Sunday, January 29, 2012

Jinx (Miss Phoebe Chronicles - Volume 2)

The Firefighter and I jinxed ourselves -big time- this weekend.

He had just come back from a weekend long class at the Fire Academy and we were catching up about what went on with the kids while he was gone and he mentioned how much better Miss Chatterbox's behavior has been.  I agreed and enumerated the ways it has been an almost complete turn around from last summer.

I should have knocked on some wood, thrown salt over my shoulder, cut the balls off a gerbil or whatever the hell it is you do to get rid of a voodoo curse.



Today's been a day, Y'all, because Miss Phoebe has made her grand reappearance.   I think I missed my calling.  I should have been a seer.  I swear, it's like we held a seance and "called" the demon to the surface by just saying how good Miss Chatterbox has been.

( For those of you who don't know - Miss Phoebe is the nickname we jokingly gave to Miss Chatterbox's, umm, difficult side.  Disclaimer - I neither believe in voodoo, or demons. )

Right off the rip, Miss Chatterbox poured her cereal and milk into my work bag while I was changing The Bun's diaper.  Thankfully, my laptop wasn't in there or it could have been disastrous!  But still, I'm sure I'll be wiping soggy rice crispies and mushy bananas out of there for at least a week. Yuck.

But she didn't stop there.  Oh no, my girl certainly isn't a quitter, that's for sure.

Next, she TPed the Dining/Living/Kitchen area with not one, but 3 rolls of toilet paper while I was taking a very short bathroom break.  Darn it if it wasn't the "good" toilet paper I'd splurged and bought on the last Walmart trip.  I mean really, who sets the price on that stuff?  You'd think it was meant to wrap and store your fine china, not wipe your butt.  I don't really blame her about that one though.  I've been known to throw a roll or two in my day, though, it was the cheap stuff stolen out of the dorm bathroom.  Give it a couple of years, her butt will learn to discriminate between single ply Scott and Charmin extra soft and not waste the good stuff.

At this point, I decided that a trip to the park for a picnic was the best way to exorcise the demon.

It seemed to work.

Then we went to the grocery store.

If only, right?

We were in there less than 2 minutes, when Miss Chatterbox climbed out of the cart and took off running.    I hollered at her to stop in the best stern mom voice I could muster.  But she didn't.  So, it left me in a huge conundrum.  Do I take off after her and leave The Bun alone, or do I holler even louder and hope she listens?  Either way, I was doomed to the snide judgement and remarks of the sancti-mommies and the childless.

What happened next was equal parts funny and embarrassing.  I decided to take off running after Miss Chatterbox. Believe me, it was not a pretty sight.  I certainly did not conjure up images of Pamela Anderson running down the beach in a teeny tiny bathing suit.  Far too many bits and bobbles were jiggling for that.  Nope.  I'm sure it was more like Fat Albert in a string bikini.   Especially, considering baby belly #3 has started to pop already.  Definitely, not good for the ol' self esteem.  Even so, at least I'm still considerably faster than Miss Chatterbox.

Anyway.

She looks back at me while still running forward, then runs head first into the left butt cheek of a lady who gave new meaning to the phrase, junk in the trunk.  She bounced off and knocked over a cardboard end cap, which scattered gravy packets and sage in every direction.  She got up to run again, but I grabbed her, slung her over my shoulder kicking and screaming so loud it's echoed throughout the store and unceremoniously plopped her misbehaving ass in the grocery part of the cart.

Of course I'm wayyyy in the back of the store, and have to walk all the way through it to get the front door.  Not easy considering she's in full on tantrum mode, standing up and trying to jump out of the cart.  I am trying to ignore the tantrum - as in not even making eye contact AND instead interacting loudly with her sister.  It tends to be the most expedient tantrum ending method with her.  But, this time she will not be ignored.  Just as we round the corner to go past the check out lines, Miss Chatterbox pulled down her pants and mooned the entire set of check out counters.  On a Sunday.  You know, the busiest day of the week, when most people do their shopping.  WTG, Child.  That's one way to show your ass.

Sigh.

Gotta love her.



 








2 comments:

  1. Wow.

    I wonder if some kind of program like gymnastics or martial arts might direct/focus her energy?

    Totally LMAO at the picture of her bouncing off the butt and wiping out the gravy display :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. LOL yeah, Melissa, I had to wait until she was 3 to enroll her in anything around here. She just started gymnastics, but it's only one day a week. I just got her notice that micro soccer had been canceled :( So I'm on the lookout for something else we can do...that I can afford!

    ReplyDelete