(Not the brand I really use)
You see a can of whipped cream and you know a bit about my family's history, so you probably assumed that this blog has something to do with either writing erotica or entertaining on Pyrate Nyte...you would be mistaken.
From time to time, often because I just simply have to have the upper hand, I don't punish my children in ordinary and/or typically time-proven ways. Heck, my youngest will be 18 in just a couple of months, punishment has long been a thing of the past. I do however make my point, and when I can't get my point clearly across I stand my ground a bit - awkwardly. I force humor in all of its unsuspecting ways and in all of its blasting, blazing glory! What I should do is upgrade this blog with photos of my daughter Caity running from me after I douse her with two cans of this stuff - her screaming, running around the commons like a Banshee and me laughing my head off because I was quite successful at catching her completely off guard. (Not hard to do when she's laying out in the sun with a pair of sunglasses over her eyes.)
I had mentioned to Brat about six times that I wanted her to come back to my place and take out everything that belonged to her so that my home would once again be Caity-free, except for the photos of her, the cute framed pictures she drew for me when she was a kid, and a few here's and there's, little reminders of the kid I like to call my Curse. Mom knew EXACTLY what she was doing when she sat me down at the age of 11 and told me she hoped I had a kid someday that would act and behave as I did....I was, of course, my Grandmother's curse for mom. I don't think Grandma did anything to deserve her 9th kid. (I was number 4 Caity number 3)
NOT ONLY did my Brat not take her things she added to them. She brought over clothes she had no intention of wearing and just dumped them, tools to dye her hair white, DVDs she thinks belong to me but they belong to my son, and she brought over Easter baskets she and her sister hoarded for years and yes, there were dead eggs in one of them. (Plastic broken things, but nevertheless dead and unneeded) THROW YOUR OWN CRAP OUT! She wouldn't listen. I just wanted peace. I just wanted her to take these things, her new computer and monitor, the desk I bought her, the hope chest my dad made, the marble-top piece she stole from me months ago and I replaced it, only to have her bring hers back, but it doesn't fit in my house now. I wanted her to take her bucket of shoes, her seasons 1 and 2 of 24, her sister's anime movies - please God, let her take the anime posters too! She wouldn't listen. Weeks passed. I smiled this morning and I left the house.
When I returned - and found my little girl laying by the unopened pool at the complex we live in (commons). I had the maintenance man use his key to unlock the door to the pool area. She probably wondered why on such a hot day I was wearing my favorite OU hoodie, but it never occurred to her that she'd be diving into the ICE cold pool to get away from me - but I won! HA! I always win!
Screaming, shrieking, cussing and laughing she waded and splashed out of the shallow end of the pool - I left of course, I wasn't about to subject myself to her pulling or pushing me in. She vowed to get even - and she probably will. I however, have something she doesn't have - years of experience....my ultimate secret weapon; I have already been there. My mother used boiled eggs and a slingshot to make her point!
And you thought the whipped cream could only be used for.....dessert.