Take a knee, I have nonsense to spew.
The following conversation occurred while my children were brushing their teeth before bedtime.
Boy: “Moooooooom!! Megan just spit on my head!”
Mom: “What the heck?!”
Boy: “She spit out her toothpaste on my head!”
Girl: “He leaned-ed his head under me!”
Mom: “Aw jeez, guys! Hang on, buddy. I’ll come clean you up.”
Girl: “Hey Mom?”
Mom: “Yeah?”
Girl: “Ben told me he peed in the sink one time.”
Boy: “Yeah, I did.”
Mom: “Ben, I think the word you are looking for here is, ‘touché'”.
There was a story on the news about a 5-year-old who called 911 when his Dad collapsed, and ended up saving his life. At first I thought, “Shit. My kids don’t know how to use a phone. They don’t know what 9-1-1 is.” And then I thought it through a little. I thought about teaching my children — MY children — how to use a phone and dial 911. Here, with 100% certainty, is what would happen.
Dispatcher: 911 what is your emergency?
Caller: *giggle*
Dispatcher: Hello? What is your emergency?
Caller: PENIS! (hangs up)
Now repeat that about 500 times.
I think I am going to go ahead and take my chances. I’ve had a good life.
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A big thanks to Christina over at Delirious Mom for giving me a Fabulous Blog ribbon! So awesome! Thanks so much!
Here is how this one works:
1. Post the rules.
Done-zo.
2. Name five of your most fabulous moments, either in real life or in the blogosphere.
3. Name five things you love.
4. Name five things you hate.
5. Pass the ribbon on to five other bloggers. (Leave them a comment to notify them of their win.)
There are too many people I love and adore. I have updated my blog roll — check those folks out!!! They are amazing.
This is my new favorite show, you guys. Mike and I just stumbled upon it the other night while channel surfing. It’s Tori Spelling and crazy crafters, in a fight to the death! Ok, not a fight to the death. But Tori + crazies + crafting competition? Bring me an ice cold diet coke, honey. I am in for the duration.
I thought I would go ahead and take you through the episode Mike and I watched so that you can see how very, very important it is that we all watch this show.
The episode we watched was called “Alter or Falter”. A pregnant Tori Spelling hosts, and there is, of course, a judge’s table of “crafting experts”.
So……..these guys. And Princess Spelling.
“Welcome to the ultimate arena for crafting,” Tori says, which you hope means daggers and crossbows but really just means the entire inventory of Michael’s. I call bullshit. It cannot be called a crafting “arena” unless people are going to be thrown in a room with nothing but their wits and their hot glue guns to protect them. I want to see these bitches sharpening spoons against concrete walls and making poisons out of the native plants. That is a Craft War I could get behind.
But it is not to be. So………..let’s craft!
There are two rounds of competition. The first is the Pop Craft Challenge, where the crafters make a popular crafting item in one hour with a specific item.
The Pop Craft Challenge today? The Keepsake Box. You mean that bin from Lowe’s that has all my photo albums dumped in it? No? Oh, so then the garbage bag with random pictures and letters that I will leave behind for my children to take to the dump when I’m dead? No. Huh. Then I am not familiar with said, “Keepsake Box”. What will these ladies be making?
Tori tells them they have to make these boxes out of “something we all have laying around ” — extra locks and keys. And out comes two wheelbarrows full of locks, keys, and chains. Really? Cuz,not so much in my house, Spelling.
“Hey honey? Can you grab me a lock and key out of the punishment closet? Thanks!”
And away we go! Let’s see what they came up with!
Esther made a sandcastle.
I’m a sand castle.
The second crafter, “Krafty Kathy” was my favorite. This was in no small part due to the fact that there is a clip of Kathy saying, very seriously, “I feel really good about my box.” And that’s what we all want, isn’t it gals?
Krafty Kathy (she has a t-shirt that says it and everything) made a tooth fairy box to store teeth in. Now, my children have not lost their baby teeth yet, but I can say with a fair amount of confidence that I will not be storing their teeth in some kind of shadow box to watch them yellow and rot. Some things don’t need to be saved, y’all. Ok? And especially not in a box that looks like an in-bred tooth who carries a cross and thinks it’s a princess. But every family is different, right?
Holy fuckballs, people.
And then there was Andrea. Sweet, sweet Andrea, who said that making her Gnome’s House was “the most stressful thing I have ever done in my life.” The Most Stressful Thing. Ever. Was doing Craft Wars. With Tori Spelling. My, what a charmed fucking life we lead, huh, Andrea?
For storing your gnomes. When you open the lid, you can hear their screams.
The judges deliberate, and Kathy and her serial killer tooth keeper’s box get cut. Sad times for Meredith. But the show must go on.
So Esther and Andrea move on to the second round — The Master Craft Challenge. They have to make something for a wedding using old baby blankets, new invitations, borrowed candlesticks, and blue jeans. Get it? DO YOU GET IT?!!
Andrea decided to make a wishing tree. What the fuckity fuck is a wishing tree? Well, it’s where guests leave notes for the happy couple. Let me tell you right now what would be on Mike’s note: a cock and balls. The man will draw a cock and balls at any opportunity. Got some play-doh? You’re getting a cock and balls. Sidewalk chalk? How about a cock and balls? And I’m not much better. I don’t know that I could resist the anonymity of a wishing tree to be a total smart ass. What I’m saying is, don’t let us two idiots near your wishing tree.
Here is Andrea’s wishing tree.
Esther made a photo booth.
And Meredith learned garlands are crafter crack. Holy dangle, dude! I have to say, I have seen some gorgeous garlands before, but I am just not a fan. I don’t like to combine walking with getting smacked in the face.
And the judges. Hand to god, one of them praised the fact that Andrea used the hole punch correctly. The hole punch is like the paper towel of the crafting world. As in, “congratulations on your skillful use of the paper towel. You really looked like you knew what you were doing.” And that must have been what put her over the top because she won.
And I’m pretty sure poor Esther hung herself from her garlands with a hole punch stuffed in her mouth.
(Was that too much? That might be too much…….Oh god, I hope I don’t get an e-mail from someone whose dad died from choking on a hole punch.)
My friend Helena and I took our twins to the zoo a few weeks ago. Man, these kids were JACKED UP. I swear they ran for three hours straight. Marathoners need to be looking to the preschool set for tips on how maintain their stamina.
We headed over to the indoor Rainforest Exhibit. It’s moist and has lots of birds. Helena held open the door while our crew dashed inside and ran over to the nearest wall.
Kids: “Wow, that’s amazing!!!!! Oh my gosh!! Woah, what IS that?!”
Me: “Dudes. Those are rocks. That’s a pile……of ROCKS……. The animals are that-a-way.”
Kids: “Ooooooohhh! Wow! Let’s go!”
It’s like they just don’t care. Or they care deeply, and they are simple. In which case I should really just go with it, because there will be a lot of rock-staring in our future.
They are so noble and majestic.
Mike and I were watching TV when this commercial came on involving a hot air balloon. And I learned that I am, in fact, kind of an idiot.
Mike: “That would be my own special hell. Being in a hot air balloon.”
Me: “THAT would be your hell? You know, old people do that for recreation.”
Mike: “No steering? No control over where you’re going?”
Me: “What are you talking about?! You can steer a hot air balloon!”
Mike: “No, you can’t. You can just go higher or lower.”
Me: “But what about those sand bags?”
Mike: “??????”
Me: “Those sand bags that hang on the side of the balloon and you move them around to go in different directions!”
Mike: “Meredith, what the HELL are you talking about.”
Me: “………….Don’t they use those?”
Mike: “No.”
Me: “………..Am I thinking of a Mickey Mouse cartoon?………….I might be thinking of a Mickey Mouse cartoon.”
(silence)
Me: “So wait, how do they get around? They just float all willy-nilly?”
Mike: “That’s what I’m saying!!”
Me: “NAH….that can’t be right. People don’t just go into a basket tied to a balloon and hope for the best, do they? ‘Hey honey, going on a hot air balloon ride, might be home in an hour, might be home in three days.'”
Mike: “Pretty much.”
(I begin furiously googling)
Me: “AH! NOPE! WAIT — it says that pilots have a few tools at their disposal to direct the balloon. Like……..weather reports. And wind.”
Mike: “Dude, if you told me that counted as steering, and we were in a bar, and you were a guy, I would punch you in the face.”
Me: “Like you would be in a bar arguing about hot air balloons……….well, no actually I can totally see you doing that.”
Image via sxc
I have decided that I am going to start a parenting class. There will be a whole series, covering the usual stuff — birth, sleep, sadness, regret, etc. Then, in the final class, when everybody thinks they’ve got this shit on lock-down and they are ready to go, that’s when I prepare them for the toughest challenge of parenting a young child. It’s time to play “Questions From A Preschooler”, motherfuckers! OH YEAH! And you thought you were bad, huh? Now who wants to give me advice on how to get my kid to sleep?! That’s what I THOUGHT.
It will be an oral exam, and we will do it while driving on the highway, with me in the backseat asking the questions at a pitch and intensity typically seen only when evacuating a nursing home during a fire.
Here are the test questions. Are you ready? Doesn’t matter. Here we go:
1. What is a chicken enchilada called? And also, what is a chicken?
2. What is this cut on my finger called?
3. Why?
4. Why?
5. Why?
6. When is next week?
7. So, the day after tomorrow?
8. Two days after tomorrow?
9. I am going to say the days of the week. Stop me when I get to next week. Ok?
10. Where do socks come from?
11. Can I have a gronlong?
12. No — a GRON-long. Can I have a GRON-long?
13. A GRONLONG! GRONLONG GRONLONG GRONLONG!!!!!!
14. Did you know that the word “right” has the word “right” in it?
15. When you die, will you still be my mommy/daddy?
16. I’ve decided I don’t want to wear pants when we get to the mall. Convince me otherwise.
17. Good job. I shall wear pants. But I won’t go to the mall.
18. Mall or pants. Your call. YOU CANNOT HAVE BOTH.
19. What does that word “sexy” mean?
20. Excellent. I have some more questions for you about your penis/vagina, but I will wait to ask those at Pizza Hut.
Hey folks,
So I have moved site hosts………something I barely understand. And it looks like — unless I can figure it out myself over the next ay, which I’d say is IMPROBABLE — that all of my e-mail followers will have to resubscribe. There is a widget on the right side where you can enter in your email address again.
If you are a WORDPRESS BLOG follower, you will need to subscribe by e-mail in order to get new posts. WordPress.org doesn’t allow you to follow the same way.
I’ll keep working on this, but in the meantime, this is what I got.
THANK YOU!!!
Mer
Mike was home for the day, so he drove the kids to camp with me on Wednesday.
Me: “Hey guys, guess what?! We’re planning a play date with Daddy’s friend Shan and his little boy, Cooper!”
Megan and Ben: “Yay!”
Megan: “Is Cooper a baby?”
Me: “I think he’s about a year old?”
Megan: “Oh. I’m going to call Cooper, ‘Little Jo Jo’.”
Me: “Little Jo Jo??”
Megan: “Yeah.”
Me: “………….Little Jo Jo.”
Mike: “She’s like the guy who assigns nicknames in prison.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Uh…Coo-Cooper?’
‘That’s nice. I’m gonna call you Little Jo Jo.'”
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My weekly wrap-up:
The Politicus: Headline Round Up
Imperfect Parent: Did you know that every time you click on one of my articles at Imperfect Parent, an angel gets its wings? and I make about 1/8th of penny? But, you know, do it for the angels.
A fellow blogger (I Miss You When I Blink) has started a tumblr site that have all the weird and freaky-deeky search terms people use to get to blogs. A few of us have contributed, and they are pretty awesome. It’s hilarious…….in a scary and tragic way. Check it out: Search Party.
We were at the park the other day and came across a pair of underpants on the ground by the men’s room. So I wrote a haiku.
Lonely underpants
Abandoned by the men’s room
What is your story?
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And then I was strangely inspired, and wrote some more.
Boy shorts at the store
Wish you were comfortable
Lost in saddlebags
******************
Beige full-coverage
In a Vic’s Secret package
Makes a sad husband
*******************
Stay-at-home mother
Good-bye to thong underwear
Undies expected
*******************
Husband, let them go
Your boxers, they beg for death
And scream in my dreams
********************
Hey I just met you
And this is crazy but I’m
Commando in cords
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My least favorite word
In the whole world is “panties”
Fave: “beaver cozy”
So, in case you haven’t heard, Washington state recently started selling hard liquor in grocery stores. At first, the people rejoiced. Then they realized it was going to cost them more money, and they were saddened.
I don’t much care either way, since I don’t like the taste of alcohol and only drink when I am planning on getting good and drunk. It’s called “binge drinking”, kids.
The other day Mike was at the grocery store, and came across a guy in the liquor section being a total turd to the employees there. Apparently he was giving them the old huff n’ puff because every time he came to the store, they were out of his favorite kind of vodka. Mike said it was some fancy brand, like “Grey Goose”, or “Bacon Vodka” (this is real…..I believe it is pronounced, “Bay-CONE”).
Anyway, this guy was being an ass. I told Mike that it was because of people like that guy that I could not last in customer service jobs. I hate me an asshole and have a hard time kissing said assholes on their stretched-to-capacity asshole containers. I was a barista for a few years, and lets just say it provided me with a rich and violent fantasy life. If the dude who got angry and splashed a cup of milk on me is out there, I have a message for you:
SOON.
Getting back to our liquor store schmuck. Mike came up with what would have been the best way to deal with the Vodka Baron, which I shall re-create for you here.
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Vodka Baron: “Where is my vodka?! Every time I come here you are out of my favorite vodka! I’m angry and didn’t get enough hugs as a child!” (note: artistic license)
Employee #1: “I am so sorry, sir. Let me go in the back and get that one bottle we set aside just for you.”
Employee #1 goes to the back. Stays there for at least 20 minutes. Comes back out with a new name tag.
Employee #2: “Hello, sir! How can I help you today?”
Vodka Baron: “You said about half an hour ago that you were going to go get me a bottle of my vodka!”
Employee #2: “I’m sorry, sir? Oh, you must mean Steve! Steve is kind of an idiot. Never listen to Steve.”
Vodka Baron: “What the — YOU’RE STEVE!!”
Employee #2: “No sir, my name is Kevin. What can I do for you?”
Vodka Baron: “I want to speak to a manager. IMMEDIATELY.”
Employee #2: “Yes, sir. Let me go get him for you.”
Employee #1/2 goes to the back. Changes into a polo shirt and khakis. Puts on a new name tag.
Manager: “Hello sir, I’m the manager. How can I help you?”
Vodka Baron: “……..You are fucking crazy. I’m leaving. You’ll hear from my lawyer.”
Manager: “Oh, would you like to speak to our lawyer? Rick’s in the back if you want me to get him.”
Vodka Baron: “Fuck you.”
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand scene.
Pile of Babies 