Weird enough for me

weird enough for me from pokerfacemom on Vimeo.

Kung Fui

The other day my three-year-old son locked the husband and I out of the house. I knew it would happen sooner or later cause he's pretty tall for his age. He can reach and turn the lock on our front door.

I'm not used to having doors with no double deadbolt lock. Our last house had it on all the doors leading outside and I didn't like the idea of not having them. I'd be much more at ease if I could deadbolt lock the doors with a key so as not to worry about my child escaping in the middle of the night. Paranoid? I call it, 'Staying ahead of the game'.

So, I had to resort to purchasing a bunch of baby-proof-door-knob safety thingys, and placing them on all the doors in the house. I now pray that we never have an uncontainable fire in the house and we need to get out in a hurry. We may have a serious situation on our hands when I'm not able to open the doors -because 'the fucking thingy' (door knob cover) won't open for me. As far as I'm concern, they should warn people about the product and write on the package in big bold letters (WARNING! MAY CAUSE DELAYS in a panic-stricken situation.

It happened on an early evening weekend. We decided to have our back patio extended so that we may be able to enjoy our backyard without having to step on shitty land-mines. It was a chance we took with one of the construction workers soliciting cement work on the side. People here don't fool around. Especially the construction workers. Here in Texas houses are completed in 4 months flat. Rain or Shine.

They did a great job on our patio. Just a few minor things because of communication problems, which I blame myself for. The men were Spanish speaking and did not speak a lick of English. I was the translator between the husband and the workers. I'm usually able to get my point across, but I'll flunk a Spanish test. I don't read or write Spanish as often as I think I should.

Anyhow, it was time to pay the men, and the husband and I both walked out the front to discuss our next project -and for me to translate. We left the children inside happily playing with whatever it is they play with, I can't quite remember what it was. Probably something other than a toy. What is it with kids and playing with everything but their toys? I should buy them a laptop and be done with it.

As I was saying. After we finished conversing with the guys out front in Spanglish, we attempted to go back inside. We turned the knob and, low and behold, we discovered we were locked out by the master-minded three-year-old inside. So, what do we do? We look at each other dumbfounded and presumed that this may quickly escalate into a disaster with catastrophic proportions. We checked all around the house for open doors and windows. As we suspected, they were all locked. I had faith, though, that my boy can unlock the door since he did lock it in the first place. The husband walked toward the back to see what he can come up with and to look through the window to see what the little rascals were up to. I decided to place my ear to the front door so I can hear if they were crying hysterically. Surprisingly they were not. Instead, they sounded like two outlaws getting into anything and everything they undoubtedly were NOT supposed to. I can clearly hear that they were playing with bamboo sticks that were in a decorative pot, I'm forever telling them, "DON'T TOUCH!" And were playing 'Kung Fu' stick fighting. I then called out to my three-year-old to come to the front door. I kept my cool and began to infiltrate.

Me: "Mastermind! Come unlock the door for us, baby!" "You locked us out!" "I know you can do it." "Just turn the lock for mommy."
Mastermind: "NOT BY THE HAIR OF MY CHINNY CHIN CHIN!"
Me: "PLEASE!" You conniving little shit!
This lasted for about 10 to 15 minutes.

Finally, after several minutes of negotiating, I was able to convince him by agreeing to all of his requests. 1. Make him pancakes and a bowl of ice cream every morning. 2. Allowing him to stay up late for one month. 3. No baths or teeth brushing for a whole month. Unwillingly, I agreed to all of them but will renegotiate at a later time.

I knew there would still be a problem after he'd unlock the door because of the 'fucking thingy'. I suspected that he would not be able to turn the knob after unlocking it. So, I knew I needed to turn the knob as quickly as I could after he attempted to unlock it. I tried several times but failed and almost gave up hope. As I paused to think about a different approach, I heard bamboo sticks being thrust against the door vigorously. As though my kid was going to pry the door open with the bamboo sticks. Suddenly, the door slowly opened, and I jumped up for joy!

I praised and applauded my son's achievement by accomplishing something, in my opinion, so unbelievable! He amazingly pried the 'fucking thingy' off with the sticks. I didn't know what to think! I mean can a three-year-old do these kinds of things? Or, am I blessed with a child with abilities like no other...? To be determined at a later date.

For now I need to come up with a different solution to keep my kids safely contained  inside the house. Although, we don't seem to have a problem keeping them inside, it's them keeping us out. I can only imagine what kind of shenanigans the two of them will come up with when they're old enough to drive. Paranoiac? No. Just STAYING AHEAD OF THE GAME.

EXTRA! EXTRA! A GORILLA IS SPOTTED WITH TWO BABIES IN A DOMESTICATED AREA IN TEXAS!

Where do I begin! Let me think.We moved into our new home here in Texas about two months ago, and ever since then I haven't had the time to take a cat-nap, and even less, write on my blog. I haven't had the energy to do anything I actually want. The only mammal I can relate to these days is a gorilla in the midst of all this unpacking, diaper-changing, and going up and down the fucking stairs approximately 100 fucking times a day!

Why gorillas do you ask? Because I walk around all day with a one-year-old and a two-year-old hanging on me, like two baby monkeys hanging on their mother, as she walks around performing her daily routines. Pulling on her hair, her ears, her fingers. And I gotta tell you... Gorillas have it WAY better than we do. Only because they don't have to worry about what they look like in the process. I can't tell you how many times I looked in the mirror at the end of a day and saw that I had banana gook stuck to my face, hair, and ASS.

I suppose the husband and I were delirious after house-hunting. We looked at 15 different homes with our two kids in a single day. It wasn't easy getting in and out of the car. We eventually settled on a two-story home that include a series of stairs. 15 steps to be exact. All I can say is I better have buns-of-steel in the next couple of months because I climb those stairs like a warrior commencing into battle EVERY FUCKING DAY! "Beyonce' who?", is what the husband better be asking in a few months.

Another issue we're having while the kid's bedrooms are upstairs, and the master is downstairs, they think we're on different planets when they're left alone in their rooms. They wake up after a nap screaming BLOODY MURDER! Like, they were lost in outer space, never to be found again! So, guess where they sleep at night? You guessed it. All four us sleep in the master suite downstairs. I wake-up every morning, and walk like a zombie, unconsciously and miraculously, STRAIGHT to my state-of-the-art Mo-Jo machine, and fix me a hardcore, hazelnut cafe latte with a double shot of espresso. And that, my friends, is how I'm surviving the insanity. I'm just thankful it's a king size bed and that we're all pretty lean and petite.

If you're wondering about our three dogs, they went from sleeping in a hotel suite to a motel with a window. The mud room in our old house was WAY bigger than this one. Also, the yard is insanely small! Forget about walking on the grass. There's a pile of shit, a foot away from each other, covering the entire yard. I'm also missing our mud sink to bathe our dogs in, which was so much more convenient than breaking your back bending over the tub. It's bad enough that I need to bathe my kids in one. I realize now how much it's worth to pay a groomer to groom your dogs. PRICELESS!!! I'm seriously thinking about converting one of our guest bathrooms into a grooming salon. FOUR fucking toilets are too many to maintain, anyhow!

Don't misunderstand me. I love our new home! It's beautiful! It's newly built construction. We have a game room and a media room which is awesome to have when your kids are this age. I don't even mind the problem we're having with field mice in our kitchen. They're pretty damn cute. We've been capturing them, one-by-one, each day in a reusable live mouse-trap and letting them go in the field behind our home. My two-year-old gets a kick out of it. It's funny though, the problem never seems to end. For all we know it may be the same mouse making a U-turn right back into our home. And if that's the case, then we've been capturing the same persistent, condescending mouse for well over a month now. Why does Ratatouille come to mind?

So far, Houston is not too bad of a place to live. There's a hell of a lot to do around here. They're museums. SO many restaurants. A ridiculous amount of indoor and outdoor shopping centers, it's pretty insane. There's so much to choose from; we have something to do every weekend for an entire year.We can't believe how kid-friendly everything is around here. The shopping centers have an indoor park made of plush material for the kids to play on. They also have an indoor carousel! The only problem, you can forget about shopping if you have the kids with you. Or perhaps, you can try blindfolding them.