It's about 6 weeks into this glorious gumbo of gerbil guts, and unfortunately, it's too late to turn back now.
But instead of sitting here griping about it, I'm going to turn it into a learning activity. Granted, no kids will learn from it unless it's on Youtube with "Let It Go" blaring at 18,000 decibels. (No, I haven't seen Frozen. Yes, I've heard it's wonderful. My daughter has been shrieking the song since around November, and it has completely destroyed any desire I ever had to see these two Disney poopsicles floating around throwing 3-D glitter in my face.
Speaking of throwing stuff in your face, we've had two pretty good snows in the past month. The first resulted in a bad case of whiplash, no lie. Apparently the speed and velocity reached by the time your feet go higher than your head are enough to bring out the whistling birds put a serious hitch in your get along. The second snow? We went out some, but the lingering ringing in my ears and stabbing pain in my neck seemed to damper the festivities.
But anyway...a play on letters addressing the shove-itness of 2014.
A is for the alcohol used for cough syrup for my son, who was one game of hopscotch away from an iron lung.
B is for the butt I busted on the ice, leaving me unable to do the Macarena...or mop, apparently.
C is for the 50 cheese sandwiches Rae-Rae has eaten as he's still boycotting anything with more than 2 ingredients.
D is for "dammit", which has officially been the word of the year.
E is for Emzilla and her newfound love of snorting and doing that little girl scream that makes you want to go buy them a pair of nads at the local animal shelter.
F is for Frozen....the worst, most torturous movie I've never seen. According to Facebook, everybody short of Helen Keller has made "Let It Go" their own, and all I can do is beg that they, in fact, let it go.
G is for my sweet Granny that went to heaven in January. She was a real woman, and I'm so thankful that I got to spend her last day on earth with her.
H is for "How was I supposed to know that we had homework? Well, yeah, she told us, but I thought she was kidding." Three guesses which kid this one's for.
I is for "If one more thing tears up, I'm gonna start blowing stuff away with our shotgun." No, it's not irrational...it's called taking control of the situation.
J is for 'just keep swimming.' I love Dory. She's my favorite character of...wait, what were we talking about?
K is for Kenmore, the brand of the dryer that I disassembled in an effort to fix it. It's still not fixed, but I'm so proud that I got the non-working parts put back into place, I'm leaving it for the time being.
L is for Lester, my alter-ego who gets me in so much trouble. I promise, if I piss you off with anything I've done or not done, it was clearly Lester, and I cannot be held accountable for his actions.
M is for "Momma, make it stop!" 2014, that is.
N is for 'Nsufficient funds. Why does nobody have money anymore? Me thinks Obama's been fueling Michelle's pond hopping excursions by seizing and burning Hamilton's and Washington's.
O is for "Oh my goodness, Russia is finally doing something that makes you proud for them!" Seriously, the opening ceremonies were beautiful.
P is for Putin....and Putin's games. I'm 35 years old, and I still can't say his name without snorting.
Q is for "I Quit!" If anyone can find the address for the Stay At Home Mom's Human Resources Division, I will pay good cash money for it.
R is for "Rarely will my truck crank on the first try." It needs tires and probably a battery, but why pay to let a murderous hooker on the Green Mile get new acrylic nails? Some things just don't make sense.
S is for shit. Pretty self-explanatory, even if offensive.
T is for "Tell me why the heat in our house makes it colder except for in the master closet. It's nice and toasty in there."
U is for Under God, I swear I'm getting a hybrid tank for my next vehicle. Cut me off again, Ms. Suburban Driving, tennis visor-wearing, mom of 17 perfect kids that volunteers at Trader Joe's in her spare time, and you'll understand why I'm getting the tank.
V is for victory! No matter how many kids puke, how many bones are broken, how many Ramen noodles you eat, you will survive. And according to the owner's manual, that's a victory.
W is for "We're gonna play a game of sit-down-and-shut-up-while-mommy's-in-her-school-webinar."
X is for Xpect. I expect that by the time my husband finishes his stint working in Virginia, my grey temples will make me bear a striking resemblance to Grandpa Munster.
Y is for YOLO, a term that I detest. The words are "Carpe Diem", you illiterate twits. Yolo sounds like Rolo, and every time I hear the word, my hopes are dashed as I still don't have any damn chocolate.
Z is for Zeus, Ziggy and Zhwang, the possible identities of the ghosts in this house. Since the weather has become so erratic, we are apparently hosting a paranormal hopscotch tournament in the upstairs bathroom. As I sit hear in what should be silence, avoiding doing my school work and putting up the load of clothes that took 18 hours to air dry yesterday, it sounds like somebody lubed up the bathroom floor for an intoxicated Limbo contest of the spirits.
So there, boys and girls. And ode to 2014.
Ode.
Commode.
Come on.
Rally on.
Rally's.
I want a cheeseburger.
Rae-Rae won't eat burgers.
Make him try a bite.
Gags, gonna hurl.
Rally round the 'ol white throne,
The 'ol white commode.
See? It's all about the crapper.
Say a prayer that I can keep juggling everything. It's about to break me...kind like that piece of ice that turned me into the elephant man for a week.
