I’ve been on a mini-staycation with the kids, which means that they’re out of school and I quit doing anything productive in order to hang out with them. And that was my first mistake. I gave them too much love and attention, and now they think they can talk to me whenever they want to.
Before you judge me for that Mom of the Year Reject statement, please envision the scenario that happened last week in which I bent down to pull up my pants in the bathroom and slammed the back of my skull into my daughter’s chin. Yes, she had decided to come talk to me, despite the fact that I was using the bathroom at the time. That’s how I got to stand there for about five minutes holding a cold washcloth on the blood while my pants remained at my feet. Good thing we were in the bathroom already where the washcloths are, huh?
Now that my kids have 24-hour-a-day access to all things Mom, I’ve noticed a running theme with both of my children. They both appear to be addicts who get really hyper and strung out-acting when they don’t get their fix. But because this is the Lorca household, they can’t be addicted to normal childhood summer type things like TV and popsicles. No, my children, ages thirteen and ten, are addicted to Johnny Depp and sheep. Respectively.
Without ever admitting it because it would just be weird, my daughter seems to have developed a crush on Johnny Depp. And, seriously, what human alive, man or woman, DOESN’T have a crush on Johnny Depp? I mean, he’s awesome. I can’t name three bad films he’s done, and that’s including the 21 Jump Street years. And like a good mommy, I dug my own grave by buying my daughter a couple of Johnny Depp biographies for her birthday earlier this month. Now, she follows me through the house (and yes, even into the bathroom like her younger sister) to read me interesting facts about Mr. Depp. The first few were actually interesting and sparked good discussion, such as the fact that Johnny Depp actually was in the movie Platoon, but his scenes were cut because he apparently is a better actor than Charlie Sheen. The rest of the information? Not as interesting, especially when delivered while I’m working in my office, trying to sleep, or attempting to poop by myself.
Sheep. Where do I even begin? Our younger child has developed an unhealthy fascination with sheep. Not toy sheep, stuffed sheep, live sheep, or eating sheep…with BEING sheep. In case you can’t tell, that word is plural right now because not only has my daughter morphed into a sheep, she has declared me to be her “sheepy mommy” and we can only communicate with sheep noises, including our own ways of saying “I love you” by bleating at each other. Much like Johnny Depp, it was briefly cute and adorable and now I kind of want Johnny and the sheep trapped together on a desert island.
Sadly, I was stupid enough to share that remark out loud, and my older daughter reminded me that Johnny Depp played Captain Jack Sparrow in the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie where he was, in fact, marooned on such an island. He managed to escape the island after his companion, Elizabeth Swan, played by Kiera Knightley, built a signal fire with the stash of rum that Johnny Depp had previously buried on the island that last time he was shipwrecked there.
The really upsetting thing is that I’m somehow the bad guy for rolling my eyes, pulling out my hair, and screaming, “I don’t care!” whenever Johnny Depp or sheep make an appearance, so like a good mother, I just nod my head and take another long drink of whatever I’ve managed to pour myself.
8 thoughts on “Johny Depp Is Trying to Kill Me. And So Is a Herd of Sheep.”
I always like your posts. Thank you for sharing!
(But I’m really only making this comment to point out that you spelled his name wrong in the title – just a helpful hint…)
It’s a copyright thing. Actually, it’s a typo thing, but copyright thing makes me sound like I did it on purpose.
Thank god I have you – always make me laugh and your life might just be crazier than mine. I can say, well, yeah, this sucks rotten eggs but you could have Lorca’s life… killer sheep.
I knew from an early age–possibly the day I ate a Mexican insanity pepper at age three because my brothers told me to–that I was destined to become a cautionary tale for others. You’re welcome.
I would truly love for you to find a way for me to capitalize on this. Maybe I make a dollar anyone thinks to himself, “Wow, this is bad, but it’s no Lorca.”
Oooh, I ate an insanity pepper too – probably the beginning of the end… We could call it- Pulling A Lorca. Make up some tee-shirts.
Thanks for my laugh of the day! Reminds me of the Summer of the Circus when my daughter was around 9-10. She got the idea to have a circus in our yard, a REAL circus she decided, not a pretend one. It lasted all summer. It was awful. She has OCD (along with Tourette Syndrome) and she could not let it go until school started!
I know, and then compound that with your need to laugh at the situation, only to feel like a schmuck for laughing at your kid and her condition…I suffer along with you! Our youngest (AKA “the lamb”) is profoundly autistic, so I’m actually supposed to be applauding her use of imagination and non-concrete thought. Yeah…
It’s a fine line we walk, sometimes , especially with our “special” ones. I’m pretty sure I can very close to saying something along the lines of “Would you shut the f*** up about the circus!” Maybe not quite that bad but it’s what I felt a time or two. She’s 23 now and at least we can both now laugh about the Summer of the Circus. I do love your blog! 🙂