I had about three hours to pull off my Water Carnival and I’d like to say thanks to my Snarky FB friends for coming through for me. I had posted what the Yard Terrorist had said and so many of you were forthcoming with great suggestions. A big Snarky shout out to Carla for her sprinkler placement idea, Tracy for the inspired wildflower seed concept and Heather for the kiddie pool. More kudos to “How I Learned to Wear a Dress” for the suggestion of soap bubbles. I’d like to think I would have thought all of this up on my own, but due to the time crunch it was great to have back up.
I’d also like to address what Olga said. Sweet, sweet Olga counseled me to “Calm down, Snarky – take a deep breath – breathe out – think of 5 things you are grateful for or have been blessed with – and send her forgiveness for her nastiness – we don’t know what it’s like to walk in her shoes.”
To that I say, “No can do.” Here’s why I don’t believe in that course of action. I’m a patriot. This, my friends, is my Boston Tea Party. I’m protesting tyranny. Did the Sons of Liberty think of 5 things they were grateful for or blessed with? Did Sam Adams stand around the Boston Harbor talking to Paul Revere and saying, “Greeting ye fair gentleman let us do a deep exhale and count our blessings. I, for one, I’m thankful for these knee breeches and my bitching tri corner hat.”
No, this did not occur. There was not one cleansing breath. It was all about British ass kicking. Where would we be if on December 16, 1773 blessings were counted and deep breaths were had? I tell where we’d be – all of us would be obsessed with the Duchess of Cambridge and driving Range Rovers. Oh wait, that happens now. Whatever – the point I’m making is that I live in land of the free and the home of the brave and I pledge allegiance to freedom, and by God, I was going to go get me some!
I went into full hillbilly Martha Stewart mode. First stop my basement to drag out the slip n slide, 2 wheel barrows (the plastic kind that are super deep), old mop buckets, 3 hoses, assorted pool noodles in varying stages of disintegration and a packet of balloons. I then hauled to the Dollar Store and bought a gallon of bubbles and 2 wading pools. Next, I worked the phone. I called my best friends; ABC, Kelly and Nikki, told them about my plan and suggested they bring not only their kids, but their neighbors. I then called moms I, kind of, hate. Let me tell you why and upon reading this it will further document my genius. I see these women almost everyday. We have kids in the same class. They cause me extreme annoyance, yet they invite me into their home so I need to do a little quid pro quo. How could they not feel special being asked to an “impromptu” Water Carnival? I told them on the phone how I had “been thinking about them and what a beautiful, sunshiny day it was to get our kids together” and then I added “Oh and bring your little ones too. This will be so great!” The best and most important part – their children are brats to the 10th power, which is perfect. I wanted the biggest, most obnoxious collection of kids I could find mixing it up in my back yard. Seriously, I would not be happy unless I had at least two kids crying/whining at all times.
After I got off the phone. It was off to the grocery store for an 100 pack of ice pops and an overpriced fruit tray for the Moms. Once I got home I started filling balloons with water, hooking up the hoses and the slip n slide and dragging buckets of hot water from my house to fill up the wading pool and wheel barrows. (Why hot water you ask? Because kids today are big wussies. If the water wasn’t warm they won’t stay in the wheelbarrows or wading pools. I wanted kids in those damn pools.) With no time to change out of my capri track pants and Target $5.99 crew neck T-shirt I leapt back in my car, picked my kids up from school and gave them a dossier of what was going down on the ride home including my, I think, brilliant Boston Tea Party analogy. They were kill joys.
My son looked at me, shook his head and said, “You do know that there is no definitive proof that Samuel Adams took part in the Boston Tea Party.”
“Really,” that’s your take away from my stirring let freedom ring speech – a historical correction?”
My daughter chimes in with, “I never understood the whole tea thing? Who loves tea that much?”
“Oh my God,” I wailed, “ I’m I going to have pull this car over and sing the Star Spangled Banner? I swear I’ll do it. You two need to get pumped on being patriots.”
“Yeah, whatever George Washington, I’ve got a ton of homework, so I’ll be going straight to the refrigerator and then my room where I’m locking the door,” says my smart ass son.
My daughter did the 11-year-old girl trifecta of hair flip, eye roll and long drawn out sigh and said, “Seriously, a Water Carnival, what am I five?”
I took a sip of Diet Coke and then begin part two of my scold. “Did you two have a brainectomy at school? This is not about a party. This is about justice. The party is a means to an end. I’m not hosting a Water Carnival. I’m hosting a “Back Off Witch” party. Summer’s just around corner if I don’t deliver a stern reprimand to this woman who knows what anguish will await us. I’m deeply disturbed you can’t see that. The whole Island of Misfit Inflatables thing back in December bought us almost 6 months of Barbara Gray going into hiding. Now, she’s back and we’ve got to take her down.
My son spoke first. “Okay, okay I see your point. I sure don’t want to be chewed out by Mrs. Gray for not mowing our yard in one of those cross hatch patterns.”
My daughter says, sighing again, “I’ll do your party as long as I get to be charge of the water balloons.”
Finally I got my kids – the world’s lamest patriots on board. It was now time to load the water cannons.
More Coming Soon