Tag Archives: humor

The Cold War: Man v. Mouse

I’m deep in the throws of a cold war and my enemy is a mouse.  His name is not Micky.

This morning I woke up to a frozen house, only to discover a mouse or possibly mice came in for some warmth.  They have a habit of nestling into the kitchen towel drawer.  I can’t really blame them.  It is the perfect place to settle down for a long winter’s night; however, my sympathy only runs so deep.

The Mice Chronicles - One woman's battle with a mouse

I freaked out, yelling about mice and not even drinking my cup of decaf coffee yet, and then I opened the next drawer.  Mr. Mouse chewed through the plastic top on the my can of cocoa.

I understand the need for a hit of chocolate.

My love for the stuff boarders on addiction, but I don’t share with my mice.  Heck, I even hide chocolate from my kids.  Share and share alike does not apply to anything that comes in dark and milk chocolate varieties.

And so the battle wages on.

I scooped up the pile of soiled dish towels and took them over to the washer.  when I poured in the laundry detergent, it fell out in thick globs.  Yup. It was cold.

When your laundry soap is next-to-near frozen, it’s time to move south and leave the house to the mice.

Now I am alternating between feelings of being completely grossed out and mad.  I mean, we’ve only had a few months of mouse free living.  When will these vermin learn that there’s no room in the inn?

So I march on to battle, but not alone.  I drafted FringeMan into my army and he’s in charge of all tactical moves.  The plan is total annihilation.  When it comes to mice, I don’t have a heart.  Sorry if that offends you.

Wish us luck.

For more mouse-capade reading, check out the following links.

It’s raining cats, dogs, and long-fanged mice.

Attacked by a Nutter-Butter Eating…

My Husband Didn’t Marry an Ax Murderer


Romantic Dinner for Two: Where Reality & Romance Collide

Did you ever try to celebrate Valentine’s Day on a budget?

My budget includes borrowing art supplies from my children and crafting a card that would rival any second grade artist, but I wanted more for this year’s love fest.

I asked myself if I could make a romantic dinner for two at home, after tucking the kids snugly in their beds. Sounds budget-friendly and doable in theory, but allow me to demonstrate a real-life romantic dinner at home.

valentine's day romantic dinner for two at home with the kids: love birds

5:30 pm – Throw several dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets in the oven, rescue favorite stuffed animal from the grasp of the dog’s jaws, inspect and sign homework papers, and throw the clean laundry into the dryer. Take the dog outside because she’s chewing on your slippers. Answer the phone.

6:00 pm – Get OFF the phone and scrape all black residue from the chicken nuggets. Serve your kids dinner.

6:30 pm – Listen to reading homework; make sure the kids shower and brush their teeth; do the dishes; don’t kill the dog; go to the bathroom.

8:00 pm – Assign your daughter the job of setting a ‘fancy’ table. Make her promise not to lick each fork to remove dishwasher spots. Send your husband down to the corner market to get the cashews for the cashew chicken.

8:30 pm – Tuck your kids into bed, and take a much-needed shower. Put the dog in her crate so she doesn’t push the bathroom door open and run off with your clean underwear.

8:40 pm – Tame your hair, paint your face, and dress in the first clean outfit hanging in your closet.

8:55 pm – Snack on the burnt crisps leftover from the kid’s nuggets.

9:00 pm – Start cooking. Again.

9:30 pm – Serve a lovely cashew chicken dinner minus the cashews, because apparently there was a run on cashews this afternoon.

9:40 pm – Light the candles and take out the crying dog.

9:45 pm – Just as your husband leans into the flickering light of the candles to smooch your lips, the dog freaks out because your neighbor decides he’s going to shovel the sidewalk. Save the kiss for later and grab the dog before she wakes up your kids.

9:47 pm – Too late. The kids filter through to use the bathroom and get a drink. It’s an emergency, of course. You can faintly see symptoms of dehydration in their eyes. Let them taste your cashew-less chicken.

9:55 pm – Explain the importance of alone time between parents and threaten their lives with ten years of morning-til-night homework, year-round school, and a chore list that stretches to New Jersey and back.

10:00 pm – Throw out the cold chicken and go straight to dessert. Assure your spouse that yawning and drooping eyelids are the latest signs of true love.

Reality says, when you have children, romantic dinners at home do not work. My heartfelt advice to you is, forget the budget and GO OUT. Beg your parents, friends, coworkers, family, neighbors, and the teenagers next door to watch your kids for a few hours. Even if you have no money, go sit in the car (without the kids) and steam up the windows. Just get out of the house!

Redneck Gourmet

I’ve always said that I want to support my kids in whatever they choose to do, whatever dreams or ambitions they desire to chase.  I want to stand behind them and cheer them on.

When I held my baby boy in my arms, I never thought that in a quick thirteen years he’d become a redneck gourmet, but life is full of surprises.

redneck gourmet

Last week he told me that he wanted to cook a hot lunch and bring it to school.

“What do you want to make?”  I asked.

“Sausages and rice.”

“Well, I’ll have to get some sausages next week when I go grocery shopping.  Do you want the fat links or are you talking about breakfast sausage?”

“No, no.  I want the little sausages that come in the can.”

“Vienna sausages?”

Realize the disbelief in my voice was heard around the world.

“Yes!  Those are the ones.”

I’ve never in my life eaten a Vienna sausage.  The mere thought of them completely grosses me out, but I aim to please and I figure they can’t kill him, at least in the short term.  So I bought two cans of sausages and a bag of rice.

This morning my sous chef was simmering rice without the lid on the pot.  He had a square plastic container with all these little pale colored sausages stacked up.  Next to the “meat” he stacked a pile of sugar-snap peas, uncooked.  Then he piled in a steaming mound of half-cooked brown rice.

He was so proud of this meal, happy at the thought of home-cooking.  It almost makes me want to go out and buy him another can of sausages.  Almost.

He’s lovin’ him a little redneck gourmet.

Hopefully it’s a stage.


Mommy Super-Powers

I’m a mommy with a super-power, and I’m pretty sure I am not alone in all this super-power goodness.

We’re all gifted in different areas, but I suspect someone else may have the same super-power as me, or not.  The range of super-mommy powers is far and wide.

Wanna know what my power is?

Super Mommy

I have super-vision.

Yes, I wear glasses, but they don’t even interfere with with this super-vision.  I can look through all the scratches and smudges on my lens and I can still spot things with my super-vision.

Wanna know what I can see?

Piles of clean clothes, folded and waiting to be put away.

No one else in my house can see these piles.  They don’t have super-vision.

Puzzled kid with cartoon caption

For years I did not understand how everyone walked right past the kitchen island, piled high with their clean clothes.  Now I know.

pile of laundry

They can’t see them.  They don’t have my super-mommy powers.

What are your powers?

Because I know you’ve got them.


My Kid’s Loose Lips

If you follow along with The Domestic Fringe on Facebook, you probably saw this status update.

My daughter just got home from school. She half opened the door and yelled (for all the parents waiting at the bus stop in my driveway to hear), “You’re still in your bathrobe!!!
For the record, I am showered, hair done, makeup on, and I’m fully dressed. I was COLD! So I put my robe on to warm up. Sheesh. Some people’s kids.

My kids have a knack for saying the worst things about me.  The minute we get in public, their lips let loose.  My mother probably says the same thing about me.

spider headband - kids

I’d like to say it was worse when they were little, but that’s not true.  When they were really young, all the terrible things they said were made up stories, imaginations run wild.  Now there is a semblance of truth behind what they blab about, making it all the more embarrassing.

When my son was about five years old, he told the pediatrician I fed him squirrel.  The kid was convincing.  I even questioned dinner from the night before.  The doctor looked at me like I had three heads.  I saw little question marks pop into her eyes.  Then my son preceded to tell her an elaborate story of how we caught the squirrels.

I swore I never, ever fed him a squirrel.  Maybe some chicken beyond proper identification, but never squirrel.  I still don’t think she believed me, and how can I blame her.  My son was convincing.

In fact, my husband worried he would grow up to be a conniving little liar.  I was pretty sure this was one of those awkward kid stages, the kind where the lines between imagination and reality blurred, but every once in a while I doubted my judgement.

Thank God he outgrew the stories.  Now he just tells the truth and honestly, sometimes the truth is far worse than the fiction.

I am sure you can relate, because I suppose my kids are not so different from yours.

So do tell.  What have your children said about you?


A Knock On The Door

messy living room

There was a knock on the door.

I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but they say confession is good for the soul.  Now I don’t generally freak out over knocks.  I like people reasonably well, so company is a good thing.  In fact, we are usually happiest when our house is full of people.

I only wish someone would knock when my house is clean, but nobody ever seems to make it in the two minute window of a neat and orderly home.

My guest walks into my living room and says “Oh.  Have you guys been sick?”

“No.  Nope.  Thank the Lord, we’ve all been well.”

It’s just that apparently we do not like our beds, because that can be the only reason we have 4 blankets, a sleeping bag, and a stack of pillows strewn all around the living room.

I scooped up a ginormous stack of blankets; one flopped over my head.  Then I threw them in a corner.

It was no use trying to save good housekeeping face, anyhow.  No amount of scrambling could make my mess look better.  My living room resembled a homeless shelter without the musty, rank odor.

So the next time my house gets spick & span clean, I’m announcing it on facebook.  Please do me a favor and drop by, but be quick.  The window for clean is extremely short!


Holiday Humor, Day 2

I felt the skin of my armpit stick together like a piece of double-sided tape had somehow made its way to the deep recesses of my underarm. Beads of sweat broke out on my forehead and I went running as inconspicuously as possible through the crowded, candlelit church. I bee-lined for the basement and ran full throttle into my mother.

“Oh, mom! You made it out earlier than expected.” I blurted a quick greeting while pushing her back into the ladies’ room.

“Mary,” draped in Biblical robes, was stealing one last check in the mirror before taking center stage in the manger. I frantically lifted my arms and stuck my nose into my pits; my worst fears came to fruition. Lady’s Speed stick failed me!

It was the worst case scenario. I completely forgot to use deodorant. My mother’s eyes bugged and she swung her head in shame as I announced that although I forgot to use deodorant, I took a shower within the hour.

“Do you think I smell already?” The questioned mainly directed at the woman who birthed me.

Before I knew what was happening…continue reading