Annoying.
And so I say, “Well, now you have annoyed me. I am not talking to you any more.”
Mark is puzzled, “How have I annoyed you?”
Pause.
“How have I annoyed you?”
Pause.
“How have I annoyed you?”
Pause.
“How have I annoyed you?”
Pause.
“How have I . . .”
“AUGH! I don’t even remember how you have annoyed me, because now I am all caught up in this new annoyance! Stop asking me how you annoyed me! That is so annoying.”
He is all falsely sincere, “I am just trying to determine what it is that I have done to annoy you. I want to add it to the long list of things I am never to do again.”
“Seriously, babe. I am going to smack you.”
Silence.
I glare at him, “Plus also? I am going to eat the Cool Whip.”
He laughs, “I knew that’s what this was about!”
“Shut up.”
He laughs again.
My husband is annoying.
A short while ago? This conversation, overheard by me . . .
Kallan is all pleading, “Daddy? Can we have some Cool Whip?”
“No, that’s for Thanksgiving. It’s for the pie. Put that back in the refrigerator.”
Maj chimes in, “But we just want a spoonful! You bought the giant tub of Cool Whip. There will be plenty left for the pie. Thanksgiving is tomorrow.”
Mark stands firm, “We are not opening the Cool Whip. Once it gets opened, it will be eaten. You know how your mother is.”
Wait . . . what??
Mark continues, “She’ll just eat the whole tub, one spoonful at a time.”
People? Outrageous slanderous lies!
Maj agrees sadly, “Yeah, you’re right. Mother will just keep eating spoonfuls until it’s all gone and then Thanksgiving will be ruined.”
Really, Maj? REALLY?
Kallan is mournful, “So just because Mom can’t be trusted, we can’t have any?”
People? I CAN BE TRUSTED WITH COOL WHIP!
Maj giggles, “Remember when we thought we had leftover frosting for cookies, Kallan? Remember? And then we opened the container, and it was empty! Remember that?”
Ahem.
Kallan giggles, “She sneaks spoonfuls when no one is looking. Yeah, we should definitely not open the Cool Whip.”
People? There was not that much frosting left in that container. How was I to know it wasn’t available for snacking?
Maj is thoughtful, “But this is a HUGE tub of Cool Whip. Way more than we need for pie. Mother wouldn’t eat all of it, would she?”
Kallan snorts, “Think about it, Maj.”
Mark agrees, “Yes, Maj . . . think about it. We’re talking about your mother.”
People? My family is dead to me. Dead.
Sadly, though?
Mark refuses to die.
Because here he is a bit later, still talking.
Really.
“You know what I should have done? I should have bought a sacrificial tub of Cool Whip. You could have eaten that one, and I would still have one for the pumpkin pie.”
“Yeah, that’s not annoying. Why are you so sassy today?”
Mark giggles and leaves the room. A moment later, both of the girls are in front of me, all excited. Kallan is giddy, “Daddy gave us our allowances and he says he will take us to the book store and to Justice for Girls and to Jamba Juice!”
Maj nods her head in happy agreement.
Oh for god’s sake, “Could you ask your daddy to come down here for a minute?”
They race off happily and send Mark down . . .
Mark’s all, “What’s up?”
I lift my hand up to high-five him, “You are totally winning this parenting thing! Yes! You are taking them to the book store and to Justice and to Jamba Juice? You fucking rock! You are totally awesome. I bet the girls love you best of all.”
Mark is sheepish, “They’re all happy!”
“Didn’t we say we were just hanging around the house today? Why wouldn’t you mention this new glorious plan to me first? What’s up with that?”
“I just wanted to be nice?”
“Are you saying I’m not nice? Oh, I am so coming with you.”
Which is why this post is being posted now instead of several hours ago.
Book store. Justice for Girls. Old Navy. Jamba Juice.
And because I was all cranky? Mark got to be the favorite parent for the whole afternoon.
So annoying.
And then a final stop at the grocery store.
Mark ran in to get some paprika.
He came out with paprika and a container of Cool Whip.
Handed it to me . . . the sacrificial tub.
Yeah, that’s not annoying.
Plus also?
It’s not even Cool Whip . . . the sacrificial container is a generic 99 cent tub of Non-Dairy Whipped Topping.
Mark’s all, “It’s the same thing! No way you can tell the difference.”
People? Is he insane?
Although, if he can’t tell the difference? No reason this nasty generic stuff can’t top his pie come Thanksgiving Day.
Which means that over-sized tub of Cool Whip?
No reason I can’t open that lovely guy.
A few spoonfuls . . . that’s all I’ll have.
While I am contemplating how best to secretly make this plan a reality, Maj arrives, “Daddy says to tell you to not even think about opening the Cool Whip.”
Seriously, people?
SERIOUSLY?
So annoying.
I am a grown woman . . . people around here act like I have no self-control.
So annoying.
Shut up.
Growing up, there was always a sacrificial can of black olives. My mom put it on the table; we all ate them and then she made a huge fuss that we ate the olives. My dad would then get a new can out that he had hidden in his closet. Every. Single. Year.
Oh, that is an awesome holiday memory!
Love that!
yummy cool whip…really good frozen and then just a scoop here and there
that’s all i have right now…lol…i suck
I like it unfrozen.
And stirred.
Mark goes fucking INSANE when I stir the Cool Whip.
He is not that stable a person, it turns out.
God so does my aunt. She gets all hysterical “YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO STIR IT. IT SAYS IT RIGHT ON THE LID.” Live a little people! Stirred cool whip will not spontaneously combust!
I swear to you . . .
Just this afternoon, Mark showed me how the label says not to stir it excessively.
I do not stir it excessively.
I just stir it.
He goes insane.
The fake Cool Whip stuff is SO not the real (also fake) Cool Whip.
You can so tell the difference. You so can.
Also.
What’s up with Mark buying you a budget sacrificial tub? That IS all annoying! Sheesh.
Oh, P.S. Happy fucking Thanksgiving! I’m thankful for you!
Mark is having a sassy day.
He so fucking is.
He thinks he is all hilarious.
Don’t you worry.
He will pay.
And happy Thanksgiving to you as well!
You do know I will be posting tomorrow, right?
Snort!
Of course you do.
I was just feeling thankful all over the place a day early. So today I will be thankful that I have your post to read, after I hang with MY crazy family. Ha!
Yay!
It is possible that I have secretly polished off entire jars of nutella and chocolate frosting that had actual purposes beyond being eaten by my one spoonful at a time while other members of the family were at school/earning money/in the bathroom/doing homework/changing litterboxes/etc.
But I’m not admitting a thing.
Not without my lawyer present.
Ok, that is excellent!
Because I AM a lawyer!
And so within the confines of the confidentiality agreement?
I will admit to myself here that there are some things that just taste better when eaten stolen illicit spoonful by stolen illicit spoonful.
Allegedly.
I am so glad to hear that I am not the only one that does this. Frosting and cool whip taste way better on the spoon. :)
Way better.
Way.
We are united in our Cool Whip sneaking!
I am also not to be trusted.
Thus, there is none in my house.
I do love you!
Seriously, Mark bought an enormous tub of Cool Whip.
There is plenty for me to sneak some.
I acknowledge that I would sneak some.
But the WHOLE container?
Mark is annoying.
This was excellent. They hide the oreos from me around here. Mostly cause I told them to. Once. Five years ago! The teens use it as their excuse to hog it all to themselves. Bunch of creeps. Hmmm. Now I’m annoyed. I want an Oreo!
Oh, guess what?
I recently discovered Golden Oreos. Have you had these guys?
Perfection.
Oh, now I want a Golden Oreo.
Damn it.
They are perfection! Those are the ones we buy now. And Damian can have one, and Natasha can have one and the teens can have all they want, and they slip some to hubbt when they think I’m not looking. Creeps I tell ya’!
I had a package of those recently.
At the store, everyone was all, “Why won’t you just buy the regular Oreos? We hate that yellow kind!”
Until we got home, and then they and their friends were like crazed cookie wolverines.
Package?
Gone.
Your kids call you “Mother”?
That’s fucked up.
Only my older daughter calls me Mother.
Kallan calls me Mom or Mommy.
Maj prefers Mother.
She is like that.
My 23 year old sister has always called our mom “Mother.” I prefer to call her “Muzzie Dear” like in Thoroughly Modern Millie, my all-time favorite movie.
One of my brothers called my mom Mammy for the longest time.
Oh my god, she hated that.
That brother liked to cause trouble.
Snort!
Up until the day she died, my mother was “Mother” to all 4 kids. My father? “Daddy”. Indicative of their personalities. Or something.
So funny.
Maj calls Mark by Father occasionally, but never seriously.
But me?
I am Mother to Maj.
Go figure.
Mmm Cool Whip!
That is all!
More than enough.
Love that yummy stuff.
Just be careful…
You don’t want it to add to your beast butt!
Hee hee!
Snort!
Plus also?
ROAR!
(that was a beast roar, by the way)
As I was busy scarfing down my husbands pint of Chunky Monkey before I got caught, I saw this post. I started reading…and was eating…and was reading…and was eating…and was like HOLY SHIT!!! You are me!!! We can’t buy chocolate or ice cream or anything because I have NO SELF CONTROL. OMG…of course, I’m still the awesome parent. Or I was until my kids hacked my Twitter account a while ago. Now i have to kill them. Great post!!
We are not quite identical . . . In the ice cream department?
I love Vanilla and Coffee.
That’s it.
I don’t need to tell you that this means Mark buys other flavors, right?
Yucky stuff like Pumpkin and Chocolate and Mint Chocolate Chip.
Because he knows they will be safe.
Seriously.
As for chocolate candy?
My love of chocolate is cyclical, if you catch my drift.
Cyclical but intense.
Snort!
I actually like chocolate and coffee but alas, there was none available. Sometimes, sigh, you just gotta make do!
Chunky Monkey, though?
Ick.
Just saying.
Others may be too polite, so I’ll just point out the obvious: you are “a grown woman.” As in “beast butt.”
I can find a good trainer in the Portland area, but it simply won’t do any good unless you also change your eating patterns.
I only hope that when the other kids in the neighborhood refer to you as “thunder thighs,” The Girls say “we prefer to refer to her as a Grown Woman.” Diplomatic, they.
You are getting weirder and weirder, sir.
I am all svelte and cat-like over here.
All grown up, too.
So ppffftfttftfttttt to you.
HeeHee. Just teasing, mercilessly, because if I said how neat you were, I’d never hear the end of it. Plus also? ppffftfttftfttttt
HA!
I am neat?
Let the mocking of you commence.
I just knew it: let down my guard for a moment and now the torrent of abuse begins.
You are doomed.
Seriously? You expect me to reads this shit and then go to bed having had a green apple for a night time snack? Ack! Now I gotta raid the fridge again and see if there’s anything to EAT in there. One spoonful at a time, of course.
And my post today? Was in no way, definitely NOT about how someone thought I was maybe a little bit pregnant. And that unless bagels were life forms? NOT. Hmph.
And I might have put a picture of me from 1987 in there, when I had a waist. To prove I had a waist. Once. Full term twins and 10,000 pints of ice cream ago.
And vanilla is best, but I do like it with stuff in it, like chocolate covered almonds or swirls of caramel. You probably hate that. That’s OK. More for me.
Holy hell! Can I EVER comment here without a proofreading fail?
“reads”
REALLY?
Um, just de-pluralize that please (And yes “de-pluralize” is a word. That I just invented. Shut up, I need it. A lot, lately)
Hmmm. Maybe getting a few more hours of sleep at night would help. Makes me wonder what other small stupid mistakes I am making all the hell over the place in sleep deprived stupor state…
Did I even remember to BUY ice cream?
You, with your obsessive return to correct grammar mistakes?
You make me laugh.
I will come by and check out the post in which you are not pregnant.
Who would SAY that to a woman? ACK!
And vanilla ice cream? Maybe I will pour root beer on it. But nothing else.
I like my vanilla unsullied.
Have a fabulous Thanksgiving, you!
And eat extra ice cream!
You’re eating for two, after all.
Snort!
when I was pregnant, I would deny the fact when random strangers asked me. Served them right.
See?
Because no one should ever just assume.
Not ever.
Served them right, indeed.
BTW, the process is called depluralization. Just so you’ll know.
The process by which Varda got bagel-pregnant is called depluralization?
Huh.
I so do not remember that part of Sex-Ed.
The frosting and cool whip in my house? Tops delicious graham crackers that are taken from their extremely loud packaging prior to the sneaking and placed in a ziploc baggie (so they stay fresh, of course). I have been known to sneak into the kitchen in the middle of the night, during a commercial, in the middle of a conversation (“one sec – hold that thought”), on the way to and from the bathroom… the list does not end.
I think it’s a benefit of being the Mom. It’s like a rite of passage or something.
You are an evil sneaky genius!
I bow to your obvious superiority!
I so need to be sneakier!
Graham crackers in a Ziploc baggie for quiet-ness!
That is genius!
I try :)
Did you see how many exclamation points you made me use?
Snort!
Husband annoyance is all the rage. Mine refuses to die, too. I tried to throw him out of the vehicle, then tried to sneak out of the restaurant. Miserable failure twice over! … I vote you eat all the Cool Whip you want! Happy Thanksgiving!!
Happy Thanksgiving to you as well, babe.
Mark will survive.
He always does.
He’s like a Thanksgiving cockroach that way.
Shh . . . do not tell him I said that.
Snort!
Mine will survive, also. Men are all cockroachy that way!
Snort.
These men are lucky to have us.
Good thing we need them.
Or they would be squashed like bugs.
Ahem.
okaaaaay…WTF with some of these nutty comments!? This is full on entertainment reading over here! Loves it!
My readers are crazy!
I love them so much!
Yay!
Oh. I’m jealous. I’m from Australia and I don’t think we have Cool Whip. Although I will go and scour the freezers. Happy Thanksgiving all lucky people Up-Top having Cool Whip and Pie! (Although I’m even more jealous about the snow – miserly though it may have been)
Yes!
Talk to that sassy Ben guy who was bragging about Australia’s weather the other day!
Snow is fun!
For a short while. In smallish quantities. Viewed through a window.
Snort!
How can Australia not have Cool Whip?
That makes no sense.