House of Horrors
By: Angela Gillaspie Copyright © 1997 - 2006
Not many parents admit to experiencing the same household disasters that I do. Since these catastrophes seem to only happen to me, I should charge admission for tours of my home so that others can experience the dark side of motherhood.
First stop on the tour is the Land Mine Living Room, where a television is blaring to an audience of none. Should the visitors successfully navigate through the hazardous piles of blocks, pans, crushed Pop Tarts, and ripped-up DVD covers on the floor, they'll make it to the Deadly Dining Room.
Here they'll see the baby wearing a metal strainer on his head while eating Cheerios off the floor. Next to him, an upturned chair is tastefully decorated with a mound of salt accompanied by a smaller mound of pepper. Atop the dining room table is a blue garbage can - just out of the baby's reach. After gingerly stepping around the baby and feeling the crunch of Cheerios under their feet, tourists will then go to the Chaotic Kitchen.
In the kitchen, they find a frenzied woman (me) scurrying around and yelling "No!" at no one in particular while simultaneously folding clothes and wiping milk from the floor. She may look up at them from her drudgery and ask if they've seen her strainer before she notices the smoke billowing from her burning dinner.
Next on the tour is the eerie Hell Hall. Here visitors admire the collection of expressionist crayon artwork on the walls while wading through a sea of children's clothing. When they swing open a bedroom door, it bounces off the wall with a loud whack because the baby, they're told, ate all the rubber off the doorstops.
In every bedroom, a garbage can rests atop a dresser, waiting for the day the baby takes to climbing. In the master bedroom, they see a six-year-old staring at the computer screen. He hollers, "Momma, what does D-E-L-E-T-E-A-L-L spell?"
Hell Hall also leads to the Barbaric Bathrooms, where toilets remain un-flushed, wallpaper is peeled away from the switch plate, and toothpaste ribbons adorn the sink. There, the visitors will notice a pine scent that doesn't quite mask the stronger aroma of toilet bowl misses.
That would be the tour. I'm sure that my House of Horrors would be quite a hit. From what I'm told, there are no others like mine.
Or are there?
Stay tuned for more of SouthernAngel's horror tales!