The Bearded Iris

A Recalcitrant Wife and Mother Tells All

Tag: wtf wednesday

I get why some species eat their young: a tribute to WTF Tapas.

My fiesty friend Allison over at Motherhood, WTF? has a fabulous regular feature she calls WTF Tapas. It’s where she shares little snippets of the crazy funny shit her kids do and say that aren’t really big enough for individual blog posts. It’s brilliant. Do yourself a favor and check her out if you haven’t already (the links are at the end of this post).

We’ve had a lot of such moments over here in Beardsville lately so I thought I’d give Allison’s clever model a go. Incidentally, and I think Allison will appreciate this, most of my recent “Tapas” reflect those special parenting moments that make a mother look longingly at her spawn and think, “Maybe wolf spiders and hamsters are onto something.”

May I now present: Bearded WTF Tapas.*

*Not to be confused with Bearded WTF Tacos. That’s a whole ‘nother story. Feel free to  help me come up with a better name that’s less vagina-centric. ‘Preciate it.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Bucket Head (4 year old son): “I wish I could touch a dinosaur.”

Me: “Oh yeah? What do you think a dinosaur would feel like?”

Bucket Head: “Kinda like your arm.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Nature Boy (12 year old son): “Mom, (giggle giggle)…you totally have a muffin top.”

Me: “Haters gonna hate.”

Nature Boy: “And potatoes gonna potate. Maybe you should do some sit ups.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Me: “You know, Bucket Head, if you ever get lost, honey, you should look for a nice friendly Mommy that you can ask for help. A nice Mommy will help you find me, okay?”

Bucket Head: “Otay. (sic) Or I could find a friendly animal and ride him back to you.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Mini-Me (9 year old daughter): “Mommy, don’t take this the wrong way, because I’m TOTALLY grateful for all the things Santa brought me this year, but…well…Kelsey and Rachel got some really cool stuff for Christmas.”

Me: (deep breath, trying to suppress my rage) “I’m totally taking that the wrong way. You got EVERYTHING you asked for…EVER-Y-THING. Next year, do a better job asking for what you want.” (Then I’m pretty sure I made the “Mmmm-hmmm” face, wagged my pointer finger in the air, turned on my heel, and muttered “Bitch” under my breath. Awesome.)

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Mini-Me: “Mom, do you like that sweater?” (Pointing to the new Christmas present I was wearing that my mom actually bought for me in Ireland.)

Me: “Yes. Why, don’t you?”

Mini-Me: “Well…it’s just that…it’s so…Momish.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Bucket Head (furious with his big sister Mini-Me): “I HATE YOU! I’m going to fart on your penis, you POOP HEAD!”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Okay, I don’t want to end on a violent note, so here are two silly ones:

Bucket Head: “Please can I buy this cool Spectifyer?”

Me: “What? What’s a Spectifyer?”

Bucket Head: “This!” (pointing to a Pez Dispenser)

(You can read more about Bucket Head’s Speech Impairment here.) 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Nature Boy (at the Christmas Tree Farm): “I wonder, is that a horse or a pony?”

Bucket Head: “It’s a horse. Ponies live in the sky and they have rainbows and horns on their heads.”

(I have no idea where he got that.  *cough cough* He’s obviously confused…)

(and/or watches WAY TOO MUCH TELEVISION)

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Yeah, if they weren’t so cute, I’d definitely eat them. No question.

[DISCLAIMER: Human cannibalism is a crime punishable by law. The Bearded Iris does not endorse consuming children.]

Thanks again to Allison at Motherhood, WTF? for the WTF Tapas inspiration!

Keep it classy,

-Iris

© Copyright 2012, The Bearded Iris. All rights reserved. Don’t be a poop head or Bucket Head will fart on your penis, whether you have one or not.

WTF Wednesday: The Very Special Halloween Hangover Edition

{ding dong}

You open the door.

Here’s what you see:

Witch, Orca Whale, Skeleton, Halloween 2011.

Immediately followed by the sound of my little Bucket Head singing:

“Trick-or-Treat! Smell my feet! Give me something good to eat!”

Always a crowd pleaser.

But did you know there is a second verse to this classic holiday greeting?

There is.

It goes like this:

“If you don’t, I don’t care. I’ll pull down your underwear!”

WTF?

Who on earth taught that to my sweet, innocent, cherub-faced four year old son?

Uh, that would be me.

Sorry, neighbors.

In hindsight, bad idea. Apparently, pulling down other people’s underwear without their consent isn’t very socially acceptable nowadays.

But when I was a kid? Shoot. We called that “getting de-pantsed.” It was a classic bully maneuver. Naturally, I rocked at it. Just ask my little brother.

Something else you may have heard if you trick-or-treated on my street was Bucket Head shouting “I AM NOT A SHART.”

Bless his little speech impaired heart.

What he meant was “I am not a SHARK.”

And I totally feel his pain. Really I do.

What the fuck is wrong with grown-ups today?

People, if you don’t know the difference between an orca whale and a shark, you need to spend less time chatting up little trick-or-treaters and more time watching Animal Planet.

We're going to need a bigger boat.

I can’t even tell you how many adults told my Bucket Head, “My, what a scary shark you are!” To which he would always reply that he was not a shark, but an orca whale (duh). As the evening progressed, he became more and more frustrated with having to correct so many people.

And listen, the only thing worse than trying to correct an imbecilic adult who doesn’t know their sea creatures is then being laughed at for your mispronunciation by said imbecile. Thanks a lot, neighbors.

But my biggest WTF Halloween moment occurred when one of my kids received this in their treat bag:

Valentine Candy. To: _______, From: Bridget. On Halloween.

Say it with me, friends:

What…

The…

F!

I know what some of you are thinking. It’s kinda brilliant.

Wrong.

That’s jive. (Says the lady who hands out gently used Happy Meal Toys.)

Even though I’m a huge advocate of being green and frugal, giving out personalized Valentine candy treats on Halloween is just plain shitty. That’s like giving out soy sauce packets and used dryer sheets. Don’t be a douche. These kids are working hard to walk all the way to your door and sing the “smell my feet” song. Eight month old off-holiday candy is a TRICK, not a treat. Save it for the un-costumed teenagers who show up after your porch light is off, not the cute little SHART who still says “gank you.”

And now, to answer all those lingering questions.

Did our house get egged?

No! In fact, I observed The Gatekeeper greet the first few trick-or-treaters and whenever he asked them “Would you like candy or a toy?” they always said “A TOY!!!” So there, doubters. Kids love plastic crap. Told you!

Did I dress up?

Yes indeedy. I did. Well, kinda. A hat/wig, lipstick, tattoo sleeves, and a bracelet count, right?

Semi-Biker Chick with her brood.

Good enough. Or as my stapler-wielding Mama says, “Done is better than perfect.” 

We even returned to our hippie friends’ 2nd annual Halloween Party, where once again, I was the only adult in costume. No, The Gatekeeper didn’t come. He did dress up though…as an Ohio State Fan. Whoop-dee-frickin’-doo. He stayed home and watched football and drank beer while I bravely battled my social-anxieties alone at a dry party. Awesome.

Who did we trick-or-treat with this year? 

We trick-or-treated with Mama Cloud and her kids again and it was delightful, as usual. She and I have similar parenting styles and it’s so refreshing to not have to be the lone bad cop all night shrieking things like “DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH? THEN GET OUT OF THE MIDDLE OF THE GOD DAMN STREET, Honey.” (Because tacking “Honey” onto any rant makes it not quite so negative, right?)

Did Nature Boy trick-or-treat with his friends and no adult supervision? 

Aw HAYLE NO. He just turned 12. He and his best friend came with me and Mama Cloud and our combined broods. And it was a good thing, too, because he almost peed his pants at the local haunted house…it was that scary. I ended up going through it twice because he was too afraid to come with me and his best friend the first time. Pussy. Kidding. We held hands the whole time, but it was totally dark, so his best friend couldn’t see what a scaredy-cat he was. Too cute.

Was alcohol involved?

What are you, slow? Of course. I had to make up for the withdrawal I was experiencing after the hippie Halloween party.

So that’s that! I hope your Halloween was a happy one too and that you got only treats and no tricks in your goodie bags! And by goodie bags, of course I mean vaginas.

I’m linking up with Sellabit Mum and Fourplusanangel for Boo in the Blogosphere and Nicole at By Word of Mouth Musings because I obviously need to make some new friends.

 

Photobucket
 

with kisses and consensual de-pantsing,

-Iris

© Copyright 2011, The Bearded Iris. All rights reserved.

We’re having a lean, green, and mean Halloween!

Have you noticed the vast selection of non-edible Halloween treats in the stores this year? We’re talking Halloween themed silly bands, bendy monster action figures, temporary tattoos, glow-in-the-dark vampire fangs, mini cans of creepy colored Play-Doh, stickers, pencils, erasers, etc.

WTF?

How am I supposed to get my annual All Saints Day yeast infection?

Kidding. It usually takes until All Souls Day for me to deplete my children’s entire supply of Kit Kats and Butterfingers.

As a semi-conscientious parent, I suppose the movement away from candy makes sense. You know…all the cavity-causing sugar, the Red Dye #40 that ignites kiddies like roman candles, the neurotoxic artificial flavorings, the risk of cross-contamination from tree nuts, the razor blades…I get it. Long gone are the days of homemade candy apples and popcorn balls.

But you know what? I don’t think I can tolerate any more plastic CRAP in my house.

Because for realio, if I step on one more of those MFing little plastic spider rings in the middle of the night, I’mma be starring in the next episode of Snapped.

Seriously, I’ve already sacrificed one of my formerly lovely toes to the Plastic Clutter Gods. Enough is enough already!

I’m nothing if not practical though. And since handing out non-edible plastic CRAP is the hot trend this year, I’m perfectly willing to get on board.

My approach, however, is a little leaner, greener, and yes, according to my kids, “way meaner.”

It is so simple… you’re gonna kick yourself for not thinking of it first!

This year, I’m going to recycle random kid clutter as Halloween treats! Bye-bye Happy Meal toys, school “Treasure Box” earnings, anything that came home in a birthday party goodie bag, carnival prizes, etc.; it’s all fair game. Your kids want it, and I want it out of my house. Win-win!

Here is a picture of some of the kid clutter I was able to gather in just a few minutes.

"Mom, have you seen my Shrek and Mulan action figures?" "No honey. I haven't." (Heh heh heh)

Frickin’ brilliant, right? And I don’t have to spend a dime! Take THAT, Corporate America!

My husband already thinks I’m crazier than a shit-house rat, so of course this idea came as no big surprise to him. He’s just bummed there won’t be a stockpile of fun-sized Almond Joy bars in the pantry all week.

If you are going to try this at your house, something I learned the hard way is to NOT ask your kids to help you gather your loot. In fact, don’t even do it while they’re around… kids are notoriously clingy to those awful made-in-China choke hazards. Must be all the lead, messing with their brain chemistry. Also, once you assemble your stash, keep it hidden from your ankle biters or you will open yourself up to a world of whining, fighting, and/or stealing.

OH! Lookie here, even as I was taking these pictures, a little hand was sneakin’ in to reclaim some of the booty. That’s my Bucket Head… notorious Crap Raptor.

Hold it right there, Bub.

We get a lot of teenaged Trick-or-Treaters in my neighborhood, so I think I’ll break up the “treats” into two age-appropriate baskets; toys for the little ones, other random household clutter for the older kids.

Finally, something practical to do with our stash of pre-vasectomy condoms! (Clearly, if the kids are dressed up like this little neighbor was last year… a condom or two isn’t such a bad idea. Lord have mercy!)

Look at this little skank rubbin' up against my little Vampire! Maybe she's just cold. Poor thing.

"Well who are you supposed to be? A WHORE? Oh, a teenager? Same diff. Get away from my son!"

So that’s my hot Halloween tip for this year. Reduce your clutter, save the planet, and hoard your cash this Halloween. Sure, your kids might miss some of those toe-breaking-toys, and yes, the neighbors will probably have even more to say about you than they usually do, but think of the serenity you’ll gain by eliminating clutter and reducing your carbon footprint!

And with the money you’ll save you can hire professional window washers to remove the egg shells and soap you’ll most likely receive as a result of your non-traditional “treats.”

Totally worth it.

What do you think? Is this idea a winner or have I gone off the deep end?

I’m going to link up to Org Junkie because I think she’d approve of this idea!

-Iris

© Copyright 2011, The Bearded Iris. 

WTF Wednesday – Parking Lot Pariahs

I’ve tried Wordless Wednesday. Pretty tough gig when your passion is words.

I’ve also tried What I Wore Wednesday. Those may have been my four least favorite blog posts ever.

So rather than continuing to force my stubbly square peg into round, perfectly coiffed holes, I’m making an executive decision to dedicate this Wednesday to something I’m actually good at: shaking my head, raising my hands in despair, and saying WHAT THE FUCK! 

Yes, my friends, it’s officially known as WTF Wednesday. And unlike the word “vajillion,” I did not invent it.

For those of you ESL readers of The Bearded Iris, WTF is an expression people use to succinctly express a combination of utter disbelief and disgust. Mothers of young children are particularly familiar with this feeling, especially upon the discovery of bodily excretions in odd places like walls, ceilings, or door handles.

I probably mutter/sigh/shout/sob this glorious phrase several times each day, so the challenge for me will be to pinpoint and highlight just one mindboggling topic each week.

This week, my most profound WTF experience was a no brainer:

Say it with me, friends: WHAT. THE. FUCK!

I know what you’re thinking: Iris is going to get her ass killed one of these days taking pictures of cars and bad drivers.

Maybe so. But totally worth it. This is precisely the kind of crap that pushes me over the edge. If I don’t do SOMETHING about it, I will most likely explode. And like my husband says, “At least she’s not keying cars anymore.”

I took this shot last week at my daughter’s overcrowded elementary school, where parking is always at a premium. And I’ll have you know this car is nowhere near the entrance to the school, so don’t get all compassionate on me and give this d-bag the benefit of the doubt. Chances are pretty good the driver was not racing to administer an EpiPen to a child in advanced stages of anaphylactic shock.

And I can’t imagine the driver of this vehicle is strategically trying to protect the sides of her Armada by purposely taking up two parking spots. If it was a vintage cherry Mustang, that would be one thing. But a late model Japanese SUV? Don’t think so.

Nope. This is just vehicular inconsideration at its finest.

Was he in *that* much of a hurry to volunteer in little Johnny’s classroom that he couldn’t take 30 extra seconds to straighten out his parking job? If he’s two minutes late will the kids in that class miss their opportunity to make 3-D topographic maps of the state of Georgia out of candy and marshmallow dough? Don’t get me started.

This level of inconsideration is deplorable to me. And in a public parking lot where everyone can see and take pictures and slash your tires? Dumb ass.

And I see it all the time.

Earlier this week at my daughter’s dance school:

Are you effin’ kidding me?

This parking lot is so small and crowded that people regularly have to park up the street and walk across a weedy meadow to get to the school. But this lady is going to prevent an additional car from parking here, in the RAIN? Really? She’s lucky Bucket Head was asleep because I was *this close* to cramming my big ass Mombulance into that spot and swinging open my door over and over and over. Can’t you just hear me: “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I couldn’t get out. I guess you didn’t realize it, but there are handicap spots closer to the front door for folks with special needs, bless your heart!”

Twat waffle.

I don’t know who died and made me the head of the Brigade Against Asshole Drivers (BAAD), but what’s done is done. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to vent about it.

Clearly, dealing with such inconsideration on such a regular basis is enough to cause any decent citizen to hit the crack pipe. But instead of letting these idiots get me down, I’m going to find a more constructive way of managing my stress.

We are in the process of (slowly) remodeling our master bathroom and I wonder if there is a special shower head like this fab little Monoglide that can soothe away my road-rage-induced stress. Perhaps Professor Toilet can help. And if not, maybe I can borrow his sick-ass wrench to leave a little hello-howdy on the next poorly parked car I see.

Just keeping it real, one parking lot at a time,

-Iris

© Copyright 2011, The Bearded Iris.
All rights reserved.

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