I'm about to continue my 1950's housewife shtick and go vacuum something - oh trust me, I'm sure this little phase will run it's course and my household will once again begin to look more like a re-run of Roseanne than Leave it to Beaver. For the time being, however, I will leave you with this...
Last night we were enjoying a typical EW dinner. Okay, maybe not so typical: the hubs was having a steak and I was having a martini (okay you got me again, I was actually eating a meal too - I'm not a complete lush. But I did mention that I'm pretending to live in the 1950's. Aren't steaks and martinis pretty much prerequisites for any 1950's fantasy?) Anyway, Maggs inquired as to what her father was eating...
Dad: Steak
Maggs: What's steak?
Dad: Beef, which is from cows.
Maggs: (Incredulous, even though we've told her this before) Cows?!
Dad: Yeah, cows.
Maggs: You mean the kind that go "moo?"
Dad: Yeah.
Maggs: (Suspiciously, as if she's onto us) Um, then why isn't it mooing anymore?
The conversation continued until Maggs wanted to know specific details about how cows are killed and then made into steak. I kind of shushed the hubs because Maggs still weeps inconsolably about (what she considers) the untimely death of Goldie the goldfish over 2 years ago. I'm pretty sure she'd require therapy if the hubs were to detail the slaying and butchering of her favorite barnyard friend.
By the way, my son, over-tired from a busy weekend, had already been dismissed from the dinner table at this point for unacceptable behavior - AKA whining, complaining, and generally being unpleasant. I guess the Beav didn't get the memo requesting that he behave like a Stepford child until further notice. Let's hope that while he's at school today a space pod replaces my son's current incarnation with a more 1950's sitcom-friendly version...
23 comments:
I don't think our son has figured out that meat comes from animals yet. I'm just waiting for the day he puts 2 and 2 together. He's gonna be pissed!
Wish I had that excuse for lack of comments and blog writing. Nope, my house still looks like shit and since it ain't really even my house I am having a hard time giving a damn.
Wait. You dismiss them for poor behavior? My hubs makes them sit there! I hate it! Cuz it ruins my dinner!
a martini! good for you. (and although i hate dinner-time theater, i must say i'm validated knowing that i'm not the only one who has whiney, unpleasant children who are dismissed from the dinner table.)
My kids are just starting to put this together, too (the food on their plates & where it came from). I would eventually like to make the move towards vegetarianism over here (or at least have a few vegetarian meals a week), but haven't the energy for now. We rarely eat red meat. And we do eat a lot of fish and chicken. SO maybe that's a start? I dunno. But if my kids are anything like me, they will cry when they figure out where those chicken nuggets come from....
I eat meat like once a month so I guess I'm already pretty well grossed out. I have to psych myself out to touch it when it's raw, because I still gotta cook it for my son.
Now bacon...I do compromise for bacon. Dang, that's good!
Oh, I'm so glad I'm not the only one who does the sock scramble. My daycare provider actually thinks Tori's proclivity toward mismatched socks is a "fashion statement."
Yeah, sure, that's the reason her socks never match...whatever you say.
LOL on the laundry tower. Sometimes I think searching for socks is like playing Jenga. Love sending the kid out for misbehavior at dinner. Whining and general unpleasantness should ruin only his dinner.
I always have a tower of laundry. Usually smells like pee, too. Want to come over?
OMG. I don't know if I've mentioned my laundry situation but let me start by saying that if you were to come into my house at any point in time you would be 150% likely to find no less than 25 loads of unfolded but clean laundry piled up in our back bedroom. This bedroom, btw, is supposed to be the bedroom of our children, who of course inhabit our bedroom. Which is why our bedroom smells like a gorilla's anus. Anyhoo. My dad came to town unexpectedly this weekend and didn't leave me enough time to unearth the laundry mountain. So I piled it all up in the corner on one end of the room. That my friend is hospitality!! Unfortunately, it all came crashing down on him when he attempted to roll his suitcase into the room. Ooops. Here's my dad, luggage in hand, being engulfed by 8000 crumpled pairs of my underwear and my husband's tiger thongs. (Did I say tiger thongs? That's a story for another day.) Anyway, I guess I won't be getting the hostess of the year award this time around.
GOod luck with the June Cleaver thing! I get like that too sometimes and it feels pretty nice.
Don't feel bad on slacking with the blog love...I've been pretty awful myself!
You are flippin' awesome. We have about 100 pairs of mismatched socks over here too. The whole family has gone limp and no one even bothers to find a match any more.
If you really want to feel 1950's...get yourself a vintage apron to wear while you do housework. It doesn't make it any less painful but you sure will look cute!
Ugh. I wouldn't want to describe this because I don't want to think about it...none the less - this made me laugh!
You know my 16 year old teens actually go to school with two different color socks on purpose, one day all that mismatched preparation will payoff!
You always make me laugh!
But damn - now you're inspiring me to housewifery???
Is something wrong with the time space capacitor?
Bwa ha ha ha ha!!!
I kid because I luvs ya!
Synchronicity...I have been doing the same thing. Except I bought a dress online from a swedish designer and in it I look like I'm a Hudderite or part of the polygamist colony down the road. NOT fetching... but very suitable for household chores. My husband asked me not to wear it anymore. It's freaking him out.
I am so impressed with your cleaning. I am getting geared up for that as well. I have a list of things to tackle and I look at that list everyday...and then say...ehhh...tomorrow.
tell her she doesn't want to know
if she knew she'd never eat another steak as long as she lived
grew up on a farm
I love that you're channeling the 1950's house wife. I'm totally going to do that! Poodle skirt and all!
Oh I rue the day when Vaughn asks me where hot dogs come from. I said it before and I say it again, you seriously crack me up every time! I love it.
I'll come over sometime and do your laundry for you. Clean laundry is one of my crazy obsessions.
My son won't eat animals. So I lie. No. Turkey is not an animal. It's a bird. So far, so good. I'm probably going to Hell, but at least my kid has some protein.
I'm so happy to know that I'm not the only one that has empty dresser drawers. Really. Why fill them up with clothes that are just going to be pulled right back out again. Right? Right. It's much more sane to keep them in a jumbled heap in the basket and gid through them every time you need to find something.
That made me laugh 'um, why isn't it mooing anymore?' Cute.
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