Buzz-Kill

Even though the winter was long and cold and seemed never-ending, I kind of liked it because it provided a great reason to not have to talk to anyone. There were no afternoons spent at the park, everyone was in a hurry to get into their car and out of the cold and during flu season, no one wanted to get within 25-feet of anyone else unless they were wearing a Hazmat suit.

Now that spring has officially sprung and I hate being in the house when it's nice outside, I find myself dealing with a bunch of people that want to chit-chat, catch-up, be nosy and tell me about themselves and why they're tan and I'm not. Since I like to be organized I tend to put these conversations into categories:

1. Really, really entertaining. Very interesting. Tell me more about her.
2. You're not annoying. We can be friends.
3. Please stop bragging about yourself. Stop. STOP IT!
4. I'm acting like I care, even though I don't care.
5. If a hawk came swooping down and used it's talons to rip off my face, thereby getting me out of this conversation, it would be worth the sacrifice.
6. Umm, what? I'm sorry. I was listening to my hair grow.
7. Your anger toward life is stressing me out.
8. You're the queen of the backhanded compliment. Let me get your crown.
9. You are not funny. In fact, you're the opposite of funny.
10. You're dumb and you don't like sports. We can't be friends.

The good thing about these conversations is that they eventually end, or I walk away, or they end because I walked away. Sadly, this is not the case when it comes to kids, because with kids it seems that there are some days when the bits of bad news never stop coming, and these bits all fall into one category: buzz-kill.

1. I forgot the _____ at the _______.
2. I think the toilet is plugged.
3. I have to do another science project.
4. I think the Xbox is broken.
5. I forgot to give you this last week. It's from school.
6. My throat is sore/stomach hurts/arm is itchy.
7. The dog just pooped on the floor.
8. You want me to do that now? I was going to do it later.
9. I need to bring a yard of fabric, some beads and an empty soup can to school. When? Oh, I need it by tomorrow.
10. What's for breakfast? Oh...

It's not like when I hear these things I instantly regret voluntarily having sex without birth control, and if I had to choose then I guess I would rather deal with a plugged toilet every day than listen to a riveting debate about public vs. private schools with another mom while her nanny helps her kid on the monkey bars. And I would rather deal with both of these things simultaneously than get to the front of the line at a bar and be told "Sorry, but we're all out of beer," which is what happened at the Twins game last week. I'm still recovering from that one.

I'm not expecting everything I hear from my kids to be on the same level of awesomeness as "Why yes, Mrs. Adkins. Of course those shoes come in a wide width," but COME ON KID! Figure out that maybe you don't need so much toilet paper, the dog is old and can't hold it for very long so he needs to go out NOW and once in a while, not every time because I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself, be happy in the morning and eat the damn breakfast.