Parental Laments and Humiliation Part Deux

     Periodically, the inadequacies of certain household members need to be addressed. Admittedly, it’s been quite some time since I last covered the rules and regulations, but now that summer is upon us and the youngest people in  the house have aged slightly, it’s clear that the Parental Laments and Humiliations require some updates and tweaks. You know, to reflect our current state of affairs.

Let’s dive right, shall we?

1.  When I told Daddy that our new chickens were an excellent means of natural pesticide, I was referring to the insects located on the exterior of our home. At no time should any chicken(s) ever again be herded into the kitchen in effort to remove a pile of tiny ants clustered on a Wheat Thin. Leave the pest control to your parents. Please.

2.  Undergarment removal should only be performed in one of the rooms designed for such purposes. Those rooms are as follows: one of the three bathrooms and/or the privacy of your own bedroom. In light of recent infractions, it is clear that I must now reinforce this rule.

I cannot stress enough how utterly distasteful it is to drop trou in the dining room and hurl your skivvies onto the table. Furthermore, underwear with skid marks, odors and other contents or attachments should either be disposed of or placed in the laundry room. In the future, please refrain from stuffing these sorts of messes between couch cushions, inside seldom used drawers or the gerbil’s cage. That’s nasty.

3.  Please stop licking pickle chips and cucumber slices and sticking them to the French doors. This is not art and no, I most certainly do not think it’s pretty. Not ever.

4.  If you love your grandparents, please don’t con them into purchasing boxes of rainbow-colored glitter glue. Grandparents are suckers. We all know this but most of us take the socially correct route and try not to take advantage of their increasing senility.

Clearly, I'm exaggerating here.

Also, as you should recall, glitter glue was banned in 2010. Grandparents, please take note. So, Middle Child, one who has mastered the fine art of manipulation and eyelash batting, you and I both know that you were fully aware of the illegality of said glitter glue, yet you took advantage of the grandparents and conned them into supplying contraband.

Shame on you. That’ll be five days in the hole and two servings of anchovies for my trouble. Mommy doesn’t like scraping glittery gobs of super-glue off the kitchen table, woodwork or French doors.

5. The word “idiot” is not usually one a person might equate with terms of endearment. Especially not when hollered from the highest window in our house…that sits on a hill…overlooking a handful of neighbors who can hear everything we say up here.

 While gleefully calling, “I love you, you idiot!” to Daddy was a lovely gesture, might I suggest substituting “Daddy” for “idiot” or, maybe “dude” or “man” or anything even slightly nicer. You little freak.

6.  I’d like to take a moment to congratulate our youngest family member, Kate, for her recent mastery of the toilet. It was a long haul, but she finally relented and knocked the monkey off her back. Kudos to you, Kate and thank you for finally putting an end to our nearly eight year run of diaper use.

Now, this part is important. Please pay attention.

At no time should the contents of your potty seat be removed from the potty and dumped onto the driveway. Furthermore, repeatedly driving your new bicycle over a fresh-from-the-source turd is both disturbing and, well…idiotic. Poo splatters just like mud on a mountain bike trail, so your pretty pink butterfly shirt will be coated in stench and no one will want to play with you. Including me. That’s no way to treat your new bike either. Your father spent a long time picking it out at the town dump, silly. But I do love you, you idiot.

7.   If you happen to pee on the floor please don’t try to wipe it up with a fleece neck-gator. Fleece is not absorbent and you angered your five year old sister who was planning on using the gator as a neck cowl in the Fall. You know how Gwen feels about her fashion choices. Watch your back.

8.  If we’re swimming in the pool together, please don’t don a pair of goggles and submerge yourself for a close inspection of my ass. If you do, do me a favor and keep it to yourself because your announcement to the world that my “butt is like Jello except it doesn’t come apart” was mortifying. Not cool, Dude. Not cool.

9. Please allow me to reiterate that if I am holding your hand in the mall/grocery store/parking lot or other public place, it’s really shitty of you to loudly complain that I’m hurting you while I’m trying to make sure you won’t be killed/abducted or otherwise annoying to the general public.

You suck. Mostly because you’re very believable in the role of the beaten child, you and your squeaky toddler voice and that cute little bob. Frankly, I’m tired of old ladies giving me the hairy eyeball. Please, cut the abused child act.

10. How many times to I have to tell you not to pinch Joe’s weiner? Stop. Not only is it weird, but sometime in your future that memory might resurface at a really awkward moment. Granted, I’m completely guessing about this, because I never grabbed my brother’s junk. But still…I’m fairly confident you’ll want to scrub your brain with bleach should you ever recall the summer you spent tweaking your big brother’s bits n’ pieces in the swimming pool.

 

11. Singing in the bathtub is lovely, isn’t it? Fact is, we love the sound of your tiny voice. However, might I suggest that you stick to age appropriate lyrics. I’m not entirely sure Barbie would really sing, “Up my ass, up my ass, I got water up my ass…”

12. I rented Matilda, that fun movie based on the classic book by Roald Dahl. Of all the possible lessons you could have walked away from that movie with, you all latched on to Trunchbull’s use of the phrase, “Piss Worm.” Seriously? Is nothing sacred?

 

"For this newt, you piss worm!" Trunchull

This is just so me. I couldn't resist.

 

 

Comments

  1. I can’t really think of a better word than hilarious for this…. beautifully written with a wry sense of humor. Loved it….

  2. Oh Thank you so very much for this lovely set of household rules to refresh everyone’s memory! It was some time ago that I tore mine down as the kids(now 11 1/2 & 14 1/2 ) had out grown them and I never replaced the list with any new, fresh, interesting and seriously needed ideas/rules to go by. You bring such hilarious scenarios to your blog and I am always waiting for the next great one from you! I love you and your family….sounds like you have such fun filled days of poop surprises and glitter globs. I don’t know how you find the time to write!!!! Just makes me want to move my family into your home and have you set them straight for good……I wonder if you could do that?!?!?! hmmm, that sounds like a really, really good idea! knock,knock 🙂

    • I’m not entirely sure I’m the person you want to call on to whip your kids into place. Have you been reading this blog?! 😉

      • Of course I read your blog silly!!! It’s just your ingenuity that always amazes me and makes me think, hmm, great idea , wonder if that will work on my kids! OR maybe my brain has turned to mush and my better judgement has finally left the building after all these years of drinking (no- not booze!) Glens Falls water…thank you F.P. (name withheld but we all love their paper products and that breeze that blows an egg-fart smell every now and again!);-}
        What it all boils down to is that I like your style! Once again, great work Kelli!

  3. Jean Kerr’s “Please Don’t Eat The Daisies” was humorous, back in the 60’s but I foresee a magnificent work-in-progress by you, based on your parental laments.

    Print all these up and leave them in a conspicuous place in the house when you leave for Ireland.

    Pray…and don’t look back.

    • Oh, I pray, Sister. I pray. The good thing about parenting is, I will never cease to have something to lament. Right?

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