I’ll be the first to admit that I may have received a double dose of the crazy gene.  I do try to hide it though. Of course, some days seem to have more crazy magnet in them than others.  Take yesterday for instance.  I had a three-way-conversation that left me feeling like the padded cell would be a really lovely place to stay.  For a long while.

I’ve been working on arranging some activities for work and I needed to get some information from certain folks.  Out comes my trusty phone and I start calling and texting people.  I pull up one family on my contacts list and glance at the number as I tapped the button.  I can’t say I put it to memory, but let’s leave it at some of the digits were memorable.  (Of course, I like number patterns so it may be memorable to only me.)

Anyhoo, the phone rings and a rather muffled voice says something that I assume is “Hello?”

To which I respond.  And the conversation goes like this:

Me:  “Hello!  Is this Tom?”

MV: “Hel-lo? Who is zis?”

Me:  “Oh I’m sorry.  I must have the wrong number.  Thank you.”  (click)

The Tom I was attempting to call does not have a Ukrainian accent, even when I have a headache and my kids aren’t yelling in the background.  So, I did the eyebrow raise thing, noted I needed to update my phone contacts and moved on.  Time passes and I take a phone call from a peer regarding another project.  Part way through our hour-long chat about all things wonderful related to working with teens, my phone beeps in my ear.  I see a lovely little patterned phone number is calling me, but I select “ignore” and keep bantering about just how to teach 50 teens in a session.

Phone call over, ear massaged, and water consumed I open up voicemail to see who called and just how my life is going to be made of more win.

MV:  “Hello?!?  Vhy did you call me?  I vas drivink vhen you called and I could not tal-lk right zen.  Vhat eeze it you vanted?  Hello? Hello?”

Me:  (Sigh) delete

A bit more time passes and I become engrossed in a text I will be teaching.  Part way through a lesson I am writing I hear the machine-gun burst of Littlest’s feet as he sprints through the house to the bathroom.  A few minutes later a wee voice calls out, “Mom!  Come wipe me!”

To be honest, the request actually sounded more like this:  “Mo-ooo-om!  Come do dry-wet-dry-dry!” But I realize some of you are unfamiliar with my Littlest’s rather bizarro bathroom habits.  Suffice it to say, he’s complicated.

So I find a bookmark and put my pen down.  I enter the bathroom and ask, “So, you’re done?”

L:  “Yep.  All done.  All done going poop.  And I peed.  Yep.  Oh wait.  Maybe not.”

M: “Okay, let me know when you’re ready and I’ll — Oh, hang on.  Hello?”  and I answer my phone.

However, Littlest continues talking.  So the next bit is as close as I can recreate my conversational experience.

M: “Hello, how can I help you?”

MV: “Yes.  I called you back and even lea-ft you a voicemail but you did not ree-turn my phone call.  Vhy vould you do that?”

L: “Mom!”

M: “Hello?”

L: “Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom.”

MV:  “Vhy are you callink me?  Vhat is it that you vant from me?”

L:  “Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom! Maaaahhh-mmmm!   MAAAAHHHH-MMMM!”

M: “I’m sorry sir.  I accidentally called you earlier.  I thought I was calling someone else.”

MV: “Ye-es, but vhy did you call me?  You vanted sometink?”

L: “MOMMOMMOMMOMMOMMOMMOMMOMMOMMOMMOMMOMMOMMOMMOMMOMMOMMOM!”

M: “Like I said sir, it was a mistake.  I dialed the number wrong.  I wasn’t trying to call you.”

MV:  “You did not vant to phone me? Vell, vhy did you then?  I do not understand.  And vhen I phone you and left a mee-sage, vhy did you not return my mee-sage.  Vhy did you phone-”

L: “Moooooooooooooommmmmmmmmm!”

M:  “I didn’t mean to call you!  I’m sorry!  It won’t happen again!” (hangs up phone, whirls back towards Littlest) WHAT?!?

L: “Can you go outside the door?  I need some privacy.”

Yes people, the crazy is running strong around here and I can’t understand a single thing it’s trying to tell me.  Aside from “run away, run away now!”