I would like to start off by saying that my husband doesn't think I'm funny. I know - very hard to believe but as I type this, I'm reminded that after 16 years together, I don't think he's that hilarious any more either. Granted, he is a funny guy. Just ask him, he'll tell you. He's hilarious. And while I think we've gotten "comfortable" with each other's sense of humor, I would like to have you all do me a favor. When you see my husband, please tell him how hilarious his wife is and how funny you think these posts are. Okay? Thanks!
So we haven't had a lot of excitement around here lately which I'm thankful for so I thought I'd just share a few random tidbits/quotes of our recent happenings.
*I have threatened to send the kids to "sleep away" camp (with no phones) at least 237 times (on Monday alone.)
*They aren't scared.
*I have threatened to go to "Mommy sleep away" camp (with no phones) at least 235 times (on Tuesday)
*This scared them a little.
*Took a 3 day jaunt to St. Louis. My husband said we were going to be St. Lunatics (187 times) but we behaved and everyone had a good time. I chickened out on the Arch and was then scolded and told that I would have to stay home by myself on the next trip if I was going to be a big baby. Hmmm - home alone for several days???? No, we wouldn't want that!
*My giant 6 yr. old son is currently swaddled in a queen size blanket in flannel pajamas. Yes, it's the end of June. It was freezing at swim lessons. And for those that know me well, he will always be my baby boy and I may still be swaddling him in high school. (If I am - please get me help.)
*We are getting ready to embark on a home project. I use the term "we" very loosely here. I will basically just stand around until he needs something and then get yelled at when I hand him the wrong tool. If he would just call the Phillips screwdriver the star tip, a lot of yelling wouldn't happen.
*I am dreading the above project.
*I may need to leave next week.
*My son just took his pants off and threw then out of his "swaddling" Guess it's getting hot in there.
*Yesterday he got in trouble and after I scolded him he said "Mom, you just don't get it. My brain has a different program in it and I just have to act this way." How do you reply to that?
Like I said, not much happening around these parts so let me wrap up with another fun poop story. (Andy - this is for you!)
Yesterday it was beautiful outside. The kids were opening windows and the daughter noticed that the dog had pooped on the driveway right behind the van. I didn't believe her and thought maybe it was a leaf. Well it was windy and that "leaf" wasn't blowing away. My son, being the expert on scat, decided he would inspect. He goes outside and yells from the driveway, "Mom, it IS poop!"
I don't remember the dog ever doing this and it's seriously right behind my tire. I think she was mad at us about something. Maybe she just has bad aim, I don't know. Anyway, I go about my business and figure I'll clean in up later. Well it was pretty windy out and our garage was open. If you've seen our garage you know that it's not the most orderly thing. I hear something rolling around and by time I go to see what it is I hear...."mom, the can of sunscreen rolled out of the garage and landed in the pile of poop"
Now at first, I don't believe it because that means it would have had to roll down our slightly sloped driveway and make a 90 degree turn behind the van and end up in the poop. Well, it did just that. I swear the dog grinned as I was cleaning it up.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Friday, June 10, 2011
Not a Lady of Leisure
My husband likes to call me a Lady of Leisure. Let me just recap my morning for you and get your opinion on that title. Keep in mind, it's only 10:44 AM.
The morning started off peaceful enough. I got to sleep until 8:30 which is late considering my children are 10 and 6 and still haven't figured out how to pour a bowl of cereal. The house is a disaster so I'm mentally planning a big day of cleaning. I know the kids want vacation money for when we leave on Sunday so this is the perfect time to solicit help. The chore chart is up and I start to rattle off my demands. I have my diet Dr. Pepper chilling in my Tervis Tumbler - today is gonna be a productive day.
The morning takes the first turn for the worse when I hear a slap coming from the pantry. Apparently my crusty eyed, still sleepy son can't pick a cereal fast enough for his high maintenance sister so she slaps him on the arm. He's bawling, she's scowling because she knows I heard the slap and I'm not happy. Luckily, everyone finds their cereal and we move on. I've already got laundry going and a cake in the oven.
Breakfast done, we start on chores. First up for me - remove sticker tape from a baton for tonight's dance recital rehearsal. Because, apparently, we need to put this super sticky tape on every girl's baton only to make the parent's have to remove it 9 months later. I guess their name engraved on the metal isn't enough, they also have to be color coded??? Stupid. Anyway, I got the tape off and go to the garage to get the lighter fluid. My brilliant husband is too cheap to buy Goo Gone so we have to use toxic lighter fluid to remove sticky stuff. Even though I've asked where this is (on the highest shelf in the garage), my husband doesn't bother to get it down but conveniently leaves the ladder there for me. (Probably because he knows if not, I'll just use the broom and swipe it off!) The dog runs out to the garage with me but I don't open the door because I haven't gotten dressed yet. I'm up on the ladder when the dog freaks out (she hears a strange car go by thanks to the million garage sales going on today). She's heading for the ladder and I can just picture myself sprawled out in my pajamas with a broken leg. I ended up dropping the full bottle of lighter fluid where it bust open and sprays all over the garage. Fabulous. It's now 9:30 and my cake timer is going off and I'm thinking the garage is going to explode. Should I go round up scrapbooks and head for the hills?
I call the husband at work to see if the garage is going to explode and he replies "Only if you throw a match on it" so I feel pretty safe. However, my daughter hears and is bawling because we are going to blow up. I have no idea where she gets the dramatics. Cake out of the oven, I put on a bra and head to the garage to clean up the mess. I'm just about done when I hear "it's not my poop, it's your's" Music to a mother's ears.
I walk in, the kids have the music blaring (I had turned it on to clean to), so they are dancing when the girl notices a piece of poop on the floor. I still have no idea where it came from but there was also some on her brother's leg so I'm assuming he's the pooper. He has mad wiping skillz. At this point, I'm just happy that she wasn't doing one of her spinning moves and hasn't gotten any on her. I now clean up that mess and put the pooper in the tub with strict orders not to get out without my permission. I continue in the garage with the clean up.
It's now 10:15. One is in the tub screaming "mom" every 17 seconds. The other is in her room bawling because she can't come out until it's clean. I don't understand why she wants to come out anyway. She's grounded from the TV for slapping her brother anyway. Wish someone would send me to my room. She's now gagging because she's thinking of the dance rehearsal and claims she needs to come out and puke because she's nervous. I conveniently point out that there is a bucket in her room already since she also claimed she was going to puke then.
So....two loads of laundry done, one cake baked, dishes unloaded and reloaded, beds made, poop detail done, explosives in garage cleaned up, one bath taken, 3 phone calls made....I really do love my life of leisure. Just wish is was a little more leisurely!
PS - anyone have any Goo B Gone??
The morning started off peaceful enough. I got to sleep until 8:30 which is late considering my children are 10 and 6 and still haven't figured out how to pour a bowl of cereal. The house is a disaster so I'm mentally planning a big day of cleaning. I know the kids want vacation money for when we leave on Sunday so this is the perfect time to solicit help. The chore chart is up and I start to rattle off my demands. I have my diet Dr. Pepper chilling in my Tervis Tumbler - today is gonna be a productive day.
The morning takes the first turn for the worse when I hear a slap coming from the pantry. Apparently my crusty eyed, still sleepy son can't pick a cereal fast enough for his high maintenance sister so she slaps him on the arm. He's bawling, she's scowling because she knows I heard the slap and I'm not happy. Luckily, everyone finds their cereal and we move on. I've already got laundry going and a cake in the oven.
Breakfast done, we start on chores. First up for me - remove sticker tape from a baton for tonight's dance recital rehearsal. Because, apparently, we need to put this super sticky tape on every girl's baton only to make the parent's have to remove it 9 months later. I guess their name engraved on the metal isn't enough, they also have to be color coded??? Stupid. Anyway, I got the tape off and go to the garage to get the lighter fluid. My brilliant husband is too cheap to buy Goo Gone so we have to use toxic lighter fluid to remove sticky stuff. Even though I've asked where this is (on the highest shelf in the garage), my husband doesn't bother to get it down but conveniently leaves the ladder there for me. (Probably because he knows if not, I'll just use the broom and swipe it off!) The dog runs out to the garage with me but I don't open the door because I haven't gotten dressed yet. I'm up on the ladder when the dog freaks out (she hears a strange car go by thanks to the million garage sales going on today). She's heading for the ladder and I can just picture myself sprawled out in my pajamas with a broken leg. I ended up dropping the full bottle of lighter fluid where it bust open and sprays all over the garage. Fabulous. It's now 9:30 and my cake timer is going off and I'm thinking the garage is going to explode. Should I go round up scrapbooks and head for the hills?
I call the husband at work to see if the garage is going to explode and he replies "Only if you throw a match on it" so I feel pretty safe. However, my daughter hears and is bawling because we are going to blow up. I have no idea where she gets the dramatics. Cake out of the oven, I put on a bra and head to the garage to clean up the mess. I'm just about done when I hear "it's not my poop, it's your's" Music to a mother's ears.
I walk in, the kids have the music blaring (I had turned it on to clean to), so they are dancing when the girl notices a piece of poop on the floor. I still have no idea where it came from but there was also some on her brother's leg so I'm assuming he's the pooper. He has mad wiping skillz. At this point, I'm just happy that she wasn't doing one of her spinning moves and hasn't gotten any on her. I now clean up that mess and put the pooper in the tub with strict orders not to get out without my permission. I continue in the garage with the clean up.
It's now 10:15. One is in the tub screaming "mom" every 17 seconds. The other is in her room bawling because she can't come out until it's clean. I don't understand why she wants to come out anyway. She's grounded from the TV for slapping her brother anyway. Wish someone would send me to my room. She's now gagging because she's thinking of the dance rehearsal and claims she needs to come out and puke because she's nervous. I conveniently point out that there is a bucket in her room already since she also claimed she was going to puke then.
So....two loads of laundry done, one cake baked, dishes unloaded and reloaded, beds made, poop detail done, explosives in garage cleaned up, one bath taken, 3 phone calls made....I really do love my life of leisure. Just wish is was a little more leisurely!
PS - anyone have any Goo B Gone??
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