Tuesday, June 3, 2008

It is easier to raise a loaf of bread

Today was just one of those days. You know the kind. The sort of day where everything you do can't prevent whining, complaining, or argumentative kids. I've announced this evening, to all of my offspring, that I will be trading them in on something better.

I was met with gaping mouths...

Yes, those mouths. The ones that can only utter a few words at a time such as:
What's for dinner?
I'm hungry
I'm thirsty
I don't like that
I don't want that
I hate that
That is gross
I'm bored
I don't like chores
I don't WANNA
I hate you

And then my least favorite... the life-threatening, shrieking noise that comes from some young punk who is suddenly struck by something that annoys him. (I call it life-threatening because I always threaten his life when he does it). This only happens in public. The shrieking, not the threat. Well, the threat is in public, but it's usually whispered very quietly into whichever ear I happen to yank onto.

This shriek happened twice today. In public. Maybe other days it has happened more, but today more people just happened to notice.

I stopped off at the Middle School this morning. It is my 5 year old boy's job to press every available handicapped accessible door button in order for all the doors in the entire building to swing wide open whenever we arrive. This is a self-appointed job, but it amuses him, and who am I to deny amusement? I'm sure people inside the doors expect a processional complete with pomp and circumstance, but lo, it is only the lowly peasant girl with a highly exciteable footman in tow.

This particular morning, however, the push button didn't work at the Middle School. After about 17 of his futile attempts, I pulled the door open myself and walked inside. My footman was NOT pleased at me taking initiative to gain access to the building, but I did NOT care as I simply wanted to check my daughter back in to class and check myself back out as quickly as possible. He stayed outside... thump, thump, thump, as he whacked on the giant sized button in vain.

The shrieking noise and the door opening happened at precisely the same moment and everyone behind the desk (who had been politely ignoring the Thump Thump Thump had now come to complete attention and watched as the door shut behind the student that was slipping through it behind me. As all the staff prepared for lockdown and a visit from the SWAT team, I had to think quickly. I turned around, promptly whacked the inside button and as I sashayed out the door, I commended my son for finally getting the button to work. I heard snickering. I know it.

Just a half hour prior to the door whacking incident, we were patiently waiting for my eldest to have her thousand dollar appliance removed from the roof of her mouth. I was standing nearby her, while my little squirt was in the waiting area around the corner having a field day with three different Gameboy's to choose from. One of the assistants thought I looked a little uncomfortable (which I was) and offered me a chair, which I politely refused. No sooner did I say, "No thank you", did I hear the hair raising shriek. Six women in cute pink scrubs simultaneously dropped stainless steel instruments and wet themselves, and as I made a quick dash to the doorway all I could say was, "See, that's why I don't sit down".

I'm not sure if they were laughing because they thought I was funny, or because they were relieved that they'd all brought extra matching scrubs that day, but it was annoying as heck to me. The reason for the piercing noise? The batteries had gone out in the Gameboy. Really? Who screams over stuff like that?

Well apparently I'm not the only parent with issues like this. This is the reason why I have decided to trade my kids in for something better. I want a child who will do the dishes. Not just do the dishes, but actually scrape off the baked on potatoes before placing dishes in the dishwasher. I do not like using my dishwasher as an oven for twice baked potatoes. I want a child who will say Yes Ma'am, right away ma'am, when asked to clean their rooms. Matter of fact, my kid won't make their room messy in the first place. After all, I never did. (And I never lied either.) (And I never lied about never lying.)

I have decided on ChildTrader service to help me. If you are a parent at all you should probably check this out. I have a feeling I'd have to do a two for one trade, or some sort of cash incentive to get people to trade kids with me, but either way it sounds like a reasonable enough organization. Here's a quote directly from their own page:

"Child Trader Child Exchange Network isn’t about not loving your children. Its about finding a family that can love them more."

Make sure you mention that I referred you - I might get some sort of discount or something, and Lord knows I need it after buying all those groceries yesterday - that everyone hates.


Jen said...

Ok, you know if you say not to come over to read that I had to come by. This was too funny! I feel your pain. There are many days that I want to trade my kids in for better ones. I'll keep this website bookmarked for reference. :)

Farm Chick said...

That was HI. Larry. US!

I am so trading my kids. LOL

farm suite said...

Someone has a lot of time on their hands. Doncha know you can put marshmallows in their mouths? It stops the screaming. Plus you've got lovely sticky hands and more dentist bills to help the rejoicing mood.

Sarah said...

is that child trade thing a joke, i went to the site and well i dont think you should be able to trade you kids