A Hairy Situation

Every morning, it is the same damn war. After packing lunches and preparing breakfast, it comes down to mom vs. daughter’s hair. My daughter has very long hair and hates having it brushed. I finally agreed that she was old enough to accomplish the task herself and even bought a detangling spray to help her out a little. Problem is, she isn’t using it nor is she brushing her hair.

I’ve threatened to chop her hair off, but she saw right through that lie. I needed to come up with something more believable and it was the other night, while feeding my dogs, that I had a revelation.

I began telling my daughter if she didn’t take care of her hair that it would begin to fall out. I told her that it already started to look weak. I then clipped some of my golden retriever’s hair (an almost exact color match) and begin leaving it on her pillow, in the hood of her coat, and anywhere else she may notice it.

It was yesterday after dinner that she finally approached me. With a wad of hair in her hands, she asked if she started taking care of her hair, would it grow back or was it too late. I told her that the only surefire way to prevent more from falling out was to brush twice a day for at least a week and then at least once a day every day thereafter.

Needless to say, she is using the detangling spray and combing her hair as she should. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to figure out how to get my son to put his clothes in the hamper and not on the floor.

Parenting With Pea Soup

We all know how I feel about pissy toilets. Well, it seems as if I have a new, even more disgusting problem on my hands. Apparently my daughter has forgotten how to flush after stinking up the bathroom. This was the second morning in a row that I go to open the bathroom windows upstairs and have been greeted with the stench of shit that has been marinating overnight. Needless to say, I've had it.

Searching for something, but not sure what, I found my answer in the pantry. Pea soup. I opened the can, poured some of the contents in the toilet, let some splash on the toilet seat, and smeared some on a piece of toilet paper that I let hang into the bowl by a thread. By the time I was done, it looked as if some very sick person had exploded in the bathroom.

Perfect.

I then grabbed a sponge and some cleaner and set it beside the mess. When my little princess gets home from school, she will realize how disgusting it is to have to clean that shit up. Hopefully, by the time she is finished, she will never forget to flush again. I'd hate to have to take it a step further and yes, I am evil, but they still call me mom.

Mischievously Cheeto-ed

Why does something that tastes so good have to make such a damn mess? Who on god’s green earth would invent something that you eat with your hands and coat it in some neon orange powder that sticks to everything? And why do my kids insist on using the coach, carpet, and curtains to wipe the shit off?

I’ve had it with the orange stains everywhere. I’m tired of sitting down only to have something catch my eye and discover the orange powder has been transferred yet again. This time, it was the curtains that I had just washed the day before. I was pissed! I figured I had to do something or my whole damn house would become cheeto orange.

First, I made a mixture of cheetos and water until I achieved the right consistency (sticky as hell). I then rummaged around my kid’s rooms until I found their beloved gameboys. Finally, I proceeded to coat the gameboys in the sticky cheeto mixture and placed them where they were sure to be spotted – in the middle of their bedroom floors.

It didn’t take long before my kids stumbled upon my mischief. When asked who did that, I simply replied that it must have been the cheeto monster who rubbed cheetos all over the curtains. Needless to say, we won’t be purchasing cheetos anytime soon and I will be teaching my kids to do the laundry (I’ll be damned if I’m washing those curtains again).

Holy Moldy

Summer's here, the kids are out of school, and my patience is being tried harder than the OJ Simpson trial. Other than the usual I'm so bored, my son has decided he no longer needs showers. But mom, it's not like I have school tomorrow or anything. And even though I've told him he's beginning to smell worse than our dogs, he is refusing to take a shower.

After his little tirade last night where he actually went into the bathroom and apparently ran the shower for fifteen minutes while building his lego ship (never bothering to actually get in the shower), I figured enough was enough. It was time to get creative.

I found an old spray bottle and mixed green food coloring with water (I was fresh out of kool-aid). I then snuck up to his room and sprayed him while he slept (good thing he sleeps like a rock). Of course, I was awaken to shrill screams this morning as my son comes running into my room screaming he was sick. Holding back the giggles, I told him I was afraid this would happen. I then go on to tell him that his lack of showers has allowed mold to begin to form on his body.

Needless to say, he has had two showers today and almost all the mold has washed off. Ah, the joys of being a parent...

Pissy Parenting

WWSD? Suzie would have cleaned up the mess and went on about her business.

One thing I hate about cleaning my own house is the simple fact that I have to do it. I'll admit, I tend to be a little OCD when it comes to the cleanliness of my home, but that's beside the point. The one chore I hate more than the sound of Rosie O'Donnell's voice is bathrooms. It doesn't matter how clean you get it, someone's eventually going to piss all over your hard work.

Yesterday, I had the bathrooms spic and span. I eventually go to use one and there is pee all over the seat. Being as my daughter and I sit to go and Dick isn't here, I knew it had to be my son. Now, I don't know why boys have such a hard time getting it in the toilet and not on it. Perhaps you guys should lean in a little closer.

I've had the conversation about this with him numerous times. I've explained how I dislike wiping piss up all the time and how I had better things to do (like degreasing the oven), yet he continues to let it fly in the bathroom.

So being the clever little Suzie that I am, I made a concoction of lemon kool-aid and water. I then proceeded to pour it over the toilet seat. I called my son in the bathroom and told him that it was his turn to clean up the mess. I handed him a sponge and cleaner and walked out of the room (trying not to laugh as he moaned about my inability to hit the seat). I must say, he did a fine job and may have found a new appreciation for what I have to do around here.

Needless to say, the bathroom remains clean. Now, if I could just find a way to get them to put their toys back after playing with them.