Our Maid Stories

via Relieved

maid

My 10 year old and I have our own takes on everything, here is an example of what I wrote in my journal and what he wrote in his:

Motherish:

As a mother of two boys, high blood pressure is a part of life and so is dodging food meteors and stepping into shoes with GI Joe in them. In my case, the MLU (Maids Labor Union), has framed photographs of my family in their corporate headquarters, as the most dreaded family. Only the bravest, most expensive and/or newest maids venture out to work for us. What is it with boys and aiming right into the toilet pot? Their bathrooms are a mess, their closets probably have raccoons living under the piles of clothes. I set about cleaning the house, feel so good, head over to the shower and when I am back out, the house is back to normal and so is my blood pressure. I just wait for the visit from my maids.  On one occasion we were home when the maids came and my little one followed them to every room asking them if they were evil. He even asked them to go away but luckily my maids hardly speak any English. And when the house is clean and smelling like Clorox all I feel is…..RELIEVED!!

Childish:

The house was under a maid attack!!!!

Our lives are ruined boys!!!!!!!THE BEAUTIFUL STINK OF SOCKS!!!!! THE PILE OF SOFT CLOTHES ON THE CARPET!!!!!!! THE BUILDINGS OF SCATTERED TOYS ALL OVER THE GROUND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! At least they didn’t touch or move any of my action figures.

2

Minutes

Later

THEY ARE GONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!OUR COLLECTIBLES ARE GONE!!!!!!!!!!!!! Who takes a collectible off a decent spot (on the floor) and puts them on… get ready………THE SHELF!!!!!!!!!

My little brother to the rescue…he got his little lizard and showed it to one of the maids. She screamed and ran right out of the house…….rammed into mom’s shrubs while backing out (sure reason she is not coming back). And I swear all the boys in the house felt….RELIEVED!!!

Fatherish….Long way to Subway

I had survived a month in this new country. Twenty years, million sitcoms later, I still dread ordering drive through and spelling my name to customer service, thanks to my thick  accent. My kids have a ball when I order french fries and get handed over sprite – EVERY SINGLE TIME.

On our way from Detroit to Chicago. I was tired of pretending to know how to read the map from AAA and all I wanted was some food and a nap. My friend, being a veteran immigrant for 6 months, convinced me to try a healthier option and dragged me to Subway. I rushed to the restroom and by the time I got in line there were a few people between me and my friend. That was my first tactical mistake. New to the country and trying new food begs for help. Specially if you ate curry and rice your entire life.

I see most in the line on the higher side of the scale. In those days the Subway was famous for eating healthy and losing weight. Well…I hardly see any success stories…. wonder where they all eat now.

Having lived in US for a month now, being naive and single, fast food was the undisputed choice. I was trying to find the numbers in the menu. ‘Number 5, medium with Coke’ was easy. But here in subway I don’t see any numbers. With my thick accent I knew I was in for a long conversation with the lady in gloves.

To play it safe I asked for ‘Veggie delight’. Sandwich maker asks me  ‘6 inch or footlong’. Thinking that she was getting too personal, I gawked at her awkwardly. Seeing my clueless expression, she explains, ‘Would you like a 6 inch sandwich or footlong?’. I never thought food could be measured in inches. Anyway, I said ‘foot long’. She asks me ‘What kind of bread?’ I thought to myself, now there were kinds of bread? The only kind I knew was the one in slices.

Then she asks me ‘Cheese?’ This is sounding like a multiple choice test.

Now comes the real food assembly part. She asks me “what would you like on your sandwich?”. I don’t even recognize half the veggies in those bins. Seeing my confusion, she decided to be kind. She pointed to each vegetable and asked me if I wanted it. I said ‘No’ to most, No being the easiest thing to say. She wraps the sandwich.

I pay for the sandwich for which I gave the recipe…..a little disappointed that I was eating something that was neither steaming or smelling. I can actually take apart everything in the sandwich ingredient by ingredient. Human civilization is going backwards I guess.

I grabbed the coke and sat with my friend. Took a bite, choked and reached for the coke to drain it down my throat.

When I reach home, mom calls and surely enough asks what I ate for lunch? I decide to dazzle her with the names of American Subs and what goes into them and what doesn’t…..

After all these years I can’t believe subway is my first choice if I have to grab something real quick. I guess the ‘Eat Fresh’ has caught up with me…

 

Thoughts and Visions

via Photo Challenge: Focus

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She peeks through the crimson of my lonely thoughts, with mischief yet shy,

Like a diffident bride holding on with bloodless knuckles to peeling garments on wedding night.

I wonder at her wavering emotions, at times a foaming sea, at times a passive bay.

And if I held her fire in an embrace, she’d likely turn me to ashes,

Though winning her, is all I wished, I’d gladly die without a fight.

Secrets are good as long as no one knows there’s one….

Motherish…

That has to be true because we all have a tendency to go secret hunting as soon as we smell one….If husbands won’t share their iPhone pin, the wives got to check what he’s upto. If Santa refuses to show himself, the kids got to stay up till midnight setting up a trap. Remember the Pokemon Go craze last year…when every kid was outside spying for those little critters and some people (me) walking right into gutters. I think I was better off not knowing my kids had a secret. Going after it sure gave me post-traumatic amnesia.

Neil, my 6 year old just loves to read the Red Riding Hood. The librarian got so tired of me paying overdues on that book that she literally presented it to my family one day.

Avi, my 9 year old reads a math book….every night! Am not really sure how one reads a math text…. “ = 8 × 8 = 64. 82 could be called “8 to the power 2”, or simply “8 squared”.

Well, I was always a little numerically challenged and cannot for the love of God understand his inclination. But surely some people (like his dad) might find it interesting I guess. Who reads a book where someone did not get murdered anyway?

Naive that we poor moms are, I would probably never have guessed my kids were being all sneaky if not for the upside down book Neil was holding. So I ask my little fellow if he could tell me the story. He says, “It is too scary for you mom….you are too young for this.”

“Hmm” but I’m not giving up so easy either, am I? So I insist. He relents and tells me the story, “A little girl called Red Riding Hood went to a ball dance with handsome prince Spiderman and at the strike of 12, she ran so fast, she lost her glasses. On her way home, she got so hungry she ate a poor little fox with the hair on its chinny, chin, chin.”

Not really sure how to react at first, I suggested we should walk our dog perhaps? But what do I see, she is busy reading a book too.

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Well, I gave up and went back to sleep in my tower after kissing my two little dragons good night.

 

Childish…..

Oh my gosh, this is the hardest thing I’ve encountered other than the final level of Mortal Combat X.

I have tried so hard to teach my brother this mom-proof way of getting away with watching minecraft videos on mom’s phone, but he keeps on messing it up! When we sneak away with mom’s phone, she comes around at night to check on us. Our spidey-sense tingles and we hide mom’s phone….pull out the closest book….. and pretend reading. I’ve been reading ….pretend reading that is….a thick math book that is always under my bed. But Neil keeps pretend reading Little Red Riding Hood….and that’s like 4 pages. Of all the toddler books he still loves…..Little Red Riding Hood? Seriously? I mean it when I say toddler books, his favorite is “Once Upon a Potty”.

I mean I can’t really understand what I’m reading, what does (a+b) (a-b) even mean? Since when was the alphabet part of math.

And to add to our misery, he always reads the book upside down. I swear my mom is so smart, she actually asked him what his book was about…after all he read it like a bajillion times. He obviously doesn’t even know the story, so he just told her a story that gave her a stomach ache I think. I was waiting to punch him as soon as she turned her back and he looked so proud of himself.

Mom figured out our top secret and that got me grounded for a month. Now I have to think of a completely new method…..well, there’s always homework…

Behind Every Sane Mom is a Strong Coffee — Motherish Childish

What Coffee means to the sanity of a supermom? And how her kids see her pre-coffee…

 

MOTHERISH:

“Good Morning Sunshine! Wake up, time for your Oolong tea. I will iron your clothes while you shower”, says his wife…dreams husband. The 6 a.m. alarm blares in his ears and he shakes his wife awake, “Mom, the kids need to go to school…remember?” The wife gives the usual response. She wiggles her toes and pulls her blanket over her face thinking, “Does he know that right now he feels like he is the sunlight to a vampire.” She sleeps for 15 more minutes till her alarm softly chimes. When she is angrily kicking the blanket off, “What’s the time?” he asks.

“Really? You want me to chat with you right now, buddy?” she grumbles in her head.

This is our morning routine. I literally wear a nightshirt that reads, “I don’t do mornings”. Another that says, “Sorry for what I said before I had my Coffee”. I also carry a mug around in my office that says, “Be Calm and Drink Coffee”. Once a friend of mine took a marker and scratched the ‘Coffee’ off, “Be Calm and Drink”…now that sounds better if it’s 7 p.m.

I do not like to deal with anyone before I have read the news with a nice cup of coffee. I do not talk, I do not work, I do not walk. When we are on vacation, my husband makes sure the Marriott has a Starbucks in the lobby. Worst case, there is one within a mile. Add “I do not vacation” to the list.

Last but not the least, I see my boys, the father and 2 boys scampering around like little mice avoiding me like the walking dead. 15 minutes later, I am human….superhuman actually….I get the kids ready, pack lunches, drop to school, drive to work…..and then…crash. Time for the 2nd cup of java before the morning people show up.

There was a time when my husband and I worked in the same office and we drove together. His sunshiny eyes sparkled and he laughed and talked, while I almost felt like dumping my hot coffee on his lap. I should probably wear another sign around my neck saying, “Morning persons, stay away”.

Sometimes I really wonder how I gave up on caffeine when I was pregnant. That could be why pregnant women are grumpy most of the time.

On my birthday, my boys brought breakfast and coffee to bed. I gush and hug them…. and secretly sneak away with the coffee mug to go fix it. I have been called a coffee snob. I am very particular on how my coffee tastes. I am sorry, I know that’s mean but we don’t want to mess with our sanity now, do we? Coz behind every sane mom is a strong coffee.

 

CHILDISH:

Friday 6:25 A.M.

It is 6:25 A.M., the mom-ster wakes up at 6:30 A.M., Right now all we can do is wait, the mom-ster always wakes up in time for some unknown reason, her only cure is that huuuuge cup of coffee that she drinks. But for now I must wait, she is about to wake up in 2 minutes. Agent 2 (My brother) comes out of his room and runs to his position, behind the couch. All of a sudden the alarm goes off……silence. Then Agent 3 (My dad) dashes out of the room as fast as he can. That’s when she slowly stumbles out. However Agent 2 all of a sudden pops out of his position…. he does this every time. He never learns, does he? He is heading out within target distance of the mom-ster’s remote weapon asking for his breakfast. I try getting Agent 2’s attention but he doesn’t care. She says something that sounds like, “Grumble, rumble, gurgle, roar”. My brother screams because of her zombie like voice and runs for dear life. I gather up some courage and crawl very slowly to my destination: ”The stairs” heading towards my X-Box. But then she spots me….. my heart stops…. “Grumble, rumble, gurgle, roar”. I think she means, “Did you brush your teeth? Did you change your underwear? Did you drink your milk?”

She is starting to look motherish again….the coffee is starting to work. Maybe I can sneak away for a few minutes of X-Box after getting dressed.