Welcome to My Brand of Crazy

001 (6)

I was reading the book The Best Yes by Lysa TerKeurst.  I wanted to laugh out loud but I didn’t because I was sitting in the parent’s lounge at Easter Seals.  I was laughing on the inside but I chose not to laugh on the outside.  I prefer that strangers not think I’m insane.  I’m funny that way.

Lysa told a story and then she said Welcome to my brand of crazy.  Lysa TerKeurst has a brand of crazy. I have a brand of crazy.  Maybe we all have a brand of crazy.  Would you like to be introduced to my brand of crazy?  My brand of crazy sometimes makes me cry.  It makes me want to tear my hair out.  My brand of crazy makes me hide in my bedroom and eat the chocolate that’s hidden in my closet.  And it also makes me laugh myself silly.

So here we go.  Welcome to my brand of crazy.

Whose birthday is it anyway?  The girls can argue about absolutely anything.  They even argue about whose birthday it is.  It’s my birthday!  No, it’s my birthday!  C’mon.  Do we really have to do this? You’re twins.  You have the same birthday.  You’re both right.  Now let’s move on.

Is it in English or is it in French?  One of the girls asked me if the cartoon they were watching was in English or French?  Um….it’s in English.  If you can understand what they’re saying, it’s in English.  If you can’t understand what they’re saying, it’s in French.  They’ve never watched a cartoon in French. I have no idea why this has become an issue.  They ask “Is it in English or is it in French?” every single day.  <Sigh>

My pants are crooked  One of our sweet turtles says “my pants are crooked” all day long.  Is this because of sensory processing disorder? or are her pants just getting too small?  She constantly asks me to straighten her pants.  She won’t let anyone help her except me.  I feel so special.  One day I left for 5 hours.  She never once asked anyone to straighten her pants.  I fix her pants all day long but I leave and her pants mysteriously don’t bother her anymore.  Talk about a miracle.  The second I walked in the door her pants were crooked again.  Weird.  I hope I can find some miracle pants that won’t feel crooked.

Print me some papers!  I get the crooked pants and Daddy gets to print some papers.  Every day the girls ask him to print out coloring pages of their favorite cartoon characters.  As soon as they spot Daddy it happens.  They start yelling “Print me some papers!” Can you at least let him get his eyes opened and swallow a cup of coffee before you start putting your orders in? Nope. Daddy was put on this earth to print me some papers.

Pray for Monkey, Ping Pong, and Louise  Who do we need to pray for?  The answer is always the same.  Pray for Monkey, Ping Pong, and Louise.  We rarely pray for people.  We pray for critters.  Ping Pong and Monkey were their pet hamsters.  They are now living in hamster heaven.  I’ve explained that Ping Pong and Monkey are very happy in hamster heaven and we don’t need to pray for them anymore.  But the girls still insist that we pray for them.  Louise is a cat that showed up at our house uninvited.  She enjoyed our cat food for a couple of days and the girls named her Louise.  Our cat Zoe was not a fan of Louise.  So Louise had to relocate to a new home. Wherever you are, Louise, please know that two little girls love you and pray for you every night.

Don’t touch my underwear  There is a certain little turtle who doesn’t like another turtle to touch her underwear.  It leads to violence.  She’s asked me to straighten her underwear and then I got in trouble because I touched them.  Wish I could figure out how to straighten underwear without touching them. My life would be much easier.

She needs to talk louder?  Mikayla’s speech therapist brought her back to me and said “We need to work on getting her to talk louder.  She talks so softly that I can’t hear what she’s saying.” What? She talks so softly that you can’t hear her?  Really?  She talks so loud at home I’m contemplating buying ear plugs.  Am I on candid camera? I didn’t have time to talk to her about it. I had to rush home, grab Brynna, and take her to a dance rehearsal.  We shall have that discussion on another day.

Cover my feets  I tuck the girls in and kiss them goodnight.  Within a few minutes I know I’m going to hear “Cover my feets!”  I can’t convince them that they are feet not feets. Anyway, their feet mysteriously become uncovered and they want me to cover them back up.  It’s a game that they like to play with me.  I’m not really fond of the game.  I especially don’t enjoy the game when we’re still playing it at 11 p.m. Sometimes I will play the game just to keep them out of meltdown mode. Sometimes I tell them that I don’t want to play anymore because I’m too tired.  I go to my bedroom and I shut the door.  Then I will hear “Taylor!……cover my feets!”

Could you turn that fish into a corn dog, please?  What do you want for lunch?  Do you want a corn dog? or fish? I want fish. I cook the fish, the timer goes off, and I take the fish out of the oven.  I don’t want fish! I want a corn dog! You told me you wanted fish. No, I want a corn dog! Listen, my little sweetheart.  You said you wanted fish.  I cooked fish and you are going to eat the fish. My brand of crazy wouldn’t be quite as crazy if I had the ability to turn a fish fillet into a corn dog.

And that is just a small glimpse of my brand of crazy.  I just realized that today has been an extremely quiet day.  I’m sure it’s just the calm between the crazy.


7 thoughts on “Welcome to My Brand of Crazy

  1. Love reading your posts! This one made me laugh. You are right. We all have our brand of crazy. The best part of having it is having other people who understand it. Hope you have a crazy week!


Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s