I am trying to sit quietly on the couch in the moments before we head out to a family picnic being hosted by the girls’ soapbox racing friends. I am quiet, but Maj’s pants are too loose and apparently? Much yelling is required.
They are the sort of pants that have an adjustable waistband, and I have already helped her button each elastic strip into the final hole. The pants? Are as tight as they are going to get. There is not a chance in hell that they are going to fall off, but Maj is not pleased.
Her words are sharp and hostile, “You do not seem to care, Mother, that I will be running around playing and then my pants will fall off. How is it possible that you do not care about this potential emergency?”
She makes me laugh.
While I am giggling, Mark suggests she wear a belt.
Her eyes flash with anger, “A belt? Are you crazy? I am not going to wear a belt!”
She stomps out of the room, and Mark calls after her, “Well, if I were you? I would wear a belt, because if we are out today and your pants fall down? Kallan and I are so going to break into song!”
And before I can even begin to try to figure out what the fuck he is talking about?
He and Kallan break into song . . .
Pants on the ground.
Pants on the ground.
Looking like a fool, with your pants on the ground!
And then they high-five one another at the notion of such delicious public mocking.
Mark heads off to shave and use the bathroom. Kallan runs off.
And then? Not even a minute later, from the other side of the house, the yelling begins. Like a huge stupid game of Marco Polo . . . “Daddy!”
I speak quietly from my spot on the couch, “He’s in the bathroom.”
“Daddy!”
“He’s in the bathroom.”
“DADDY!”
“He’s in the bathroom.”
“DADDY!”
“Sweetie, he’s in the bathroom.”
Kallan comes round the corner in the room, “Mom!”
“Yeah, babe?”
“I can’t find Daddy! Where’s Daddy? I have looked everywhere for him. DADDY!!”
“Sweetie, listen to me. Daddy is in the bathroom.”
“Which bathroom? DADDY!”
I walk with her upstairs as she calls into the air, “Daddy? Daddy? Daddy?”
“Babe? Any chance this is something I can help with?”
“No. I need Daddy! Where is he? DADDY!”
We are now standing outside of the bathroom Mark is using, and Kallan is still screaming, “DADDY!”
“For heaven’s sake, Kallan. Leave him be.”
From inside the bathroom, Marks finally speaks, “Yeah! Leave me alone! You don’t want me to get all distracted. You keep yelling my name, I will turn to see what it is you need and I will end up peeing all over the wall. I’m stupid that way.”
Kallan roars with laughter.
Snort.
And then Kallan runs off. The emergency? Apparently over.
Children are weird.
Mark comes out of the bathroom, “Babe?”
“Yeah?”
“Why is there a huge lump of rolled-up toilet paper on the bathroom counter?”
“Why do you assume that I would have the answer to that question?”
He stares at me.
Hmmph . . . “Fine. I had to roll my sunglasses up in something.”
He stares at me.
“OK, well there was no towel in there because I did the laundry and forgot to replace the towels. And then my sunglasses were wet. Duh.”
He snickers, “You dropped them in the toilet, didn’t you?”
Sigh.
And now Kallan is back, “What did you drop in the toilet?”
“Your mom dropped her sunglasses in the toilet. They are probably covered in pee.”
Kallan looks at me hopefully, “You peed on your sunglasses?”
“Well, I didn’t pee on them. But yes . . . they fell into pee.”
Kallan runs off again and soon there is Maj.
Maj is horrified and incredulous, “You peed on your sunglasses? That is the grossest thing I have ever ever heard of! What is wrong with you?”
“OK, well that makes it sound like I held them under the pee stream, which I so did not. They just fell off of my head and into the toilet. Plus, also? I can think of grosser things my sunglasses could have touched.”
“Ewwww . . . Mother! That is so disgusting I cannot even speak to you!”
I pick up the sunglasses/toilet paper wad.
“What are you doing, Mother?”
“I’m going to clean them off. I need them.”
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO TOUCH YOU AGAIN! YOUR HANDS AND YOUR HEAD? COVERED IN PEE GERMS! YOU ARE THE GROSSEST PERSON IN THE WORLD!”
“Know what else is gross, Maj?”
“What?”
“Changing people’s diapers,” I wiggle my hands in her face, “These hands, Maj? Your pee. Your poo. The memories of a million accidental contaminations. Right here on these hands.”
Snort.
“And Maj? Who do you think cleans the toilets? My hands? They are in the water, baby. In the water.”
She is horrified, “Don’t you wear rubber gloves?”
“Well, yeah . . . but that’s not as funny an image.”
“You think you are funny, Mother. But I am here to tell you? That you are not funny.”
She follows me into the kitchen.
A little dishwashing soap, some warm water . . . the glasses are good as new. I dry them off and push them back on my head, “Well, whatever . . . a little pee is not going to kill me.”
She stares at me, her lips contorted in horror and disgust, “Yes, well every time I see you wearing those sunglasses from now on? I am going to imagine you peeing on your head.”
I giggle, “OK, that would be like an awesome circus trick! Peeing on my own head! We could sell tickets!”
Once again? Maj is not amused, “This family? But mostly you? Insane. You should not be proud, Mother. You should not be proud.” She turns to leave.
I yell after her, “Oh, I am proud, baby girl! Who else in this family can pee on her own head? I am way proud!”
Sigh.
We went to the picnic.
Maj’s pants did not fall down.
And I did not pee on my head.
We passed for normal.
I think.
If no head-peeing nor pants-falling-down happened, you all just did not try hard enough.
*sigh*
I’m so disappointed.
Snort!
You are all evil in your wishes for my family’s humiliation!
Maj is annoyed with you.
passing for normal. it is what we strive for too.
Well, it’s what Maj strives for.
The rest of us are slightly less concerned.
Mark and Kallan doing the “Pants on the Ground” bit? I would pay extra for the Pretty All True Circus if that was opening act.
Kris the Head-Peeing Contortionist? Freakshowesque!
The Pretty All True Circus!
We are all freaks here.
Except for Maj.
She is all normal and tightly pantsed.
Snort.
Apropos, given the origins of your blog’s name?
I think of you now, every time we read that book. Which is often. We love us some Ian Falconer.
Olivia the Pig?
She is just awesome.
Just awesome.
I fell in love with Olivia when she first “moved the cat.”
But Olivia Saves the Circus? We love that one. And now? When i read the exchange between Olivia and her teacher, in which she utters those three words, “Pretty all true?”
I think of this blog, and chuckle, just a little.
Olivia Saves the Circus is my absolute favorite.
I must have read that to Kallan a thousand times.
When I decided to start this blog?
That was the one thing I was confident about . . . the title.
You chuckling?
Happy sighs.
I am just dying at the “Pants on the ground” bit. DYING. For what it’s worth, Buddy’s pants have to be cinched all the way up too, and I also hear about them falling down and the mortal embarrassment that would cause.
And all I keep picturing is one of those circus freaks, all contorted peeing on their head.
P.S. I’m sure there’s some sort of porno out there for FREAKS that shows the same thing. ;-)
Ewwwww at the thought of googling head-peeing freaks!
Although I will so do that later, just to see.
Hee hee!
Maj can find something to worry about in every situation.
Today? It was pants.
Tomorrow?
Who the fuck knows.
It is difficult to be prepared.
Ahh, googling head-peeing freaks. How fun! Just think about the crazies you will pull in with this post!
YAY!
I do love the freaks.
No offense.
I so hate dropping things into pee. I get all annoyed that what I drop? Is usually too large to flush. So I have to fish it out & deal with it. Yech.
But, since having children? I’m far less disgusted by urine contamination. I think urine is pretty sterile, anyway. At least compared to other bodily alternatives.
I hope you continue blogging until Maj is all old & a parent. I’m dying to find out how she would deal with all the yucky stuff that goes along with kids. Pregnancy. Childbirth. Babies. I’m all a-giggle just thinking of it….
Yes, well I was not delighted at having dropped my sunglasses in pee.
But there was no way I was going to the picnic without sunglasses.
First, there is the issue of sun in my eyes.
And second?
I hate making eye contact with stupid people.
I fear contamination.
Snort!
hah! some days it seems like your life is a dadaist film
Sigh.
I am going to try to take that as a compliment.
Sigh.
it was :D
pants on the ground…I can’t just see that happening in my house. Don’t you just love dads!
Yes.
Maj was a huge pain in the ass yesterday, so Mark did some extra Maj-mocking today.
I do love him.
Maj was not amused.
so glad to hear he gave it back to her….maybe she will keep the pain at a min for the next couple weeks.
Nope.
But it makes us feel better for a minute.
Snort!
i hate to burst maj’s bubble, but? you are funny. hilarious actually.
Maj says . . .
Just because you are laughing does not mean it’s funny, Mother. In fact? If you are the only one laughing? I would think that would concern you.
I am mostly?
Not concerned.
peeing on your head!
ha!
ha! ha! ha! i am LOL’ing over here.
and i usually do not LOL.
That?
Is awesome.
Laughing out loud is the best.
oh, i laugh out loud all the time.
i just don’t LOL.
but you made me LOL!
SNORT!
lmao…dying with laughter at the pants on the ground bit
and as far as i’m concerned, there’s no such thing as normal :)
i once dropped my ipod in the toilet…wasn’t about to flush it, so had to reach in and grab it…truly gross, but it did start working again a few months later, so yay!!
My sunglasses?
Cost me $9.99.
You better believe I am plunging in after expensive electronic equipment.
In a urine-covered heartbeat.
that is exactly what i did…lol…barely a hesitation….and then i scrubbed and washed my hand like crazy LOL
Exactly!
Snort!
I laughed so hard, the nurses charged into my room, ready to do battle with whomever might have DARED to make me have fun!
Tell Maj, from someone who definitely knows, that pee is sterile. Totally sterile. (Unless you have an infection, and believe me, you’d know if you did.) So, sterile pee = negative germ contamination. Your head, sunglasses, pillow, hairbrush, family, etc. are not contaminated. I promise.
You are back in the hospital, babe?
That sucks.
But I am glad you are able to giggle and scare the nurses.
That part?
I love.
There was no mere giggling. There was full-on belly-laughing happening here mere minutes ago! Which was then repeated when I read this post aloud to the nurses! There is so much love here for you and your family!!
Awwww . . . thank you!
Why are you in the hospital again?
I’ll DM you on Twitter, ‘kay?
Gotcha.
Well. If Maj’s pants has fallen on the ground, you could have peed on them far easier than you could have peed on your own head.
Why on earth would I have peed on Maj’s pants?
That would be totally ridiculous!
Not like peeing on my own head.
Which would be all normal and awesome.
Snort!
Craziest thing I ever dropped in the toilet was a turd I swear was the size of Orson Wel…
… wait, what was the topic here?
Nevermind.
You are just trying to balance out your crazy sexy poem on your blog today with childishness.
But you?
You are all sensitive and squishy.
So there.
And people?
Go. Read his poem at http://silvagami.wordpress.com/2010/08/22/haiku-for-who-needs-it/
OH MY GOD.
In case you have yet to notice, I am many things: I’m a picker, I’m a grinner, I’m a lover and I’m a sinner.
Shut up.
You are many things.
And you are also all squishy and adorable.
So there.
Yeah, I got nothin’.
You have me.
I adore you.
Eek!
Cooties!
I am apparently not the only one who cannot thread comments once flustered.
HA!
I have won!
Everybody gets one.
Don’t get used to it.
With you?
I don’t mind losing once in a while.
You are all warm and fuzzy tonight.
It disarms my snark.
Warm and fuzzy is my kryptonite.
You so fucking started it.
Warm and fuzzy you.
You are like a puppy.
Yes, well.
My secret is out: I am not always Mr. Snark.
There go all my readers!
I don’t think so.
Not at all.
Also?
I am all warm and fuzzy.
I will be more myself tomorrow.
So don’t fucking get used to it.