AND THE WINNERS OF THE AUTOGRAPHED COPIES OF SADIE ARE . . .
Yahoo!!! Thanks to everyone interested in my book. Somewhere around 580 people (combined) entered to win Sadie which totally made my day. If I have another giveaway, I’ll be sure to post it here on the blog.
Okay. Onto Friday funnies.
Friday Funnies is something I made up (I’ve been doing a lot of that lately) to recap things that made me laugh during the week. It’s been a great reminder that–no matter how bad the week–something always made me laugh. True, some days it takes awhile to remember, but other times I have to limit myself to a few. Sometimes I laugh at myself, but usually I’m laughing at/with my kids because . . . well . . . they’re kids and kids are funny even when they don’t mean to be. (If you want to read previous Friday funnies, you can check them out here.)
Today is a combo.
I lost my voice this week.
Can I just say that mothers shouldn’t lose their voices. Never. Ever. Battles raged this week in the Belliston household and all I could do was stomp and clamp. Yeah. Like that’ll work. The first hour everyone thought it was kind of funny. The next 71, not so much.
I never realized before how often I order people around until I suddenly couldn’t. “Hey, no food on the couch!” “Stop pulling the cat’s tail!” “Don’t touch that possum–they’re mean!” (I’m not really sure if possums are mean, but I wasn’t about to let the 4yo find out.) Yet as I tried to yell out warnings, I was rendered useless. My arms waved like mad, trying to communicate both words and tenor, but apparently my kids don’t speak Arm.
At the same time I couldn’t talk, my youngest had the Croup (I think the illnesses are related). Which meant that he was barking and I was squeaking. Great fun. He described our predicament perfectly. He said, “Mom, I sound like a seal and you sound like an ostrich.” I don’t know what an ostrich sounds like, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t either, but I laughed–or at least, tried to.
Then again, I’m not really sure my kids are the brightest ones on the block. On the third day of this no-voice thing, my 7yo daughter stood at the top of the stairs and called, “Mom, do I need a jacket today?”
“No,” I squeaked back.
“No!” I tried a little louder in the best ostrich impression I could give.
That time I didn’t bother. In my mind I was thinking that she’d remember my little predicament and run downstairs to ask her question. It was the third day after all.
“Mom?” she asked louder.
“Do I have to wear a jacket today?!” she yelled at the top of her lungs.
When there was still no audible response, she asked my other kids, “Is Mom home?”
That pretty much sums up my week.
The funny thing is that my children didn’t take advantage of my momentary weakness. I mean, come on. Mom can’t tell you not to do something–or if she does, you can always play innocent and say you never heard. But they never clued into this. Not one of the five. I’m really starting to worry about them.
When I mentioned my little predicament on facebook, my friends were so supportive, some even going so far as to give me ideas of how to communicate without a voice. One suggested I use a whistle, which if I memorized The Sound of Music might work. Another–which was my favorite–told me I should try this thing.
|The Tempo Air Horn 8 Ounce “Ridiculously Loud Horn.”|
When I saw the picture, I burst out laughing–quite a feat considering I was part ostrich–but I really enjoyed the thought.
“Mom, do I need–“
Brrrrr – Rrrrrr!!!
One horn for yes. Two horns for no. Or according to google, if I did five short blares it would indicate DANGER. Oh what fun that could have been! Can you picture the look on that possum’s face when it went off?
But it was not to be.
I got better (mostly).
Last night when my husband sat down to dinner, the middle child blurted, “Dad, guess what! Mom yelled at me today!” This son was so excited, he was literally bouncing in his seat.
My hubby shot me a look.
I rolled my eyes. My kids are so weird.
“No seriously,” my son continued, “She yelled, ‘Get your homework done!’ and I could totally hear her. It was awesome!”
It’s a sad day when your children rejoice that you can yell at them. Something really is wrong with them. (Okay, not really, but sometimes I wonder. I think all mothers do. And by the way, if one of my kids reads this, just know that your mommy loves you and thinks you’re the smartest kid in the world. Sometimes.)