Wednesday, April 6, 2011

The Massacre of the Birthday Cake

  Well, it certainly has been a whirlwind around here. With all of the Cleaning, traveling, sleeping (somewhat), refereeing, and changing the momentous amount of dirty diapers, I have been unable to write anything except grocery lists (that I always seem to leave at home).  Where to start?  We received wonderful news that Gigantor was finally being transferred to Georgia, and so prepared to move within a couple of weeks.  Before I get your hopes up (as mine certainly were), an unfortunate occurrence has delayed that date, and so we are back to square one.  With no idea when (or if) we can move back to our family and friends, we wait patiently…..okay, well Gigantor waits patiently.  
  We have had an eventful couple of weeks.  First, was the massacre of some very fine condiments nestled in my refrigerator.  While away at school, trying to assemble a three tiered wedding cake for my final grade, the boys were (unknowingly) destroying yet another piece of my serenity by frolicking in ketchup, pizza sauce, coffee (sob), chocolate syrup, salad dressing, and…wait for it….a birthday cake.  Apparently, The Giant nodded off after another grueling day at work, and the destruction began.  Since I was away at the time, this is how I envisioned it:  Taking "carpe diem" quiet literally they removed the birthday cake from the refrigerator and hid in the bedroom.  Crouching in a corner over the dessert, eyes darting to the door to watch for sudden movement,  they methodically removed the icing with only their hands, gleefully shoving handfuls of pure sugar into their mouths.  When the rush of the sugar begins to take hold of their barely controlled calm demeanors, they (like monkeys) begin to throw the remaining cake (because that is all that is left at this point…only cake) across the room.  Not satisfied with the meager mess and being capable of so much more, they return to the refrigerator to pilfer whatever sauces their now shaking hands can reach.  Laughing hysterically (and maniacally), Thing 1 opens the chocolate syrup and encourages Thing 2 to pour it generously on the mattress (I know this because Thing  1 is the instigator).  The mattress takes form as a palette, and the many flavors are then added.  Fingernail polish for shimmer, pepperoni for texture.  The walls and the picture hanging on the wall become the canvas and art is created.  The boys step back, giggling ferociously and admiring their work.  Thing  1 adds some organic hair gel to Thing 2's head as an afterthought.  After the arduous task, Thing 2 disassembles Gigantor's phone and has the SIM card as a snack.  Only then, after the massacre of the condiments is complete does Gigantor awaken.  
  Well, when I arrived home the first thing that I detected was fingernail polish remover.  I squeezed my eyes shut and willed my olfactory organ to be mistaken.  When I dared to peek into their room, my jaw dropped…and stayed that way for about ten minutes.  It LITERALLY looked like a crime scene….and it was.  I fell to my knees and sobbed for my sauces and for the coffee that met an untimely death.  Okay, that last bit was a tad dramatic. Honestly though, I almost cried.  Being a foodie, I'm somewhat connected to my ingredients.  
  After resigning to the fact that I wasn't going to wake from the nightmare that I hoped I was having, I started the clean-up effort.  It was then that Thing 1 walked in and showed me his toenails.  They were expertly painted….in fact, I don't think that I could have done a better job.  I started laughing (somewhat hysterically) and realized that although my refrigerator would have to be restocked, the memory of that heinous disaster would never fade…much like the coffee stains on the walls.  The mattress was completely destroyed and the walls still retain a darker shade that cannot be scrubbed clean.   
  To escape the insanity of our household, we traveled to Tennessee to visit friends (whom we consider family) that we haven't seen in almost four years.  It was an amazing trip, and I was able (FINALLY) to have girl time.  Susan took me out to a neat place called "Sips n' Strokes" where you can bring a drink (or bottle) of your choice while an instructor teaches you to paint.  Tulips were on the agenda the night we went, and it was also the first time that I have ever painted on canvas.  Everyone painted the same picture, but every outcome was completely different.  The girl in front of me was so excited that she dropped her phone in the paint.  It is incredibly hard to conjure up a look of pity while struggling not to laugh out loud.   I think I managed an expression that was one part grimace, one part amused.  
  Susan also signed us up for a body sculpting class.  Upon first hearing of this, I imagined clay and a nude model.  I was slightly less horrified when I realized that she meant "pilates on steroids".  Since my exercise has been on hiatus (with my abs) I knew that this meant PAIN.  I was right.  When Susan started punching herself in the leg to relieve a cramp, I offered to do it for her.  I am completely ashamed to admit that I couldn't even hang with a lady that was around 50 years old.  For the next week, I cursed myself (and Susan) every time that I had to move.  
  After our short lived vacation in Tennessee, we drove to Georgia to search for a home (the news that we wouldn't be leaving as soon as we thought had not yet reached us).  Gigantor's family lives in Georgia, so we were able to visit with them as well.  We had an amazing time, and threw Thing  1  a belated birthday party.  He got to eat cake (without throwing it)and opened presents for the first time with family.  Our time with Gigantor's family was so short, and with much sadness we had to make our way back to Miami.
  In the short time that we have been home, Thing 2  has thrown my phone away, thrown his toothbrush in the toilet (again), and has more than likely thrown half of my wedding ring away (if he didn't eat it….if he did, then I missed it in his diaper).  My children are close to achieving their goal of annihilating me.  Their efforts have increased in these few months into the new year (must have been a resolution).  If I do manage to survive the onslaught, don't be surprised to see me atop a roof while Charlie Sheen-ing it up.  TIGER BLOOD!!


ray said...

What the heck is the deal with all this Charlie Sheen stuff? I got on CNN to read the NEWS and there were seriously five articles about this guy instead of information about the nuclear disaster in Japan. I already don't like the guy, or his acting, or the shows he acts in, so seeing him in my daily news reel is/was unpleasant. Is he honestly funny?

Miranda said...

Charlie Sheen is COMPLETELY insane. The fact that there are natural (and nuclear) disasters, a government shut down, and stupid NFL players on strike because they're not making ENOUGH MONEY, and many people sick and starving around the world....and Charlie Sheen gets the headlines..ugh, it's beyond me. However, the atrocities that are spewing from his mouth are quiet funny. Apparently he's an alien and drinks tiger blood. There is a video of him on his roof waving a machete...he has completely checked out.

Anonymous said...

I loved this post, Miranda! So funny, horrifying and real! Now go sip some coffee and feed those monkeys only bannanas for a week! Your friend and mother of 6 monkeys herself, Ruth

Whimsy and Whirl by Tenetia said...

OMG!!!! this post took me through soooo many i was reading about the birthday cake massacre, i think i began to hyperventilate a little. then i told myself to snap out of it because if YOU survived that, surely i could survive reading about it! and then, as i was reading about your trip with susan, i was laughing out loud!! love your blog...found you via bloggy moms! you are too funny!


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