Bent Words

Bent Words

April 29, 2022

really thought I was a mean enough mom to intimidate and keep the neighborhood kids at bay.

Somehow I have failed.

I have five children in my home at present and the majority aren't even my own. My 5-year-old is arguing with her best friend and I believe it has something to do with slippers. Which shouldn't be a thing in the middle of April but we have snow, too, so I might as well break out the hot chocolate and mini marshmallows and pop Frosty into the DVD player. Back up, Easter Bunny, we're apparently not done with winter yet!

I am fully convinced that there is a structured level of volume under which no child can communicate. Like dog whistles but opposite. Inside voices, whispering, QUIET!, backhands in the face -- nothing seems to work.

"Mom. Can you PULEASE get my slippers from my closet shelf?"

There were three pairs of slippers peeking out of the bottom of her dresser yesterday afternoon while I was cleaning her room.

"Look by your dresser," I said.

"They're not there. I know. I looked," she replied.

"Either you have too many pairs of slippers then or you have some climbing to do."

She just looked at me.

"Mom. I can't reach the top shelf!"

I went into her room to find an absolute disaster of crap laying all around. It was a like a giant plate of nachos but, instead of tortilla chips, it was books galore and, instead of ground meat, tomatoes and onions, it was toys of every fucking color, size and shape. And instead of cheese, it was pink slime mixed with pink foam stuff and mashed up pink Peeps. This goes nicely with her ever-present blue and purple mystery stains on the bedroom carpet and leads me to believe she has murdered a few Care Bears or more slime has somehow passed through the front door security check.

I'm thinking about setting up a screening station where no one can enter the house unless they have been revoked of all sciencey/crafty items including but not limited to gum, slime, putty, foam, taffy and glue.

"Clean up this MESS and maybe you'll find that which you are searching for," I said through gritted teeth, trying not to snap.



If I knew she was going to go this crazy, I would have thought better of inviting 17 kids into my house on a day that is entirely too cold to play outside while both me and my husband are working. I know my limits and I basically passed them after conceiving child #1 but that doesn't mean I need to add numbers to insult. I normally only do melatonin gummies at night but now I'm thinking that some afternoon naps are in order if I'm going to win the war on Teacher In-Service days.

And, in fact, I blame the teachers! They have the entire summer off! What do they need all these other days off for? They have Spring Break, Thanksgiving week, Christmas week and apparently Easter as well. Suck it up, butter cups and teach my children about REAL LIFE rather than math. Such a fake subject. That’s why God created calculator

At any rate, I lost my business on the Middle Child and screamed in her face so now I feel bad. But take heart, Dear Laura! I know my child. I know she's going to march through that front door in a few short minutes and that I will be waiting pensively, wondering which child will enter today. Will it be the sweet, carefree soul that charms me back into her heart with a sweet "I love you, Mommy"? Or will it be the Angel of Angst, wringing her tiny hands with her tiny mouth all agape screaming that she has to pee and "I'm not gonna make it, MOM!" because there is never enough time to make it from Point A to Point B(athroom) and everyone in the vicinity will attempt move her faster to the toilet by waving their hands as though the air current will move her more quickly to her destination and, finally, after the deed is done and she has relaxed, I will toss food at her and all will be well with the world again...

Until the next holiday.

Written at 2:56 p.m.