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Crazed Cybermom

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Crazed Cybermom

A doctor calls

Paying attention

Self-expression v School

Sunday dinner

Vegetarian?

Finding myself

A useful tip

Let them eat cake

The Jell-O cell

Atlas Momma

Call waiting

Sanity Cases and Chaos Magnets

"Important work" - Do's and Don'ts

The perils of "You've got mail"

Danger Boy

Scrub-a-dub kitty

The things kids say...

A ripping yarn

Orange juice ambush

Problem 'puters

Child Services will probably be called

A faster New World?

My Day (no particular day, could be any day)

Don't disturb the neighbors

Things we do because we love our children

Dogs, Drunks and Wasps (Oh my!)

Red, paint it RED

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Crazed Cybermom

Not one of the "other moms"

Crazed Cybermom "Those days"...we all have them. Some of us more than others.

This section of our site takes a look at some of the more chaotic moments in the life of our own "Crazed Cybermom".

Danger Boy

There are moments when I wonder if my kids really are from another planet. The only things about them I can guarantee is that they will never replace the lid on anything, will always use the last of the toilet tissue without telling anyone, they see no reason not to eat all of the chocolate cookies in one go and will always look blankly at me when I ask "Who did that?" But it is quiet here when they are not around, that's for sure. There are the odd times when I get a respite, especially now that summer is coming and they play outside more and more.

So, during such a respite, I was contemplating that it’s really rather fascinating what one can see from the landing window on a warm, golden evening. The sparrows, encrusting the hydrangea bushes, fluttering and twittering about their day's mischief, whilst the crows scold them for their noise from lofty tree-towers. Enormous drifts of cumulus clouds cushion the sky against the sunset and a single vapour trail slices boldly through the fading light. Heaven. No, hang on a minute...make that "Heavens!"...I notice something below the windowsill, on the extension roof. A football, like a fat white egg, lay on the tiles. "What's that doing on the roof?" I ask myself.

The football is on the roof because my son kicked it there and he has decided to retrieve it, with the most rickety pair of ladders he could possibly find and no brains anywhere in sight. No sense of danger [or balance] does this boy possess, but he does have a broad knowledge of comic books and is, of course, indestructible. Have you ever tried to talk Superman down from a tall structure? Can you imagine the feeling, when you are terrified of heights yourself, knowing that at any moment you might have to climb up there and get Superman yourself? Then there's the ever-so-calm voice because you know that the slightest agitation will fluster him and he is already an accident waiting to happen.

An hour earlier, there had been a knock at my office window and I jumped out of my skin when I turned to face a werewolf. My son had spent most of the afternoon wearing a very realistic wolf mask [with accessorized rubber "paws"] and had busied himself leaping out at neighbours, growling. In my opinion, this is normal. On the other hand [or paw for you other lycanthropes out there], roof sitting is not. Unless you are an under worked cabaret magician...

So what's a mother to do? Run inside, log on and search for the 100 best roof-retrieval sites or skip straight to the chase and hit the first aid web sites right away? As a lapsed [well, excommunicated] girl scout - I like to be prepared. Then there are the rock climbing and extreme sports sites...hang on...does he have wheels or a trolley of any kind strapped to his body [I believe these things are always worth checking]. I'm sure he didn't understand why I was casually asking where his skateboard was in the order of things [all the while trying to be as blasé as possible so as not to implant any more ideas into that fertile little mind]. He'd had dinner, so the prospect of building a nifty pulley system to hoist meals to him was something I wouldn't have to worry about until morning, but how was he going to take a bath? I looked at the hose and the possibility of killing two birds with one stone, struck me, if only fleetingly.

A small crowd of curious children was beginning to gather on my garden. My next consideration was perhaps I should turn the predicament into an event and charge admission. That idea failed as all the diminutive onlookers could rustle up from their pockets were four paperclips, two mint candy wrappers, enough string to rig a sail ship and a great deal of fluff... Then grown-ups began to hover. Oh, they suggested everything from calling the fire service to rubbing him in butter [Huh? I think that person was confused, he was stuck on the roof not in it]. Eventually - more out of embarrassment that bravado, I think, he plucked up the courage to come down via the rickety ladders and promised never to do it again - yeah, right.

Danger Boy. Next week he will be sealed into a tank of water, buried four feet underground, wearing a straightjacket and chained to an alligator...

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Parts of this Web site were taken from Parry Aftab's book The Parent's Guide to Protecting Your Children in Cyberspace. Marvel and all character names and the distinctive likenesses thereof are trademarks of Marvel Characters, Inc., and are used with permission. TM & © 2004 Marvel Characters, Inc. All rights reserved. www.marvel.com. Super Heroes is a Co-owned registered Trademark.
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