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Oh the DRAMA!
Every morning I wake up shooting rainbows and moonbeams out of my arse and my offspring are the very definition of happy, well-adjusted children who could easily be mistaken for any of the kids on the Brady Bunch. (Minus the 70’s hair.)
Really. It’s like this every morning. If you believe this, I have a money tree out back I’d like to sell you, or a brand new truck, in mint condition, fully loaded that you might want to consider buying.
The reality is I loathe waking up and having to pry my aching arse out of my warm bed to start my day. In order to combat this, I like to spread the misery cheer.
Usually by throwing open my children’s door and shouting at the top of my lungs “MORNING SUNSHINE! TIME TO RISE AND SHINE!!,” just as I flick on their bedroom lights to blind them while simultaneously yanking off their covers. Nothing like ripping the bandaid off the morning wound to get the blood pumping.
I have also learned to make sure there is no books or sharp edged objects by their beds before I do this. Apparently, my ducking reflex isn’t as fast as it once was.
But this morning, my children stripped me of my joyous moment and got out of bed before my alarm clock even rang. Apparently they were eager to start school after being trapped alone with me over spring break.
I’m choosing not to see this as a reflection of my parenting skills.
I sleepily listened to them chatter from their rooms about toys, school and the latest political scandal involving Hilary Clinton. As my son wandered to the kitchen to pour a bowl of cereal my daughter puttered in her room, perfecting her outfit and preening in the mirror.
And then I heard a blood curdling screech and the panicked cries for Mom.
Over the years I have learned to detect the subtle difference of these panicked cries. Sometimes they are just code for “Your ass is grass my darling sibling!” and sometimes they are more of the “My last piece of bubble gum just fell down into the floor vent and I think the world is ending!”
This panicked cry was the real thing. The 911 call of a child in crisis. A child who is facing imminent danger of having it’s arm chewed off by a bear or a kid who just noticed someone was standing in the closet with a nylon over their head and holding a big shiny knife. This was a “GET YOUR ASS IN HERE NOW MOM! I NEED YOU!” cry.
There was no time for moaning and groaning about having to get out of bed. SuperMOM was needed. As I raced to my daughter’s room (buck nekkid) I wondered if she pinched her finger in the door or if she accidentally shaved a bald spot in the side of her head.
My heart was racing. Hell, she really could be hurt, I feared. After all, I’m no stranger to family emergencies. But if I walked into her room and saw a chisel in her eye, well, she’d just have to pull it out herself. I’ve done that once before, I’m not going there again, I thought grimly.
“What???” I asked while searching for signs of blood. My son calmly handed me my robe. He’s oblivious to his sister’s pain. Hell, he was probably hoping for a chiseled eye just so he could yank it out and show his friends at school.
“SASSY is GONE!!!” she half cried, half moaned as I tied my robe shut.
I looked over to the hamster cage and indeed it was empty. The little rat had pulled a Houdini and escaped her Alcatraz.
My daughter was beside herself with panic. She had obviously never experienced taking her children shopping only to lose them in the racks of clothing in a crowded department store. Amateur.
Still, I had a rodent on the loose.
Oh, the drama.
Great. Now I have a stinking rat on the loose. In my house. My clean, hygienic house where I allow babies to eat off the floor. You know. The five-second rule, and all. (Plus, they’re never my babies. Heh.)
This is EXACTLY what I needed first thing in the morning.
Sighing, I looked at her and said (in my most sympathetic mommy voice), “Don’t just stand there crying. Start looking!!”
And so it began. The great rat hunt. The kids started tearing their rooms apart while I looked in the bathroom and in the kitchen. All before I had my morning coffee. I was sooooo happy. Not bitter and annoyed. Not at all.
“Facking rodents. Facking kids. Facking relatives who buy facking kids facking rodents,” I mumbled under my breath, while moving the stove to see if the little creature had crawled behind it to seek shelter and food like all the other wild rodents who managed to find a way into my house.
After a few minutes of tossing their rooms into complete chaos, Fric and Frac came out empty handed. Fric was distraught and hysterical. Remind me never to be there the first time she does lose her kids in a crowded store. Sheesh.
“I can’t find her Mom,” she blubbered.
Just then Nixon, the World’s Greatest Dog, Ever, ran through the house and jumped up to his favorite spot on the couch with something small, black and furry in his mouth. The kids and I saw him at the same time. As my daughter’s heart stopped momentarily I recalled reading that Boston Terriers were originally bred to be ratting dogs.
Great. Nixon the World’s Greatest Dog, Ever, just became Nixon the World’s Greatest Hamster Killer, Ever.
Dammit, how many dead rodent eulogies can I think of?
Fric shrieked and ran to Nixon as I followed in hot pursuit.
False alarm. It was a small black stuffed animal that he was on his way to raping and pillaging, I noted as Fric pried the toy loose from his mouth.
“Oh, thank God,” she breathed as she flung the toy down. “If he kills my Sassy I’ll never forgive him.”
Nixon was unconcerned as he snatched the toy back up and began to hump it. I have to admit, a small part of me was slightly disappointed. So much for the great ratting instincts. Useless dog. Not that I wanted Sassy to meet her maker, especially by the jaws of my beloved pooch, but this still meant I had a diseased house pet on the loose.
A few more minutes of panicked searching and my daughter was done. She couldn’t keep it together anymore. She started wailing about how we’d never find her and how her most beloved childhood pet was gone forever and how the rest of her life would be forever scarred because she somehow lost her hamster.
Drama queen. She gets that from her father.
“Calm down,” I soothed her, while trying not to laugh. “This isn’t the end of the world. She couldn’t have gone far.” I facking hope. “Show me where you looked,” as I pulled her back to the scene of the crime.
I eyeballed the location of the cage and the carnage in her room with her furniture all scattered and moved. I could feel the weight of the world rest on my shoulders now. This was it. This was the MOMMY MOMENT. The moment when your children look at you and believe you could save the world and make all war and peace just disappear with a mere snap of your fingers.
No pressure or anything.
“Did you check behind the bookshelf?” Yes.
“Did you check under the bed?” Yes.
“In the closet?” Yes.
“Behind the dresser? In the clothes hamper? Inside the toy box?” Yes, yes, and yes, she moaned.
All right. Time for mommy’s super instincts to kick in. “Everyone calm down and be quiet while I think,” I snapped.
Dead quiet for a few moments as I tried to listen for the small wheezes of a rodent only a few inches big. Because, you know, what the hell else was I supposed to do?
Suddenly, I noticed my daughter’s French horn was in it’s case, but the case was wide open. Immediately, because I am SuperMOM, I bent down to look in the case. It has a shiny blue velvet interior. Maybe Sassy was channeling her inner Liberace.
No such luck. Damn.
Still, my spidey senses were tingling. I carefully lifted the instrument out of its case while silently muttering curses about my daughter not picking a pretty sounding instrument like the flute. No hamster underneath the horn. I examined the horn and to my surprise, two beady little black eyes stared back at me.
Sassy had found refuge in the horn. Mommy saved the day. As I gently pulled her out (little bitch better not bite me, I thought to myself) my daughter gasped with relief.
“Sassy!” she cried as she rushed to grab her from me. “Mom, you’re the best!!!” She said between smothering the rat with kisses. She gently placed Sassy back into her cage, this time making sure all the latches were secure.
(Remind me never to kiss my daughter on the lips again. Not after I saw where she had those lips. Eww.)
So our morning drama came to a quiet end. The daughter had her beloved rodent back and her and her brother toddled off to school like the good kids they are, while thinking their mother was a super star.
Who am I to tell them any different?
Once the bus picked them up and drove off, I wandered back into Fric’s room while sipping my coffee, heavily laced with Irish cream. Hey. I EARNED alcohol this morning, dammit.
I looked at Sassy and then I looked at the French horn from Hell.
“I don’t blame you one bit, Sassy. If I had to live in this room and listen to sounds of elephant’s mating every day like you do, I’d try and find a way to plug that hole too.”
I swear she nodded in agreement.
“Do us both a favour and next time just chew the mouth piece. No mouth piece, no mating calls from the animal kingdom to deafen us both.”
That damn hamster winked at me and I turned around to start my day.
Maybe Sassy and I will get along after all.
March 31st, 2008 at 10:38 am
Definitely made my day just reading it…I’m teaching my child how to be afraid of all such things. This way he doesn’t ask for any creepy crawlies as pets. Hey, let his therapist sort it out later.
March 31st, 2008 at 10:46 am
“Nixon was unconcerned as he snatched the toy back up and began to hump it.”
Brilliant prose, my friend. Absolutely brilliant! Now let me go look for the Windex…
March 31st, 2008 at 10:52 am
First, I think it is exceedingly awesome that your daughter plays the French Horn (I totally wanted to be a super-famous French Horn player when I grew up. I know.)
And?
I can’t believe you found that damn thing. Every time in my life that I have lost a rodent the only way I have found them again is from the smell days and days later.
Gag.
P.S. MY mother woke us up every morning singing the BYU fight song. I still can’t hear “Rise and shout! The Cougars are out!” without wanting to hurl.
March 31st, 2008 at 11:30 am
Hello,
I am currently a student at Harriet L Wilkes Honors College in Jupiter, FL. I hail from Navarre, Fl near Pensacola. I am doing a class project on What it means to be a redneck and was wondering if you could provide me with any information for this project? Such as why you id yourself as Redneck Mommy, and what that means to you?
Thanks,
Cassidy Henry
cassidyhenry@att.net
March 31st, 2008 at 11:40 am
Well I was going to snicker at your “new” truck and then remind you how you promised to stop talking about chisels embedded in eyeballs but now all I want to do is email Cassidy.
March 31st, 2008 at 11:46 am
Trust me when I say this: better a beginner on a French Horn than a beginner on an oboe. PLEASE, TRUST ME!! (and yes, I know what beginners on French Horns sound like.) Not that I used to play the oboe. Because that wouldn’t be cool. I’m just saying …
Congrats for finding the rodent. I don’t know that I would have looked as hard, but seeing how my kids form unnatural attachments to everything (including the dead copperhead my cats dragged on the porch this morning), maybe I would have … Sorry the dog didn’t turn out better. Please don’t take it out on him.
~Brea
March 31st, 2008 at 11:57 am
You rock! Sorry to hear that Nixon isn’t quite the little hunter, but at least you don’t have to plan a funeral today!
March 31st, 2008 at 12:02 pm
I lost my beloved hamster when I was young. I made my dad rip the bottom of the bathroom vanity off to get it back. His idea……rat poison. Glad you found the rat. Super Mom to the rescue! BTW, I banned little rats and snakes from becoming pets in my house.
March 31st, 2008 at 12:04 pm
I was a little disappointed that Nixon hadn’t snatched Sassy either.
Sorry I never have and never will understand rodent love.
March 31st, 2008 at 12:30 pm
What is it that we moms are always supposed to be able to immediately put our hands on whatever item is missing? We’re Super Mom ALL the time. Why don’t they get that?
Glad you were able find the little rat… um, Sassy!
(And like justmylife said - no snake, no rat household here!)
March 31st, 2008 at 12:32 pm
Hopefully she never escapes again, but if she does… they run along the walls vs out into the room. Since they hug the wall line … place the cage along a wall and it will find it’s way back, for food.
Unfortunately I know this from experience.
March 31st, 2008 at 12:45 pm
This is one of the few benefits to having allergies - no rodents as housepets. Nu-uh. No way.
Few instruments don’t sound like something the devil is unleashing on us unsuspecting humans when in the hands of a beginner. The screeching strings, squeaking woodwinds, trumpeting horns…you’ve made me all nostalgic for my days as a band geek. *sniff*
At least you got to keep your Super S for your chest, and no funeral to boot. I’d say that’s good karma for at least a whole day.
March 31st, 2008 at 1:05 pm
You ARE supermom! Good going.
March 31st, 2008 at 1:10 pm
I really wish that you would bring Nixon to TO with you. Because, he rocks almost as much as you do.
Also, Cassidy’s question? Made me laugh out loud, for reals. (Now - what’s the answer?)
March 31st, 2008 at 1:19 pm
You DID earn a booze breakfast.
My mom used to flip on the lights and sing the ENTIRE song from Sining in the Rain… “Goooooood Mornin! Good MOOOORNIN! It’s GREEEEAAT to stay up late…!” Then with her permagrin in tact she would come over and SLAP THE BOTTOM OF MY FEET until I was standing up! One day I’ll get her back by doing the same thing to my kids.
I love your writing style. I’ll definitely come see you again.
March 31st, 2008 at 2:38 pm
Hey–there is NOTHING wrong with the French Horn! I dedicated more years than I care to count to that instrument, and it sounds great when you know how to play it! Hang in there, Fric…
However, will I try to coerce my daughter to play it when she’s old enough? Not a chance!
March 31st, 2008 at 2:41 pm
Girl you are so freaking hilarious. And nice. I would have slept through the whole thing.
March 31st, 2008 at 2:59 pm
After our own issues with dying rodents and forgotten fish, I do love me a woeful tale from another mom feigning shock and grief.
Hilarious!
March 31st, 2008 at 2:59 pm
rodentia is not permitted to happen in my house for this very reason.
March 31st, 2008 at 3:45 pm
You have a pet named “Sassy”.
March 31st, 2008 at 5:13 pm
I feel your pain - I had a roomate at camp who played the french horn. It is the mating call of some really f’ked up animal fer sure.
March 31st, 2008 at 6:09 pm
Congrats on using your mommy superpowers to find Sassy.
You say you look good in tights surrounded by flames but I’d take you as is…
with your robe probably half open.
Kidding.
March 31st, 2008 at 7:47 pm
So, are you going to let your daughter put her mouth to that French horn ever again? Ewwwwww. You rule, BTW.
March 31st, 2008 at 11:34 pm
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA
Ohhhhhhh, BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA
Wheeeze, snort, choke
April 1st, 2008 at 12:34 am
I had a hamster while growing up. I remember two tramatic events with my hamster. Once my dad wanted to know what one of his hunting dogs would do if it got close to my hamster. So here I am holding it in my outstreached palm and my dad’s hunting dog sniffed at it and in an instant it was in her mouth. I smacked the dog, the hamster went flying. I found her dazed with wet fur sticking out everywhere. The second event was the last time I saw my hamster. He/she was always getting out of her habitrail thing. One night it got out and visited my dad while he was in the restroom. My dad picked it up, got bit (probably remembered the hunting dog incident) and so my dad opened the bathroom window and chunked it out.
April 1st, 2008 at 3:23 am
Ew, hamsters! Ew! My rodent-phobia is much too strong for me to live in the same house as them, although I used to babysit kids who would put their hamster in their shirts whenever they didn’t want me to put them to bed. Hamster in shirt = Beck in a different room.
April 1st, 2008 at 4:40 am
at least it was still alive…My mother was watching her friends hamster one time and my cat killed it…fricken cats…oh well..
I refuse to let relatives buy my kids any rodents, fish or otherwise..ickh
April 1st, 2008 at 7:14 am
I rarely comment here, because you know, you’re like super famous and all but this post had me laughing so hard at the end and I’m now left feeling so bad for my mom because I picked the clarinet back in 6th grade. I’m sure she appreciates it a lot now that I gave her grand children…screeching horns, screeching kids, same thing right?
April 1st, 2008 at 8:04 am
Late hubby and I had a hamster soon after we married who was an escape artist. I once “found” him because I heard him scratching around in the pair of pants I had left on the floor. Another time, I found him waddling around the kitchen followed by our 2 cats. The little sucker had stuffed his pouches with dry cat food.
April 1st, 2008 at 8:04 am
hahaha!!!girls are such drama queens.i had a pet hamster when i was in grade 7 and he used to get out of his cage and end up down the register in my room and wind up in the basement suite. needless to say he was filthy when our neighbour would bring him home…and once when my son was in kindergarten we petsat the class hamster for easter break and our cat got a hold of the poor critter and well i’m sure you can envision the sight for yourself….
April 1st, 2008 at 8:45 am
Now don’t give the realtive who bought it for her a bad rap if it wasn’t me you would have. The things we do for the ones we love……You just have to suffer
April 1st, 2008 at 12:18 pm
So, being a Redneck is now subject to research. Interesting.
April 1st, 2008 at 1:57 pm
You are consistently hilarious. I would have left the house. I enjoyed very much the drama…and the end…when you prevailed.
My best,
Dorothy from grammology
www.grammology.com
April 1st, 2008 at 3:11 pm
Glad Sassy didn’t bite ya…One of the 4 that used to live here bit me, one of the other 4 bit my husband (it mysteriously disappeared the next day, the dog ‘found’ one…and the mama cat who decided to adopt us in labor got the other one…we had them one at a time , each boy had one…techh, I’ll take a 2 trumpets, a set of drums, and a guitar anyday (French horn, not so much)…gawd, you make my day!
April 1st, 2008 at 3:12 pm
Glad Sassy didn’t bite ya…One of the 4 that used to live here bit me, one of the other 4 bit my husband (it mysteriously disappeared the next day, the dog ‘found’ one…and the mama cat who decided to adopt us in labor got the other one…we had them one at a time , each boy had one…heck, I’ll take 2 trumpets, a set of drums, and a guitar anyday (French horn, not so much)…gawd, you make my day!
April 1st, 2008 at 5:10 pm
Superwoman rising from the flames is makin’ me hawt.
April 1st, 2008 at 7:12 pm
CRAZY STORY! You had me on the edge of my SEAT! SO happy the dog didn’t eat Sassy!
April 1st, 2008 at 7:51 pm
I’m just laughing. as I sit with my back to two neglected hamsters.
April 1st, 2008 at 11:03 pm
Ha! ChildplayX2, you’d never be able to pass yourself off as a redneck; it’d be worse than Larry the Cable Guy trying to be suave and debonair.
But…..I TOTALLY get ya on this one. I’m just surprised no one else felt the same way!
So, Tanis….? What DOES it mean to be a redneck? Do tell!
April 2nd, 2008 at 9:25 am
Note to self. I must never buy my children rodents and will summarily execute anyone else who does.
That was brilliant, thanks for the laugh… and the warning!
Cheers
BC
April 2nd, 2008 at 10:02 am
HA! This was just so, so funny and even better that it was second-hand. But come on, it is the year of the Rat and everything…
April 4th, 2008 at 11:13 am
Redneck Research at an Honor’s College? Hmmm……I am half redneck and my answer would be: Chicken Wire and duct tape….they’ll fix anything that needs fixin’….
Hampters…..Tanis, you know if you come back as anything…it will be one of them there vermit….
April 5th, 2008 at 4:16 am
LOL You’re a brave soul. When I was a kid, we had a hamster and my mom wouldn’t touch it for a million dollars. The hamster used to get out of its cage all by itself (pulled the latches open from inside with its teeth until we wired the cage shut!) and wander around the house in the wee hours. One time I woke up and sat on the couch, and the hamster crawled onto my shoulder. Oooookay. Good times. (And I think you should look into getting a superhero outfit because you have the hair for it.) ;^)
April 5th, 2008 at 5:58 am
That’s one Sassy rodent you’ve got there!
You are too funny, lady.