Mountain Dew: Soft Drink or Elixir of the Devil
I mentioned a few days ago that I would not allow my children to
have any more Mountain Dew...even for a holiday. Chickadee
wondered what spurred this decision. Let's just say that my nerves
can't take it.
I do not let my children drink Mountain Dew. #1 son is 10. He
is allowed to have a Pepsi or Coke if he wants it. I know, they
have just about as much caffeine as Mountain Dew. #2 son is
7. He can only have Sprite or Sierra Mist. I must have had a
reason when I made this arbitrary decision, but it escapes me
now. #2 asks for it every now and then, but isn't too disappointed
when I tell him "No way!" He has always been my good kid at
home, the perfect baby, toddler, pre-schooler, who only got in
trouble at school. Unlike #1, who was high-maintenance, and
as a baby tried to headbutt me daily to see my lip bleed. Yes,
I know he did it on purpose. His gleeful screams of "Mommy
beeb! Mommy beeb!" gave him away.
At Thanksgiving dinner, #2 asked my Hillbilly Mama if he could
have Mountain Dew. She did ask me. I must have been going into
a fat & sugar coma, because I said it was OK, what with this
being a holiday. I could hear #1 telling his grandma as she poured,
"Hey! He's not allowed to have Mountain Dew!" I had to call in
to the kids' table that it was OK. #2 gave an evil little laugh. I
believe that is called a precursor.
The kids finished their meal, such as it was, #2 having a boiled
egg, a roll, and some macaroni & cheese, while #1 dined on
3 rolls, a chicken strip, a deviled egg, and some carrots with
Hidden Valley Ranch dip. These boys just don't know how to
do Thanksgiving. They went downstairs with their cousins to play
a 4-way Nintendo game of Mario something-or-other on the
GameCube. Next thing I knew, my sweet #2, my self-proclaimed
"gift from above," had morphed into a whiney, hyperactive demon.
The first clue was the shouts of the other 3 kids: "Get out of the
way!" Their cousins are 16 and 19. For them to join in screaming
at the little devil, he must have been acting up. I looked down to
the family room, and saw him prancing right in front of the TV,
with that "nyah, nyah, nyah" dance. Boy Cousin made a move to
grab him, and he yanked out his controller and made a run for
it. Seeing that they were playing, not chasing, he returned to the
scene of the crime. He laid across #1's head, and emitted an evil
chuckle. #1, of course, screamed, "MOM!" because he puts on
a good front of being the good kid when people are around.
#2 was called up to the kitchen for a spanking, and said, "NO!"
Which is something that is just not done around the Hillbilly
Mansion. He was rounded up, swatted on the behind, and
released.
All was well until the Racetrack Incident. The Boy Cousin, the
brother-in-law, and #1 spent about 2 hours trying to put together
a mega-racetrack. It had two levels, amazing curves, and two
out of four cars that worked. #2 grabbed pieces of track, and
snapped them together willy-nilly. He had a section about 5 feet
long before he was caught. After some futile attempts to reason
with him, a threat of another whoopin' convinced him to relinquish
the track. Then he grabbed the cars and ran them on the short
section of track that they had completed. When Boy Cousin told
him to knock it off, he took a car and ran. Hillbilly Sister grabbed
him and wrestled the car away. He fought for it awhile, until she
promised him he would get ONE turn when it was done, but no
more, because he didn't help with the track. When it was finished,
he knocked cars off the track as others were racing. On his turn,
he drove too fast and spun out on the first turn. As they were
putting his car back on, he slammed down the controller and
yelled, "I QUIT!"
His grandma offered to play a game of hide & seek with him. He
crawled behind the TV while she counted. When she said, "Here
I come," he jumped out and shouted "I give!" He wound up a
Frosty the Snowman figurine, and danced like a maniac. He ran
around the racetrack and slammed into HH's knee, the one that
he just got the staples out of Tuesday from his surgery, and made
a staple-hole bleed. He demanded that his grandma get him a
homemade Coke popsicle, and when she was talking to Girl
Cousin, ran up to the kitchen and got it. He looked at his grandma
and said pointedly, "It was taking so long, I figured I might as well
get it myself!"
He hopped into a chair and yelled, "Spin me, spin me!" Which
several people did, trying to induce motion sickness to quiet him.
No such luck. He crawled behind Hillbilly Sister, leaning against
the fireplace, and pounded her on the back. "How about a
massage?" She grabbed his arms, which worked for about a
minute. He was tricked into chasing the cars when the track
was turned into a drag strip. And then, all at once, he climbed
onto the couch and said, "We're going home. NOW!" I think
he was winding down from his caffeine high.
So that, Chickadee, is why I made that statement about not
allowing my kids to have Mountain Dew until they no longer
live under my roof. Perhaps now you understand.
have any more Mountain Dew...even for a holiday. Chickadee
wondered what spurred this decision. Let's just say that my nerves
can't take it.
I do not let my children drink Mountain Dew. #1 son is 10. He
is allowed to have a Pepsi or Coke if he wants it. I know, they
have just about as much caffeine as Mountain Dew. #2 son is
7. He can only have Sprite or Sierra Mist. I must have had a
reason when I made this arbitrary decision, but it escapes me
now. #2 asks for it every now and then, but isn't too disappointed
when I tell him "No way!" He has always been my good kid at
home, the perfect baby, toddler, pre-schooler, who only got in
trouble at school. Unlike #1, who was high-maintenance, and
as a baby tried to headbutt me daily to see my lip bleed. Yes,
I know he did it on purpose. His gleeful screams of "Mommy
beeb! Mommy beeb!" gave him away.
At Thanksgiving dinner, #2 asked my Hillbilly Mama if he could
have Mountain Dew. She did ask me. I must have been going into
a fat & sugar coma, because I said it was OK, what with this
being a holiday. I could hear #1 telling his grandma as she poured,
"Hey! He's not allowed to have Mountain Dew!" I had to call in
to the kids' table that it was OK. #2 gave an evil little laugh. I
believe that is called a precursor.
The kids finished their meal, such as it was, #2 having a boiled
egg, a roll, and some macaroni & cheese, while #1 dined on
3 rolls, a chicken strip, a deviled egg, and some carrots with
Hidden Valley Ranch dip. These boys just don't know how to
do Thanksgiving. They went downstairs with their cousins to play
a 4-way Nintendo game of Mario something-or-other on the
GameCube. Next thing I knew, my sweet #2, my self-proclaimed
"gift from above," had morphed into a whiney, hyperactive demon.
The first clue was the shouts of the other 3 kids: "Get out of the
way!" Their cousins are 16 and 19. For them to join in screaming
at the little devil, he must have been acting up. I looked down to
the family room, and saw him prancing right in front of the TV,
with that "nyah, nyah, nyah" dance. Boy Cousin made a move to
grab him, and he yanked out his controller and made a run for
it. Seeing that they were playing, not chasing, he returned to the
scene of the crime. He laid across #1's head, and emitted an evil
chuckle. #1, of course, screamed, "MOM!" because he puts on
a good front of being the good kid when people are around.
#2 was called up to the kitchen for a spanking, and said, "NO!"
Which is something that is just not done around the Hillbilly
Mansion. He was rounded up, swatted on the behind, and
released.
All was well until the Racetrack Incident. The Boy Cousin, the
brother-in-law, and #1 spent about 2 hours trying to put together
a mega-racetrack. It had two levels, amazing curves, and two
out of four cars that worked. #2 grabbed pieces of track, and
snapped them together willy-nilly. He had a section about 5 feet
long before he was caught. After some futile attempts to reason
with him, a threat of another whoopin' convinced him to relinquish
the track. Then he grabbed the cars and ran them on the short
section of track that they had completed. When Boy Cousin told
him to knock it off, he took a car and ran. Hillbilly Sister grabbed
him and wrestled the car away. He fought for it awhile, until she
promised him he would get ONE turn when it was done, but no
more, because he didn't help with the track. When it was finished,
he knocked cars off the track as others were racing. On his turn,
he drove too fast and spun out on the first turn. As they were
putting his car back on, he slammed down the controller and
yelled, "I QUIT!"
His grandma offered to play a game of hide & seek with him. He
crawled behind the TV while she counted. When she said, "Here
I come," he jumped out and shouted "I give!" He wound up a
Frosty the Snowman figurine, and danced like a maniac. He ran
around the racetrack and slammed into HH's knee, the one that
he just got the staples out of Tuesday from his surgery, and made
a staple-hole bleed. He demanded that his grandma get him a
homemade Coke popsicle, and when she was talking to Girl
Cousin, ran up to the kitchen and got it. He looked at his grandma
and said pointedly, "It was taking so long, I figured I might as well
get it myself!"
He hopped into a chair and yelled, "Spin me, spin me!" Which
several people did, trying to induce motion sickness to quiet him.
No such luck. He crawled behind Hillbilly Sister, leaning against
the fireplace, and pounded her on the back. "How about a
massage?" She grabbed his arms, which worked for about a
minute. He was tricked into chasing the cars when the track
was turned into a drag strip. And then, all at once, he climbed
onto the couch and said, "We're going home. NOW!" I think
he was winding down from his caffeine high.
So that, Chickadee, is why I made that statement about not
allowing my kids to have Mountain Dew until they no longer
live under my roof. Perhaps now you understand.
posted by Hillbilly Mom at 1:04 PM
8 Comments:
Gee that Mountain Dew is powerful stuff. All these bloody chemicals they put into food and drinks these days.
HI Hillbilly Mom,
I will have to check the label on a bottle of Mountian Dew over here, next time I see one. I don't think it has caffine in it. Actually I think there is some kind of ban on adding caffine to drinks, and cola has to be clearly marked in capital letters that it contains caffine.
I guess on the bright side, if your son is ever going to go out on a date, and you know that the girl is just not right for him, you can always offer him a drink of Mountain Dew before he goes.
HooRoo
Rebecca
OMG...I DO understand. Good grief. I'm surprised no one killed your little angel.
Personally, I can't stand the taste of Mountain Dew but my husband loves the stuff.
http://www.danno.org/blogs
Holy Bealzebub HM...damn, and I have to go back to the little critters tomorrow. Thanks alot for reminding me what I'm in store for.
Huggies,
Mountain Dew. It's like crack for hillbillies.
Bec,
That's it! I'll sabotage all his dates so he can sit home with me and trim my toenails.
Misha,
You should have been there. Maybe you could have gotten a spine-jarring massage.
Chick,
I don't know why anybody would drink it for the taste. For the caffeine, yes.
Jules,
Forewarned is forearmed. Now you are ready to wage war. On "helpless" children.
I drink Coke, and MrKB has told me lotsa times that Mountain Dew has like TWICE the caffeine as Coke.
My kids ain't gonna drink it either! 2 yr old gets Sprite when she doesn't have water, juice or milk. She gets hyper enough just off of a fun-size candy bar..you know, the mini ones?
Our oldest is your youngest age and I feel for ya. However, the Coach family would have been having a funeral this week because one of our family would have killed the little munchkin for getting in the way of the video game!!
Sam bought a Slurpee machine with his birthday money and they all wanted Slurpees yesterday with pop. Yet the only pop in the house was Mt. Dew. For like, a nanosecond I nearly considered it. My GOSH I am so glad I didn't! I can't imagine what it would've been like to have been alone in the house with 5 kids under the age of 10 acting like a bunch of well, Mr. Diva's relatives on crack. *shudder* Scary thought.
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