Signs, Signs, Everwhere there's signs!

We were driving in the car the other day and we saw a sign that said "Signage available." This started a great debate amoung the tribe. Is signage even a word?

The Tyrant brought up a Spongbob episode where Mr. Krabs says it. The Mother Hen chimes in, "That is a cartoon, so it doesn't have to use real words and I don't think it is a real word." The Show wonders, "But is if is not a real word, why is it on that sign?" Bear rolls his eyes at us, "You guys are crazy... Some body pease save me from this conversation!"

So, when I got home, I went so Wikipedia. And according to them signage, is in fact a real word. Mystery solved!

So much for that trick...

As a parent, from time to time, I find myself spelling words to Bear so that the youngest won't know what we are saying specifically. I know all parents have done it and it is a pretty useful thing when you are talking about upcoming trips either the fun ones or the not so fun ones.

Tonight, we were all eating dinner together and Bear asks me, "When are we going to the z-o-o?" I replied, "I am not sure." The Tyrant's face lights up, "Sweet! We are going to the zoo!" Bear looks at her, blinks and then huffs, "Stupid second-grade reading level!"

It is the end of an era, we will no longer be able to spell out small/medium sized words to trick her. I couldn't be more proud of our little first grade graduate.

P.S. I am moving! I got myself one of those fancy domain names. I will now be available at www.lifeandtimesofawickedstepmom.com. I will leave this site up while I transition over but please start using the new address. I am eventually going to change blog hosting too.

We shall have grips like Iron!

Yesterday, The Tyrant managed to get silly putty all over the couch and her shorts. Bright, neon yellow silly putty... The Mother Hen, Bear and I started trying to clean it up. (Thank the intar-web for GoodHouseKeeping!) As we are sitting there scrapping silly putty of shorts and the couch, I looked over at the The Tyrant and asked, "How did this happen?" And she looks at me with tears in her eyes and says "I don't know!" (This link goes to a classic parenting skit, it is a must see!)

I shook my head and continued scrapping. After about 20 minutes of scrapping, The Mother Hen and I both have cramps in our hands but it is finally coming almost all the way off. The Mother Hen said, "I need a break, my hand hurts!" I looked at her, as seriously as I could, "No you can't, you must keep working! We shall have grips like IRON!" We both starting laughing and continued to scrape.

Next, we started dabbing cotton balls of alcohol on the yellow remnants. The Tyrant, who was still showing little remorse for what happened, started playing a video game. I almost lost my temper completely. Instead, I very firmly said "You are going to have to stop playing that game." Bear said, "If you are truly remorseful as you told me you were, you would be trying to help us instead of playing that game." The Tyrant drops her controller and very quietly asks, "Can I help?" Bear, who is working on her shorts, looks up and says "Yes, you can tell us how this happened." The Tyrant says again, "I don't know!" Thoroughly frustrated, Bear leaves the room to pre-treat her shorts so that they can be washed.

After about a half hour of dabbing, the couch is almost clean. The Tyrant has gone back to her video game and The Mother Hen is mad because she has been working and her younger sister is just sitting there. So, in the snarkiest tone possible she looks at The Tyrant and says, "That's okay, when we have grips like iron I am going to use my grip to strangle you!"

The B-word

The other day we asked The Tyrant and The Show to clean their room. Our request was quickly followed by alot of whining, deep exaggerated sighs and stomping feet. Their room is much like any other kid's; toys and clothes can be found all over the floors, desks, beds, chairs, etc. But their closet has to be the worst. They share a huge walk-in closet that is so messy you must open the door with extreme caution.

Asking them to clean their room and closet is usually a bi-monthly event that always ends up with one of the two of them in tears. It is almost always The Tyrant who tries very hard to just sit around because she "doesn't know what to do." So, The Show will usually yell at her until she starts helping.

This time was really no different from the last time. The Tyrant came running up to us, in tears. Gasping she yelled, "She.. (gasp) called.. (gasp) ME.. (gasp) the.. (gasp) b-word!" My first reaction was one of shock. Which word was she talking about? So, I asked her, "Did she call you a brat?" (Brat and stupid are considered swear words in our house.) The Tyrant glares and cries, "NO!! The other B-WORD!"

The Show has now made it down the hallway and to us. She is blinking at her sister and looking offended. Bear and I are tensed up because we are thinking it's that B-word. The Show looks at us and rolls her eyes, "I told her to stop being a butthead and throwing things at me." The Tyrant stand ups "SEE!! SEE!! SHE DID IT AGAIN!!"

"I am not an oxsious!"

When I was a kid, my brother and I never got along. We were always bickering and fighting about one thing or another. I know that Bear and I are lucky, because the kids honestly just don't fight that much. When The Tyrant is a bad mood, she fights with everyone. Most of the time though, they get along very well.

We were driving in the car this weekend, with all three kids crammed in the back of a Ford Focus. The kids were all kind of having a bad day. There was a lot of pushing and shoving going on. "Stop touching me!" "You squishing me!" "Stop hitting me!" Just as Bear and I were about to say something about it, The Mother Hen looks at The Tyrant, "Stop being obnoxious!" The Tyrant gasped and then shrieks, "I am not an oxsious!" The entire car starts laughing. And the fight has finally been forgotten.

The War for Dinner

The Tyrant is a very picky eater. She won't eat potatoes, "crunchy" chicken or just about anything healthy. The new thing is to call someone like her a "choosey-eater" but lets be honest, she is just plain picky.

I decided to try something new this past Saturday. All the parent books and web sites say "Get a choosey-eater to help pick out dinner and they will eat." So, I said to her, "What kind of chicken would you like to eat? And what sides?" She chose BBQ chicken, Mexican Rice and Corn. (I know wierd combo but it was an experiment.)

The entire time that I am cooking she asks "Is it done yet? I am starving." Each time I smile and say "Just a few more minutes, baby." When we finally sit down to eat, she looks at her dish and declares "I am not very hungry." Bear and I just look at each other. KK aka The Mother Hen says, "You were just straving, why don't you give it a try?" The Tyrants takes one bit of the chicken and says "Its too spicy!" The Show, blinks and shouts "You wanted BBQ! We always have this BBQ and you have loved it every time! Geez!" I suddenly get visions in my head of the old Bugs Bunny cartoons.. Of course you realize, this means war!

The Tyrant stands up, "NO, I DIDN'T! WE NEVER HAD THIS! YOU ARE LYING! I HATE YOU!" We all stare at her for a moment, which is a fatal mistake. "YOU GUYS ALWAYS PICK DINNER! YOU NEVER LET ME PICK! THAT IS WHY I HATE IT!" The Mother Hen sighed deeply. She very calmly stood up, took the Tyrant's plate to the sink and rinsed off the chicken. She walks back and sets the plate back down. The Tyrant looks at her plate and decides to nibble at a piece of chicken.

This is where it got crazy. She spit out the chicken and screamed "THANKS A LOT!! NOW ITS ALL WATERY!" Bear couldn't stand it any more and tapped his fork off the side of her plate to get her attention. That is when the tears started... She started crying "She ruined my dinner! Why am I in trouble!!?" Bear looked at her and said "You need to eat your dinner. You said it was too spicy and she cleaned it off. You are lucky because I wouldn't have done that. You are going to sit here until you eat or you are just going ot go hungry." So, for the rest of the dinner we listen to the Tyrant cry.

Forty-five minutes later, her plate has gone cold and Bear has lost all patience with her. "Fine, if you aren't going to eat, you need to clean your plate and put it in the sink." She gets up and does just that. As soon as she sets the plate down, she declares "I was going to eat it and now I can't! Now, I am going to have to be hungry!" Bear, in his best Dad voice, says "THAT IS IT! I have had enough, go to your room!" Sniffling as she goes, "I just wanted to eat my dinner!"

So, to all those lovely parent books and websites, I say CRAM IT!

Her foot in our mouths

A few months ago, Bear (my super awesome boyfriend) got really annoyed with a driver on the freeway. The kids were in the car so, he manages to keep it somewhat clean when he says "How appropriate! That guy is wearing a skull condom." In case you need help with the visual...
The comment was meant for just me. But I am pretty sure the Tyrant only hears things that she is not meant to and completely ignores anything she doesn't want to hear.

Later that evening, we stopped at a gas station/7-11 for a Slurpee. The Tyrant gets out of the back seat and sees a guy pumping gas with the aforemeantioned headgear. She shouts "DAD! Look! That guy is wearing a Skull Condom!!!" Her sisters burst out laughing. And of course, both Bear and I look at each other, not sure if we should laugh or turn bright red. The Tyrant looks at her giggling sisters and shouts, "Well, he is! Its a GIANT BLUE SKULL CONDOM!" By this point we are all laughing as we quickly usher her into the store.