my children will stop fighting.
Then I will indulge in a full twelve hours of sleep, a stiff drink, and maybe 24 hours after the moment when the fighting ceases, I will regain my sanity.
Apropos of my wish to regain my sanity, I'm sending this message out into the blogosphere where it may fall upon receptive ears: STOP CALLING ME TO COMPLAIN. STOP CALLING ME. STOP. I CANNOT TAKE ANYMORE COMPLAINING.
This is not simply directed at my mother, mind you, although I could do without the daily phone calls from her to give me updates on the parrot whose beak fell off. (Yes. You read that correctly. Its beak fell off. -- Splat -- She's handfeeding it and hoping that it will grow back. Ummmm. Considered euthanasia, my dear? Because, umm, not meaning to be mean and all that, but, eh, did you just say that its Beak fell OFF? Quick! Someone ring Monty Python!)
It's not just my mother, it's everyone else who calls these days. I've got 17 messages on my phone right now and they all want to just bitch at me for something or other.
I want to go out to a cabin in the woods, tuck a cat on my lap, turn off the phone and drink myself into oblivion.
Until then, can you kids stop fighting? Now?
6 comments:
Anytime you wanna do shots, just head over to the east coast here, and we'll hang.
And kill the parrot, already! Not to mention that scarf...
This might be a good time to change the answering machine message to something really, really impolite for a few days (in someone else's voice, so that they think they dialed the wrong number.)
And I agree. Kill the parrot, yikes!
(Just adding that now I have that image of Daffy Duck in my head, because somehow he always managed to lose his beak. And then he always looked like a weird sausage-head ... so now I'm thinking it looks like a weird, multi-colored sausage head. But I guess it's really a lot grosser than that.)
I'm not sure how the beak thing works, because I remember learning in college level Comparative Vertebrate Anatomy that birds have jaw bones supporting the beak structure. I think what happened is that the lower beak developed a fracture and cracked off.
Which must be insanely painful since there are nerves in there and everything.
Shots, check.
Scarf, check.
Message, good idea, but it's Saul on there from when he was four. I don't quite have the heart to erase it.
Well, there's always claiming to fall off the planet. I mean, why have an answering machine if not to screen your calls? Hell, Bob and I don't answer our phone about 90% of the time. If I'm doing something else when the phone rings I don't even glance at it. People will leave a message if it's important.
I really do hate phones though. So delete the messages and then act like you never got them. Oh, one of the kids must have accidently erased my messages. Heck, my dog has erased messages (not but there are many gifts that have been 'eaten' by one of our dogs. Poor little tacky trinket was chewed, so sorry.).
I just can't stand the mental image of this poor animal without it's beak. Egads. Unless it's a youngun get thee to the vet and put the poor thing out of it's misery!!
CindyS
Dang, forgot to mention that the day your kids stop fighting, is the day they have ganged up on you ;)
My brother and I fought like mad when young but now we are constantly poking fun at our parents. Did I tell you my mom said she didn't want me saying her eulogy because she didn't want me up there talking about what a lush she is. I mean, I just call em as I see em ;)
CIndyS
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