All With the Magic of a Ball Point Pen

Every so often my husband and I will invite some friends over for a game night to break up the daily grind. The other night we were playing a game where we had to write down cleaver and witty things that required a bit of "thinking time" between each round. I passed out a few of my daughter's coloring books to act as a hard surface for everyone to write on. My smart ass brother-in-law Joe got the Sesame Street coloring book and THIS is what HE decided to do with HIS "thinking time"...




















He looked so deep in thought and serious over in his little corner scratching away with his ball point pen. What a fun and unexpected surprise it was for Maggie to find the next time she went to color. What could be more ideal than strung out, drunken, slutty, transvestite muppets when a 5 year old opens her coloring book? Not much I tell you. I could pretend to be offended or shield my eyes at the sheer inappropriateness of it all. I could tell you I was mortified and shocked. But the truth of the matter is that it made my whole entire day. I was hysterical with laughter and actually had to brace my self to avoid falling over. Maggie doesn't get to color those pages. First, because that would probably be considered grounds for social services to pay us a visit. And second, because those pages are going STRAIGHT to my special box of letters and keepsakes that I keep to cheer me up. Oh my special box and the ill humored treasures that lie within it. Thanks for the contribution, Joe. I'll let you explain Candy and her tranie muppet friends to Maggie next time you visit.

Irate doesn't even scratch the surface.

A couple of recent shots of "Finner Finner Chicken Dinner". I found the text on his naughty little jammies appropriate for this post...





























Wow what a little perspective won't do for you. I wrote this post about a month ago and I just reread it for the first time. At the time, I was LIVID, but reading it now makes me laugh hysterically. I originally posted it on my "girls only" blog, but now that the calm after the storm has arrived I will share it with all ya'll. Enjoy the horror. :) (Be forewarned, it's a bit dramatic)


I'm fuming and my hands are shaking as I type this. I am on the brink of hysterics.

Today was Maggie and Henry's 6 month dental check up. Of course I remembered 35 minutes before the event so I had to fly around the house finding shoes and brushing teeth with one hand while applying makeup and combing hair with the other. Both of my boys were sleeping peacefully so I had to yank them from their cozy warm beds to be primped and prodded at until they were both presentable. Henry, of COURSE, was in one of his "moods". This meant he cried and whined and lay limp like a doll while I dressed him and put shoes on his namby pamby feet. Then he snuck away from me for TWO SECONDS and shoved his mouth full of Mini Ritz Peanut Butter Crackers just as I was about to brush his teeth. So I said, "Come on Henry! We're late! Chew! Chew! Chew!" This was a bad idea. He stood with that mouth full of crackers and screamed at the top of his toddler lungs for FIFTEEN MINUTES! How he can scream at full throttle for fifteen minutes is completely beyond me. I swear he summons winged demons from the depths of hell to assist him with his tantrums. Unreal. At last we were ready. We were already thirteen minutes late leaving the house. Henry was still hysterical over the tooth brushing/cracker incident and refused to buckle his seat belt. "Don't MAKE me come back there!" I say already buckled, car started and in reverse in the drivers seat. He again began to break down into total hysterics. I held up my cell phone, "I'll call daddy and tell him all about it Henry! Don't think I won't!" The screaming reached it's full potential. So I dialed. Poor Rob answered the phone and I started in shouting into the phone (for Henry's benefit) the events of the past half hour. Not surprisingly, Rob could not understand a damn word I was saying except "Henry" and "dentist" and "screaming raging fit!" So of course he thinks that there is a dental emergency and that Henry is being attacked by the dentist. We were now seventeen minutes late. I tied to keep calm as I clumsily shuffled through the dentist's door carrying a car seat with a 17 pound baby in tow, a purse, a diaper bag, and a weeping Henry. The children immediately busied themselves with all the fascinating no doubt germ infested toys that adorned the office and I made my way to the front desk. "My insurance has changed", I say as I signed the children in. No problem, right? Oh no my friend. No. This is where my day gets REALLY ugly. They don't accept my new insurance. Or rather my new insurance does not accept THEM. I nearly wet myself with rage. I remained composed and smiled as I pried my children from the toys that I had lured them to the dentist with promises of playing with and loaded everyone back into the car. I could feel that my face was red as I made the drive home. And here it is folks. The icing on the cake. The cherry on top of my horrendous day. Are you ready for it? I called Rob to vent and complain about the devil and the antics he has been torturing me with all day and he said to me, "Don't you remember? The insurance didn't change. We thought it was changing, but it didn't after all." I very nearly wept. But I couldn't. I couldn't even speak. However, I think I might have vomited in my mouth a little bit. So now I sit here. I am exhausted and my kitchen is filthy. My children's teeth remain unchecked and I can smell a dirty diaper in the next room. I will now proceed to go and open a can of chocolate frosting and eat it with a spoon in response to today's charade. Yes. That can of chocolate frosting doesn't stand a chance.

A Funny Choice

Today I overheard an AWESOME conversation between my 5 year old (Magnolia) and my 3 year old (Henry).


Henry: My bum put poo in my ear

Maggie: That story is not a good choice, Hen

Henry: It's not a good choice, it's a FUNNY choice


I need to tack a tape recorder to my bra or something. Moments like these are too fabulous not to hear over and over.

Woody's Roundup

It's time for Woody's Roundup! Prepare for 1 minute and 54 seconds of sheer brown eyed goodness.




Special thanks to out of control talented photographer and bestie McKenzie Deakins. See photographybymckenzie.blogspot.com ;)

What would you name YOUR pumpkin?

It's Halloween again! I love it for oh soooo many reasons! Here are three of them:

































What have we been up to this season? Well if you would be patient and just keep reading you would find out!

Here we have the adoring older sister "babysitting" Finn. In a few minutes she will tell me she is "all done with that (as she points at Finn)" because she is "worn out from all the moving."




























Next we have Henry and the Pirate Pumpkin he made. (In other words the Pirate Pumpkin he pointed at and shouted out demands while daddy burnt his fingers to a crisp with the hot glue gun.) Later Henry informed us that this Pumpkin is named "Pirate Bad Guy".






































Next we have Maggie posing with the Princess Pumpkin who she so elegantly named "Dayna" (and why not?) You will also see her gently caressing the chin of "Jamie" the Witch Pumpkin who is still awaiting her hat.



























Moving along to the Pumpkin Party! Maggie did the right side of her pumpkin's face all by herself! What did she name this pumpkin, you ask? Get ready for it.... "Amy"! Again, why not?



































Henry had help from daddy. After a lot of thought and consideration Henry decided to name his pumpkin "Henry". (It was a close call between "Henry" and "Bad Guy") Clever children here at the McDowell home.
















































Happy Halloween! From, Rob, Lilly, Jessie, Woody, and Bullseye! (You'll see what that means soon enough! Oh you'll see! And don't blame me if you die from the cuteness!)

More Watchin' Less Talkin'!

Recently my husband went on a business trip and came home with this little gem.



















I'm not going to pretend that I wasn't totally mortified. I think I might have let out a gasp of terror. My reaction was such for two reasons:

REASON #1:
This shirt is completely one hundred percent WHITE TRASH! Which, I hope you all would agree, WE ARE NOT. Here are just a few examples to reiterate this fact:

~I don't have a broken down car parked on my lawn
~I wear a bra
~When I wear said bra, it does not hang out three inches from my shirt for all to see
~I do not use phrases such as "I seen him yesterday" or "alls I know is" or "I come in before them" or my personal favorite "ex-specially".
~I don't call my children "little shits" (pardon the language)
~I have never asked another human being to pull my finger
~I am wise to the fact that the word "classy" is code for "trashy"
~My house does not smell like wet dog


I could go on, but I will spare you. This shirt, when worn outside the confines of my home screams "White trash jack ass on the loose! Don't stand too close lest you be subject to some sort of ignorant fart humor!" Again, mortified.





REASON #2
This lovely character is OBVIOUSLY supposed to be ME in this scenario! The obnoxious, nagging wife! - Bringing her man down, not letting him drink his beer and watch the game. Horrified I tell you! This is SO NOT how our relationship works! We are actually pretty great when it comes to compromise and sports. And Rob is SO NOT white trash! I can't imagine what POSSESSED him to make this hideous purchase. And he bought it at the ESPN Zone, (thanks millions ESPN) so you know that mess wasn't cheap.

I kindly expressed my dislike for the shirt in hopes that he would give it to a homeless person or D.I. or something. "Maybe we could cut it up and make it into cleaning rags that I can use to clean the house on game day!" I say. Unfortunately that little suggestion didn't go over too well and now he wears it when we get in a tiff. Such a mature fellow. I'm considering making a shirt that says:

"He said - Shall we try swapping positions tonight?
She said - That's a good idea... you stand by the ironing board while I sit on the sofa and pass gas!"

I am completely capable of pulling out all the white trash stops when necessary.

And this is how one achieves a successful marriage.

Where's the dang pause button?!

My baby girl is five! What is all that about?! It seriously feels like I just brought my tiny pink bundle home from the hospital yesterday! I don't know how I feel about all of this :(

That was then



















And this is now















She's a pretty little thing, but I'm not a fan of all the growing up business.



So she wanted a Strawberry Shortcake party (again) and it went swimmingly!...for the most part. Good old uncle BJ managed to single handedly eat all of the Mike and Ike Fruity Chew cupcake decorations that the children were supposed to adorn their cupcakes with. It was like it happened in one breath! One minute my little candy dish was full of colorful delicious sweets and the next minute they were GONE! Vanished before all of the guests had even arrived! But what good are uncles if not to cause a little trouble? And then Maggie's hair caught on FIRE while she was blowing out her candles. That was fun. She didn't even notice the hair flames because of the fierce intensity and concentration that is involved when blowing out candles on your fifth birthday. I panicked for a brief moment as I watched my only daughter's long gorgeous locks of shinny brown hair burst into stinky little flames. I blew a gust of frantic air at the fire and it went out immediately. Maggie was slightly annoyed as she thought I was trying to help her blow out her candles. Clearly a five year old needs no help blowing out their birthday candles! However I would think anyone can appreciate a little assistance when their HAIR IS ON FIRE! But you know, whatever.

Happy Birthday Mags! We love you, stinky singed hair and all!

Enjoy some shots from the party. Please note Henry as he was having one of his "bad days". Jealousy claims another victim. I have also included a shot of the sexy twins as they seduce the camera. I thought you might like that. ;)

Just You Wait....You'll See! You'll ALL See!

It's inevitable. It will happen one day and then you will know. You will find yourself with three small creatures that you created by your own free will and choice. These creatures will start out tiny and helpless and cute. This is their way of tricking you. You will feed them. They will get bigger. And then the creatures will begin to argue with you. They will talk back. They will demand things. They will draw with sharpie on your favorite living room chair. You will make threats. They will throw their heads back in laughter at your threats. You will do something you promised the universe you would never do. You will say things your mother used to say. These phrases might include: "You are suffering the consequences of your own actions" and "I brought you into this world, I can take you out!" They will jump on you and pull your hair in response. They will tell people at church that you didn't answer the door when the doorbell rang yesterday because you were naked. They will scream at the grocery store at the top of their lungs "Help! This is not my mommy!" There will be many more antics, but I will not go into that now because I wouldn't want to depress or frighten you.

One day you will walk through your once quiet and calm home. There will be globs of toothpaste on the bathroom counter. There will be red crayon on the walls of your hallway. There will be clothes that were freshly folded only two hours before scattered all over the laundry room floor and the basket they were in will have turned into a "boat" somewhere else in the house. There will be dried juice on the kitchen floor that makes your shoes stick. There will be tiny hair bows of every shape and size tucked in the sofa crevices. There will be a Dora doll wearing your husbands garment top and your $80 glasses sitting on the sharpie chair mocking you with her permanent smile. And then you will make your way to the creatures' head quarters where you may or may not still be able to see a bed. You will wander into the creature's lair, but this is a mistake because you will step on a tiny black Lego that with jab so far into the bottom of your foot that it pierces your sole. You will want to scream naughty words at the top of your lungs but you will stifle your scream because of all the "little ears" that are surely lurking nearby. Instead you will bite your fist and squeak out a small cry. It is a cry for help but no one will hear you. At this point you will turn around and see your husband standing in the doorway. He will have a look of despair and confusion on his face that mirrors yours. You will stand side by side taking it in in total silence (aside from the screaming and complete chaos taking place in the living room as the creatures dance to the music of "The Wiggles" who you vow to strangle should you ever meet in person). You will look into each others eyes and there will be no need for words. Your minds will communicate with one other. First his brain will say, "What have we done?" and then yours will say, "I don't know, but it's too late now." and then his brain will say, "It's never too late! I've heard of gypsies who come through town and buy children. It's worth looking into." Suddenly a wave of motivation mixed with the devil's rage will surge through both your veins and you will summon the creatures in your most intimidating voice. You will stand in the doorway with your hands on your hips and shout out commands pointing wildly at the mess. The creatures will put up a fight. There will be stomping of feet and gnashing of teeth. The air will be thick with defiance, but this is a fight you MUST win. They will sulk in the tub after losing "The Cleaning of the Room Battle of '09". They will pout begrudgingly as you scrub them clean of all the filth. You will silently attempt to scrub off some of the naughtiness in the process. This attempt will be in vain. You will help the creatures say their prayers by having them say things like, "Please help us to be gentle and loving and to obey mommy and daddy." This attempt will also be in vain. The creatures will eventually fall asleep but not before goofing around for half an hour, falling off the bed, and demanding a Hello Kitty band aid be applied to a patch of perfectly healthy skin. You and your husband will collapse on the sofa. You will lay there limp and expressionless for an hour. And then the unexplainable will happen. It always does. You will actually begin to MISS the creatures! Why would you do it? So you will stealthfully sneak into each one of their freshly tidied bedrooms and hover over their beds. You will watch the newly bathed peaceful creatures as they sleep. You will say words like "angels" and "sweet". You will ooh and aah and pat one another on the back at your perfect little masterpieces. Then the little fat one will stir, threatening to awaken and you will tear out of there so fast your head will spin. Your heart will be pounding with fear and terror. This serves you right.

I wish you all the best of luck with this very special and obnoxious rite of passage. Later you can ask me who stole my brain straight out of my head when the decision is inevitably made to expand the creatures' numbers to four.

A Few Words...

Words I hate or think are really ugly:
1. Vagabond (can't even bring myself to say it out loud)
2. Levy
3. Shalom
4. Beefy
5. Fiance
6. Scabby
7. Ma-lady, ma-lord or "ma" anything
8. Pianist (too close to the other hideously ugly word for my liking. You know the one. Speaking of, that brings me to number nine...)
9. Scrotum
10. Rot (ew, put nine and ten together and they become fifty times worse)





Words that I think are funny:
1. Bounty
2. Bamboozled
3. Bejeweled (really "be" anything. Bedazzled, befuddled, etc)
3. Hazzah!
4. Stallion
5. Gaggle (as in of geese)
6. Rascal (ESPECIALLY when referring to the motorized wheelchair. And on that note, I present to you number seven)
7. Hoveround
8. Hubbub
9. Shindig
10. Rumpled





Words I like:
1. Peppered
2. Fabulous
3. Pink
4. Aroma
5. Blossom
6. Dapple Grey (two words, I know get off my back)
7. Willow
8. Simple
9. Papaya
10. Birthday

And that's what I think. Agree? Disagree? Are any of my words your words too? Let's have a listen to your thoughts. What are some of your words? Come on. I'm dying to hear all about it.

p.s. Sorry about the scrotum rot. I hope I didn't make anyone nauseous.

More dialogue to ponder...

A conversation I recently had with Henry:




Me: Henry, do you have to go potty?

Henry: No

Me: Then why are you holding your penis?

Henry: I don't know.

Me: Well please stop.

Henry: Stop what?

Me: Stop holding your penis!!

Henry: But I like him!

That's right. "Him". The penis is its own being now. It's been assigned a gender. At least its the correct gender I suppose.

Dialogue of the day

From Pinocchio:

Pinocchio: Father, what are you crying for?

Geppetto: Because... you're dead, Pinocchio.

Pinocchio: No! No, I'm not.

Geppetto: Yes. Yes, you are. Now, lie down son...

A Very Merry Unbirthday Indeed...

...or BIRTHDAY as the case may be.




We recently received this invitation
















So we decked ourselves and the children in the "maddest" and most splendid attire we could find




























Soon we found ourselves here
















Where we found Alice



















A few of them actually





















But this one was the birthday girl















The Mad Hatter made a maniacal appearance






















And Grey Grey too















































There was even a live birthday candle
























And a Mexican man who wandered over to our gathering. My friend Liz said that when complimented on his fine mustache, the Mexican man replied: "They're not mustaches, they're caterpillars. I pulled them off a man's butt." Who would have thought?
























And this lion kept vomiting pink liquid into our tea cups.



















It was all very curious















Curiouser and curiouser



















































































Later the children gathered momerats





















Then we sang "A Very Merry Unbirthday" to Alice




















Then the littlest and the maddest of them all past out cold from all the excitement



















"After this I should think nothing of falling downstairs!"


Happy Birthday Alice!