Wednesday, November 18, 2009

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.

Monday, November 16, 2009

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.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

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.

Friday, November 6, 2009

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 ;)