In anyone wants an instant family, I have one ready to go...

Feeling a little lonely? Too much time on your hands? How about this bargain?? Let me describe it just a bit. Some of you may wish to sit down.

Picture two adorable small children. The Weeping Princess is nearly three, and Tanbone nearly 5. Cute, cute, cute! Well-behaved, too, according to OTHER people. Ha! Little do they know.

All day, this is what I hear:
Twinkle, twinke, twinkle! Little STORE!
How I wonder what you are!
Way up in the sky away so HIGH!
Like a DIMING in the SKY!
Now I know my ABCS!
Next time sing with me. Eeee.

Cute, huh? Especially when you hear it five hundred times a day!She holds the kitties on her lap and sings it to them. She carries her frightening babydoll around and sings to it. (This is the doll is probably 50 years old, no exaggeration, and has most of the paint missing from its face. One day she tucked it into Middlepoet’s bed and nearly gave him a stroke.)

Then, we have Tanbone, who has learned that there is, indeed, joy in repetition. Mom! he says. Mom! Mom! Mommy! Mommmmmy! MOOOOOOOMMMMYYYY! Looky! See? {bellows}MOOOOO OOOOOMMMMM! Come LOOKY!
If I finally give in and trudge from the back bedroom (did I mention I’m sick today? Very sick, actually.), he points to the current television commercial and says, “I wantdat.”

Right. That is SO gonna happen.

Add in three dogs, an unholy number of cats (anyone want a kitten? Three?), a bird who looks like he’d just like to be taken to the animal shelter for a little peace, and you have Instant Bodypoet Family!

If you order now, I’ll throw in two older boys as well. One of them loves jazz, the other loves the blues and all sorts of miscellaneous stuff, including Frank Sinatra. (I blame todd33rpm for that one.) So from one bedroom, we have Sinatra blaring, and from the other we have live piano (yep, he’s got a piano in his room, along with a couch, two trombones, a bumper pool table, and a stereo. I’m not sure where he actually sleeps.), trombone, or just really loud jazz recordings.

Aaaah, bliss. A veritable microcosm of Serenity here. I have, in fact, considered chaning my name from Karol to Serenity, as it would so embody my life.

Of course, I’ve also considered changing my screen id to patienceofadamnsaint.

Off to bed with me, for a few minutes, or perhaps I’ll see if I can scrub the purple marker off the faces of my little darlings.


Aah, I’m just kidding. They’re cute. Really.

Or, if you just want a little brother, I have an excellent one.

9 and a half, short, skinny, loves video games but is perpetually frustrated that my mom won’t let him play T rated games, talks about video games all the time, talks about movies he hasn’t seen (In the Matrix…blah blah blah), tells long stories in question form (So I went to Tommy’s house? And we played checkers? And he beat me?), eats nothing but fishsticks and chocolate milk, and watches more cartoons than anyone else on earth. Also refuses to rush his teeth or hair.

Price is negotiable.

Jazz? The blues? I am positive that my future kids’ taste in music will never bother me, and this is why…my dad listens to Pink Floydd. This wouldn’t be a very big deal if it wasn’t ALL he listened too. In the car. At home. At work. My mom, on the other hand, only liked country and latin. WTF??? Now my kid brother loves Sum41, which I have to admit I am acquiring a taste for. I never thought I’d say it but The Hell Song just rocks.

Sad thing is, bodypoet, sometime in the distant future you’ll look back and miss these “good old days”. Of course, you’ll probably be senile at the time :).

Given a choice between listening to Sinatra and someone yammering in a staccato fashion about cappin’ cop killas, hoes, and assorted racial slurs and profane language, I think I’d stick with Ol’ Blue Eyes, frankly…

Other parents I know don’t have it so good.

Ah, back in 1996 I tried to sell my firstborn on the Internet. He was a really good deal–always did his homework without being nagged, made wonderful grades, did his chores (loading the dishwasher, etc.) without nagging, was in all ways responsible and upstanding.

The problem was that he did not fit with the rest of the family, wasn’t sure how he ended up with us (maybe switched at birth?) and we Just Wouldn’t Do. He deserved better. He made that clear, constantly.

He was a senior in high school at the time with excellent prospects of scholarships at prestigious institutions of higher learning.

And yet–I couldn’t sell him! I couldn’t even trade him! (Although I was offered a Princess, 8-year-old twin boys who ate nothing but PB&J, and an odd assortment of other complementary teenagers.)

I’m not really complaining. They’re great kids, and I know I’m lucky to enjoy my kids the way I do. And yep, I’ll take the jazz over rap or country anyday, although I’m not quite as sure about the Sinatra. Heh.

I’m crazy about the babies, too, but of course there are times they make me crazy–specifically, when I’m sick or over-tired. And man, am I going to miss it when my baby girl grows out of my bed and I have to sleep without a snuggly warm little one next to me!

I probably should mention that they (the babies) have gone to deliver papers with me for the last two days. Got up at 2:30 this morning and worked until nearly 8:00. They did great, all things considered, but it left everyone a little tired and cranky.

And I’m sick. AND they ate all of my favorite suckers while I was napping.


Sounds like you need to ration the TV.

Commercials are everywhere on kids’ programming. The only way to make sure he doesn’t see ads is to shut the thing off completely…which I do often enough.

Besides, I LOVE Bear in the Big Blue House. He’s practically the Perfect Man, imo.

Here is your answer! Karol, I will make you an even trade. Trade ya Aurora and Wiggles for the Weeping Princess and T-bone.

You can stand in the bathroom with Aurora (18), trying to help her make two braids, with her rolling her huge brown eyes MOtHer! MOTHER! You MISSED A HAIR !!! Or when you make a nice supper and she snaps, “Are you trying to make me FAT??”.

You will SO enjoy Wiggles the Unresponsive (15), with the Xbox controller permanently attached to his hand, he and his friends shouting back and forth from his bedroom to the living room "Don’t kill me ! " “Go there!” "Blast him! " “Get off me !”. He’s the one who drinks all the Koolaid and won’t make more. He and his ilk are also somehow the Shedders of a Thousand Boxer Shorts.
[sub]seriously - I luvs mine too. It’s be fun to trade for a day or two anyway![/sub]

Cicada2003 - I actually DID sell my little sister. I got $3.46 for her from the two little boys down the street who had just gotten another brother. They really truly wanted a little sister, so I cut a deal with them, and they emptied their piggy banks and received one slightly-used three-year old girl.

I really didn’t mind when Mom made me give the money back. The thing that pissed me off is that she made me take the sister back, too.