The Spelling Bee

This is almost too good to be true. My son has decided to take part in a Spelling Bee. This is hilarious in our house because he can't spell his way out of a paper bag.  Even funnier, is his reason for taking part in the contest - because it will get him out of weekly spelling tests. That's right, Boy Wonder gave up learning 15 words a week in return for over twenty pages of vocabulary, some of which I have never even heard of, let alone spell.  Words such as aesthetician, archipelago, Assiniboine, phosphorescence and vituperative. He doesn't stand a chance, whoever chose the words is an evil genius. Lest you think I am am a less than supportive parent, this is the child, who until recently spelt any word containing  a 'th' with an 'f'.  I am 'finking' he is going to be in for a shock.

Not The Waltons

Another missive that missed publication.

My husband always complains that I stay up to late. He on the other hand is tits-up on the couch by 9:00 whilst I prefer to adjourn about 1 or 2 AM. There is a reason I stay up until then, other than the piece and quiet, it is because bedtime in our house makes me crazy. Take last night for example.

For what ever reason we all decided to go to bed around the  same time, so first there is the mad scramble for one of the two bathrooms. Grady beats Lindsay by seconds and proceeds to dither around and take twice as long as usual just to annoy his sister. Meanwhile, she is on the other side of the door hissing threats and calling him unmentionable names. Sid had already gone to bed half an hour earlier but now with the commotion is awake and adding to the general noise level.

Grady finally finishes in the bathroom, dodges a well aimed blow from Lindsay and heads to his room. Then the long good nights start, it's like an episode from the friggin' Walton's.  Everybody has to say "Goodnights" and "I love yous" to everyone else.  First time around it is sweet, but by third time I've had enough and my "Good night, I love you" has become "shut the fuck up and go to sleep".

By now, it is now past 11:00 and the kids are still calling back and forth, while my threats fall on deaf ears. Lindsay decides she is going to shower - why now when she has had all evening is beyond me. Doors are opening and closing, lights flashing on and off, music playing and  cupboards are rifled through, as she searches for god know what.

Finally silence, and I'm finally drifting off when the overhead light flicks on and Lindsay announces she is going over to her girlfriends house because said girlfriend has had fight with her boyfriend.  Seriously at 11:30 ?  By now truthfully I don't even care. Off she goes, slamming front door on her way. Immediately Grady starts up, "What was that ?".  "Lindsay went to friend house".  Questions continue "Why".  Me, Don't know, don't care. Shut up and go to sleep" .

Quiet once again, and then I get a nudge from my husband. "I heard something downstairs" he whispers. "You should down and check it out" he continues.  Are you fucking kidding me ? If I go downstairs now I'm just going to keep on going and not look back.  Good night.

Worst Idea Ever

     This was originally written a few years ago - hard to believe, and my kids are all adults now - but never published, I guess better late than never ....

Apologies for the long wait, a week turned into months, and time got away from me. Thank you for your patience. For those not so patient readers - and you know who you are - that have been nagging me,  your wait is over.

     So if the neighbours haven't already banded together to have us committed, they will after this latest debacle. Grady and Sid decide to play outside, which is OK as far as ideas go.  They start by cruising the neighbourhood, Grady on his bike and Sid on an electric scooter.  I am inside reading my book, taking advantage of the lull.  I should have known better, because I'm not alone for long before the front door opens and slams shut, cutting off a diatribe from my husband, and then I hear heavy footsteps thudding down the stairs. Grady appears disheveled in the doorway. 

      Against my better judgement I ask him what happened. He mutters something about bumping into Sid and then asks me what is the best method to wash off blood. I'm sure at this point, most caring parents would leap to their feet and race to administer first aid to their offspring. If I wasn't reading such a good book I probably would have. My theory is simple, if Grady was ambulatory enough to make it down the stairs then he could probably manage to patch up his own scrapes. 

       Before long the I hear the front door open for a second time and my husband yell down "He better not be watching television" and then the door slams shut again. I wasn't sure what the latest admonishment was all about, but I realized I wasn't going to be able to continue with my book until I had got to the bottom of this.  

         The front door crashes open yet again and this time Rob informs me my daughter is in tears and my children are idiots. I'm obviously not going to get any peace, and my husbands cryptic one liners aren't really helping.  Another crash from upstairs - can no one in this house open a door normally ?  And this time it is Sid, tear stained and a scowl on her face that did not bode well.  She is also scraped up and bloody, but at least now I will get an explanation. However, Sid is not very forthcoming, other than to bemoan the fact Grady has the worst ideas ever.  

       Finally my husband arrives on the scene still muttering about the stupidity of our offspring, I'm actually surprised he feels the need to comment on this fact,I thought it was a given. At least now I have an opportunity to get to the bottom of the drama. It turns out that after Grady and his sister had motored around the neighbourhood, Grady suggested playing chicken and this is where it came off the rails. You see neither of my children know how to play chicken, at least not the part where you are supposed to veer off at the last moment, instead they gained momentum and had a head on crash at the end of the driveway.  Sid knocked Grady clear off his bike, and then proceeded to get entangled in that and the scooter.  Like Rob couldn't have seen that coming. 

  

           So now both children are in tears and storm off leaving the instruments of their downfall in the middle of the road. Rob is yelling - and probably cursing - at them to grab the bike and scooter, and it is in the midst of this melee that a passing car slows down, and our neighbour waves a cheery greeting. That good readers, is how we have yet again lowered property values in our neighbourhood.

Homework Trials

I think I have mentioned before, how difficult it is to get my son to do homework. Now that he is a teenager, it hasn't got any easier.  He has every reason under the sun not to start his assignments; too hot, too cold, not the right pencil, pen or ruler, too tired, hungry, thirsty or ill. He has an in-exhaustive supply of excuses.

His homework is to determine definitions and then write sentences for his spelling words. One of these word was "nefarious" so he gleefully wrote down "My sister is downright nefarious". Sid was quite proud to be the topic of the sentence, but then she doesn't know what nefarious means. I hope for Grady's sake she doesn't find out.

This morning when he finally sat down to work, he had a huge cardboard box on his head, and no I didn't ask the reason why. I did however ask my husband to take a picture so that I could post it on Facebook in order that his teacher could see how studious he is. Grady immediately whipped the box off his head and complained vehemently "No, don't take a picture. Every time you post something on Facebook, it makes me look like an idiot." I might suggest that one of his spelling words next week be "irony".

Fun Family Game Night

Fun Family Game Night, never have four little words hidden such a diabolical meaning.  Sid has been desperately asking for a family game night. She is too young to remember the game nights of old, the tears, the bloodshed and the carnage just a blur on her memory. Ever since the last Game night which stopped just short of a knock down drag out fight, Rob and I have been avoiding a recurrence. We dodged the bullet at Christmas, feigning sickness but Sid was not to be deterred.  A recent weekend was Family Day here in Ontario, what better day to hold a family game night reasoned Sid. That girl is nothing if not persistent. Whilst she spent the weekend choosing games, selecting snacks and creating a soundtrack on her IPod , Rob and I took a different view , something akin to bamboo shoots under the fingernails. An invitation was issued to Zach - I felt a little guilty about dragging him in to the drama, but we needed to round out the numbers.

Game Day dawned bright and sunny, no indication of the black clouds that were to later form under our roof. Grady starts the ball rolling by declaring he doesn't want to take part. Too bad, he is family and therefore must suffer alongside the rest of us. Zach arrives, full of youthful anticipation of a fun filled evening. Poor bugger doesn't have a clue. Grady continues to express his reluctance, only to be thoroughly scolded by his older sister. Round 1 to Lindsay.

We can't postpone the inevitable any longer and finally sit down to Dr. Who Monopoly. This is the game Grady bought a month ago and has been wanting to play ever since - except for this day of course. Rob is muttering under his breath,  and Lindsay has another go at her brother. Round 2 to Lindsay.  A few minutes in and we realise just how cutthroat our family is. Grady refuses to throw the dice and Lindsay smacks him upside the head. Game, Set & Match to Lindsay.

No matter how much we cajole, bribe or threaten, Grady refuses to take part. Rob removes him from the table to the sounds of Sid's sing song "Someone's in trouble". It is finally dawning on Zach what he has gotten himself into. We divide up Grady's spoils and continue the game. Ten minutes later, by mutual consent we declare Zach the winner and toss in the game. Throughout this Sid has been enjoying herself, so much so that she announces we are now going to play Moustache Smash. Will this torture never end ?.

With the latest game we all have to hold a moustache on the end of a stick and as the cards are overturned you smash the end of the stick down if the card matches the colour or shape of the moustache you are holding. There is a little suction cup on the end of the stick that allows you to grab the card. Person with the most cards, wins. Simple right ? Wrong. I am at the end of the table so I don't have a hope in hell of even reaching the card, which is probably just as well as 5 different sticks (Grady has relented and re-joined us) smash down on the card and any fingers that happen to be in the way. Everyone takes to this with the enthusiasm of Gladiators in a Roman arena and it isn't long before cards, moustaches, and sticks are flying through the air. Gone is the pretence of  collecting cards and it quickly becomes a free for all, as my children begin wailing on each other with the sticks.

Another game night bites the dust.  Norman Rockwell has nothing on our family.

Fetch

Grady has badminton tryouts today (and I use that term loosely) so he asked if  he and Sid could practice in the hallway before school. He is patiently explaining the rules and technique to Sid, who continues to lob the birdie in every direction but at Grady as he dutifully runs to retrieve it. He truly thinks they are practicing badminton and that his sister just has bad aim, but it is obvious from the malevolent grin on her face she is playing "Fetch". 

Afterwards Grady confides in me "I don't think I have much chance at winning the game, so I have memorized the rules instead. That way if my opponent breaks the rules I can call them on it and win the point". Have to admire his ingenuity. 

P.S.  He lost . 

The Blog Is Back

   Many apologies for my long absence, but I'm back, up and running again. I will be posting twice a week, Tuesdays and Fridays!

    So this is how my week begins, woken up by Sid. "Mum, wake up quick your alarm didn't go off". I jump out of bed in a panic. Instant headache and then I hear "Oh, not to worry, you still have a few minutes left" so it would appear the alarm just hadn't gone off .... yet. 

     Still I'm up now and trek to the bathroom, yelling at Grady to get up on my way. Finish in the bathroom, trek back to bedroom, yell at Grady again, who hasn't moved. Get dressed, yell at Grady again, only now I have added dire consequences, an earlier bedtime. Now it is Lindsay's turn, "Mum can I use the printer ?"  I send Sid down to make sure there is nothing obstructing the printer, and then remember it doesn't have any paper. Send Lindsay down to refill it. "MUM!  Where's the paper?" comes the cry from the basement.  Same place it has always been and I holler back "UNDERNEATH". "Under where ?" She yells back. Snickers from Sid "Lindsay said underwear".  Grady still hasn't moved. 

     Lindsay comes galloping up the stairs wailing, "It's not printing". I head down to perform Printer Repair 101. Meanwhile, she throws everything in her bag, and heads out the door. Apparently she can print it out at school. Maybe that should have been the first option. Grady is still comatose. 

    Sid is moaning she has caught yet another cold, and starts sneezing. I deftly dodge a snot rocket which has the unerring aim of a Scud missile. Point taken. Grady's feet have finally touched down. I head to the kitchen whereupon I see the dishwasher has to be emptied - that is Grady's chore. I remind him of this, only to have him complain bitterly "Why didn't you get me up sooner?"  Seriously ?  Welcome back to my world.