Fix it

I say that a lot to the kids when I have gotten to "two" and don't want to "release the Cracken" so to speak.

I'll give you a couple of the latest and best examples.

Daddy said put the weeds you pull in the grass and he will mow them up.

So one kid, who is oblivious that there is even a family living in this house with them, is upstairs playing music and rolling around on the carpet reading...or whatever...This child never hears me.

Kid 2 comes flying down the stairs, barrells out the door and quickly begins to weed and bag them.

All righty. Beggars cant be choosers; until kid 1 comes into play.

Kid one goes outside and begins to yell at kids 2 who is already finished with their half of the chore.  Kid one is bent because now they have to do their half alone.  Kid 2 is still bagging so kid one rips said bag and dumps picked weeds onto my bistro.  They begin to have a cage match.  They are unaware that I can see them and hear them (swearing at each other: "You're such an ass."  "Yeah? Well you're a turd. A smelly diarrhea turd") through the open windows and slider.  I stand cocking my head with puzzlement. Have I truly bore children this stupid?  They are so busy exchange Indian Rope Burns and pulling hair that I give myself away with a laugh. 

 They freeze and stare at me. I say nothing  but "Fix it" and leave their view.  I really just went around the corner where I could get the video camera in case we were about to witness a $10,000 moment...or evidence for a trial. You never know and they are SO close together... Well, they did. They fixed it; by having a weed/dirt fight.  Not quite what I had in mind, but they did what I asked. And it was fixed.

Then of course we had dinner. I fixed peas, a favorite of the kids (and not the canned grey kind for those of you who are wondering....) The phone rang and I began a quick chat with a friend.  I heard the kids begin to snap at each other:

"Don't eat it all!"
"You've had twelve helpings. Pig."
"Have not!"
"I haven't had ANY"

I pop my head in and hiss.  They look up to see me put my index finger in the air.  I shuffle out and continue my conversation.  So do they:

"Why do you ALWAYS take it all?"
"What do you care? You always throw it out or fake like you eat it."
"Do not"
"Do TOO"

I sigh and hustle out to the table.  I smack my hand on it and show them deadly serious bunny ears. "Two" I mouthe and walk out with apologies to my friend who has heard it and proclaims she understands and can't wait for the inevitable. 

"Do NOT take them ALL you HOG!" is shouted as if someone has tried to steal their lungs.

I feel my lips flip inside my mouth tightly (a trait I inherited from my father when the lashing out is about to begin...Thanks Pop) and rip the door from its hinges.  I wisk into the room like a hurricane with the phone turned up away from my mouth so my friend cannot hear my shrieking like a wounded banshee. "Waaaaaat are youuuuu DOOOOOOIIIIIING~" my voice cracks with fury.  My eyes are wild and stabbing at each of my two children who know the line has been crossed. They are shovelling dinner into their mouths as fast as they can because they are certain they will never eat again. "I am ON the phone! Fix it or suffer the consequences!"

"She took them all" Boo pouts.

Then I see it.

My daughter opens her mouth and spits the remainder of the peas she has been cheeking into the serving bowl and passes it to her brother.

"Here." she says sweetly.

I am speechless and fighting a laughing fit unequalled by anything I've seen in six months. I hear a tinkling noise and realize my friend is doing the exact same thing but failing. I realize I have just lost. I look away and try to spot something serious on the wall, but the paint is a shoft shade of green...like peas...and this fuels a fire I wish was never lit. I push the bowl in front of her and tell her to eat them. All. And if I ever see it again she will eat the entire bag of peas I own...the two pound family fun pack. I reassure her that she will be pooping green pellets if she does and I WILL make her pack her lunch every day until they are gone.  I put the phone to my still tittering pal and we stroll out of the room.  I feel mildly victorious. She was punished and the meal is almost finished...until I hear "You're an ass."

Now this is the SECOND time I"ve heard this.  It's not a common saying in my house, let alone in front of my kids so I wander out and THIS time I am sure that they see/hear me say good bye to my friend.  She ends with "Uh-oh. Fight the good fight" and I cross my arms, chewing my cheek thoughtfully.  My son is staring through the table.  My daughter has a pea shell stuck to her bottom lip.

"I beg your pardon?"

silence.

"What did you just say?"

panicked silence.

"Get up. NOW."

And this is where the scene from Christmas Story plays out.  Ralphie eats soap, Randy cries and Mom sighs a lot wondering just what in the name of the holiday she is supposed to do.

It was Irish Spring. She gagged. Ben said he was sorry a hundred times and I did my best to do it right.

to fix it.

Better days.  Be glad it was you and not me.  And by the way? Who is the wise ass that has my "Raising Children" manual??? It was a LOANER!!! Give it BACK!