I had a friend ask about my tag line on my blog profile. "What does that Fly Pie thing mean? You should write about that". I have every intention of telling the story just not sure how to get it down so that an outsider will understand. It's one of those "you had to be there" kind of tales. Once I tell the story it may not even seem funny to anyone else.
The line itself was what gave me my most unflattering nickname. "Psycho Mom" has been and will probably always be the name that my children call me when they are trying to push my buttons.
I was going through a rough time. I was in the middle of a divorce and constantly battling with the almost ex-spouse. I was always on the verge of some emotion. One minute I was confident and strong and felt I could conquer this without a hitch, then the next minute I was a screaming meme and on the verge of tears. The kids were making me crazy, constantly in and out of the house, wanting drinks, leaving the door open, and arguing with each other over who left it open.
Backing up a little, just let me say that my kids are wonderful. My oldest daughter was 17 at the time, and is 11 years older than my boy/girl twins who were 6. She had been such a Godsend helping me with the twins during this trying time. I know if it weren't for those kids, I would have lost it. I knew I had to keep it together for them.
It was a Saturday and we had been out all day and the kids were hungry. I was trying to put some kind of dinner together because my son, Chris, can't go hungry for more than a few minutes without turning into a little starving monster. He had already expressed his desire to eat earlier and I knew I had to work fast so I was scrambling.
I noticed there was a lone fly buzzing around the kitchen and I knew it had gotten in when the kids kept leaving the back door open. I was trying to swat it with the kitchen towel but kept missing. I ran around that kitchen for a good 10 minutes and then I felt myself starting to get mad. One more whack with the towel and I missed again. Suddenly the sailor in me just blurted out "Damn Fly!!" Then Mr. Hungry came running into the kitchen and with a big grin on his face he asked, " What kind of pie?"
Well I lost it. I was already worked up from chasing that fly and I screamed back at him, "IT'S A FLY, OKAY? A FLY, NOT A PIE! A FLY!!" The kids looked at me all red faced and out of breath from chasing the fly and from screaming at Chris, and they just burst out laughing. We all had a good laugh together and will always remember the day I earned my forever nickname Psycho Mom.
The line itself was what gave me my most unflattering nickname. "Psycho Mom" has been and will probably always be the name that my children call me when they are trying to push my buttons.
I was going through a rough time. I was in the middle of a divorce and constantly battling with the almost ex-spouse. I was always on the verge of some emotion. One minute I was confident and strong and felt I could conquer this without a hitch, then the next minute I was a screaming meme and on the verge of tears. The kids were making me crazy, constantly in and out of the house, wanting drinks, leaving the door open, and arguing with each other over who left it open.
Backing up a little, just let me say that my kids are wonderful. My oldest daughter was 17 at the time, and is 11 years older than my boy/girl twins who were 6. She had been such a Godsend helping me with the twins during this trying time. I know if it weren't for those kids, I would have lost it. I knew I had to keep it together for them.
It was a Saturday and we had been out all day and the kids were hungry. I was trying to put some kind of dinner together because my son, Chris, can't go hungry for more than a few minutes without turning into a little starving monster. He had already expressed his desire to eat earlier and I knew I had to work fast so I was scrambling.
I noticed there was a lone fly buzzing around the kitchen and I knew it had gotten in when the kids kept leaving the back door open. I was trying to swat it with the kitchen towel but kept missing. I ran around that kitchen for a good 10 minutes and then I felt myself starting to get mad. One more whack with the towel and I missed again. Suddenly the sailor in me just blurted out "Damn Fly!!" Then Mr. Hungry came running into the kitchen and with a big grin on his face he asked, " What kind of pie?"
Well I lost it. I was already worked up from chasing that fly and I screamed back at him, "IT'S A FLY, OKAY? A FLY, NOT A PIE! A FLY!!" The kids looked at me all red faced and out of breath from chasing the fly and from screaming at Chris, and they just burst out laughing. We all had a good laugh together and will always remember the day I earned my forever nickname Psycho Mom.
