My Mom's To Blame

My mom is a special brand of crazy. It's not the type my aunt has, in that we all avoid her if she's been drinking and we're relatively certain that she's diagnosable in the form of some kind of rage-aholic disorder.

No, my mom's brand of crazy is the type that she's passed on to myself and my sister, that has allowed us to believe fried chicken is a desert food, entire conversations can be had in grunts, squeals and emoticons, and that there is absolutely nothing wrong with getting up at 2am to make fried wontons. You know, if you like that sort of thing.

Dad, who would have been a stabilizing influence to the crazy, was overruled pretty quickly by the overwhelming amount of X chromosomes in our house. Poor man just couldn't win. So he subscribed to the 'fade-into-the-background-and-pretend-it's-not-happening' mantra.

My mom's brand of crazy is the kind that is developed from years of dealing with idiots, hardship, and assholes, and developing coping strategies that result in some pretty amusing events.

Like un-birthday parties. Dancing with no pants (true story. She denies it. It happened.). Random music parties that I'm pretty sure the cops could have shut down (never mind it was only mom, me and my sister). Making green eggs and ham.

It's resulted in some odd things being bought. Like a metal cow with wings, who still lives in her house.

And thanks to mom, it's now resulted in me doing the same odd stuff. I've made green risotto (It was St Patrick's day!), purple rice, rainbow cakes and multicolored pancakes.

And yesterday, it resulted in the purchase of this:

That is a big metal peacock. I found it on clearance at Target. I had to have it. Just had to. So I politely asked my husband, who's opinion I give great weight to about my purchases (ahem), who said yes. Unequivocally. So I bought him. He was on clearance, yo. How can you turn down a yard peacock who is on clearance?

And the kids love it. Yssa insists that I bought it because she's doing a report on peacocks, apparently. V just likes it:

So. I now have a big metal peacock in my front yard. And it's all my mom's fault.