So!Far!Behind!

Seriously.

I owe you guys a post about MGM.

Twifty-eleven people have been really nice and given me various awards and I haven't gotten them yet. Because you guys are awesome and I suck butt.

I have a stack of work on my desk about 11 feet high.

I am about six years behind in my blog reading.

I have two things that I REALLY NEED TO MAIL which I have not mailed.

I haven't updated my timesheet all week and I really want to, you know, get paid.

I DID finally get Boy Child a Halloween costume. Thank the Sweet Lord.

Gah! Does it ever get any easier? It's not even the Holiday season yet!

Hey guys! Want to win something cool?

This? Is my new friend BOB.

Doesn't he look both handy and dandy? He is!

I got this product from the fine folks at Hopscotch Technology. And you can get one too. I'll tell you how in a minute, but first, let me tell you about BOB.

This is a product designed to help you limit your children's television, video games, or other electronic device that they might have a little too personal of a relationship with. I'll be totally honest: when I got the email regarding this product I thought to myself,

"I totally don't need that."

Because? Basically, my voice is my weapon in limiting my children's time on television. Basically I say, "Turn it off or I'll cut you." And they do! It's totally weird.

However, it did serve it's purpose quite well for me. Because? In addition to my many other charming attributes? I'm a complete flake. I just totally forget what I'm doing all the time. So this product helps because I guarantee you if I say to Boy Child, "Fifteen more minutes", I will have forgotten that I told him that in like, twelve seconds. Boy Child is not going to remind me either.

So, it worked really well for that.

Also? It was very easy to use and set up. Even for someone who is not exactly technologically advanced, such as myself. I mean, I can MAKE the VCR stop flashing 12:00, but it takes me a while to do so. This? Not so much. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

You know you would like one too! And you can win one! Leave me a comment before November 5th and I will randomly select one person to win a FREE BOB! Really, I'll make it totally random. I'll put your names in a hat and have Girl Child draw one out. Or something.

Also? If you want to order one, you can get 10% off until November 5th by using the code: JasonforBOB. Hey, and I noticed on the website right now shipping is free this week only, so this could be a really sweet deal for you. Christmas is only 8 weeks away!

Be sure you leave a comment if you are interested! Good luck because this thing is pretty darn cool.

Worst mother in the world announcement!

The prize goes to: ME.

For:

Not having a Halloween costume for Boy Child yet.

Halloween is FREAKING TOMORROW. GAH.



More attention whoring later. Promise.

Blogger hates me.

I can't upload any pictures tonight. Fantastic!

Our MGM adventure will have to wait until tomorrow.

Having to wait makes me want to run around and go, "BLAH! BLAH! BLAH!"

But I do that anyway. So it's hard to tell if I'm upset or not, I guess.

Until tomorrow...

Epcot Adventures!

In May (or was it April?) Jason went to Epcot. It was a work thing. He rode the rail thing that goes around the big golf ball, but that was it. So, in his mind, he had "experienced" Epcot.

That ball thing? Was actually closed, which really made me sad. Because I had ridden the little monorail-type thing in it and thought it was cool. It also makes me sad, in general, when things are closed. Even if it's not something I'm really all that interested in. It just seems unfair somehow, you know? Like, maybe I really DID want to do that and now I don't even have the chance.

But anyway.

We were going to go to the Epcot Character Spot, but the line was the longest I had seen since I had been at Disney World and all the children in the line seemed to be impatient and shrieky and I really didn't want to risk a headache, so we left it.

We also went to "Honey I shrunk the audience" which was exactly the same as I remember it from when I was a kid, but it still cracked me up. I love 3-D shows!

We ate lunch at the Coral Reef.
We didn't have reservations (note to self: next time we go, we need to make reservations), but we got seated almost immediately. And? We got seated RIGHT NEXT TO THE FISH TANK!

Our waiter didn't really speak English very well, but again, that didn't bother me because I don't even know what language he spoke nor could I speak any of it so I figured that was pretty fair. He was very nice and accommodating. He gave the kids a little guide to the fish in the tank and they had a lot of fun picking out which fish they recognized.




They had way more fun with the "Make your own sundaes" for dessert, though.

I just noticed Girl Child had a little crab on her shirt. Isn't that appropriate?

I had steak, at the seafood restaurant. Jason had chicken. Neither one of us had, you know, seafood. At the seafood restaurant. We're so awesome.

Right outside the restaurant, was "The Seas".

As well as those freaking hysterical birds from Finding Nemo. The ones that say, "Mine! Mine!" Although I generally hate and am terrified by birds, I loved these. Also? They were fake, but that's not the point.

Also, as I was looking at my pictures, I wondered how many times my butt appeared in random people's vacation photographs. You know? Like the woman on the left? Does she know her butt is on my blog? Probably not.

There were tons of photo opportunities outside "The Seas". They wouldn't let me take pictures on the ride. I heard the words "No Flash Photography" approximately 8 billion times last week.

After the ride you could explore the big aquariums. I took a few pictures of a manatee, but they came out kind of dark. I loved this picture of all the little "Nemo's" in the tank.

There were more photo opportunities inside.

Boy Child? Well, he kind of got into it.

Okay, I don't care who you are, that right there is funny.

All the dad's in the room laughed, but all the mom's looked at me and did that disapproving face. Bitches.

We went on "Soarin'" which was literally the only ride we went on the entire trip that we had to wait for. I had read about it on the Internet and while I didn't really know what to expect, everyone said it was a "must ride". I was not even daunted by the fact that the wait time said fifty-five minutes. We didn't actually have to wait that long...it was only about thirty minutes. And it? Was so completely worth it.

Again, I couldn't take any pictures on the inside. But basically, it's like you are hang-gliding. It was amazing. The children were absolutely blown away and Jason even liked it.

See? No one was mad at me for making them potentially blow chunks.

There is so much to do and see at Epcot on a normal day, but they were also having a Food and Wine festival and The Four Tops were playing. I have absolutely no idea why, but there was also a Pear Festival. Which I only cared about for the photo opportunities, of course.

I don't know why those things crack me up SO BAD. They just do.

At around dark, we went over to Japan and I took this photograph, which I think is just beautiful.

I also tried to get the children by the Koi pond. I did, but you can't see the fish. Bummer.

We ate dinner in Japan at a restaurant called Yakitori House. I took this picture from the outside. Honestly, I can't recall if this is the building for Yakitori House or if it's the one for another of the Japanese restaurants. They were all beautiful.

I went to the bathroom outside of the restaurant and this ninety-year old woman told me all about how she would, "do" the Four Tops. No, I'm not kidding. I just stood there with a look of horror on my face as she went on and on about them and their "fine asses". Then, a pregnant woman came in while I was waiting on Girl Child to finish up and told me about how the heat was making her fingers swell and could I please help her pull her rings off ? So I did. And I wish I had a tub of butter, because those things were stuck tighter than Baby Jessica in a well.

And, yes, I looked around for the Candid Camera, but I didn't see one.

Epcot is mostly restaurants, it seems. And educational-type things. And walking. Sweet Lord. The walking. When I got back to the hotel after visiting Epcot? I looked at the bottom of my Crocs and I had literally worn every bit of the writing off the bottom. The soles are now just flat and slick. Crazy.

Still, it was pretty beautiful.

Until tomorrow.

Did you miss me?

We're back!

Last Saturday we took our dog to the place where we were boarding her for the week. I got really, really teary-eyed and actually started crying. Which, of course, made the kids cry, because I'm the best mother on the planet. Don't quote me on this, but I believe I might have shrieked something like, "OH MY GOD, SHE'S GOING TO THINK WE DON'T LOVE HER ANYMORE AND THAT WE'VE ABANDONED HER!" Because, you know, clearly my dog is smarter than every other dog on the planet and would actually be able to form a coherent thought in her head enough to realize what day it was and that we, her humans, were not there.

Anyway.

The next morning we got up at the butt crack of dawn to start driving. Okay, that's not really true, it was like 7am. We left the house around 8am.

Traffic was pretty good until we got to Atlanta. Which compels me to ask the following question.

Atlanta? What the hell?

I mean, seriously. I thought traffic in my fair city both sucked and blew until we drove through Atlanta. We were in the carpool lane at one point and there was this two-hundred year old man on a motorcycle who had to be driving approximately six miles an hour and decided that HE wanted to drive in the carpool lane so without even looking he just pulled his motorcycle right in front of us. I seriously thought we would have to have to scrape that little man off our front bumper. Fortunately, the Santa Fe has good brakes.

A good thing I figured out? Atlanta is seriously only like three hours from my house. So any bloggers I might know from Atlanta (HINT HINT) I could probably easily visit.

Anyway, after we got through Atlanta we spent approximately the next thirty years driving through the rest of Georgia. Georgia is lovely, I have to say. I might possibly want to live there, especially based on all the billboards I saw advertising housing at very reasonable prices.

Then, we got on the Florida turnpike. Which compels me to ask the following question.

Drivers in Florida? What the hell?

It began to rain. A light sprinkle. Immediately EVERY SINGLE PERSON in front of us slammed on their brakes. I am seriously not kidding, at all. I might have said something like, "GOOD GOD THERE HAD BETTER BE AN ACCIDENT UP THERE!" I can't be expected to remember everything I say.

The upshot? The portion of our trip which should have taken about two hours took something like four or five.

We all had to pee really badly and I think Jason and I were about to get a divorce by the time we got to the hotel. This was not exactly the magical experience we had hoped for when planning this trip.

Then we got to the hotel. There were about four million people in the hotel and they all wanted to check in. Also? Everyone there hated me and wanted me dead.

The guy who checked us in didn't speak English very well. Which is fine, because whatever his language was? I couldn't speak it at all. He kept saying, "YES! YES! YES!" because he was apparently having a very magical day. Me? Not so much.

We went to our hotel room and by then it was about 8pm. And we? Were starving.

So we had to find someplace to eat and decided that we would go to Downtown Disney and eat at Planet Hollywood.

Have you ever been to Planet Hollywood? I think people go there for the experience more than for the food. Also? Probably for the alcohol because most people there seemed pretty drunk. Or maybe they are just more fun than me, because I didn't think it was fun at all. Jason didn't either. The girl outside offered to take our picture by the sign and we just looked at her like, "Take our picture girlfriend and we will CUT YOU."

The hostess? Bless her heart she was such a bitch.

After about forty minutes they finally took us upstairs so we could be seated. She took the people in front of us and seated them. THEN she took two tables of four BEHIND us and seated them too. Jason said, "Excuse me, we were here before them" and she said, "Your table isn't ready. I'll let you know." Then? She rolled her eyes. And then seated ANOTHER table of four ahead of us.

The food was okay. I wouldn't call it anything special. I had crabcakes, which was probably a mistake looking back on it, because really? Do you want crabcakes from a restaurant that's not a seafood restaurant? Probably not.

Jason had steak. The kids had spaghetti.

It was all pretty random. And so, so loud. Oh my Lord, was it loud. We had to shriek at one another to be heard. Also? They played music videos up on this big screen behind us and I said to Girl Child about two hundred times, "LADIES DO NOT DRESS NOR BEHAVE IN THAT MANNER!"

The upshot? I wouldn't go back. I nearly called Child Protective Services on myself for taking the children there.

We were exhausted when we finally dragged ourselves back to the hotel. We stayed at Pop Century which is one of Disney's value resorts. It really was a good value, I have to say. The room was nice enough and clean and all that. The hotel is centered around Pop Culture from the 1950's- 1990's. We were in the 1980's section.

We collapsed into our beds and pretty much fell asleep immediately. We were so freaking tired.

The next morning, Monday, we were awakened at about 6am when the Satanic brat next door began screaming at the top of his lungs, "GET UP! GET UP! I WANT TO GO! GET UP! GET UP!"

I? Wanted to get up and smack the crap out of him. But I didn't want to lose my testimony.

Eventually we got up. While Jason was in the shower, I took the kids outside so we could get a good look at our hotel in the daylight, since it had been dark when we came in the night before. It? Was pretty cool.

This cell phone was on the outside of our building. The small dots there at the bottom? Boy Child and Girl Child.

This laptop was on the side of the building we were in. And again, the small dots are the kids.

The hotel was pretty cool. I'm a big fan of pop culture, and all the buildings had cool things like Rubix cubes and bowling pins on them.

Then we rode the bus over to Magic Kingdom. Our hotel provided transportation to all of the different parks and Downtown Disney, Pleasure Island, Typhoon Lagoon and all the other places in Disney World, which was nice.

Not so nice? I think probably our driver got his license out of a box of Cracker Jacks. We were standing on the bus because there were not enough seats and the driver took the turns like he was in the Indy 500. I was holding on for dear life.

We got there and I was immediately grateful for the fact that my children are nine years old. I didn't have to have a stroller or a bag. We would walk into the entrance that said. "GUESTS WITHOUT BAGS" which was us and like two other people. I could carry everything I had in my pockets. It was cool.

Also? The kids were old enough to do so many things for themselves but yet young enough to really enjoy everything like, "It's a Small World".

Which? I also loved.

It's one of those things from my childhood, you know? I wanted my kids to experience it too.

We also went on the Haunted Mansion ride, which has been updated and was awesome. I got Jason to ride Space Mountain too, and I'm not sure he's forgiven me for that yet. He's not a fan of roller coasters so much as he is a person who totally ralphs when he goes on roller coasters.

Hehe!

We ate lunch at Tony's Town Square Restaurant. The food was wonderful and the service was just fantastic. The tiramisu was to die for.

We saw Mickey's PhilharMagic which is an awesome 3-D show. The kids and I totally rocked the 3-D glasses.

Aren't we hot? Or something?

I insisted that we all visit the Hall of Presidents and the Carousel of Progress. Not that anyone protested or anything. It's funny, I just remember those from when I was a kid and how cool I thought they were. Turns out? Not that cool. But still interesting and worthwhile.

We had a short wait for the Hall of Presidents movie. We sat down and relaxed in the waiting area, and Jason snapped a couple of photos.

As you can see from the people around us, we were the only people under the age of two hundred.

Also? As you can see, Boy Child and I pretty much have the same sense of humor.

Hysterically, at one point I grew tired of sitting and decided to move over to closer to where the door was that would allow us entry into the show. Seriously, I'm totally not kidding about this, every single person in the room got up, followed me over and lined up behind me.

I said to Jason, "I told you. I'm kind of a big deal."

It was so funny.

Girl Child? Waved at all the animatronic characters. And? Seemed a bit miffed that they didn't wave back.

We did tons of stuff that day, so much that I can't remember it all. I do remember the candy store that we visited because it was so hilarious and also smelled so good.

I don't even know what this is, but doesn't it look tasty? Slap a pair of mouse ears on anything and it looks so good.

I was disappointed in myself for not taking more pictures at the Magic Kingdom. Especially given how many pictures I take just on a daily basis. I did manage to get some good shots though.

I have a very hard time getting any pictures of Boy Child without his arm in his face. Granted, they were standing right there in the bright light. You can hardly help it in Florida.

Everything was all decorated for Halloween, which was cool. It certainly didn't feel like October though. We wore shorts every day.

Overall, we had a great first day. If you are looking to go to Disney World, I would highly recommend going in October. The crowds were so light that we were able to get on every ride we wanted to ride with very little waiting. I honestly don't think we waited ten minutes for anything while at the Magic Kingdom.

It? Was awesome.

Tomorrow, I'll tell you about Epcot. I know you are all dying of anticipation! Or whatever!

M-I-C...see ya real soon!

K-E-Y

Why? Because we like you!

M-O-U-S-E!!!

Or something!

Be good and I'll see you in a week!

Note to self:

Don't, under any circumstances:

1) Get hyped up on Diet Pepsi
2) Get really irritated at four hundred things
3) March down the hill
4) Flip open several doors, dramatically
5) Announce to the Facility Manager and everyone else within earshot,

"BY GOD I'M GOING ON VACATION AND I'M HERE TO STRAIGHTEN SOME ASSES OUT."
and
"MY DOG, WHO IS DEAD, CAN DO A BETTER JOB THAN HE CAN!"

While wearing a t-shirt that says, in pink, glittery letters:

I'm a Girl Scout Volunteer!




Trust me on this one.



Edited to add:

Yes. I really did this.

Jason hearts Jesus!

Last night when I came home there was a box on my front porch. I brought it inside and didn't think much of it while I was cooking dinner, checking homework, doing laundry, and the seven hundred other things I do during the hours of 6pm-10pm.

When things calmed down a bit and "Deal or No Deal" came on, Jason and I collapsed on the couch to watch. During a commercial I picked up the box and opened it.

"What's that?" he asked, only mildly interested.

I explained to him what the product was.

"Why would you buy that?" he said, seeming slightly more interested.

"I didn't buy it," I explained. "I got an email from the company asking me to review it on my blog."

"Your blog?" he looked momentarily confused. "Oh, right. Jason loves Jesus."

I snorted into my hand, "Right. Jason. For the love of God."

"Yeah, that's what I meant," he said, looking at the product curiously. "So people just send you stuff?"

"Apparently," I said.

"And you write about it?"

"Yes."

"On your blog."

"Right."

And then he asked the question I was hoping he would ask.

"Why?"

And I got to say the line that I have been DYING TO SAY FOR ALMOST A YEAR.

I looked him square in the eyes and said:



"I'm kind of a big deal on the internet."



Jason's eyes grew wide and he said, amazed, "Really?!?!?"

And I laughed and said, "No, not really. I just wanted to say that."


A few moments of Howie Mandell and his bald head passed and Jason and his bald said,

"That's okay baby. You're a big deal in this house."


That's all I ever wanted anyway.

And I do my little turn on the catwalk...

I am what you would call, “fashionably challenged”. Or maybe just "fashion challenged" I don't know. The point is, I'm not fashion forward so much as I am a huge mess.

Most days of my life I am wearing the following:
A plain, colored t-shirt, with some sort of scooped neck
Jeans or Capri pants (depending on the weather)
Crocs. Not just any Crocs, but the ones that look like Mary Janes. I’m cool like that.

Today? Not so much. All my Capri pants are packed in anticipation of my trip!to!Disney!World! next week. In my closet this morning I found a pair of jeans that I bought in the spring and never bothered to wear, because they have…I can’t believe I’m going to admit this…zippers on the legs. Hello 1986! It’s been a while my friend!

I usually wear boot-cut and these are as skinny as skinny jeans for a fat girl can actually be. I don’t even know why I bought these.

Okay, I do know why. They were on sale and my size and I needed pants.

They are the dark colored jeans. I put them on and they actually look okay. I’m still not crazy about the zippers, though.

So anyway. Then, I went looking for a shirt. I found this white one that’s a wrap top. I like wrap tops, but they aren’t crazy about me. But I put it on anyway, because what else do you wear with dark pants, right?

I don’t know. I don’t make sense at all.

So I put on this ensemble and looked in the mirror to make sure my boobs weren’t hanging out. They weren’t.

Then I went into the kitchen where Jason was preparing lunches for himself and the children. Because I can’t touch lunch meat. Or think about it…eww.

“Do I look okay?” I asked. And prepared myself.

Because my husband? Brutally honest in a nice way. He’s not one of those husband who would say, “You look fine” if you were wearing curlers and a floral tent. He's the one that says, "Your eyebrows could use some work babe."

Oh? And he expects me to tell him if he is misgroomed. No, he really does.

He is SUCH A GIRL.

He scrutinized me. I mean, really, really scrutinized me.

And then he said, “Yes. You look fine. And those pants are somewhat slimming.”


I’m totally wearing them from now on!

And? I need to go shoe shopping. Who wants to come with?

Guess what?

My ovary is currently saying this:

"I HATE YOU! TIMES INFINITY! I'M STABBING YOU NOW! DO YOU FEEL IT? I'M STABBING YOU!"

I swear to frog, I am so sick of puking my guts out every eleven days. Yes, the pain is that bad. It's like morning sickness except I don't get to have a baby at the end.

And that just doesn't seem fair.

I'm really feeling the angry at the world vibe today, which is sad because in only FIVE DAYS I will be in the magical wonderland of Walt Disney World. And there is no sadness there. No sadness. Only Mickey Mouse and wonderful, beautiful dreams. You would think that in itself would be enough to make me cheery and happy. But no.

Perhaps in a few days when the four hundredth audit of the year is over, I will feel better.

Incidentally? Why keep auditing us? I mean, you just audited us like twenty-two seconds ago and said, "Guess what? You suck!" and then you schedule another audit before we can correct all the things about ourselves that suck. That just doesn't seem smart.

I don't know why no one will let me be in charge. I could make things so much nicer.

I'm weird. It's okay.

The lovely and talented AnnieBoops tagged me with this meme. Go visit her and tell her mom and them I said, "WHASSUP!"

Or don't. Either way.

Anyway. The meme:

1. What kind of SOAP is in your bathtub right now?
Handsoap? Whatever was on sale at Kroger. Alternately, whatever I had a coupon for last time I went to Kroger. I think it's SoftSoap. In the shower I have Bath and Body Works SweetPea. All for me! Jason, for whatever reason, is not interested in smelling like a girl. Go figure!

2. Do you have any watermelon in your refrigerator?

It's October. No.

3. What would you change about your living room?

My beloved has the desk that ate Denver and it takes up like half of our living room. I hate it with the fiery passion of...Marc Anthony and J Lo. Or whatever. I hate it.

4. Are the dishes in your dishwasher clean or dirty?

Clean. But it's only about 1/2 full because I haven't properly unloaded it. And? I have a full load to run.

5. What is in your fridge?

Some dinners I made at Dream Dinners on Saturday, milk, water, fruit cups, yogurt of all types, carrots, various Pillsbury bread products, butter, condiments of all kinds, and Root beer. I'm out of Diet Pepsi. GAH.

6. White or wheat bread?

Whole wheat.

7. What is on top of your refrigerator?

About a metric ton of dust.

8. What color or design is on your shower curtain?

A pretty blue and white pattern in one bathroom and purple stripes in the other.

9. How many plants are in your home?

3. Two cacti and one pretty plant in my bedroom. I have no idea what the one in my bedroom is. I just bought it because it was pretty and I'm shallow.

10. Is your bed made right now?

Only if Jason made it this morning. I never make the bed!

11. Comet or Soft Scrub?

Comet.

12. Is your closet organized?

Yes. But it is still messy.

13. Can you describe your flashlight?

It's a big one. Black, holds like 11 hundred batteries.

Unless this is, as Annie suspected, something sexual. Then? I'm not telling you.

14. Do you drink out of glass or plastic most of the time at home?

Whatever is clean.

15. Do you have iced tea made in a pitcher right now?

I am the only Southern person on the planet that doesn't like iced tea.

16. If you have a garage, is it cluttered?

No garage. Boo!

17. Curtains or blinds?

Blinds on all windows. Curtains in the bedrooms along with the blinds.

18. How many pillows do you sleep with?

About sixty. Give or take about fifty-five.

19. Do you sleep with any lights on at night?

I sleep with the television on. Does that count?

20. How often do you vacuum?

I have a Dyson. It's an addiction. I vacuum sometimes twice a day!

21. Standard toothbrush or electric?

Standard.

22. What color is your toothbrush?

Pink and purple? I think? I throw it out every 30 days, so I think that's the most current.

23. Do you have a welcome mat on your front porch?

Of course! But it's just a pattern. It doesn't say welcome. I don't like guests.

No, just kidding.

I'm SELECTIVE about liking guests though.

24. What is in your oven right now?

Nothing. We had mexican food for dinner since it's my birthday.

25. Is there anything under your bed?

An empty box. I have no idea why.

26. Chore you hate doing the most?

I think I pretty much hate all chores. Unless things like running around go, "BLAH! BLAH!" are chores. That? I like to do.

27. What retro items are in your home?

I have an old-fashioned phone with big bells on the top.

28. Do you have a separate room that you use as an office?

I wish.

29. How many mirrors are in your home?

Four

30. Do you have any hidden emergency money around your home?

There's about 70 cents in a bowl on top of the microwave. Las Vegas, here we come!

31. What color are your walls?

Every single wall in my house is white.

32. Do you keep any kind of protection weapons in your home?

Jason has several guns but I don't know anything about them. I'm not interested, really.

I have mad Ninja skilz. I have fists of death! Or something!

33. What does your home smell like right now?

Nothing that I can tell. Just normal.

34. Favorite candle scent?

Missy May Moo (inside joke which I hope she remembers from like, 2003) gave me a coffee candle a few years ago that I loooooove. Almost as much as I looooooove her! Go visit her and tell her son and them I said, "What-what!"

She loves how gangsta I am!

35. What kind of pickles (if any) are in your refrigerator right now?

I have none. No one in my house likes pickles except for me.

36. What color is your favorite Bible?

I just have one. It's burgundy.

37. Ever been on your roof?

A million times, but not in this house.

38. Do you own a stereo?

I own a car. It has a stereo.

Jason has a ginormous stereo in the house. I hate it.

39. How many TVs do you have?

Four.

40. How many house phones?

2 and the cordless one hasn't worked in like, a month.

41. Do you have a housekeeper?

Yes! His name is Jason.

42. What style do you decorate in?

College-dorm/I have two kids and not enough time/I'm not freaking Design Star/Chic

43. Do you like solid colors in furniture or prints?

Solids

44. Is there a smoke detector in your home?

Yeah, two.

45. In case of fire, what are the items in your house which you’d grab if you only could make one quick trip?

Boy Child, Girl Child, Jason and Ginger. Everything else is just stuff.


If you would like to do this meme, help yourself!

Go Chickie...it's your birthday...

Last night:

Girl Child: Mom? How old WILL you be tomorrow?
Boy Child: Girl Child! You don’t ask a LADY how old she’ll be!
Girl Child: It’s not a LADY. It’s MOM!
Boy Child: She has a vagina, so she’s a lady!
Me: Guys. Stop talking about my lady parts. I’ll be thirty-two.
Girl Child, looking wide-eyed and horrified: Ohhhhhhhhhhhh.
Boy Child, kicking Girl Child under the table: That’s NOT old!
Girl Child, quickly: No! Not old! Not old at all! It’s not like you are 100!

Which was better than what happened last year.

At Food City, buying myself a birthday cake, October 15th, 2006:

Boy Child, to cashier: It’s our mom’s birthday!
Girl Child, to cashier: She’s thirty-one!
Boy Child, to cashier: Our mom is thirty-one years old!
Girl Child, sings: Thirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrty-one! Thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirty-one!
Cashier, who is approximately fifteen: Thirty-one, huh?
Me: Yep.
Cashier: So, is your biological clock running out or what?

Oh. My. Bob. INAPPROPRIATE!

I did NOT say, “Actually, my ovaries dried up and wizened out when I was approximately twenty-four years old, but THANKS EVER SO MUCH for bringing that up and once again making me feel like an inadequate shrew.”

Instead I just smiled.

And went home.

And ate cake.

That’s how birthdays go when you are over the age of ten, right?

We also like bake sales!

I'm a Baptist.

In church today a little girl who was probably five or six came forward and said she believed in Jesus and wasn't ashamed of Jesus and wanted to make a public proclamation of faith (she didn't say the last part, she was only five). The pastor asked her if she was good at shaking hands and she said she was. He said, "Good! Every good Baptist is good at shaking hands." True dat. He didn't say anything about casseroles and covered dishes and fried pies and scoping out yard sales on Saturday mornings, but most Baptists are good about those things too.

My husband grew up in a different church, and believed a lot of different things than I did. I was okay with that when I met him and as we got closer to marriage we worked most of it out. How we worked it out was this: he started coming to church with me and said, "Hey, I believe this stuff" and then he converted.

Okay, it makes me laugh to say he "converted". Because we're Baptists. You just come on in if you want to. It's not like there is a ceremony or anything.

I know a lot of people look down on Baptists, for various reasons. I don't pretend that I know everything about the Bible or God or anything. It's just what I believe.

I was really fortunate to go to a Christian college for one year, in 1993-1994. It was pretty liberal, as Christian schools go. Most girls were actually there to earn their B.S. degrees instead of their M.R.S. degrees. No one insisted that girls can't wear pants or go swimming. We even danced. A lot.

I also met people of all kinds of religious backgrounds and beliefs. I met people from other countries. I met people who had lived totally different lives than I had. And they? Were awesome.

What it boiled down to, I think, was that everyone just believed. A lot of people believed in different ways, but that was okay. As long as we believed then there was a place at the table. Even if you didn't believe, you were still welcome. No one was judgemental. No one was mean. We just got along. And it was really beautiful.

A lot of people find my blog and expect it to be something really different than what it is. Seeking out the word "God" in the blogosphere will get you all kinds of mixed results. Also, I know that a lot of people really don't agree with my religious beliefs because I do things like, get mad and tell people all about it and say lots of curses while driving and think it's funny when my kids fart. That's okay too. I'm cool with my spirituality and clearly, based on my children, God loves me the best.

My husband got baptized the year after we got married. He did a lot of soul-searching to come to that decision and I know he was worried about figuring things out.

I think he has. I think we both have. And I think the main thing we've figured out is that it's okay to continue seeking and searching until you find what you are looking for.

God is totally cool with that.

Important announcement:

WE'RE LEAVING FOR DISNEY WORLD IN EIGHT FREAKING DAYS!!!!!

Can I get a what-what?

You guys, I'm so excited and I just can't hide it. I'm about to lose control and I think I like it.

I am not even panicked yet about driving to Florida. Normally this would be a cause for panic as my husband, while good-looking and hard-working, is not known for his good driving.

But I don't even care! I'm totally going to hug Mickey Mouse!

And then? Blog about it excessively!

It'll be sweet.

This right here? Open Letters.

Dear Man in the Large Gray Pick-up Truck this morning on the way to work,

Really, I understand your dilemma. I mean, seriously? I know you had to cut across two lanes of traffic and whip your huge truck in front of me so you could pull into the parking lot of the Shoney’s restaurant at exactly 7:14am. That “Sunrise Special” is seriously worth killing a mom of two children for.

Love!
That Chick

PS: Bite me.





Dear New Supervisor,

Really, it’s a good thing I’m a sweet Christian woman. Otherwise, I would have shot you in the face approximately three weeks ago.

In addition to your chest hair and tight pants issues, I would appreciate if you could occasionally stop talking. As you can see, I am attempting to work, EVEN AS YOU CONTINUE TO TALK. Therefore, you should conclude that either I have a lot of work to do, or you are really boring and I don’t want to talk to you. Or both.

Pssstt...It’s probably both.

Also? When I have a very long conversation with you regarding the issues that I have with people expecting me to drop everything and attend to their needs right.that.second and you act like you understand and then you come back less than ten minutes later and say, “I told such and such that you could give training on Monday morning at 8:15am”? Well, you are lucky you are still in possession of both of your testicles.

Oh, and one other thing? Never, ever, EVER start a story with, “Me and my mom were at this restaurant,” because even if you were with your mom at the restaurant, you are forty years old and need to cut the umbilical cord. Also? It was all I could do to not LAUGH IN YOUR FACE when you told me that the twenty-year old waitress at the restaurant was being friendly and you were thinking of asking her out. DUDE. She’s a waitress. She’s friendly so you will give her money. She does not think you are hot.

Thanks,
That Chick who is NOT YOUR SECRETARY

PS: You are so not hot. NOT EVEN. Your MOM doesn't even think you're hot.






Dear Blue Momma,

It’s not stalking since I like you so much.

Love,
That Chick





Dear All the people who have asked,

No. I’m not related to Gene Simmons from KISS.

Thanks for asking,
That Chick





Dear Ginger, my sixty-six pound puppy,

For the love of Corndogs and Tater tots could you please stop burping in my face?

Good Lord woman, what died in your lower intestine?

Love,
Your Alpha Female

PS: It’s a good thing you are cute.

PS: Oh sod it. Do you want a treat? I have treats!





Dear Sister,

I miss you and can’t wait to see you at Thanksgiving when you will surely tell me stories of hilarity that involve Wilfred Brimley, Tab, and Agent Orange.

My sides already hurt in anticipation.

Love you smoochie!
Your Old Sis





Dear Birthday,

What, you again? Gah!

Why do you have to be on a MONDAY this year? Can’t we just always skip Monday birthdays? Even Tuesdays are better than Mondays. Monday is like, blah. Tuesday is like, “We’re still blah, but by God, we aren’t Monday!”

Also? Why do I have to be so freaking old and have so much freaking gray hair?
Why do I have to look at my little baby in her blue jeans with her legs up to her neck and think, “GOOD LORD WHERE DID MY PRECIOUS LITTLE GIRL GO?” And then, you know, start crying.

Can’t you just slow down some? Please?

Love,
That Chick





To the person who found my blog by searching for, “Revenge on sleeping husband stick a tampon up his butt”,

Sweet Jesus.

That’s about all I have to say about that.

Thanks, I guess, for visiting. I kind of doubt you found what you needed here.

-That Chick





Dear kiddos,

You are Ninja warriors. I bow to you.

Because I? Have the grace of a plane crash. A large, messy one.

So I am in awe of you. And how cool you are.

Also? You stink pretty good and I love you.

And? You don’t look at me weird when I run through the house going, “BLAH! BLAH!” and waving my arms around. Because that’s how I roll and you get that.

Therefore, you are the best people alive.

Love,
Mom

They are the champions, my friends.

Guess who got their green belts tonight?

They are super Ninjas, with super mad Ninja skilz.

Also? Best friends.

I totally made them do this pose. They were laughing so hard they couldn't even look mad.

Also? This. Just cause.

And? Because the children are tasty. Like chicken.

Newsflash!

I suck as a writer.


Seriously.

I've been trying since last November to write a novel. Last night, as I was agonizing over double spacing, I realized something really profound.

I am not good at this.

It's not really a novel, it's just a bunch of random pieces that I'm trying to put together in my head, and it's not working.

I hardly ever get good ideas for stories anymore. When I was younger? I had literally dozens of characters in my head at all times, poised for greatness. I could develop any of them into something amazing. I had complex plots. I had the music picked out for the movie adaptations.

I had...something.

Now? Not so much.

Recently I did come up with a really good idea for a story, but I can't find an ending. Also? It's not really good. And? It's told from the point of view of a man, and I don't understand men at all.

Then? I had another idea about a story about this woman? Who is really jealous? And tries to kill her ex-boyfriend's new wife? But then weird stuff started happening on my blog and I got scared off from that.

So now I'm left with a conundrum.

Because writing the next breakthrough novel? Will be really hard if I suck at writing novels.


I wonder if there is a market for telling short stories in which you make fun of people? I'm pretty good at that I think.

Love is not just blind. It's deaf and stupid also.

My commute is a source of great discontent in my life.

Every day at approximately the butt crack of dawn, I have to get out of bed, get my two children out of bed and ready to go, drive them to school and then drive for forty-five minutes to get to work. This? Is on a good day. On a bad day, it’s more like an hour. Most of the time? It's a bad day. The traffic reports say things like, "The latest wreck of the morning is at such and such." Yeah. The latest one. That's not including the twenty that have already happened.

The thing that is the most annoying? Technically, I’m only about 23 miles from where I work. But the traffic? Oh. The. Traffic.

Coming home? At least an hour. If things are going well. Generally? They are not going well.

I don’t complain (much) about this because I have a good job, in terms of pay, and living in Tennessee has always meant, for me, a commute. When I lived in North Carolina it took me three minutes to get from my home to my office. Even less to get to college. I could literally walk to campus from where I lived (not that I DID walk or anything). But, I had to deal with the fact that I lived right in the middle of EVERYTHING, whereas now, I live in the middle of well, nothing. Except rednecks and unruly children of course. But it’s nice to have a yard and land and things like that.

When I was younger, I lived in this state (different city). I lived in City A and worked in City BFE because there were no jobs in City A. To be fair, I don’t believe there was even a stoplight in City A. But I also had to drive through City K to get to City BFE. Because City K didn’t have any jobs either.

But it’s part of living here. For me anyway.

My husband? His office is approximately 8 minutes from our house, which means he can get there in like, three.

He does not get my extreme frustration regarding the excessive amount of driving I have to do. Sometimes he says things like, “You like to drive!”

Yes, indeed. I do like driving. I do not, however, like buttnuggets who are driving twenty miles below the speed limit in the fast lane. And if those people and I are driving at the same time? There will be lots and lots of trouble.

This week he is helping out another office which is in a town approximately thirty miles away, as the crow flies. Last night he came home and said,

“Gah! I never want to have a forty-five minute commute again! This is ridiculous! If I get this store, we will HAVE to move closer!”

I turned around and looked at him to make sure that I wasn’t, you know, drunk or something.

He poured his water as though he didn’t just say something deserving of a crotch punch.

“Yeah, I know. I would never want a commute like that,” I deadpanned.

He was silent for a moment.

Then he said, “How long is your commute?”

I said, “At least an hour in the evenings.”

He was quiet for a moment and then said, hopefully.

“I love you?”




Butthead.

Sad.

As you all know, I have many attributes such as being overly concerned about being on time, being overweight and unattractive, and having the tendency to curse like a sailor who is not only drunk but high on crack cocaine. In addition to these fine things, I am a worrier.

I don’t worry like most normal people worry. Like, “Hmm. I hope Eunice June is feeling better this week.” I’m the one is holding a prayer vigil for Eunice June. I am the one who is up late at night, so worried about Eunice June that I can’t even sleep. And when Eunice June turns out to be faking? I’m the one who gets hurt.

Not surprisingly, I am hurt by the fact that one of my Girl Scouts quit.

She quit because she said it was “boring” and she wasn’t interested anymore.

A huge part of me knows that there is nothing I can do. That she is a 10 year old girl and 10 year old girls have their own unique set of challenges. I know that she’s had a lot of problems, both at home and at school, problems which are probably deeper than I even realize or will let myself think about.

I know that I can’t fix her.

And that? Is what hurts me.

Because I’ve known her for a year now, and I see the huge amount of potential she has.

And I am ashamed that I couldn’t make her see it for herself.

Blue hair and water snakes.

I try hard to be a good person. Not that I succeed or anything. But I really do try.

Part of my being a good person is spending time with the Girl Scouts. Even though I will be 32 years old in exactly one week, I am still a Girl Scout. Honest and for true. I have a membership card and everything.

I actually LEAD the group now. In as much as someone as lost as I am can lead anyone or anything.

But anyway.

On Saturday, my little Girl Scout troop had an activity at a local nature center.

We met this guy...

Seriously? I did not want to be his friend. But I named him Willis, all the same.

These two didn't want to be his friend either.

Note how they are clasping hands tightly. I so totally don't blame them.

We also made Christmas ornaments out of old puzzles. It's called recycling people! Not crap! Recycling!

We played a game in which we learned about water and water conservation. That's not me, but isn't the lady with the glasses so cute? I want to be her friend. For reals. She was awesome.

We took a hike. It was approximately 200 degrees outside. I stopped on the pretense of taking a photo of these lovely berries. Truthfully? I stopped so I wouldn't DIE.

These are called Beauty Berries. Or I'm a complete liar. Either way.

Overall it was a very good day, despite the oppressive heat and that one of my girlies got a really bad nose bleed BECAUSE she got overheated. We learned a lot, got some exercise, and got to spend time together.

The best part was walking along in the woods, with these girls, and them telling me the stories I don't know about them yet. I want to know all this stuff about them. I have such high hopes for these girls.

Because they?

Are just amazing. Totally amazing.

Also? I have no idea what the blue hair is about. I don't understand 10 year old girls.

But that doesn't mean I won't try.

Waffles and dreams.

This morning, while we were eating waffles.

Boy Child: OWWW! CRAP! I bumped my leg on the table.
Girl Child, in her best Nelson-the-bully-from-The-Simpsons voice: HA-HA!
Boy Child: Girl Child! It really hurts.
Girl Child: Okay, okay. You'll be fine. Focus on the good things in life. Focus on your waffle! Think only of the waffle!


Boy Child, a few moments later: That really worked, Girl Child. I feel better now.




If only it were that easy for me.

...and never take you on Springer.

The other day I was watching one of those programs they used to call Talk Shows and now they should just call "crap". I honestly can't even remember which one it was. Maury? Probably. It comes on late enough in the afternoon that I could have conceivably had a day at work in which I stood up and said, in my best Eric Cartman voice, "Screw you guys. I'm going home" and then been home in time to see it.

Anyway.

On this show, there were a few couples and one person in each pair was there to reveal "A BIG SECRET".

Okay, anyone who has ever seen this program knows that the big secret isn't going to be, "I've bought you an engagement ring and I want to love you forever!" or "I've decided that I DO want a third child, honey. I love you!" or even, "I saved my money for two years and put a down payment on a house that's NOT in the ghetto. Hurray!"

Instead, it's going to be something like:
"I'm sleeping with your mom!"
"I'm sleeping with your brother!"
"I'm sleeping with your best friend!"
"I'm pregnant by your cousin!"

Or any combination of the above.

My first question is: Why?

Is the appeal of being on television enough? I mean, how could you NOT know that it's going to be something bad? Have you never SEEN this show? I don't think I would agree to be on a program that I had never seen. That just seems dangerous.

My second question is also: Why?

Because, honestly? Why? Why take someone on national television in front of God and your momma and admit you are a complete piece of crap?

On what planet does this elevate you to a status that you are comfortable with?

Because here on my planet, Reality, I have things like a job and a position on the PTO board and I just really think they would frown upon me going on a Talk Show...period. Unless it was, you know, to promote my new book or something.

Isn't it embarrassing to admit you've cheated? Why is that not taboo? I mean, cheating should be taboo anyway, but people almost act like they are proud of it. "Hey, look at me! I just increased my risk of STD's and unwanted pregnancy exponentially! I'm awesome!"

What bothers me most, I guess, is that you say to someone, "I love you." You marry them, you make babies with them or whatever, and then you go on television and humiliate and degrade them and then physically fight one another.

Maybe in today's world, the marriage vows should be a little different.

"I promise to love, honor, and cherish you and never tell anyone what that face you make during nookie looks like. Also, if we break up, I'll never go on Maury Povich and say I'm two hundred percent sure you're the baby's father. Because that's totally not a real number. Also? It would make me look like a big douche."

You know?


When I'm become Queen of the World, I am SO changing things like this.

You wish you had one of these.

This? Is my daughter. She? Is amazing.

Tonight the children were testing for their green belts in Taekwondo. Boy Child has been extremely excited and not nervous in the least.

Girl Child has been afraid. She gets nervous when she has to perform alone. In a group she's fine, but she doesn't like everyone to watch her.

Tonight she sat in her little group with her brother and the other yellow belts. They called her name and she ran to her line.

And she? Absolutely amazed me.

She hit every mark. Her form was flawless. Instead of her usual, "Ya," she bellowed, "YAAAA!" She shouted, "YES SIR!" "NO SIR!" "THANK YOU SIR!"

She? Made it look really, really easy.

When she was done, she sat down on her mat, confident in her ability to succeed. She looked over her shoulder at me and gave me the smallest of winks.

Like she was saying, "Yeah. That's right. I ROCK."

When I was her age, I hated myself.
When I was her age, I was making myself throw up. Not every day, but sometimes.
When I was her age, I was unsure and uncertain.
When I was her age, I didn't think I could do anything.

I wasn't like her at all.

I'm still not.

But I really want to be.


She can do anything. Anything.


You know how sometimes people say, "My heart could have burst in my chest?"

That's how I felt, watching this amazing kid, doing the things I wish I had the courage to do.


And she? Was the only one with pink toenails. On the whole floor.

She totally rocks.

Things which concern me, moderately.

1) My new supervisor? He seems like a nice guy and whatnot, but he always has a lot of chest hair hanging out of his shirt. That just skeeves me out.

Additionally? You can always see the outline of his tighty whitey's underneath his pants. I want somehow to encourage him not to do such things, but I don't want it to appear I am checking him out, but I am MOST ASSUREDLY NOT. It's just that he's really short and I'm usually sitting down when he comes in, because if I stand up I am easily six inches taller than him and I can be really...I don't know. Imposing? Maybe.

Also? How do you say that?

"Hey, Supervisor Individual? By the way? I can totally see the outline of your underwear through your pants. Yeah. Yeah. I know. But, really? Maybe you should think about just submitting to the forty inch waist instead of trying to squeeze into the 38's. Embrace your inner thighs! EMBRACE THEM!"

Maybe that would work. I have my doubts.

2) Also? My new supervisor? He goes through my inbox all the time.

That? Makes me want to put the smackdown on him. Because? Hello? It's my inbox. I have things in my inbox that are not related to you. (I have two separate and distinct jobs at the same company. The two jobs have nothing to do with each other, at all) If you need something, how about ask me, "Hey Chick? Where is this item I need?" and then I will politely hand it to you.

It seems very simple to me.

I dunno. An inbox seems personal. Like...a purse or something. I wouldn't rummage through his man purse.

Okay, that came out wrong. Not THAT man purse.

Gah. Dirty minded people!


3) Big things are happening everywhere right now.

Seriously. If there was a plate to put all the hot mess going on in my life at this moment on, it would be so large it would cover Cleveland. And everyone would look at it and say, "That is one hot mess!"

And really? I just want a freaking break.

I just want the Universe to say, "For the love of really good Wisconsin cheese. Chick deserves a break. Let's NOT have horrible, life-altering things happen to her in triplicate. For at least a year."

It seems like a year isn't that much to ask. Maybe it is.

After a year of non-craziness, I would be well-rested. Relaxed. More able to deal with the day-to-day insanity.

Eh. Whatever. If wishes were nickels...I'd have a lot of freaking nickels.


4) I keep having these dreams? And in my dreams are people from my past. People I hardly even remember, like my ex-husband (and yes, I'm aware of how that sounds, and no, I don't care how that sounds). My mother-in-law. All these people that really hate me.

Which leads me to...

5) For reasons of which we will not speak, I'm getting a little paranoid.

Don't get me wrong. This is a public blog and people are finding it apparently and going to read it and whatnot, and that's fine. Totally fine. I've never said my real name on this blog, or my last name or my children's names. I'm cool with saying my husband's name because, really, how many hundred million Jason's are there in the world?

I honest to God never thought when I started this blog that anyone except my two good friends her and her would ever read it. And I am profoundly grateful and humbled by the hilarious, kind, fantastic people who do read and comment and delurk. It's amazing to me and you have no idea how it motivates me.

I suffer from depression.

Every single week, I see a therapist.
Every single day, I take medication.

I'm not ashamed of that, nor do I think I should be (so don't ask). It is who a part of who I am, and often a huge part of who I am is managing it.

I don't hear voices. I don't have more than one personality. I'm not bipolar.

I'm just, often, profoundly sad. For a lot of reasons, none of which I feel like I need to justify right now.

The point is, writing makes me happy. Writing has probably saved my life, more than once.

I know that what I write does not appeal to everyone. I know that I am a bit to sarcastic for a lot of people's tastes. I know that what I say and feel doesn't always come across the way I mean it.

And that's okay.

But worrying about people seeking me out? That scares me.

And yet.

Knowing that people like what I have to say makes me feel like maybe I don't have to do things that I don't want to do for the rest of my life and maybe, just maybe I do have a potential future in writing and maybe everything COULD be okay.

Therein, lies my dilemma.

So I have no idea what the right thing to do right now is.

And part of me thinks that's okay. And part of me is a little weirded out.

Adding to my wrongness.

Once upon a time a reader named Lisa asked me for a recipe for potato soup. I, as is typical, forgot to send it to her. She remembered though and probably thinks I suck now.

So here it is. I would say better late than never, but I hate that expression.

Potato Soup
3 lbs red bliss potatoes
1/4 cup butter
1/4 cup plain flour
8 cups 1/2 and 1/2
16 oz. block cheddar cheese, melted (you can use Velveeta, if you wanna)
Pepper
Garlic powder
1/2 lb. bacon, fried until it's crispy
1 cup cheddar cheese shreds
Chives and parsley, if you feel like it.

Dice unpeeled red potatoes into 1/2 inch cubes.
Place in large saucepan; cover with water and bring to a boil.
Let boil for 10 minutes or until 3/4 cooked.
In a separate pan, combine melted margarine and flour, mixing until smooth.
Place over low heat and gradually add half-and-half, stirring constantly.
Continue to stir until smooth and liquid begins to thicken.
Add melted cheddar cheese (or Velveeta).
Stir well.
Drain potatoes and add to cream mixture.
Stir in pepper and garlic powder to taste.
Cover and cook over low heat for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Place soup into individual serving bowls and top with crumbled bacon and shredded cheese. You can add chives and parsley also, if you want.

Everyone: DELURK.

You might have noticed that really pretty purple button on my sidebar? The one that says that today is the Great Mofo Delurk?

Yeah. It is.

If you click it you can get the whole story behind it. It's funny. Go read it. I don't mind.

Are you back? Good.

Now let me know you are here! I am going to make a huge effort today to visit every single person on my blogroll and all those people who I keep meaning to add to my blogroll too. So dedicated to this task am I, I will neglect my other responsibilities. Just for you guys.

I'm thoughtful like that.

What are you waiting for? Say hello!

It all makes sense now.

Because it’s a really, really, really, I-can’t-even-begin-to-get-into-how-bad-it-is bad kind of day, I will share a story from the recent past. Enjoy!

Boy Child, Girl Child and I were all in the car. We were driving home from Nerd Camp, and Boy Child was telling me, excitedly, that Josh, a friend at camp, had a new baby brother.

BC: Mom? That must have been a really big baby!

Me: Really? Why?

BC: Because it’s been in his mom’s belly for EIGHT YEARS.

Me: Boy Child. How is that possible? It can’t have been in her belly for eight years.

BC: But it was mom! Josh is 8.

It dawns on me that Boy Child believes that because he and Girl Child are twins, that ALL siblings are twins.

Me: No, no honey. Not all brothers and sisters are twins.

BC: I’m not following.

Me: Well, think about this. Your cousins? CousinJB1, CousinJB2, and CousinJB3? They are ALL brothers. But they aren’t twins.

BC: Really? They aren’t twins?

GC, chiming in: Brother! DUH! They aren’t twins!

Me: Right, they-

GC: They're TRIPLETS! There’s three of them!

BC: Ohhhhhhhh!

I say nothing. Just focus on trying not to drive off the road due to the manic laughter rising up within me.

BC: Girl Child? Isn’t it funny how our cousins are midgets (pretty sure he meant triplets, but stay with me) and they are all different sizes? Like CousinJB1? He’s in high school. And CousinJB3? He’s really small.

GC, nodding wisely: That’s just the long and the short of it brother.


Word.

If he says it, it must be true.

Boy Child, doing his homework: Mom? Remember that time you helped me with my homework?

Me: Um, I help you every night, don't I?

Boy Child, grinning: No, that one time? That you had to help me? And you did a word search?

Me: Oh yeah. I remember that.

Boy Child, laughing: And you put all those cuss words in it? Like ass? Along with the regular words?

Me, smiling: Yeah, I remember.

Boy Child, weeping with laughter: And the teacher didn't even notice!

Me, laughing: Yeah, that was pretty funny.

Boy Child, wiping his eyes: Mom! You're PRICELESS.


Totally.