Toy Hoarding, Rough Play, and Daisy

We have a neighbor that drives me FUCKING NUTS.  Daisy can be as sweet as pie one minute, and as irritating as hemroids on a hot August day the next.  She's just that way.  She is the mother of two heathens that we will further refer to as "Frick" and "Frack".  Frick, the older child, is slightly more tollerable than his little bastard brother Frack, but they are both a pain in my neck.

Since they moved onto my turf our street, a case of excessive tutelary toy hoarding has surfaced.  Because she is so obsessive about their things not getting broken, she will have her boys take their things inside rather than keep them out for others to play with and risk damage to their belongings.  Daisy fusses and gets her panties in a bunch when her kids' toys get torn up, a Nerf gun bullet goes unaccounted for, or someone rides her boy's bikes a little too rough.  This isn't just a one sided deal, though!  We've ALL sacrificed toys for the good of group play, and most times the toys aren't broken intentionally.

News flash to Daisy...KIDS TEAR SHIT UP, and yours are not blameless!

Example #1:  Frick came out to play with my youngest's brand new RC car that he got for his birthday.  Frick decided that he wanted to KEEP the RC vehicle as his own.  Frick was told that he had to hand it back to my son, and then Frick proceeded to pull the antenna right out of the car, rendering it useless.  

Example:  Frack scratched Fred's precious foreign import vehicle because Frack's mother wasn't paying attention when he went into our garage, unattended, with a long stick of some sort and managed to scratch the car coming and going.  Grrrr.

Example #3:  Fred installed special valves on our outside water faucets because Frack will come over to our house, turn on the water, and LEAVE while the water is still running.  Now the little pecker has figured out how to maneuver the special valves, so I have to watch him when he's in our yard again...because his mother DOESN'T.  Shocker.

Example #4:  Frick plays full contact sports.  The fun part comes when their dumbass mom doesn't scold them for "playing" full contact with the other kids on the block who are not trained in such sports...  So the other kids end up getting hurt, and Daisy's brilliant response is...are you ready?...  "Well that's what he's been trained to do."  Holy.  Shit.

I wish that these kids had been blessed with two sensible parents.  Parents that had half the sense that God gave a billy goat.  Billy goats aren't that smart, so you get my drift.  And one of these days, I hope that they can stand back and see WHY the other parents on the street try their best to keep interaction as limited as possible with their family.

DUH.

~Ethel~

Lucy's Introduction

Hi, I'm Lucy (not my real name) and you've already met my friend, Ethel.  Ethel and I have been friends for a very long time.  We were best friends growing up and spent many nights giggling and gossiping.  When Ethel had to move away, we corresponded through letters and occasional visits, but have kept up the relationship all these years.  We both have a love of writing, sarcasm and seeing the humorous side of motherhood.  We both also have blogs where we blog about our families and children.

The problem with having a blog followed by your friends and family, is that sometimes you have to censor yourself and some topics are completely off-limits.  Like the fact that my sister got a boob job just for attention; and instead of getting a comfortable, normal size, she got Pamela Andersonesque juggs that make her tiny, bony self look like she might fall forward at any moment.  Then proceeded to post pictures of herself on a social networking sight in a low-cut top and wondered why people kept inquiring about her new rack.   There is also the fact that despite being almost 30 years old, she can't seem to function without someone holding her hand.  She has a husband and two children, but still needs others to do simple things for her.  It is a source of both frustration and amusement for me.  She once called my mom who was living in another state seven hundred miles away to tell her she was walking around our local hometown grocery store and couldn't figure out where the marshmallows were.  Seriously.  Instead of just finding a store employee or asking someone walking down the aisle, she called my mother in another state to ask her where these items were.  I can't make this shit up.

So yeah, welcome to my life.  I'm Lucy.  I'm a thirty-something wife and mom of two children.  My husband is Ricky and my children are Ramona and Geezer.  Ramona is preschool aged and mischievous, Geezer is in elementary school but acts like a crotchety little old man.

This is my life.  Stay tuned for my dirty laundry.

~Lucy