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."

Can You Spare a Square?...

Last week, Dorkfish went grocery shopping. This isn't an 'out of the ordinary' thing for him, but he totally screwed it up this time...

As with most husbands, if he can't readily find the specified item on the list, he attempts to convince me that the store no longer carries it. Example: "Hey, where are the chocolate chips for my cookies?" Him: "Yeah, they don't have any." Me: "Reeeeaaallllly....the store stopped carrying chocolate chips. Every.Single.Brand?..." Him: "Yep."

So when I send him with a list, I just assume this is going to be the case. #pickyourbattles

But this time was different. This one was the NO!WAY! WHATISWRONGWITHYOU?! trip.

He came home with John Wayne toilet paper.

Yes, ladies, the kind only John Wayne could appreciate.

It was the cheapest brand, single-ply, could-read-the-newspaper-through-it type of toilet paper....

#groundsfordivorce

After the lecture on how we are Charmin people and NOTHING compares to Charmin and we have ALWAYS USED CHARMIN HOW IN THE WORLD HAVE YOU MISSED THIS IN TEN YEARS OF MARRIAGE?! I stopped. Because he had that deer-in-the-headlights look where you know he stopped listening at 'WHATTHEHELL'...

Fast forward a week. Bonus is out of toilet paper in his bathroom so he goes to my closet to get some. I am standing in the kitchen, drinking coffee and Deuce is sitting at the bar eating breakfast.

Bonus: (holding THE bag of cheap toilet paper in the air) "What is THIS?!"

Me: "Yeah, your dad bought John Wayne paper."

Bonus: (completely offended) "But we ALWAYS use the kind with the bear on it!!! He knows that!!!"

Me: "I know, I know. You're preaching to the choir here, buddy."

Bonus: "But MOOOOOOM, they use this same stuff in school and I HATE IT!"

Deuce: (from out of the cheap seats yells) "And THAT is EXACTLY why I DON'T WIPE!!!"

Bonus and I just looked at each other in shock. Deuce cocks one eyebrow and gives us the "What?!" look and starts eating again. Bonus gives me the 'you suck at your job' look, drops the bag of toilet paper, sighs and walks out...

THIS is the kind of thing that happens when you buy cheap toilet paper, people.

Remember, there are THREE THINGS IN LIFE you don't want a discount on:

1. Toilet Paper
2. Tequila
3. Tattoos

This has been your public service announcement for the week.
you'rewelcome

I'm Registering at Whole Foods

So, I warned you guys that Mams was in town, so now y'all are expecting some hilarious posts full of Mamsisms...

Today ain't that day.

But she is involved...

On Monday, Mams decided she wanted to go to our favorite little Mexican restaurant. Never needing my arm twisted for fat, salt and beer (the three most important food groups), I happily abliged. (Please note that the information inside the parenthesis is foreshadowing...) Since the kids were all in school for only ONE MORE DAY until trackout, we were able to talk Sheshe into coming along. As always, we had a ton of chips, I may have licked the cheese dip bowl clean, mams and I each had a beer and I managed to polish off a burrito the size of my head. It was glorious.

As we were paying, the owner, who knows us well (but not THAT well - foreshadowing again), grabbed my wrist and said, "Can I ask jew a personal question?" While it was unexpected, I am a very open person and knowing she is from South America, I know she is very upfront with her conversations so I said sure. Smiling like a cheshire cat she said, "Are jew pregnant?"

*blink*

{Holding back the desire to scream ROACH and point to the corner or just pop her in the mouth.}

All I could think was, "I really wish I was right now so I wouldn't have to hate you for this" but all I could squeak out was a tiny "no" as I fought back the unexpected tears.

Expecting to see a look of mortification, but only finding mild surprise was a bit disheartening. But the real crusher was when she reached over, patted my 'hello-I've-had-two-children' tummy and said, "I've just never seen jew wif a pooch dis big before."

Yes. She. Did.

I turned to Sheshe in support, but all she could manage was a small whimper as she chewed off her bottom lip. I turned to Mams who was snickering. I finally gave up, shrugged my shoulders and admitted that I had gained FIVE POUNDS recently, but THANKYOUVERYMUCHFORPOINTINGITOUT.

Now, one would assume that the horror would end here. But.No. She proceeded to tell me her personal diet techniques and then lift her shirt to show me her 'I've-had-five-kids-and-three-mules-living-in-here' tummy. Yes.She.Did.

I believe this was the moment Sheshe sprinted for the door and I shuffled out behind her. (Cause you know, us pregnant women can't sprint so good. Not to mention, I was dragging my pride behind me.)Mams chose to stay behind and tell the woman her own horror stories of her saggy boobs and large rear end.

The entire drive home was Mams telling me that she too had wondered if I was pregnant while Sheshe hid her tears of laughter behind her oversized Jackie-O sunglasses.

It was a glorious day.

Short on Time but Not on Laughs...

Let me just start out by warning you, Mams is back.

And she is FULL. OF. IT. this time....

Just to give you an example, she was sitting with Dorkfish last night reminiscing when he interrupted her. "Yes, Mams, I know what you mean about how some people are just likable. A lot of people like me. I am a likable guy," he said smugly. Mams, without even pausing to ponder this statement said, "Well, Dorkfish, you sure keep that hidden well."

I love her.

She is and always has been one of those people who can't remember a punch line to save their life, but is never short on the snark. Fortunately, Deuce has inherited her quick wittiness. As exhibited by our shopping trip yesterday.

We were upstairs in a department store and mams was headed for the elevator. The direction she was going was only taking her to a glass railing for the second floor. Deuce and I tried to tell her it was the wrong direction, but at 86 you honestly don't give a damn about other people's opinions. (I am learning this quickly.) Deuce asks me, "Where does Mams think she's going?!" I explained that Mams has her own way of doing things and she would find the elevator eventually. "Let's just hope she finds it before she hits the glass railing, though," I added with a smartass tone. Picking up on my snark immediately, Deuce yells across the store to Mams, "DON'T JUMP MAMS! YOU'VE ONLY GOT ANOTHER THREE OR FOUR MORE GOOD YEARS LEFT!!!"

That's when I peed my pants.