I don’t watch the Simpsons, but I’ve seen a few episodes. One of the ones I remember boiled down to Homer just having nothing more to say. So he walked away saying, “Snuh.” So for years, when one of us in the house is just done with a topic, we shut the entire thing down with a firm ‘snuh.’
It was a day in which Beloved (she’s 4. Her father calls her this to alienate the other children. Just kidding.) fell, caught limbs in furniture, or hit her head at least 56 times. Honestly, I was surprised she was still forming sentences by the end of the day. Mama’sBoy got hives from too much crazed white boy-dancing to an endless loop of Justin Bieber that I foolishly downloaded onto my nano. I have blamed a neighbor boy for my own kids’ Beaver Fever (you try to tell them it’s not Justin Beaver. I gave up.). But my first shout out, Elaine the Informinator, has informed me with little to no compassion that I am completely at fault here. Whatever.
OK, Let’s see. Back to this day. I asked for some help cleaning up. I was met with blank stares. No, I mean that. Blank stares. Like I wasn’t even talking. I actually crossed my arms to see if each arm still existed and asked them if they could see my mouth moving. It was a weird existentialist moment. If you don’t know what existentialism is, you might want to stop reading my blog and choose more intellectual material. Try Emerson or Thoreau. Ultimately, you’ll probably get bored enough to return and I’ll look forward to having you back. So, I met their blank stares with a cardboard box and took EVERYTHING from the floors of 4 different rooms. Much of it will be in the garage sale in 2 weeks. Booyah. Also, they are grounded. Until I no longer feel like saying Snuh. And then, to put the pink piping on the cake, my will-remain-unnamed child looks upon the plate of sweet smelling food that I placed in front of her and says, “Now that’s just the worst chicken I have ever seen.” Really? Let me see if I can find you something slightly worse than this for tomorrow’s dinner and we’ll see if we can amend your statement.
Also, go to bed.
And still also, snuh.
P.S. The chicken rocked. I ate mine and hers too. So there.
Snappshots.com 
oh my goodness I have had TOO many moments like these.
i have two teenagers (and another one knocking on the door of teenager years, but i am locking the door and buying a pitbull to guard it) and i feel like harry potter handed me his clock of invisibility. UNTIL i take said teenagers somewhere, then all they can think about is how VISABLE their mother is… so VISABLE. like “mom, could you duck down and crouch on the floor while you drive me through the carpool drop off lane?”…
Lea, that is HILARIOUS! I am still laughing.
apparently I have received some item that makes my voice inaudible unless I am telling them they may play a video game or have candy.
You’re probably all receiving your just desserts for not listening to your own mothers growing up. Hee hee.
Grammy made me laugh.
The Informinator made chicken tonight (“made” meaning heated up rotisserie chicken from Sam’s). Daughter of Informinator, Miss Know-It-All, said “This chicken does NOT taste good at ALL.”
Snuh.
That made me laugh. If it helps any, my age inappropriate speech about life and death and gratitude at least caused my complainer to nod at tonight’s dinner and say thanks. HA.