My Prayers Have Been Answered and They Don’t Include Bacon.

13 May

The vacation rush is on at my household.  Sorting swimsuits, tops, bottoms, etc.  Dragging out luggage, coordinating toiletries, you name it.  I’m frazzled trying to pack up for myself, 2 kids and the Hubs, who is working crazy long hours and won’t have time to pack for himself. Running upstairs, downstairs, all over the house, I found myself looking for the bag of sunscreen (Yes, bag. About 7 bottles, to be exact. My daughters and I are true white girls, and have our Eastern European heritage to thank for the fact that we burst into flames upon sun exposure.) when I realized I left it in the car. It was in this frazzled spirit of pre-vacation chaos that I made the decision to close the front door behind me when I ran out to the looser cruiser to retrieve the bag.

 Huge Mistake.

As I sprinted (ok, more like a fat-assed trot with two bags of jello stuck to my rear) back up the stairs, bag in hand, I go to open the front door and the dang thing would not budge. Perplexed, and still rushing, I throw my body weight into it. Still no dice. I look thru the glass, and can see the girls gracefully dancing in the sunlight of the foyer, like two little pixies on holiday. It was then reality hit me. The little shits locked me out.

DING DONG DING DONG DING DONG. I ring the bell relentlessly. They ignore me. I am getting more desperate, banging on the glass panes insisting they open it. They continue to ignore me. I threatened severe consequences and ass whopping’s, something they know I would never embark upon, but for some reason, I fruitlessly threaten them with anyway.  I am shouting the Big One’s name. “DARLA!!! OPEN. THIS. DOOR. NOW. ”  She looks at me out the corner of her eye, rolls her eyes and gives me a “F– you looser,” look. I haven’t gotten that look of pure disregard since I struck out up at bat in 7th grade softball when my mean girl nemesis was pitching. The little one runs sees me, runs over laughing and declares “Mommy you have pretty eyeballs” and runs away laughing. Meanwhile me and my pretty eyeballs are starting to look mighty feral and enraged at this point. The big one gives me another “Eat shit and die” look  and keeps waltzing the sugar-plum fairy dance.

 I strain to get a look inside, and can tell the little one is lurking near the freezer again. Popsicle season has begun in the North East, and she is determined to take full advantage. The only problem is her idea of a frozen treat can be anything from a creamsicle, to a slice of Trader Joe’s still frozen pizza. She walks into my view and I see she is sucking on something.  OMG! It’s a raw, frozen chicken breast, and she is going to town on it. Great! I hope the cruise ship doctor knows how to treat salmonella.

 My blood pressure is way up, and I’ m propelled into a new realm of desperation. I’m banging and shouting now like a rabid woman. Darla is still doing her carefree ballerina dance in the sun rays. Hoping from one ray to another, as if they were long-lost lovers. If I weren’t so pissed, I’d think she was adorable. the song “Tiny Dancer’ by Elton John starts playing in my head. Hold me close, my ass, I want to wring her neck.

“Darla, let me in NOW. I mean it, NOW. I’m calling Daddy, I’m telling him, and he will be angry too. Let me in. “

She stops, looks at me wide-eyed, as if I were some curious creature she had never seen before and simply states:

“No, I don’t feel like it”.

She turns her back and waltzes into the other room, out of sight.My blood boils. My only hope now is the little one. She is a darling, but she is a clueless little bird watcher – or should I say chicken watcher – whose major focus as of right now is the frozen spawn of Frank Purdue. She is licking her chops and saliva is puddled at her feet as she gnaws at the frozen breast.  I think she has bitten through the saran wrap. There is no way I’m going to win out for her attention over that chicken breast.  No way.

 I continue banging and ringing the bell, but by now they have both disappear to the family room, not visible from the front door. The freezer is surely wide open, and I wonder how long it will be before everything spoils. I am mad at Darla for being so disobedient, mad at the little one for helping herself to her ‘poultry pop’, but mostly mad at myself for being so stupid as not to take the keys with me. I’m such an idiot, and such a bad parent. I don’t think it could get worse.
But it did. I look across the street and see my creepy, freakish neighbor walk out. He is wearing his usual summer attire of royal blue satin 1970’s  jogging shorts and nothing else. I think he thinks he is Gods’ gift to chest hair or something. I’ve never ONCE seen him in the winter but come summer he trolls the neighborhood in search of stay at home moms to show off his satin encased junk. He is a close talker, and seems to get off on invading your personal space. The first time we met, I was gardening, hunched over on my hands and knees. I had on those sweatpants that Victoria Secret sells, the ones that say ‘PINK’ on the rump. Honestly, they way they were fitting, coupled with the size of my hind quarters, they should have said ‘BACON EATER’ across the two mountainous mounds that formed my arse instead of the word ‘PINK’. As I sat there tending to my garden, engrossed in my flower bed, I suddenly looked up to find myself startled by his satiny banana sling at direct eye level. Gross! He must have a thing for chubby girls, because I am lucky I didn’t get a black eye that day. Who ever told this asshole that blue satin is attractive?
He says to me, “I like your sweatpants…” and then introduces himself. I said a polite hello, (Gee, hello, blue satin penis, its nice to meet you) , and made an excuse to go back inside. I couldn’t shower fast enough, just standing next to him made me feel dirty. All the female neighbors hide from him. And here I was desperate and banging on the door, in his direct line of vision. The last thing I wanted was to be visually assaulted by his satiny bag-o-tricks. Again.

At this point, I am ready to cry and vowing to take away every single Barbie my daughter has, not to mention her KidsBop CDs. I’m praying to all that is Holy. I promise to lay off the bacon, if the good Lord will just find a way to open the door for me.  I see Sir Freakazoid crossing his grass and I’m pretty sure he is headed my way. Panic sets in, full force.

Wait…..but then…. A noise. A car coming down the street. Its my college age son, Ryan. And he has the house key. Cue Angels singing.  A-MEN. For once, I’m not screwed after all. My prayers have been answered.

Which confirms something I’ve known all along. There is a God, naysayers. Don’t ever doubt it! And I’ve got an empty spot on my plate where the bacon used to be to prove it!

The fridge is on lock down until popsicle season is over.

Thanks for Reading! And a big fat THANK YOU to all who repost and share my blog with others.  I love hearing that people discovered it through a friend, reposted on Facebook, or shared it on another website. It really encourages me to keep going. You guys rock!

Edited by Annette Garkowski

Copyright 2011 Livelaughloveliquor. All Rights Reserved.  No reproduction in any medium without prior written consent of the author is permitted.


30 Responses to “My Prayers Have Been Answered and They Don’t Include Bacon.”

  1. Get Real Chris May 13, 2011 at 9:08 am #

    Haa! Cute story…then again you had me at bacon.

  2. carldagostino May 13, 2011 at 9:42 am #

    I have a gray plastic “looks like a rock” thing that has a recess underneath to keep a key. You keep it in the planter by the steps. You can also give a spare key to everyone on the block. Some would present that such is stupid but if there is a burglary, the police will be delighted that you already have suspects narrowed down to 14. As an aside is “Hubs” an abbreviation or nickname? Because if “Hubs” is plural you have a bigger problem then merely being locked out.

    • livelaughloveliquor May 13, 2011 at 9:46 am #

      hee hee Carl. Hubs. is short for husband. No plural!! And its funny you should mention they key thing, my trusted neighbor took one the day it happened, so now I’m covered! thanks! enjoy your weekend!

  3. Renee Mason May 13, 2011 at 9:44 am #

    First, the frozen Perdue poultry pop had me gagging, but then you went and put a smile on my face with Mr. Satin Pants. Funny! Have a great vacay!!

    • livelaughloveliquor May 13, 2011 at 9:49 am #

      Trust me reneee, the panic set in BIG TIME and i was gagging as well. It was those indiviually wrapped ones you get at Wegmans, so it was hardcore plastic wrap. It was so gross! Thank you, and enjoy your weekend!

  4. The Mommy May 13, 2011 at 9:55 am #

    1) Have a absolutely fabulous vacation!
    2) Bacon is good…
    3) “Poultry Pop” hahahahahahahahahahahaha…couldn’t stop laughing at the description.

  5. thedailydish May 13, 2011 at 10:07 am #

    Oh my freaking goodness. With each new post I wonder CAN CHRISTINE GET ANY FUNNIER? But then, you do. Thank you, thank you for making me laugh. I love you.

    PS: the mental picture of skeevy neighbor with his satin boner poking you in the eye — PRICELESS>!!

    PPS: BON VOYAGE, my friend!! May you dance happily away w/ the hubs whilst the two dancing princesses frolic happily at Kids Camp. 😀

    • livelaughloveliquor May 13, 2011 at 10:34 am #

      Love you too! I **HAVE** to try and get an incognito picture of the neighborhood creeper and post it. You’d die laughing!

  6. Wayne May 13, 2011 at 10:46 am #

    This SERIOUSLY made my day.

  7. Michelle T. May 13, 2011 at 12:13 pm #

    Christine! I love it and I love you!

    Enjoy your vacation! Can’t wait to read all about it!

    • livelaughloveliquor May 13, 2011 at 12:14 pm #

      Love you too, sweets! I’m sure the cruise will provide some great material! TTY when I get back. xoxoxox

  8. She's a Maineiac May 13, 2011 at 1:00 pm #

    Blue banana hammock man and chicken pops! You so deserve a vacation!

    • livelaughloveliquor May 13, 2011 at 1:23 pm #

      Thanks! i think so too. From my kids as well, even if ts only for a couple hours a day- The best part about the cruise is KIDS CAMP!

  9. Darcy May 13, 2011 at 5:45 pm #

    So I promise not to call social services, but what punishment did you dish out to your daughter for locking you out?! I would understand if you wanted to beat the s**t out of her! I’ve felt that way sometimes.

    • livelaughloveliquor May 13, 2011 at 5:54 pm #

      hee hee I’m not worried about social services. I hog tied her and hung her up by the garden flag pole for 20 minutes, Sounds cruel, but she TOTALLY deserved it.

      Seriously, she got a time out, no books read that night and lost her dress up clothes until we get back from vaca. – the latter being sheer torture for her!

      Thanks for reading, Darcy!

  10. lifeintheboomerlane May 13, 2011 at 8:50 pm #

    I’m seriously concerned with this gnawing-on-raw-chicken thing. If word gets out, Perdue will start marketing frozen raw chicken parts to tots. You deserve a vacation.

    • livelaughloveliquor May 13, 2011 at 8:56 pm #

      Your always so dang funny! Loved your post with the horns coming out of the womans head – I’m not sure if I commented on it though, the kids were all over me that morning. If you are reading this, and in the Boomer catagory, click on her blog – its awesome!

  11. The Girl from the Ghetto May 13, 2011 at 9:34 pm #

    Oh, my goodness, you killed me with this.

    And, to copy off someone else, you had me at bacon, too!

    • livelaughloveliquor May 13, 2011 at 9:48 pm #

      mmmm bacon! Wish we could meet for breakfast and pig out on it, but its a bit of a drive;-)

  12. Rachael May 14, 2011 at 4:13 pm #

    Oh no – the Euroweenie guy!!! I got any eyeful when I came around the corner one day – he was mowing the lawn in his European bathing suit, extra-tight to showcase the goods . And yes, I think it WAS satin, now that you mention it. Bleech!!!

  13. May 16, 2011 at 12:19 pm #

    I actually found myself laughing out loud. What a way with words you have! Sadly, I can sympathize. I had three at home at one time, and life was nothing but fun, fun, fun. Never a dull moment. Rock on, Mom!

  14. meleah rebeccah May 16, 2011 at 4:33 pm #

    wow. after reading this, you really DO need a vacation! I would have been FURIOUS if my son ever locked me out of the house, and left me trapped with creepy neighbor guy.

  15. ournote2self May 18, 2011 at 11:11 am #

    Hahaha! Your posts always crack me up. Thanks for giving me a good laugh!

  16. Car Title Loans May 20, 2011 at 5:05 pm #

    That is too funny. What a great story! Not many of us are so fortunate to have impeccable timing like that- good job Ryan!


  17. amblerangel May 26, 2011 at 7:45 pm #

    HMMM- I need to send my mother over to teach you the “Thin Lips” – a nasty look developed by my mother whereby both her lips disappear in to a thin line. It immediately paralyzes all children- not just her own- with fright. It has been genetically passed on to me. However, it has not been clinically tested on a child in the rapturous and elated grip of Purdue Pop….

  18. Sandra May 30, 2011 at 1:23 am #

    I’m so glad to find out that 1. there is a God, 2. I’m not the only household that requires a lock on the freezer lest my children start their day on popsicles, and 3. glad the boy came home in the nick of time!

  19. Butterfingers for Breakfast June 3, 2011 at 4:15 pm #

    Oh my! So I am dying to know…did she get sick!?!?!?!? I sure hope not. Hopefully that plastic kept the germs away. Kids do the darndest things huh. Who would ever think of that! 🙂 And I posted a picture of my flappy shoe…just for you 😉

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