Arrested Development

30 Mar

It was a Sunday morning. the girls woke up at the usual crack,  before the birds even start chirping. I woke up wondering what I did in a past life to deserve the lack of sleep I am so terribly denied in this one. Hubs didnt wake up at all, as it was Hubs turn to sleep late (we take turns). Flying solo, I wore the “On Duty” sign that morning. The girls were particularly hyper, having found my hidden stash of Easter candy, and raided it while I was in the kitchen making coffee during a “moma” (noun mo·ma , A state of deep, often prolonged semiconsciousness, usually the result of sleep deprivation after  childbirth or adoption, in which an individual is suffers a diminished capacity to sensing or responding to external stimuli and their own needs.  Momas are often described as a “the waking dead”, and are otherwise known as ‘Mommy comas”) . Despite my “moma”, I’ve discovered, with startling clarity, that 2 preschoolers who are jacked up on 6 Cadbury creme eggs during the course of 7 minutes can exude unbearable energy and project screams and shrieks that will break sound barriers in a unprecidented manner.  Knowing that my sweet Hubs worked so hard last week and desperately needed his sleep, I took one for the team and decided to take them to out to eat breakfast.

To heck with the pending  perk-o-later! I cried boldly, let’s go!! Carefully circumventing the Cabury creme egg carcases expertly  ground into the carpet,  we headed out to a nearby bagel joint.  The little one insisted on wearing her princess PJ’s, and at that point,  I had not fully come out of my moma,  and did not argue. The big one wanted to wear her bathing suit under her clothes, and again, no argument here. On auto pilot, I grab the hand sanitizer and head out the door, giving them the bagel store variation of the usual “Sit down, shut up and do as your told” , with a schmear of  “Don’t beat the crap out of each other”.
We pull up and the lot is empty for a Sunday morning, which is great.  I am starting to feel more awake, thankfully. I notice the only other car in the lot is a police cruiser.  As we climb out of the car, the cold air hits my face, and I  realize that in my rush to get everyone bundled and out, I failed to put on my own coat. Or a bra.  My knockers are knocking, and the thin sweatshirt I am wearing does nothing to stop them. The wind is blowing and its at least 35 degrees.  I’m freaking freezing. The kids are dawdling, picking up sticks, strolling along pokily.  The little one insists on holding her Little Mermaid” umbrella even though the morning sun is shining brightly.  After what seems like 20 minutes of frostbite to the nipples, we finally reach the door.  Is it possible to get icicles hanging off your teets?  I think I have them. Surely if I were nursing, I’d have homemade ice cream. I swing the door open, chilled to the bone. Two cops are standing there with their backs turned to me ordering sandwiches from the greasy faced freak behind the counter. I was hoping he wasnt working today, he gives me a hard core case of the willies.  He has the ruddy face of a drinker, with a weather-beaten “hard luck” look about him, and something tells me on the perve o meter he reads a straight up 10. Ack!
“Good morning officers” I address the boys in blue, trying to shield my breasts with my forearm. The little one pulls my arm down, and the Suburbia’s finest get a full two nip salute.  I yank my arm away from her, and tuck my forearm back up for cover.  Suddenly, the big one is hanging/weighing down on my shirt tail for some reason, causing the neckband to rise generating:
1. A strangulation effect on my neck, hitting the exact spot I had my thyroid removed, 5 months ago.
2. A bizarre stretching of thin sweatshirt fabric, resulting in a scene that I dubbed  “Nippletopia”
As if said nipples were not noticed before, they are guaranteed to place first in show on the upcoming bagel store security footage,  which I am sure will be watched over and over by Greaseface.   As if to prove my point, I look over and observe said  greasy haired bagel flipping slacker staring at them. My arms cross over my chest again.  The Fuzz glances back and says hello.  Boy, am I glad to see them.  My kids? not so much.
“Oh no, it’s the POLICE!” the big one says, eyes wide and filled with fear.
“Noooo!’ the little one mimics.
“Mommy, they are GOING to arrest us! ” The big one pleads, loud enough for them to hear.
Now I know what you’re thinking….go on, I’ll wait….go check my avatar to see if I match up with any of America’s Most wanted.  We are not fugitives, I promise.  In yet another scare tactic attempt that will surely guarantee me a one way trip to parenting hell,  my children are threatened daily with THE LEGEND OF KNOTELLA and  THE HAIR POLICE.  Allow me to explain.
You see, once upon a time there was a pair of daughters with ratty, knotty hair. These children would shriek, howl and cry at the sight of a hair brush.  They’d scream, I’d plead. They’d scream and protest more, I’d scream louder. Wrastling was involved. Beads of sweat. It gets ugly. The fights, the protests, the tears, the knots. I swear, I have experienced the best aerobic workout of my life trying to wrangle these two into brushing their hair.  The hair that they each INSIST on being long.  No talk of cutting – EVER- Unless its self-induced (CLICK HERE for that story, in case you missed it). The story ends tragically, with a squirming sobbing child squoozen in lock down between my thighs (Hey, years of ballet lessons combined with God-given thunder thighs DOES have its purpose) and me sweating like a Holstein in heat.  Something had to change. Yes, I was getting one hell of a thigh work out, but it wasnt worth the damage to the eardrums.
Enter KNOTELLA.  Legend has it that she lived a few blocks away from us, and had long, beautiful hair. The prettiest hair in the neighborhood, as a matter of fact. She was very vain, and proud of her flowing locks. Eventually, it got too long to control. It knotted, and kinked. Her saintly mother tried so very hard to brush it, but she could not get the knots out. Being that her poor,  unfortunate mother had skinny, scrawny thighs she could not capture Knotella to hold her down and comb it forcefully. Poor Knotella would cry and scream an insist that her hair not be combed. And it mated, but she didn’t care. Until one day THE HAIR POLICE came and dragged her to the beauty parlor. They CUT off her hair and she looked like a boy. Everywhere she went, people mistook her for a boy. Even getting her ears pierced didn’t help. Poor, poor Knotella, destined to live life with a pixie haircut…….cruel.  A fate worse than death even. Or at least it seems that way to two little girlie girls who refuse to wear even the prettiest pair of blue jeans.
(Dont look at me that way, if the Brothers Grimm had daughters, they would have beat me to it, trust me.)
So now, thanks to my beauty school brilliance, the girls are petrified of the ole black and white.  The Coppers are starting to take notice of the commotion, as I shuffle the girls reluctantly in line. The bald officer is staring at us suspiciously. I recognize his partner from Car seat Inspection day, when I joked about having a dime bag in my glovebox, and he actually made me open it up to check it (My bad, but c’mon, I thought it was funny).  I hope he doesn’t remember me.  I try to look innocent and do the mom version of the Jedi knight trick, but its clear a scene is about to erupts like Mount Vesuvius on a hot spring day.  The girls are whimpering behind me.
” Looks like someone is a bit cranky, huh? ” He smiles at them, his bald head shimmering in the overhead flourescent lights.
They are hovering, and afraid to look up. The big one  has a death grip on the waist band of my sweatpants. I keep on smiling as I try to swat little hands away, behind my back.  As if “Nippletopia” wasnt bad  enough, no one needs to know that behind door number 1 is a unsightly c-section scar and a pair of multi-floral  granny panties.  The little one is hiding behind her umbrella. The big one starts chanting “Don’t cut my hair, don’t cut my hair” in a similar cadence to Dorothy’s “There is no place like home”.  The little one is echoing “No Hair!!! whispering at first and then getting louder. The bolder of the two girls, I know the little one is the loose cannon. I have nothing to hide, but looking at the little one’s fashion duet of  PJ’s and the princess umbrella, the big one with her bathing suit straps hanging out, and me the nippled coatless wonder, I know we look like low-rent losers, and I don’t need the hassle.  I silently ask Jesus to forgive my sins and pray that she shuts the hell up so we can all enjoy our bagels. It’s not working.
“NO HAIR!!!!!!” the little one screams and flies out from behind my legs, umbrella thrust out like a shield of armour, and swats him square in the kneecaps with it.  She stares at him defiantly.
“Hey, little princess, what you do that for?” he touches her head in a fatherly gesture. He is laughing. Clearly he has kids. All I can think of is it wont be funny once The little Mermaid meets his gonads.
His partner, (aka. Dimebag Danno) chuckles and says something like “No hair? What do you have against bald people?” Thankfully, he thinks the “No hair’ reference is in regard to his lack of follicles, and not my abominable attempt at using the threat of the police force by scaring my children into compliance.
As insolent as ever,  she just glares back at him. Luckily, the umbrella went nowhere near his treasure chest, as the little one ran over to her sister.  The big one is too scared to speak.  Her beloved hair is at stake, and she is after all, a female incarnation of Sampson. (Or so she thinks.).  Greaseface hands McGarret and Dimebag Dannno their food and they walk away and leave. The girls immediately rejoice start jumping up and down. I shush them, tell them to come down and remind them that just because they dodged the scissor this time doesn’t mean they can stop letting mommy comb their hair. I feel the flames of hell calling me. Too bad they are not yet hot enough to thaw my nips. We move along in line and its my turn at the counter.  The girls gleefully run over to the beverage cooler and are doing a little victory dance.
“Can I help you? ” Greasy hair slacker says to me.  He is wearing a GWAR t-shirt.  Charming.
“Can I get an egg sandwich on whole wheat bagel, 2 whole wheat bagels with cream cheese, and a whole wheat with lox to go please.”
“Yeah sure.  Hey, cold out there?”  He has a big shit eating grin on his face. Ugh.   Arms go up and protectively cross my chest again.  I’m old enough to be his…. ….older sister. I am wishing I had the little one’s umbrella right now. Where is Dimebag Danno when you need him?
Next time we go out to eat, it’s going to be Dunkin Donuts DRIVE THRU!
Thanks for reading!

26 Responses to “Arrested Development”

  1. Jeannetta Vivere March 30, 2011 at 9:29 am #

    ohhhh my heavens !!! HILARIOUS….
    I HATE when that happens and am very familiar with the yoga poses arms go into trying to hide it but Walmart has saved me, they now sell flower petal bra’s. I accidently went to work without one on, now in my desk drawer for personal items, sits a bra. My emergency spare.

    ty for this post.

    • livelaughloveliquor April 2, 2011 at 11:36 pm #

      I really need to keep those flower petal’s in the glove box Jeannetta! Thanks for stopping by and thanks for the nip-tip!LOL

  2. She's a Maineiac March 30, 2011 at 10:05 am #

    Oh how I love starting my day drinking coffee and laughing hysterically. Nippletopia! Little Mermaid meets his gonads! Priceless!

    • livelaughloveliquor April 2, 2011 at 11:37 pm #

      In retrospect, Nippletopia is quite funny, but at the time, i was growling, as you can imagine!

  3. chris@getrealchris March 30, 2011 at 10:29 am #

    Very very funny! I better lay low or the hair police is going to send the swat team over here and arrest me for first degree un-washed sloppy ponytail.

  4. meleah rebeccah March 30, 2011 at 2:09 pm #

    Okay, this blog post made me laugh SO MUCH I had to step away from the computer to collect myself. You are so funny!

    I would have died of total embarrassment if I was executing Nippletopia, in front of the Po-Po – with two kids chanting “Don’t cut my hair, don’t cut my hair” all with the totally-super-creepy-employee working behind the counter!

    Dunkin’ Donuts drive through from NOW ON, woman!

    Oh, and I loved this sentence:

    “Giving them the bagel store variation of the usual “Sit down, shut up and do as your told” , with a schmear of ”Don’t beat the crap out of each other”.


  5. thedailydish March 30, 2011 at 4:13 pm #

    You are MY MOST FAVORITE BLOG OF ALL TIME!!! I swear, each new post makes me guffaw (yes, GUFFAW) louder than the last. The knockers knocking but you can’t come in. Greaseface! And the Dimebag Danno — Oh my goodness. I love you.

    • livelaughloveliquor April 2, 2011 at 11:39 pm #

      Thanks so much, you know I love yours too. (and anyone reading this should stop by her blog and VOTE for dishy!!)

  6. Maryann Didriksen March 30, 2011 at 6:22 pm #

    You my dear NEED to write a book!

  7. Lisa Har March 30, 2011 at 6:26 pm #

    Thank you SOOOOOOO much for the laugh. What I wouldn’t pay to be at Bagels 4U tomorrow morning for a scence like this. Shopping here is just soooo boring. Looking forward to my morning moma and coffee.

    • livelaughloveliquor April 2, 2011 at 11:40 pm #

      Beleive me, at the bagel store it wasnt as funny as it is on paper… real life, its just kind of MENTAL! LOL

  8. Annette March 30, 2011 at 6:37 pm #

    The funniest part? I KNOW it’s all true.. I just got home from watching them… I need a drink… and I don’t drink…

  9. Arlee Bird March 31, 2011 at 11:54 am #

    Welcome to the A to Z Challenge! Hope you will have a rewarding blogging experience in April. If there are any questions or comments please let me or my co-hosts know. You can find all the Challenge hosts listed at the top of my blog page.

    Tossing It Out
    Twitter hashtag: #atozchallenge

  10. happykidshappymom April 1, 2011 at 1:00 pm #

    Yikes! What a morning you had. I loved the line, “Dont look at me that way, if the Brothers Grimm had daughters, they would have beat me to it, trust me.”

    You are right. What seems cruel to some is storyland fare for writers. I know they’re classics, but we steer clear of those books.

    I remember an interview I saw once where M. Night Shyamalan told the reporter he came up with the idea for his movie, “Lady in the Water” from a bedtime story he’d told his kids!

    • livelaughloveliquor April 2, 2011 at 11:42 pm #

      WOW: re; Lady in the Water….but no surprised…even some of the Disney stories are either sad (Bambi) or scary (snow White). Makes you wonder!

  11. My Parents Are Crazier Than Yours April 2, 2011 at 3:47 pm #

    Holy shit, that was hilarious!

    • livelaughloveliquor April 2, 2011 at 11:43 pm #

      that is HUGE coming from you, as I laugh so much at your blog, m’dear!

  12. Lisa April 2, 2011 at 8:26 pm #

    Hilarious blog!! Thanks for stopping by mine! You asked about ‘square toothed girl’–here’s the real deal: I’m 37, hardly a girl, but who cares? And, my teeth are just squarish–it’s genetic, my mom has square teeth too…more on that on ‘S’ day!!! 🙂

    I’ll be back for more!!!

    • livelaughloveliquor April 2, 2011 at 11:45 pm #

      a-ha! Well, I am glad to hear it was literal….i was afraid that I had become a full fledged old fogie/ dork and failed to catch on to some new hip buzz word or something!
      And yes, at 37 you are still a girl! its all a state of mind, right?

  13. ryekatcher April 5, 2011 at 5:09 am #

    LOL. Some times I can’t find any time to read blogs, so I keep the tab open and hope the computer doesn’t go into an unwanted shutdown. I lose the things I have been waiting for. It has not happened luckily- and I finally got to laugh my ass off. Nice going. Sorry bout the nipples, I forget the bra way too often and have had my arms across the chest move up to perfection. That is until the kids came around and now they can make me lose focus and flash the world.

    Sometimes, I think you should stay home for your sake and then I think how we wud miss all the awesome stories you have every time I leave the front door 🙂

  14. chantelle April 8, 2011 at 1:43 pm #

    so funny. my daughter is three and a half with hair down to her butt, and she dont want it cut either. brushing her hair is like you described with your girls. everytime i brush her hair now, i will think of your story.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: