You Did...Say What?? Part I

(Yes, I'm just jumping into a post in an attempt to ignore that I have a whole list of topics next to my computer, waiting to be addressed. Yes, I'm just jumping in, pretending to ignore that I've let things slide. I'm no dummy - I'm finally putting the childebeasts tactics to use for my own good.)

Quick announcement: MY BLOG HAS TURNED ON ME. Since I know you hang on my every word, you'll recall how I screwed up my template, losing a lot of extra work I'd done on my blog. Behind the scenes kind of work mostly...except for the comments. And now they have silenced me. The comments won't let me post anything. No replies at all. I am reading your comments and have tried to respond, but my feelings are now hurt from being locked out so many times. A whole new experience for your viewing pleasure is in the works - and should be up shortly. That should fix my issues. (Should.)

(I do promise to catch up this weekend...but with them home due to snow, then on spring break next week, I've got ten days - straight - of all three home. And not nearly enough duct tape. Or Valium.)

On to the post for today... My health problems have caused me to gain quite a lot of weight. I have always been thin and never had to work at it. I could eat whatever I felt like eating and not gain an ounce. Now I can eat nothing and gain weight. So the other day, the Princess and I are, the Princess is discussing my wardrobe - or lack thereof - with me. She is telling me she can't stand the way I dress...and that she's sick of me wearing sweats, boxers, and old t-shirts all the time.

You see, about three months ago, the 'beasts decided Mom needs a man. No one consulted Mom on this - they just decided. It all began when I was wrapping the shower head with plumber's tape to try to stop it from blasting the entire bathroom with water. As the water sprayed me in the face, soaking me for the fifth or sixth time, the Princess declared, "Mom, that's a man's job."...huh? I have never been sexist about work - with one exception. A full mouse trap. THEN I declare it a man's job. (Only because those things freak me out.) I can fix an outlet, snake a toilet, and stop a leaky sink with the best of 'em...and I can do it in heels. (If someone has a gun to my crown.) So that was the day it was formally announced the Queen should no longer be single (apparently).
Just for the record, I don't know if I would want to be with
the type of man who would stick around this loony bin.
But that's just me.

Since that fateful day, running errands has become a new adventure. I must carefully plan out when - and where - I take the childebeasts. It was established years ago that the volume knob most people come fully equipped with, was not properly installed on my three. Oddly, all of them have exactly the same two settings: loud and LOUDER. When out in public with them, they go "on the hunt", as 'beasts do. And just like wild animal beasties, they are seeking fresh meat. Although they are not on the prowl for food, they are looking to devour fresh meat just the same. Without regard to our location - or the appropriate volume level - they will scout out the premises, noses on high alert as they carefully investigate their surroundings. I swear I try to keep them by my side. I tell them not to venture any further than a ten foot radius from my location. I even give them...the look. I'm not sure they see it as they push past me - but I would think they could at least hear me. They return to me briefly, only long enough to report on the men they've scoped out. I shush them and tell them to stop...which seems to only intensify this behavior. For if I don't listen to them, they go straight for the "kill". They will actually approach the man and begin the interrogation...usually with an opening line of, "My mom is single...are you?".
(I blush even just typing that.)
I've learned. When I see one of the childebeasts making a bee-line for a man, I turn and run. As quickly as my newly-overweight self will go. I have collected a nice selection of telephone numbers, though. Part II continued next time...

3 Royal Responses:

cime said...

hehehehe arent child beasts fun ???? I vote for duct tape when you go out :P Hang in there...

AlteredGypsy said...

Who knows...They might find you a "keeper"

Sarah said...

Any dead animals are definitely a man's job. Sadly since I don't have a man, my brother gets to take care of the little corpses. I'm sure he's thrilled.

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