Stinkin’ Banshee

Warning: I’m in a bad place right now.

If any of you are considering purchasing the 1959 hit "Darby O'Gill and the Little People" for a St. Patty’s day surprise for your children… be forewarned that the "G-rating" on the back of the movie stands for:
"Going to need therapy.”.

It looked innocent enough. Walt Disney movie…Sean Connery….  little leprechauns in a friendly battle with an old Irishman- old movie. Doesn’t it look sweet and fun??

 

 

 

Apparently Disney producers deemed it appropriate to scare the living shit out of children – even back in 1959.  (Don’t judge me for my choice of words. In my dialect- “Poop” is what children do. “Poo” is what adults do. “Crap” is what animals do. And “shit” is what happened tonight during the Banshee scene. That’s right…there was a banshee….there was a panic attack…and then came the shit.

 

“THE BANSHEE!!! THE BANSHEE!! CHECK MY CLOSETS!! WHAT IF THERE IS A LEPRECHAUN IN THERE! WHAT IF A BANSHEE COMES?? I'M AFRAID MOMMY!!! DON’T LEAVE ME IN HERE ALONE!!!! MOOOOOOOOMY!!!!!!! MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMY!!!”

Yes, I am an idiot. Had I researched this movie BEFORE I purchased it, I would have read these few gems of information.

• Darby traps the Leprechaun King by getting him so drunk that he doesn't notice the sunrise which strips him of his powers until the next sunset

 

• The  Banshee appears, heralding Katie's death and sending a DEATH COACH to carry her soul off to the land of the dead.

 

 

• Michael fights Pony at the pub; getting his just revenge by clubbing him on the head, dragging him to the Main House on the estate, and pouring whiskey all over him to make him appear drunken and incompetent. Michael soundly thrashes Pony and knocks him cold, with several well-placed punches; much to the delight of Darby and the other pub patrons and staff.

 

Ironically, despite my best efforts to make this an awesome day, it turns out that I suck as a mother.

Tom was gone to a meeting and I was upstairs bathing Bryce during the Banshee death coach scene. By then it was too late. The damage had been done.

Yet another nomination for mother of the year. As a wise man once said, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions”.

 

p.s.- the worst part of all of this – that I failed to include…was that this was NOT a gift from “me”. The kids hunted for their St. Patrick's “Pot of Gold” – that the “leprechaun left them”. This movie was one of his gifts. That’s like the Easter Bunny filling your eggs with rabbit pellets – the tooth fairy   leaving a decomposed mouse under your pillow – or Santa stuffing your stocking with a shrunken head.

 

Tom and I brainstormed this morning and told the kids that the Leprechaun is ticked off because he has little man syndrome – and sometimes does ornery things…like leaving scary movies for children.

I’m not sure that helped the situation.

Feeling a litte bit deeper in the hole.

Prayer Request

I took the boys to Lowes this morning to price some kitchen appliances and faucets. We walked through the bathroom section and Bradley spotted something he had never seen before.

“What is that?”, he asked as he pointed.

“That is a bidet”, I replied.

“What’s it for?”, he continued.

“After you go potty, it sprays water up and cleans out your bickies”, I answered.

“I want one! I won’t have to wipe ever again…I always get toilet paper stuck in there”, he said with astonishment.

“MOM!!! I’VE GOT A GREAT IDEA!!!”, he exclaimed! “It can be a drinking fountain, too! In the summer when I’m hot and don’t want to go into the kitchen and get a cup for a drink – I can just go to the drinking fountain!!!”

He then continued, “That is what I want for Christmas this year! How do you say it again?”

“Buh-day”, I replied through my laughter.

“Does Santas elves know how to make bidets?”, he asked with concern.

“They make jock straps…so I’m sure they do, Bradley.”

All the way home he repeated…..”Buh-day”, “Buh-day”, “Buh-day”

“What are you doing?”, I asked.

“Trying to remember what it’s called for when I sit on Santa’s lap. Christmas is far away and I want to remember what it’s called”.

“Yes, Christmas is far away”, I answered.

 

I would now like to petition each of you for your prayers. We have 288 days, 12 hours and 57 minutes to convince the heavens to erase this from his mind. 

Kite Festival…Sort Of

We heard of a Kite Festival that was going to be held South of Fayetteville. It sounded like a fun idea so we loaded up the kids and a neighbor friend and began our 44.93 mile trek. We breezed through the first 31.8 miles and then heard a large boom.

We looked back and saw the highway was clear, so we weren't sure what had happened.

We got off our exit and began to hear the "ba-bum" sound of a flat tire.

We pulled right into the parking lot of an abandoned building. It was PERFECT timing. Nothing worse than a flat on the interstate.

Tommy T and I got to work. The kids were worried they would miss their kite festival - but we assured them we were still good to go...and they needed to relax and enjoy the adventure of it all.

We had the spare put on in just a few minutes and noticed there was a Wal-Mart Tire Lube Express right across the street. Again...perfect.

We dropped the car off and decided to grab lunch for the kids at McDonald's inside of the store. Under normal circumstances this would be a big No-No. Ew. Not so perfect.

While I ordered food, Tommy T went and bought hand sanitizer and antibacterial wipes.

 

 

The kids cleaned their tables before the food came.

 

It was amazing all the dirty looks we were getting from the rednecks. They looked so insulted.

Bryce was eager to be disinfected after being placed in his highchair. The woman on the oxygen tank at the next table was especially disgusted. She glared at us in between yelling at her grandchildren.

After a delicious and nutritious lunch, we perused Wal-Mart for 40 minutes.

During our down time, Tommy T got to witness my Wal-Mart freak magnet LIVE! IN PERSON!!!

The guy "over" the Toy department came to tell me about how stressful his job is...how much responsibility he has...and how exhausting it is to keep up with the demands that are placed on him everyday as he "tries to maintain the safety requirements".

A few minutes later, our tire guy came in and showed us what he found in our tire.

He was shocked...said he had never seen anything like it. We were so lucky blessed that it didn’t completely blow our tire out and cause an accident.

 

(It was the BOLT in our tire…not the knife :) Used to show scale). Onward.

It was past 4 pm – but we were determined to go to “the festival”. We continued our trek to Canehill.

We eventually made our way up a steep, rocky incline and ended up in a beautiful clearing on top of a hill.

We had arrived at “The Festival”…or what was left of it, anyway.

We didn’t have any trouble finding a parking space.

There was a woman packing up the concession stand…and a couple of “professional kite flyers” out in the field.

 

Looked like we were going to have to throw our own festival.

We assembled the kites and got busy. The lack of a crowd actually turned out beautifully. We had the entire hill to ourselves. The only thing missing was the Nachos and Snickers bars we would have scored from the treat lady.

The wind was strong…perfect kite flying weather.

After we had them tuckered out – we headed back home – convinced this will be a new family tradition every year.

Yes- we drove 44.93 miles to fly kites.

Worth every mile of it…even the flat tire.

Treasures

He's a busy boy. Very, very busy.

For the past several days he has been carrying around this little bag.



I have tried (unsuccesfully) to take a peak and view his collection of items.

Today was the day he agreed to show me.

He carefully unloaded the contents on the counter...one at a time...with a look of content satisfaction on his face.



For your convenience, I completed an inventory on the items.




1 AA Battery
1 Toilet paper holder (that has been MIA all week)
1 First Aid Stick (that I just received in the mail and have been looking for!)
1 baby wipe
1 Yellow VW Super Beetle
2 Pens (for wall/body art, I am assuming)
1 petrified chunk of a granola bar
7 smushy blueberries
1 corner sharp cheddar cheese (judging from the slight crusting on only the corners- I am going to date this as being less than 24 hours old).

He demanded it all go back in the bag. I complied - with the exception of the blueberries. If those found the carpet it wouldn't be good.

Onward Young Man. Continue the hunt for the treasures!

More Than One Way to Skin a Cat

A clarification. I did not send Karah to a 1 hour time out.

Tom and I try to use natural consequences as much as possible. When time-outs are needed we generally follow the 1 minute/years of age rule. When it's not a "behavior" issue - but more of an "attitude" issue - we send them to their room and tell them they can come out when they calm down and are ready to "be nice"... for a lack of a better term.

Translated..."Chill...decompress...let the anger go...and come out when you have exhaled the demon and inhaled the angel."

This particular incidence, it took Karah an hour before she wanted to come out. Some may think I should have kept calling to her- asking if she was ready to come out yet and say "sorry". I disagree with this. If I am the one decompressing - I wouldn't want someone constantly asking if I'm ready to come out yet. She was in her room - drawing, writing poetry, and composing my awesome poo letter :) She needed to come out when she felt ready.

I don't want my kids to have forced apologies. I don't want a timer to buzz and then tell them it's time to come out and "be sorry". I want them to be able to chill - think - calm themselves down-and actually feel sorry.

I, of all people, know there is more than one way to skin a cat (though I promise I have never tried it, personally). I also know every child is different and requires their own unique approach.

I recently a discovered a man who has changed my parenting philosophy. His name is Hal Runkel. He is a LMFT and a parenting coach. He wrote a book called, "Scream Free Parenting". It's excellent.

Click here to watch a clip about his Scream Free philosophy.

What's your take??? How do you skin YOUR cat?

Poo Part 2

This morning I told Karah about my post yesterday. While somewhat amused, she demanded her voice be heard so everyone knew what “really happened”, in her words.

I, myself, don’t think the details change the fact I was called a piece of poo…but she seems to think she can save face with the blogging world if everyone knows how it went down.

So here it is. You be the judge.

The kids were playing the basement and got into it over something. Bradley came crying and said that Karah had called him a piece of poo. Karah came running up the stairs and confirmed it. I told her that it isn’t nice to talk to her brother that way and she needed to go to her room and decide if she wanted to play nice.

She sat on the stairs and folded her arms and said, “No!”.

“You can go to your room on your own and be able to play outside this afternoon – or I can make you go and you won’t be able to play outside this afternoon.”

She jumped up – ran to her room and on her way up the stairs – yelled, “NO YOU’RE THE PIECE OF POO!”

I went upstairs and told her that since she chose to do that – she lost her privilege to play outside. (she LOVES playing outside – this was a big deal for her)

On my way downstairs – she hollered, “I hate you!”

Sooo, my friends, that is how it went down. At breakfast Karah said, “I would NEVER just call you a piece of poo, Mom!!!”

It was 100% situational :)