The THWACK Heard Round the World

The Devil: So, Franny, you are here to atone for what you did on the evening of April 23rd, 2007. Do you have anything to say for yourself.

Me: The devil made me do it.

The Devil: Heh, heh, heh, yeah, I DID make you do it actually, and I'm pretty proud of myself. But your MOTHER Franny? Surely you feel some remorse?

Me: Of COURSE I do! But in my defence, she WAS telling my children that I was a BAD MOTHER for not letting them have sticky sweets before bed, and who would have thought my aim was THAT good, really?

The Devil: True... *raises eyebrows* That WAS an excellent shot, Franny.

Franny: *flutters eyelashes, flattered* Aw, thanks! I have great aim, you should SEE me play Whack-A-Mole and I used to ALWAYS win at Duck Hunt on Nintendo! I mean... er... I AM SO ASHAMED OF MYSELF! *hand to forehead, laments* What kind of daughter throws a Cadbury Mini-Egg at her mom from across the room and actually hits her in the centre of the forehead with it?

The Devil: I liked the sound when it cracked open on her head - THWACK! The look on her face was priceless, and to do it in front of your father and your kids as well? You've got some nerve girl!

Franny: *muttering* Well, they DO make good projectiles... AND I had a handful of them but I only threw ONE... surely that counts for something?

The Devil: Sorry honey, nice try but what's done is done. So, before I write this one down in the book for, ahem, later, *rubs hands enthusiastically* I just NEED to know. What on earth were you thinking Franny?

Franny: Honestly?

The Devil: Sure. Be honest. I won't tell a soul.

Franny: Okay. I was thinking...Bet I can SO thwack her RIGHT in the middle of the head with this... *Franny walks away whistling*

The Devil: *to self* I should consider taking on a partner...

Room of Doom

I will try very hard not to overuse the CAPSLOCK key during this post. *Franny glares at keyboard, knows it's IMPOLITE to CAPLOCKS SHOUT throughout an ENTIRE BLOG POST*

HEY, STOP THAT! ... I mean... Hey, stop that! *keep that left-hand pinky raised while you type, Franny* Okay, now where was I?

I left my mom here to sit the kids while I scurried out to buy myself an outfit for a big, upcoming family "do". I did not bring the cellphone with me. (Cue 'dum-dum-DUM' organ music) Well my 3-yr old son locked himself in the bathroom, and for over an hour my mom tried to get him to unlock the door, until finally the &$#$#& knob broke off. (THIS IS THE SAME DOOR MY HUSBAND 'FIXED' WHEN I GOT STUCK IN THERE LAST YEAR WHEN THE KNOB CAME OFF.) *pst, Franny, easy on the capslock, baby* My mother then proceeds to dig up every single tool in my entire house and dismantle the OTHER doors looking for spare parts that she could use to rescue Nicky. I understand the poor boy was fairly even-tempered throughout this ordeal, very politely asking panicking grandma "Can I come out now?" every couple of minutes.

Meanwhile, at the mall, Franny's Spidey-sense was tingling. She needed to go home. Oh and the mall was closing too.

When I got here and rescued the situation, my mother was about to call the fire department. It took us a couple of days to put all the knob hardware back on all of the doors, but god bless her, that woman TRIED. (BTW, I told Nicky to push the button UP. And he did. The door opened. "Unlock the door" is too abstract for him.)

~*~

Flash forward to tonight. Bathing the twins, STUPID DUMBASS ME (*ahem, capslock*) decides to scurry to the kitchen and grab an empty garbage bag with which to empty the overflowing, non-floral scented bathroom trash. WHAT WAS I THINKING TRYING TO MULTITASK ANYWAYS!? (*angry mom, step AWAY from the capslock...*) In the ten steps to the kitchen, Nicky managed to turn the shower on, full blast with frigid water. There were screeches, and a mad dash to escape the tub, during which my daughter slips and smashes her face on something.

I return to the bathroom to see the floor soaking wet, kids shivering, Nicky looking like he ate a canary and MY DAUGHTER'S NOSE BLEEDING ALL OVER THE PLACE! WHAT THE HELL!? I STEPPED OUT FOR NOT EVEN SEVEN SECONDS!? I HAVE A SMALL HOUSE, ITS NOT LIKE THE KITCHEN IS IN A DIFFERENT FRIGGING WING OF THE MANOR! AND IF ANYONE TELLS ME THAT I SHOULD NOT LEAVE SMALL CHILDREN UNATTENDED IN THE BATH, I SWEAR I WILL E-X-P-L-O-D-E BECAUSE I KNOW THIS ALREADY BUT THAT TRASH SMELLED LIKE FERMENTED DIAPERS AND FOR PETE'S SAKE, NOBODY DROWNS ON MY WATCH BUT WHY MUST THERE BE BLOOD AND/OR SCREAMING AND/OR CHAOS WHEN I AM OCCUPIED ELSEWHERE!? AM I THE GLUE THAT HOLDS THE UNIVERSE TOGETHER?

Oh my goodness.

I AM the glue that holds the universe together.

I have such a headache. *Franny clutches head, peels capslock key off of keyboard and pours herself a beer*

Digital Foot, Cyber Mouth

I am always saying the wrong thing. You know those people who "overshare"? Yep, that's me. The woman at work who starts an email talking about her ideas for an upcoming project and then ends the email in tears over the budgie that broke its neck when she was a kid? Mm-hmm. Me. The 'would she shut UP already?' lady.

It's a problem I've had since I discovered my voice, which luckily for my grade school teachers, was not until high school. I used to be a shy, frightened of my own shadow, wallflower book-addict who listened to her parents italian folk music and kept a low profile. Then one day, in grade nine, they smacked me into a sexy little kilt, put on the C & C Music Factory, shipped me off to a new school and I was the SHIZZLE! You shoulda seen me. I was so frigging full of myself it's amazing I could walk to my classes without needing to be carried upon a litter. And I was smart too, averaging in the high-90s.

Where was I going with this?

Right. Big mouth. Honesty is not always the best policy Franny! But then again... honesty has its value.

I recently made the aquaintance of a young person online, aged 11, who writes as do I. I have given her feedback on her stories on the open forums, etc. Well, she asked me for some extra help with grammar/style because she likes my stuff, and I gave her my email address, asking her to get her parents permission before she contacted me and to CC her parents on our emails.

When she did not, I sent her a little reminder, saying that I apologize for being overprotective, but I was a mom and I'd want to know who my kid was emailing online, and that it would be a good idea to CC her mom & dad so that they know someone is reading/editing their daughter's creative writing (which has the potential to be sensitive in its own right), so that they can decide if it's okay or not.

To which I got a snarky little reply:

I am ELEVEN YEARS OLD. I think I am old enough to decide who I can email!!

As you can imagine, I was most charmed. Not only does this girl not tell her parents what she's up to online, but I could be a 55-yr-old male pervert for pete's sake! I tried to be cool, I honestly did. I tried to be hip with the young people, to be a role model and a mentor, but at some point you just want to send an email that says, in big bold red letters:

RESPECT YOUR ELDERS BITCH!

(No, I didn't actually say that.) But I seriously want to, because this is the type of attitude that makes kids targets. Am I just insane here? Should an 11-yr-old girl be emailing a stranger online without her parents knowing about it? And should she be giving lip to someone who is trying to help her (with her writing and with her safety) over the internet?

So, before I open my cyber mouth and insert my digital foot, what's the right thing to say now?