Tag Archives: reality tv

Woke up this mornin’…

7 Mar

Got myself a cold.

In my ever-hopeful world or rainbows and unicorns, I spent yesterday trying to convince myself that I was suffering from a touch of “the allergies”. Crap is blooming, it’s windy, SURE. It’s allergies. The Mayor even said “It’s a bad allergy day”. She can’t be wrong. She knows this shit. I popped an allergy pill. It didn’t do a damn thing, but hey, whatever.

I picked up the kids from school, I helped with their homework. I cleaned the kitchen. I did laundry, lots and lots of laundry. I vacuumed the house. I directed Tuesday nights edition of the “PICK UP THE TOY ROOM OR I’M THROWING EVERYTHING OUT” show. At around 6pm, Terry woke up, (he worked overnight) saw me, and offered to make dinner. I collapsed on the sofa, and proclaimed nasally,

“It’s a bad allergy day.”

Got the rest of the evening activities done, sat outside with Terry, watched some Hoarders on netflix, went to bed when he went off to work again. Tucked myself in, and hoped for a better allergy day tomorrow.

At 6:30am, 30 entire minutes before my alarm was set to go off, I hear all three monkeys yapping and playing and wondering why I haven’t picked out their clothes and gotten them breakfast yet. Apparently, their internal clocks are BUSTED. Is there a way to fix that? At this point I come to the realization that I AM SICK. Fuck allergies. I’m SICK. I decide to wait until the alarm goes off to roll out of bed and begin the day. At 6:58, Diva walks in the room and proceeds to interogate me. Endlessly.

“Why haven’t you picked our clothes out yet?”

“When is breakfast?”

“Why are you still in bed?”

Somehow, I kept myself from crying and whining. I responded in my sick little stupor, “Well, I haven’t picked out  your clothes yet because the alarm hasn’t gone off yet. Breakfast will be at the same time that it is EVERYDAY, after the alarm goes off, and I pick your clothes and you get dressed. I am still in bed BECAUSE THE ALARM HASN’T GONE OFF YET.” Do we notice a pattern?! For some reason, Diva decided to get up “before the sky was blue” and wake her sister and brother up as well, to join in the fun.

By the time I finished answering, the alarm was going off. Joy. Terry walked in the door at that point, so I hustled off to pick their clothes, and let him handle breakfast.

After a sock change for Intuitive, (she has a slight issue with liking to wear socks pulled almost up to her knees with shorts, and mean old Mommy just doesn’t approve.) and a quick “No, you can’t wear your hair to school like that” for Diva, I got their hair done, sniffling and pausing 8 times to blow my nose, lest it drip on their heads. Handsome walks over and says “I don’t want gel in my hair today”. Ok, sure kiddo. Saves me 3 minutes, why not. He usually won’t leave the house without a healthy scoop of gel on his spikes, but he’s 5, so screw it.  Turns out, he had just learned about “Estatic electwicity” in school, and wanted his hair to stand on end, and gel prohibits that. Makes sense. Finally got the crew off to school and safely deposited in their classrooms.

I dragged my ass back home, threw down some sudafed and advil, parked it on the sofa, and here I am now. Sniffling, snorking, blowing my nose and watching Hoarders while Terry naps. There is a doctor’s appointment in my future. We have planned a super special, super awesome surprise for the kids in 8 days, and I will go fucking crazy if I am sick for it.

It’s really interesting (fucked up?) to compare and contrast a cold before kids to after kids. Before I had kids, this would be the MOST HORRIBLE COLD EVER, and I wouldn’t have gotten off my ass for a damn thing. Now? The cold can wait. Green snot pouring out my nose? Gotta get the kids to school. Cough that sounds like Aunt Virginia and her 4 pack a day habit? Gotta pick up the kids. I came to the realization a long time ago that….

I REALLY DON’T MATTER.

Honestly, I’m ok with that. Having kids changes things. Having 3 kids REALLY changes things. As long as they are taken care of, fed, clean, happy, who cares about anything else? Violet has been chiding me all freakin’ morning. She has been texting that I need to take care of myself. Take vitamins, pop vitamin C like it’s candy. I should listen to her. (Violet edit: You think this is the first time I’ve ridden her ass for this? Bitch. Won’t. Listen.) I am usually pretty healthy, but with three kids in school, the germs that have been coming home are insane. I’m just happy that it’s me getting sick, not the kids. Since Handsome started school 6 weeks ago, I’ve had 2 sinus issues, this cold, and random sniffles. Intuitive has had one ear infection. Diva & Handsome have fared better, and just had a cough for a couple of days. According to Violet, new teachers go through this “getting sick all the time” thing in their first couple of years teaching. After that “initiation” period, according to Violet, they “have immune systems that could withstand anthrax”. I’m hoping that my anthrax resistance will kick in soon, since sick or well, I have to function at 100%.

I’m off to vacuum and clean the kitchen. Or sit and watch more Hoarders, and send the Mayor more “I’m sick and I feel yucky” text messages. You decide.

Oh, and can someone please remind me to put on real clothes (including a bra) before I go pick up the kids?

-Daisy

 

© Daisy and Violet 2012. All Rights Reserved.

Why Daisy’s life wouldn’t make a good television show.

28 Feb

My mother, the Mayor, has often said:

“We should have a fucking reality show”

Well, you know, if she used language that crass and stuff.

Which she does. Sorry you misunderstood.

I’ve often found myself agreeing with her, but I’m led to believe that just about everyone I know probably thinks that they should have a “fucking reality show.” Sure, the crap that happens to us is funny. To us.

I doubt that Diva proclaiming

“I want to be a show girl when I grow up”

would translate well to network television. (In my defense, we were watching a cake decorating show where they made a cake for a Vegas show) I’m betting that my father, the “First Husband,”  proclaiming that he wasn’t going to buy her pasties would probably go over like breaking wind in a place of worship. (Like how I made that sound SUPER-DUPER mature??)

We certainly don’t throw fisticuffs often enough, or chairs for that matter.

I’ve never sat down to dinner with Violet, had a few (15) drinks, called her a raving lunatic bitch, and thrown the table at her. Sure, during one of our numerous spats, I’ve thought all those things, but in reality television, there is no think, only DO.

So how about a scripted show based off of little old Daisy’s crazy shenanigans? Let’s see. I am pretty particular about my television viewing. My all time favorites?

  • Weeds
  • Californication
  • Mad Men
  • Breaking Bad

Let’s break down why my life just wouldn’t translate into television gold, as these shows have.

I am not a super fuck up with tremendously questionable morals. Sure, I can get a little loosey-goosey in the morality department, but, uh.. within reason.

The main character in all these shows is the head of the family. Where is he or she most of the time? Out selling/buying/making drugs; getting drunk with random ladies/gentlemen, sleeping with random folks, oftentimes on the hood of a car, or in an alley.

I’m the head of my family. Where am I most of the time? Hovering over my children helping them with homework, in the kitchen cleaning or cooking, vacuuming, or doing laundry. After 8 pm; once the kiddos are asleep, you can find me watching my stories.

Moral of the story?

My life wouldn’t make good tv, since…
someecards.com - I cook dinner, not meth. Daisy and Violet
-Daisy

© Daisy and Violet 2012. All Rights Reserved.

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