“Mom, can I cut the couch?”

Imagine this…

Monday morning we were at the table chowing down on our cereal.

“Mom,” Linc says between bites of cereal.  “You know how things fall into the cracks on the couch?”

I nodded. The remote to the DVD player is currently MIA and if I had to guess it’s camping out in the company of some spare change and lint in the deep, dark crevices of the sofa. It’s what it is. We’ve all dropped our remote down there and every few days have to fish it out.

I digress.

“So last night Abe and I were moving the couch–”

“Why?”

“Because we wanted to see if when we dropped something behind the cushions if it’d fall straight to the floor.” His matter of fact tone was almost more than I could bear.

“We’ve had that sofa for six years, don’t you think if it worked that way, we wouldn’t have spent so much time blindly groping into the interior of the sofa for lost objects?”

“That’s because there’s a liner,” he says as if he’s just made the greatest discovery in the world.

“Yes, there is.” I tried to keep the sarcasm from my tone, but I’m pretty sure I failed. “Hence, why we have to fish…”

“OK but see, the liner goes so deep down the couch, Abe nor I can reach our hand down there, so…” He shrugs as he trials off.

“And?”

“Well, Abe and I want to cut the bottom of the couch so things just fall out the bottom.”

Mom, can I cut the couch?

I’m sure the look on my face spoke volumes of the annoyance and disbelief I was feeling.

“See, it’ll be great,” Linc says as if he really thinks he’s convincing me of this. “Then we won’t have to reach down in there when we lose stuff, it’ll just fall out the bottom.”

“Uh huh, I see.” I seriously just lied to him. I don’t see. I do see his brother Abe nodding his head in agreement like a bobble head dog. I see Linc looking all excited that he thinks he just won me over. I can almost my blood pressure rising. But what I don’t see is the utility it a huge whole in the bottom of a leather sofa so things that are dropped can fall out the bottom!

“So we can do it?” Abe asks, his brown eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Sure.” I smiled. “Just as soon as you both do enough chores to earn the money to buy that sofa.”

My two youngest boys both looked at me as if I’d just taken away their puppy.

“Sorry, guys,” I started. “There isn’t any use in this modification other than just destroying the furniture.”

Let me pause here to say, at least they asked me first. I do have to give them credit for that. There are several people of my acquaintance who’d be telling this story a little differently–like after they’d discovered a freaking huge hole in the bottom of their sofa. So at least there’s that.

Back to the story…

“But what about not having to reach down into the cracks?” Linc persists. ” Remember the time you found the grilled cheese?”

I think I just threw up a little in my mouth at the memory of the an ancient, cold and partially deteriorated grilled cheese that I once pulled out from the back corner of the sofa. “That’s what I have you guys for. You eat on the couch, you can be the ones to dig in the crumb abyss.” I tried not to grin at their disgusted faces. “The answer is no.”

Linc’s eyes lit again as if he’d just had such a brilliant idea that I couldn’t say no. “What if Mickey gets stuck back there?”

“Son, if you think asking me if your guinea pig crawls around on the couch and gets stuck back behind the cushions and so far down your arm cannot reach is going to convince me to allow you to cut a hole in the bottom of the couch, then I think it’s time to go find her a new home before you can be so negligent.”

And THAT is how you stop the nonsense. I know, I know Imma Mean Mom. But good gravy, what the hell is the obsession with destroying the furniture? I’ve seen so many dang sitcoms I almost feel shamed into having little debates with my kids about things that I’m never going to allow to happen just to be “fair”. However, in my world, no means no and Mom’s word is final.

So, what crazy request have you received from a kid that you felt like an idiot debating? Imma curious and I wanna know so comment below!

Imma B.

An Ode to Gas Station Pizza

Fair warning: Poetry isn’t really my forte. But we all have to have a first.  Mine is about some pizza I ate last night. Enjoy!

 

As I filled up at the pump,
I saw your picture, so cheer and your crust so plump.
“Extra Large Pizza for $9.99,” your caption read,
An idea of a pizza and movie night danced in my head.
I whipped out my phone,
To swiftly ordered a pizza of the unknown.

See, I’ve never had a pizza from a gas station,
Not even while on vacation.
I had no idea what was in store,
Or if this would just be the beginning of more.
Ten minutes later it was ready,
The delicious smell so overwhelming and heady.

My mouth watered and my tummy growled,
As I carried that box of intoxicating cheese and spices through the crowd.
The box was warm and had zero grease,
I noted as I set it down upon my car seat.
Upon getting home,
I walked into my house as if I were soldier returning home to Rome.

Pizza! Pizza! the excitement soon spread,
The boys came out to find a movie to watch on the Net.
Mom served the pizza and we all sat on the chairs and couch,
Then we all stuffed our faces, then sudden OUCH!
My gut twisted and my insides squeezed tight,
I pushed a pair of feet off my lap and jumped up with a fright.

Something was happening and it didn’t bode well,
Suddenly, I couldn’t stand the sight of the pizza or even the smell.
My stomach roiled and cheeks squeezed hard,
One of my boys looking horrified, asked if I needed to fart?!
Ignoring the truth of their question I darted from their sight,
Straight to the bathroom, fumbling to switch on the light.

My stomach clenching more painfully than before,
I seriously thought I’d collapse on the floor.
I pressed my palms on the wall to help keep myself braced,
Nausea swirled so heavily within me, sweat streaked my face.
All that pizza that was so warm and cheesy,
Now left me feeling lightheaded, nauseous and queasy.

I’ll spare you all anymore of this ode,
Needless to say, I had to spend the night camped out by the commode.

I know this gave you all fantastic thoughts this morning–you’re welcome!

Imma B.

THIS is life with boys!

I went into my boys’ bathroom to hang up signs to remind them of proper hygiene and manners:

 

 

(Yes, they were ALL necessary. 😉 )

After I placed my signs, I peeked in the tub and found…

Lego Bath

Seriously?! Why are the Legos going for a soak in the tub? None of the boys have had a bath in ages so all I can imagine is they were either A. trying to clean them in a very strange way; B. they did this to get a rise out of me. I didn’t say a word!

Friday is almost here, enjoy it and your weekend!

Imma B.

I’m weird. My thoughts on Nutella.

Imma B. Frank today. I think Nutella is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever had the displeasure to have touched my tongue to–and that includes polenta. It’s like a chocolate wannabe that will never be. More like a gagabee. Just yucky.

So no, Pinterest I don’t wanna save that bottle of crap or any of its “oh so yummy” recipes to my boards…but I’d love to take a real tack and puncture the heck out of it!!!

 

Speaking of. A few years ago when I got on Pinterest to help my author platform (didn’t work, there’s my writerly advice for today), when you’d hover over a picture, it’d show the little red rectangle in the corner with the tack and would say “pin”. Now it says save. Why can’t we pin anymore??? It is called Pinterest.

Maybe someone punctured their skin with a tack and threatened to sue…

#crazythoughts #thingsthatkeepmeawakeatnight #questionsfortheuniverse

All right, if you’ve read this far, how about leaving a comment? What is something you hate that goes against the mainstream? Share in the comments and I swear we won’t throw things at you!

Cheers,

Imma B.

 

This post was part of the Daily Post’s One Word Prompt: Puncture.

My Clever Son

In my house we have direct consequences for actions. Usually, they’re very definite consequences and I try very hard to tailor them to the action.

In regards to chores, it goes like this: If your chore isn’t done properly, you get to do it again and again until it’s done properly.

When my kids were toddler and pre-school age, this just consisted of at that moment redoing the chore. Now that my kids are a little older (all of mine are in the double digits-  0_o ) the rules are a little more…er…severe. If you didn’t do a good job of your chores today, you get to do that same chore again tomorrow and whoever was supposed to have it, gets a day off.

Example: you don’t get the laundry washed, dried, folded and put away today, you get to do it tomorrow–and if more has accumulated, guess who gets to do it? YOU! With so may bodies in this house, we have to do a minimum of one load per day. It’s how we manage. I’ve tried having “laundry days” they just don’t pan out because Mt. Laundry forms in my mudroom because nobody has time to fold and put it away.

Another example, if we run out of a certain type of clean dish or eating utensil (plate, bowl, spoon, cup, etc) you get to do dishes again the next day.

This sounds mean, but this rule has really helped my boys to stay on top of their chores and not leave things undone so it falls on someone else the next day. Parenting is about teaching your kids responsibility, right?

So, my youngest child, who, I will openly admit is the academic of the family and fully plans to “use his noodle, not his back” when he grows up–meaning quite frankly, he’ll do anything he can to get out of his chores because he hates work has discovered a way to outwit me (or so he thinks!).

Today, I went to open the silverware drawer to get a spoon for applesauce and found this:

Silverware drawer.JPG

Well played, Son. But do you see that nasty stain on the butterknife? That means, you’ll still be doing the dishes again tomorrow! (And I’ll be adding an addendum to my rulebook: real silverware only.)

Love my kids! Gotta stay one step ahead though! 😀