My Snail Tried To Run Away, I Am That Embarrassing

I did not think this was a funny story until I told it to someone and they tried to choke to death. I do not think my life is funny, but enjoy the tragedy. Ahem.

So the other day…wait, you will have to understand who Sir Humphrey is and why he is called that. It is important. You can click those links now, or, conversely, wait until you are confused and then come back and click them. Up to you. Not Judging.

So my snail tried to run away. I have a pampered Giant African Land Snail and he tried to go on an adventure. Or something. Manboy had one of our good friends over ‘of an evening’ and I wanted to show Sir Humphry off. “My gosh, have I showed you how BIG he is these days?” I go and get the cage and...no snail.

Now, I do not keep a lid upon my snail because he is an emancipated snail and everything, and he never tries to get out. He just has his cucumber and his fruit and his drinks, and maybe a wee dram of beer on holidays…he has no reason or desire to go anywhere else. He never has. Until he did. And then PANIC. I realize that he is named after the “Sir Humphrey, master of obfuscation and manipulation”, but still.

OMG MANBOY MY SNAIL! (I think i squeed) IS IT IN THERE? WHERE is Sir Humphrey? I was totally calm. I started looking behind all of the furniture. Where does a snail go when it goes? I had no idea. I saw something behind the chest where the  water snails live.

MANBOY!

what?

IS THAT A DOUGH-NUT OR A SNAIL?

I… I am not sure. It could be a doughnut.

WELL I NEED TO KNOW. MY BABY IS MISSING.

OK, well…if you can just move this table…

DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING! MY SNAIL! 

I think maybe if I just look over here…gently….

YOU DIDN’T FUCKING EAT IT DID YOU?

Wha? no hunny. Just let me have a look…

I SWEAR YOU ARE GOING TO FIND MY SNAIL

Yes bunny, could you please have a seat?  \_

It was at this point that I realized that we had guests and that I was still acting as Hostess. And then I gave up. “would you care for another coffee?” just didn’t seem like the thing to say.

So when the furniture was lifted up, Our Guest announced: I see a doughnut and a snail! Huzza!

Huzza indeed. I am now the proud owner of a runaway snail, and the kind of house-keeper that does not know if there are doughnuts behind her furniture. Beautiful.

Please go give some loves to our singers of the high seas, Tricorn Shonkey! Woooo! Tell them that the snail sent you. I hear they give discounts for that sort of thing. (really, not really, but totally maybe.)

DAD LOOK (with troll bums and dwarf wee)

DAD LOOK happened this weekend and it was a sight to behold.

If you havent read my post MUM LOOK go ahead and read it or this will not make any sense. Go ahead, it’s right here. I’ll wait.

OK, everybody back? Do I have the attention of the class? Hmmm?

Manboy is one of those people who is always poised and full of liquid grace and dignity. I do not think I have ever seen him at a loss for words. He is so not clumsy that it makes my brain bleed. He might get frustrated with the kids, but I have never seen him shout or get so discombobulated that his brain turns to mush, mummy-style.

Until this weekend.

We had our favorite Wraith Child to stay over on Friday. She is Little Stormbringers BFF. She is nocturnal. I have never seen a child who can stay awake like that one.

Saturday we went LARPing at a Dumnonni event. It was Wraith Child’s first Role Playing experience. They ran a brilliant child adventure where we had to collect Fay tears, Dragon blood and Dwarf wee. It was awesome. But soon my kids were starting to get worn out from the late nights, and hiking all over the woods killing giants and ‘kicking man eating trolls up the bum’. (this is funny to British kids. Dont ask)

The next day Little Stormbringer ran in a marathon. It was so cool. She even came in first in her class. BUT on the way to the marathon DAD LOOK happened.

In the UK you can never just drive somewhere and park and go in. No, that would make too much sense. You must drive somewhere, find the furthest possible spot to park your car, pay £1000 and then walk 3 fucking miles to your destination. (This is why we walk near-goddamn-everywhere. Sigh)

On the 3 mile walk to the marathon (I feel stupid just typing that) my kids were both holding hands with Manboy as I ambled behind. I was (AGAIN! IDIOT!) wearing my too big Capri pants, and trying to match Manboy’s exhaustive pace while pulling my trousers up every 10 seconds like an asshole. But he had both kids, and I had a view from behind.

DAD LOOK! A bird!    DAD LOOK! A red car!

DAD LOOK! A sign!   DAD LOOK! Everyone has legs over there!

DAD LOOK! That tree!   DAD LOOK! Look at that roof!

DAD LOOK! I just saw a bug!  DAD LOOK! Is that a unicorn?

DAD LOOK! Another bird!

I found this absolutely hysterical. He is mostly programmed to respond to orders anyway, and he is totally not used to the constant barrage of LOOK. I know that there is never anything to look at that matters. I do believe he had either never experienced this or he had forgotten. His head jerked up at every shout and pointed finger. Until he turned around, STUMBLED and looked at me like this:

I had to stop, grab a belt loop and double over with hysterical laughter. I think there might have even been a tear. I am sure we looked like we had been let out on a weekend pass from the loony bin.

But the DAD LOOK was priceless. One great moment in a very wonderful weekend. 

I’m one of ‘those immigrants’

I am. I emigrated to the UK. I am here to ‘take your jobs’ and ‘ruin your culture’.

I get where this aversion is coming from. I do. It isn’t cool when you feel like you are being diluted and that places are being taken up and your kids don’t get the same benefits. I’m sorry.

Even though, as a U.S. citizen, I get no benefits here. (it’s stamped on my passport y’all) I still feel the sting when I hear this said in front of me.

It feels really yucky when I hear people chatting about ‘those immigrants’ and then they see my face, and then say…”oh, well not you…”

Is it because that I am white? Or not Polish? Or..(i don’t even know how to be an intolerant asshole, loss for words)

Or is it because I am an American and ‘that’s OK then’?

I am from Detroit. South-eastern Michigan boasts the  highest population of people from the middle-east, other than the middle-east. (33% y’all) I grew up with friends from Israel and Iraq. I grew up with friends that spoke Spanish or French as a first language. We all got along. But I never once thought; get out of my country you asshole.

My school bus was shot at by an Iraqi. His sister was one of my best friends.  I used to have a Jewish boyfriend. I taught my kids Spanish so that we could talk to our neighbors from Mexico, and our kids could play together. I never once thought, get out of my country, you asshole.

I lived through 9/11. And believe me, in Detroit, on 9/12, it was a whole new day when we all had to come out of our houses and face each other. The whites, the blacks, the Americans, the Iranians, the Iraqi’s, the Israelite’s , the shop keepers, the people on the street. We looked at each other with suspicion and dread. Then we remembered that we were friends before, and were still friends, the same people. I will never forget the look on the face of my local shop-keeper that day. He had an American flag in his window and he was afraid. But, no harm came to him and we just got on with it. (OK, Michigan is not Alabama, but still…)

You guys, it hurts my feelings when you say those nasty things about immigrants. Change your laws, restrict your building, do what you need to do. Just don’t hate us all. We are here for a better life. And we mean you no harm.

At least that’s what it felt like from the other side. Now I know both sides. I hope it is OK to call the UK my country. I hope it doesn’t offend you.

I’m a dork and my kids are racists. Help me.

We got to go to the pound shop today! (dollar store/pound shop I don’t know how to speak anymore)

No, really, I left the house. And went somewhere. With clothes on and everything!

We stocked up on things for the school holiday. Sidewalk chalk, ball, frisby, markers, craft stuff to wreck the house with etc. What did I treat myself to? I bought a feather duster and some tea towels.

WTF? When did I get so freaking boring?!? Really? I didn’t buy any absinth or a peyote tequila worm? I didn’t buy a jaunty new skirt or get something pierced? No. I bought a fucking feather duster y’all. Holy Christ. I must be the lamest person on the planet.

I used to be cool, I swear. Now I buy tea towels as a treat to myself. This is not cool. Is this what my life is going to be like now? I might as well get a hair-net and a mobility scooter. Jesus.

Before this exciting adventure I was looking at the girl’s baby books with them. So cute. The White Rose was sitting on my lap and looking at all of her milestone stickers. Being the second child, she has a far thinner baby book to look at, but I did manage to get all of the stickers stuck. You know the ones: 1st Dr. visit, 1st Halloween, Says MAMA, Finds Toes etc.

(it’s been so long since I had a baby…is it really a big deal when they find their toes?? wow.)

In an attempt to be The Best Mom Ever, I used ALL of the stickers. So she has a sticker for “1st Hanukkah”. I don’t know why. I guess 1st x-mas and 1st winter solstice weren’t enough for me at the time. Don’t judge.

This kid looks up at me and says:

“I’M A JEW? You made me a JEW? You Jerk!!”

Now, I know that I have never, ever used that word that way in front of my kids. I know this because never in my life have I used that word in that way. It would never occur to me to do so. Seriously.

But because I am a total asshole and a terrible parent; I laughed my ass off. This did not help. I’m trying to now have a serious discussion about being inclusive and multicultural and tolerant and ‘we love every colour, shape and creed’ while I am doubled over with laughter. Not cool at all.

Finally I regain some semblance of self-control and ask her where the hell she learned that shit why she would say something like that and why would it be bad if she was Jewish. I mean, in this house we do all of the religions. Well, all of them that I know anything about. But most of them. This is the girl who told me last month that she wanted to be Buddhist. It’s not like we are intolerant assholes. I explained why that was not ok to say and helped her find a place in her mind where she would never think a thing like that again.

Turns out that she just “wants to be like Cartman on South Park” when she grows up. Yikes! The Fuck? What do you even say to that? (other that you are not even allowed to know what South Park is, let alone watch it!)

Where, why….how are…South Park? I mumble. “yeah, on the TV mumma!”

Oh. I thought they were watching Little Bear and SpongeBob up there.

PASS ME THE PARENTAL CONTROLS!!!

Ooops. Massive mum fail. Let’s just chalk this one up to a teaching moment and move on.