Nice.

And End Scene.

 

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