Sucktastic!

Let me begin by admitting a little something to you all. I, am no housekeeper. Honestly, I have never and will never claim to be the 'excellent stay-at-home mom'... My cleaning techniques are much like a college kid who scrubs the floors only when the parent's are coming to visit. (Except exchange 'parents' for 'husband' and you've got me pegged.)

I do cook, though. In fact, I have been cooking some quite tasty meals on my new Clean Eating plan! However, I do not go overboard with my culinary offerings. I guess you could describe it as 'survival cooking'... So far, everyone has successfully survived and we have only had one or two instances of 'whatthehellisthis' on our plates! I call that a win, people.

I tell you all this to explain the complete mystery obsession I have with a certain vacuum. You see, I have always wanted a Dyson. Nojoke. It has been that dangling carrot, that golden apple, the shiny key to unlock my inner housekeeper. I have always been convinced that my disconnect with house work isn't a lack of willingness or interest, but rather, insufficient tools. (This may play a part in my disorganization too, but I'm not going to go all Dr. Phil on you here...)

Fortunately for Dorkfish, I am frugal when it comes to certain purchases. I believe that anything you are paying to suck, shouldn't be over $200. (Leaveitalone.) We also have an appliance rule in our house in regards to gift giving, "If it plugs in, it isn't a gift." Therefore, the Dyson has always been out of reach.

*Collective Sigh*

Last week, my vacuum refused to suck. When you have four four-legged creatures running around your house and two children ages 8 and 5, this is a BIG!DEAL! I had been researching my vacuum options and trying to find the best deal, yet hadn't found one. Dorkfish came home last night, looked down at a dog-hair tumbleweed and declared that he didn't care HOW MUCH I spent on a vacuum, JUSTGETONE. So I grabbed my $50 in Kohl's cash and hit the store. I perused all the various makes and models before looking at the price tags. Naturally, the purple animal drew me in; and with a price tag of $195, I was sold! Evidently, this was a discontinued model, the DC 28, and therefore was on sale. Seeing they only had the floor model left, the store gave me another $50 off the price! (For those of you not good at math, like me, the $700 vacuum was $100 after my Kohl's cash!)

SOLD!

Isn't he beautiful? He doesn't have a ball, but judging by my male pets, balls don't last long in here anyway. *snicker*

After his first use, my friends began receiving text messages with pictures of my newly-vacuumed carpets and the message, "My carpets have more track marks than a $20 hooker!" (You're so thankful I don't have your number right now, aren't you?...)

My friend Botica responded with, "You know, everyone gets that one great deal that comes along every few years. This is yours. Congratulations."

Now I am wishing I had been jewelry shopping...

Kindergarten Drama: The Next Soap Opera

One of the great benefits of staying at home, is having the opportunity to be more connected in my boys' school life. Yes, I will admit that I did refer to my weekly Wednesday volunteering as "Community Service" and I may have suggested to the office ladies that they have a two-drink minimum... But, it did give me an opportunity to get to know the kids in the classroom so when Deuce or Bonus would come home complaining about  a kid, I would know EXACTLY how they felt.

This morning, Bonus woke up with throat pain and an earache. Since were were going on day threethousandsixtytwo of a cough, I went ahead and decided to spend the copay on him...

playedmelikeasucker.

Not only was it just drainage, but he had the kahunas to ask the doctor to let him stay home the rest of the week. OH, and maybe he just shouldn't go back to school any more since he has a dust allergy and his school isn't clean... Fortunately, she didn't fall for the 'ole blue eyes'.

Since he cried wolf, I not only took him to school and dropped him like the plague, I also brought Deuce a much-coveted fast food lunch from Christian Chicken. I will admit that it was a bit awkward when Bonus was walking out of the lunch room with his little lunch box and I was walking in with two bags of food... We spoke, but it was with a I'm-not-the-favorite-child-today kinda tension and all his friends noticed too.

As soon as Deuce and I sat down for lunch, the Kindergarten drama started...

Some random little girl: "Deuce! Tell your mom that Bonus slapped me in the face!" *sigh* Deuce informed me that the little girl likes to make things up to get attention, so I let that one slide.

He then informs me that his girlfriend, we will call her "DoeeyedSuzie", and his best friend, who we will call "KissingJohnny", kissed yesterday. To most kids, this would be crushing news; so I reacted with the same amount of surprise. Deuce, who refuses to leave his feeling at home and carries it on his shoulder at all times, was not only fine with this, but actually giggled about it.

(Thank God he isn't into kissing anyone but Momma still.)

Apparently, this was all okay because DoeeyedSuzie told him that she thought he was cute...

I'm going to leave that one alone.

We get back to his classroom and DoeeyedSuzie comes running up to me for a hug. "Bye Mommy!" she said in her sweet little tone. I knelt down, put my arm around her tiny little shoulders and in my most loving and syrupy-sweet voice said, "Listen honey, no kissing boys...ESPECIALLY MY BOY." She looked at me with her big, brown, doe eyes and said, "Oh, no! Never!" and ran off with cheeks that guilty shade of pink.

Having sorted that one out, I kissed my baby boy bye and headed out the door. About two seconds after I left, a little boy who we will call, "Edwardsitthehelldown" stuck his head out of the door and called to me. "Are you taking Deuce home?!"

Me: (Fighting back the smartass and not saying, "Do you SEE him with me?!" because I am a good mom.) "No, he's staying here today."

Edwardsitthehelldown: "Come on, take him away!"

Me: "Nope. He will be here to annoy you all day. Get back in the classroom and learn something."

Edwardsitthehelldown: "Why don't you go learn something?!"

Me: "Because, sweetheart, I finished learning all I need to. Now I get to go play at the park while you sit at a desk. Have fun!"

I like to think they repeatedly ask me to volunteer because I am so good with the kids.

The Oldest of the Four Leggers and the New Addition

When Dorkfish and I started our little furry family, or actually, when I started dragging pets home, he was very agreeable. He didn't complain about anything other than the amount of hair that can amass in an 800 square-foot house. (House cleaning wasn't my forte then either...)

Our first pet, Molly, came to me as a malnourished porch hound in the backwoods of Tennessee. As soon as I came across Molly, I knew I had to have her. She sauntered up the driveway in that traditional 'hound swagger' and captivated me with her big, brown eyes. I was in love immediately. I called Dorkfish and told him that we absolutely had to have this dog. The previous owner insisted that "Blackie" was a "gen-u-wine black-n-tan coon hound" and as such was "very, very, very valuable". That was the best $40 we ever spent. She has been with us through three moves, two kids and is on her seventh round of new four-legged additions. She hasn't bitten anyone, except the German Shepherd who bit Dorkfish first and a rat who unexpectedly was hiding in a vacant house.

Over the years, Molly has become more than a pet. She loves the boys like a mother. Some days, she has more patience for them than I do. Not to mention, when she tires of them a simple lick on the face will send them scurrying. I've tried that...it doesn't work for me.

As the family has gone from one dog, to two dogs and three cats, back to one dog and now to three dogs...she has weathered the storm.

However, this new addition, may prove to be the end of her....

Meet TomCat:

And yes, Bonus learned that look from me...

Never Turning on the TV Again

I know this will come as a huge shock to all of you, but I actually turned on the television Sunday night. For some odd reason, I actually wanted to watch the Grammy's.

My father-in-law was here visiting, so we sat and criticized the singers together. Actually, he did most of the criticizing...I just waited for boobs to fall out of dresses. Sadly, that didn't happen.

But, we did enjoy a lovely, enlightening moment together when some chick was on stage with blue hair and a tight, gold body suit. I'm sure most of you know who she is. I have no idea, but that suit was WAY.TOO.TIGHT. For some odd reason, I decided to make a comment that will forever be burned in that spot in my brain that holds all the awkward moments in life.

(The same spot where I hold the time I pulled my underwear out of my butt and told my dad that was the 'worst wedgie ever' before realizing my older, male, cousin was standing next to me. The name "Wedginald" will forever be used at holidays and all family gatherings.)

So, thanks to the Grammy's. My father-in-law has a new word for his vocabulary...

Me: "Wow. That outfit is WAY.TOO.TIGHT. I haven't seen a camel toe like that since I watched an Egyptian documentary!"

Him: "What's a camel toe?"

Me: *GULP* "Um....I don't really feel comfortable explaining that term to my father-in-law. Maybe you should just google it. Actually, you might have more luck in the Urban Dictionary."

Him: *blank stare*

Me: "Sigh. Okay, soooooo, ummmmm, it's like a wedgie but in the front. Um, for girls. Yeah, this is just awkward."


So, thank you Grammy's for enabling me to share that most horrible moment with my father-in-law. I'm sure he appreciated it as well.

An Amo Short...

So, this morning I was standing in the shower, pondering the great mysteries of life. You know, the pyramids, the disappearance of the Mayan civilization, how do cats purr...

Who am I kidding. I was actually worried that if I always follow the same wash pattern in the shower, will one side of my body always be cleaner? See, I always lather up my poof and scrub my left arm first. Then move to my right. So, do you think my left arm gets more soap? If that's the case, my right arm should be washed first since I am right handed.

See? Big.Things.

Anyway, so my mind was obviously proccupied when I finished my shower and realized I had washed the towels. *sigh*

No matter, Dorkfish's towel was there and mostly dry. Typically, I don't use ANYONE'S towel, even my husband's. Why? Because even though their body was clean, how can you ensure that the spot you are drying your face with wasn't the exactsamespot they dried their butt? *ick*

Just as I put the towel to my face, I realized it was damp.

But Dorkfish hasn't showered today?

In fact, he hasn't showered since he got home from his trip late last night.

So, who's towel is.....

OH!HELL!



My father-in-law is visiting.



Who knew bleach wipes could work as face cloths?!....

It's not you; it's me.

Hey, guys! Where have you been?!

kidding.

But seriously, I am so sorry for disappearing on you like that! I could give you tenthousandreasons why I haven't blogged since November, but I will simply say, it's not you; it's me.

Apparently, my last post ruffled some feathers in my little clicky hood and that wasn't the intent at all.

So, did you think that post was about your kid?

No?

Well good. It wasn't. It wasn't about your kid, the neighbor's kids, the kids down the street, the ones selling rocks in the driveway obligating the neighbor's walking their dogs to purchase for a quarter. Oh, wait...it WAS about those kids.

It was about MY kids. Just like all my posts have been and will continue to be. This blog is MY space to share MY family with YOU.

So, that being said, the funny will return tomorrow and will continue to be here on a semi-regular basis. I'm not committing to daily posts here or anything, but I promise to make you giggle on a weekly basis, at least.

But I will tell you that this morning, Deuce declared that if he marries Abigail, she will live in the basement with him. Apparently, this is because he loves his mother so very much he can't stand the thought of moving away.

I can feel the tough-love train rolling in in about thirteen years...

Not Lost in Translation

My boys aren't like the other kids.

I recognize this fact and quite often, I embrace it.

When the 'other kids' are taunting others, I am proud mine aren't involved. When the little girls are being catty, I am saying a little prayer that God gave me boys. When mine are spouting Beastie Boys lyrics and the other kids are looking on in complete confusion, I am beyond encouraged that I am raising boys that don't fit into the same mold as some of the 'other kids'.

No, I do not think they are perfect. We have our share of 'you shouldn't have punched Jack in the junk' sorts of discussions; there have been times when I have had to physically hold them back from a fight; I will admit to saying on morethanoneoccassion, "We do not hit girls. Even if they have it coming." But ultimately, I know their hearts better than anything else.

Today, I was down-right proud of them and the strong boys they are becoming.

After school, I was sitting on my neighbor's porch when two kids rode up. They asked my neighbor if her kids could come and play, to which she responded no, they had chores to finish. My boys, who were standing rightthere, were not asked. They weren't even acknowledged.

I will admit, that for a split second, my feeling hurt for them. (I only carry one with me, you know. It is safer that way.)

Before I could say anything to comfort my boys, Bonus yells, "ADIOS!" and waved as they rode off.

My neighbor looked at me and said, "That was Davis-Spanish for 'eff off', wasn't it?"


"Yes, I believe it was. And good for them."