Appliances gone wild! And other curious tales.

Everything in my house is falling apart.

First, my mini food processor -- which I practically use daily except on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and every other Saturday when we get takeout -- fell out of a cabinet and the power button got jammed. Completely unfixable. Back to jarred minced garlic we go.

Then, my good friend Roomba betrayed me. When I hit "power," instead of darting forward to enthusiastically clean the floors of my house, it gave a weird "boo-boop!...pfffttt..." And then nothing. Dead.

And THEN, my treasured Bissell Perfect Sweep floor sweeper bit the dust (har, har).

And LAST NIGHT, Paul decided he wanted to try making a new blended pineapple/rum beverage that he saw Jacques Pepin making on t.v. (he's a metrosexual, I tell you!), and the blender starts oozing liquid all over the counter during the blending process. So after hurriedly pouring the beverage into glasses, Paul discovers that a rubber piece that goes around the blades in the blender seems to be missing...somewhat. There's still a little piece left to it, and he's all like, "Weird! Wonder what happened to the rest of it?" and proceeds to taste his creation. "Mmmmm! It's very refreshing!" he says. So I give it a taste, while still wondering "But where did that other piece of rubber go?" and WOW! The Pineapple Burnt Rubber Colada was quite refreshing! But Paul disagreed about the rubber flavor. He said it was just power of suggestion. That is, until I poured the contents of my glass into the sink and we watched chunks of rubber go down the drain. Yum!

As if I want to deal with all of this after cleaning the shizzle outta ma bathrizzle. (For those who aren't as jive-tastic as I am, that's THE SHIT OUT OF MY BATHROOM.)

So, I went for the cheapest appliance replacement first: I went to Target to replace my Bissell. Pizzle Swizzle. (Stop it!) Because the floors in this house are getting really gross. And today I'm sitting here enjoying the peace and quiet that is my household. Paul is playing softball, and the agreement is: If he wants to spend four hours every Sunday during the summer playing softball, he must find someone to watch the children. Thankfully, my in-laws are good like that. And I definitely need the break after my loooooonnnnng week of single motherhood.

Because yesterday? You know, the First Day Paul Was Home With His Family? While he was using every excuse in the book to leave me alone with the kids mowing the lawn and running errands, I attempted to take a "break" by splitting the kids up. Because they do not do well being in the same room together for more than, oh, THREE MINUTES.

"Mine, mine, mine!!! I had it first!"
"Jason, STOP TALKIIIIINNNNGGGGG!!!"
"Mommy, Drew kicked me in the ear with his foot!!!"

So, I drag bring Jason upstairs to play in Drew's room, using some positive reinforcement: "Jay, you play so nicely by yourself. How about you do some puzzles in here for a little while? There you go! Look at you, playing so nicely!" (Jason smiles proudly.)

I go downstairs to see Drew quietly sitting in a chair drawing on his Magnadoodle.

Ahhhh. I can feel the muscles relax throughout my body, and I decide to have a nice glass of iced tea and who knows? Maybe read a magazine! So I walk over to the -

"MOMMY!!! CAN DREW COME UP AND PLAY WITH ME?"

Shizzle.

I go upstairs and say, "Jay, how about you play by yourself for a little bit longer? You do such a good job playing by yourself!"

Jay: "But I want Drew to come play with me because I'm all done playing by myself because...because...because the puzzles are boooorrrriiinnng!"

Me: "Okay, in five minutes (translation: half an hour) Drew will come up to play with you."

Jay: "Okay, Mommy! It's a deal! How many minutes is five minutes?"

Me: "Um, five. Just count to 500 fifty times and it will be five minutes. Okay?"

Jay: "Um, okay."

I go back downstairs, get a glass, and begin making my iced tea, and just as I put in the ice cubes -

"MOMMY, I'M ALL DONE COUNTING! IS IT TIME FOR DREW TO COME UP?"

Fine.

I bring Drew upstairs and tell them both to promise me that they won't pull the curtains down or tear the sheets off the bed or take turns jumping off the top of the three-tiered bookcase. Because these are the pathetic things I need to say to my kids. "Okay, Mommy!" they say. "Mommy, can I give you a big Jay Kiss before you go downstairs?" says Jay. And Drew: "Me, too! A big DREW Kiss!" And they are both SO CUTE I just want to EAT them! (See? This is how God keeps mothers from killing their children. If they looked like trolls they wouldn't make it to the age of three.)

I go downstairs, get my iced tea and my (new! August issue!) Cooking Light magazine and sit down in ma rizzle chizzle (stop it! ROCKING CHAIR) and -

"MOMMY! WAIT TIL YOU SEE WHAT DREW DID TO THE WINDOW!"

Dear God.

I go BACK upstairs (what is this, the 238th time now?) and see that Drew has pulled the curtain rod off the wall and it is laying on the floor in two pieces. But wait! There's more! As I walk over to kill him with my bare hands scold him, I see a toy dump truck that seems to have a glistening sort of...wetness...in the back of it. I look closer and realize that IT IS PEE. I say, "What is this?!?"

Jay: "Drew did it!"
Drew: "Jay did it!"

I calmly (because that is how I am when I become so enraged that I fear if I open my mouth a vile, pea-soup-like substance will spew forth and my head will begin to spin around a la Linda Blair) dump the contents of the dump truck into the toilet and place it in the bathroom sink.

I hear Paul come in from outside and cheerfully ask, "Everything okay, honey?"

I go downstairs, give him a brief description of the State of the Household and a quick rundown of Why I Need to Leave Before I Go All Psycho On His Ass, grab my pocketbook, put tha pizzle ta tha mizzle, and bought me a new Bissell.

I have to stop looking things up on Gizoogle.