It’s always scary and sad to hear when an area is hit by the wrath of Mother Nature. So waking up to the news that residents of California were subjected to an earthquake last night was in no way funny. Not funny, that is, until they interviewed a lady who happened to be in a movie theatre at the time of the quake. She described how the building started to shake, pieces of the screen started to peel away, and the ceiling began to fall. It was only funny when you find out the movie she was viewing was “Angels and Demons”. (Cue creepy movie music.) Seriously. I love Tom Hanks. I’d sit through an earthquake to watch any movie he’s in, as long as it’s a mild earthquake.
Thankfully there have been no earthquakes here and no tornados in a week! The streets downtown were closed on Friday night due to flooding, but I think most of the water is gone now. There’s an up-side to all this rain. Our yard looks like a really cool jungle right now. Don’t ask me how, but that evil man next door has manage to keep his mowed through all this rain. I swear, there’s something just not right about him. He may keep children in his basement or something. At the very least, small animals. I know I’ve posted about him and his perfectly manicured Stepford lawn before, but I can’t find the post because it was a long time ago, before tags here on Motime. He must have an underwater lawn mower or something. I hate him.
We’re in the final push to summer vacation around here, so the weather is actually a pretty big issue right now. The kids are having field days and extra recesses. Field trips, proms, graduation stuff, and just all around chaos. It would help if the weather was supporting such a hectic pace, but come on, why give me a day when I don’t want mood-altering drugs, right?
Speaking of children and chaos, I’ve mentioned how crazy the man child’s life is right now with his final days of high school before him. So I know you can imagine he has had moments where he has been truly emotional, almost hateful. One day last week during a particularly grouchy spell, I heard IzzyB say, “Jarrod, what’s wrong with you! Are you PMSing or something?!” I don’t even wonder where she gets this stuff anymore as we have three teens in the house, and even though I’m constantly telling them to mind their language around her, occasionally something still gets through. So our conversation went like something like this:
Me: Isabella what does “PMSing” mean? You used the word, and you should never use a word if you don’t know the meaning. Do you?
Isabella: Of course I know what it means, Mom.
Me: Well then, you should know that’s not really something you should be saying. It isn’t polite. But since you said it, tell me what it means.
Isabella: Duh. PMS… pee a mess…
I walked out of the room.
You would understand my inability to handle this without hysterical laughter if you knew the conversation we had week before last. You know what? I’m going to share it with you although she’d kill me if she knew.
Disclaimer: This is a story with intimate female physical details. Do NOT read it if you’re all fragile and stuff and easily offended by such things.
While sitting on the couch with my husband, I realize IzzyB is suddenly beside me with a very worried expression on her face. To understand the fear her features held, you must first understand that Isabella has been very diligent with female cleanliness since a very early age. She can be dirty from head to toe, but let me tell ya, she’s gonna make sure she uses half a roll of toilet paper on the coochie! Okay, so back to the worried looking little girl standing beside me.
Isabella: (not even bothering to whisper because she doesn’t know the meaning of “shy”) Mom, I have a big problem.
Me: (Only half listening at this point) What’s wrong now? (Thinking there’s another little girl club fight outside or something.)
Isabella: Well, I just used the bathroom… and Mom, there’s a hair stuck to my coochie, and I can’t get it off!
The husband who is sitting beside me gets choked, and I have to put my head down between my knees to keep from hurling… or laughing… or crying… I can’t really remember now. It’s all kind of blurry.
I don’t know how I got from the weather to that, but it’s Monday. Surely you’ve learned to not expect much here on Mondays by now.
