Long Winded

I was just reading over my old blog posts and I have come to the conclusion that I am extremely long winded! I can't believe that you read my ridiculous lengthy posts! I'm so sorry! So to rectify the situation I will try writing shorter, less boring posts. Like this.

Butters

This is Finn. Also known as "Butters". Butters is what one might call "busy". I give him this title for two reasons:

#1. Butters enjoys putting things in his mouth. Nothing is off limits for that naughty little mouth. Pennies, used Kleenex, Rob's shoes, old Bandaids found in the trash, dust bunnies - all straight to the mouth. It matters not how disgusting or vile the item may be. No discrimination! All items of any shape, size, smell, or color are welcomed and encouraged by the chubby fist to enter the wide open waiting mouth of my child. Pardon me for a moment as I dry heave remembering the hair covered lint ball I pulled from his mouth this morning. (Not to worry, though. When daddy put a small piece of tortilla in his mouth on quesadilla night, it was promptly rejected complete with spitting noises and a look of sheer disgust.) My life is lived in fear that my child will surely choke and die when my back is turned. Fun for all!

#2. Butters can not be bothered with baby toys. Colorful, noisy, obnoxious items made for children are clearly beneath my child's intelligence level. He will have nothing to do with them. He's more of an electronics man. He can often be found stuck behind the TV tangled in wires (one of which will most assuredly be IN HIS MOUTH). He could also be considered an avid reader (or book eater, either way), his favorite author being Grisham. Now that he can stand, the book shelf presents a whole new world for Butters. Glass vases, canvas paintings, wooden sculptures, all thrown to the ground and wildy attacked leaving nearly everything we own cracked, dinged or crusty with baby spittle. I won't go into details, but Butters also enjoys waste baskets and garbage cans. Muy Deliciouso!


He keeps me busy. Extremely busy. Busy to the point where my house and other children probably feel neglected and confused as to where their mother went. BUT I honestly can't complain. He is happy and extremely good natured. He rarely cries or whines. His fat rolls are delicious to munch on and his laugh is completely infectious. He brings a strong spirit of joy into my home and who couldn't use ridiculous amounts of joy in there home? I ask you! At the end of the day I am grateful that he is strong, and creative enough to be busy. But most of all I am grateful that I caught the Barbie shoe before it lodged itself into my child's throat.

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!)