Enjoy the Funny

So, I was gonna sit here and write about how I have been laden with guilt lately. . .

But I have sat here this morning and came across too much stuff that has made me laugh out loud.

Laughter is good.

And it has put me in a better mood. So much so that I do not want to bring it down with a post about the shit that has me feeling like a loser.

If you want to watch something funny check out this video.

And if reading the funny is what you're after, you must go read the latest from Pretty All True.

Go.

Watch.

Read.

Enjoy the funny and LAUGH!

Also? Have a good Monday. They are usually a bitch.

Hee hee!

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She Dropped a Bomb

The people who live in this house (including me) all have foul mouths.

We all cuss like sailors.

I do try to keep my language in check but there are just moments where an expletive is necessary.

Stub your toe?  OH MY MOTHERFUCKING GOD THAT HURT LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER!!

Burn your hand on the oven?  OW! SON OF A BITCH THAT FUCKER WAS HOT! (Duh. It IS an oven)

Plus there are the "Fuck that and fuck this and fuck you's" that happen more than occasionally.

So it is actually quite amazing that Kaylee hasn't said any cuss words before now.

So is it wrong that I thought it was completely hilarious when she dropped her first F-bomb the other night?

I know.  The parent in me should have been all "Blah blah blah. You shouldn't cuss.  Those words are bad. Yadda yadda yadda."

But you know what?

She already knows that fuck is a bad word.  Trust me.  Randall and I have tried to get her to say bad words just to see if she would or not.  And she would not say them.  Not even with promises of ice cream or candy or even money.  She would refuse.

Randall has said more than once that she is a good girl. . .  But I told him.  I told him that even though she doesn't say them?  She is thinking them.

She is thinking them and filtering herself when she talks.

Except for the other night when she was talking to her Daddy about all of his hospital visits.

"Why would you go back there?  They fuc. . ."

She froze.

"Oh my gosh I am SO sorry!"  As she ran from the room and into the bathroom where she started to cry.

Bless her heart.

I guess she thought we were going to snatch her up and wash her mouth out.

I could do nothing but giggle.

And Randall sat there with his mouth open. . .  In shock.

We may have even did long distance high-fives from across the room. . .

But neither of us were angry.

I know that cuss words are bad.  I get it.  But I am not going to punish my kid over a word.  Especially a word that she hears several times throughout the day.

I am not going to punish her for letting her guard down and being unfiltered.

Does that make me a bad parent?  Probably.

You know what?  I really don't care.

I have raised her fairly well in the ten years she has been on this earth.

No one is perfect.  We all have faults.

Mine just happens to be thinking that my kid cussing is funny as all get out.

You can like it or lump it.  Either way is fine with me.

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Release the Krackens!!

Have I mentioned to you before my love of the twitter?

No?

Well, I do.  Love twitter.  Probably a little more than I should. . .

But we all have our faults. . .

Right?

Thought so.

Anyway. . .

Mostly, I am not a witty tweeter.

There are moments when something brilliantly random will escape from the tips of my fingers and cause someone to laugh.

They are few and far between but they do happen.

One of those moments happened last night. . .

I really do say this.  Honestly.

Randall laughs at me every time I do it.

What's really funny?  Are the times that I don't say it.  He says it for me.

Cracks me up every time.

Not long afterwards it got a RT {that's retweet for any of you non-twitter folks out there.}

And thus a conversation ensued. . .

So much giggling, people.

So.much.giggling.

Making someone laugh with a random tweet?  Totally made my night.

What's made you laugh recently?

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Hooked

Randall, Kaylee and I are out and about running some errands today.

We are all getting hungry and decide that lunch needs to be had.

We toss about a few restaurants {we have to be picky because of Randall's stomach} and finally settle on Taco Bell.

As we are pulling into the parking lot, I notice a sign in the window that says "Get HOOKED on HUNGER" or something to that effect.

I giggle.  "Just glancing at that sign, I thought it said something about hookers."

You know, because hookers need to eat too.

Randall looks at me, giggles and parks the car.

Apparently Kaylee had a lost and/or confused look on her face because the next thing out of Randall's mouth is, "Do you know what a hooker is Pumpy?"

I roll my eyes.  If she knows what a hooker is then there is going to be WAY less TV watching done in this house.

Of course she shakes her head no.  Thank God.  I like watching TV, sometimes.

So then Randall asks, "Do you know what sex is??" 

"NO!" 

"OK well when a man and a woman. . . " 

"I DON'T WANT TO KNOW!! I DON'T WANT TO KNOW!!" 

She is all but sticking her fingers in her ears and going "LALALALALALALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

I am a giggling mess.

There is no politically correct way to explain what a hooker is to a nine year old.

Or if there is?  I have not yet figured out what it may be.

Life is funny around here people.

This family of mine cracks me all the fuck up.

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Nominations Please?

In case you were wondering, Randall has been doing well.

Stomach issues handled with no hospital admittance this time around.  YAY!

But now?

Now, he has a toothache.

Sigh.

If it's not one thing, it's another.  That is just how life has been hitting us lately.

I am still desperately trying to keep Kaylee entertained.

Thankfully she has been occupied with the kids next door.

Which sometimes leads to her little friends coming over to our house too.

Which in turn prompted me to tweet this:

I really need to be nominated for Mom of the year.

Don't you think?

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Yeah, that's awkward. . .

Yesterday we stopped by the towing company that we dispatch for to pick up our paycheck.

We are friends with everyone there.  They are like a small, close knit family.  It's kind of nice actually.

Anyway,  we see two drivers standing by a tow truck bullshitting, so we walk over.  For the sake of privacy we will call them Driver 1 and Driver 2.  {Original I know.}

They are talking cell phones and pictures and possibly about lesbian porn.

Whatever.

Driver 1?  Is really cool.  He is a close friend of ours.

Driver 2?  Is an OK guy but weird at times.

Randall has suspected that Driver 2 has had a crush on me for quite some time.

I have been trying to live in denial.

Driver1 pulls out his cell phone and shows us his new 4G Droid.  Shows off that it has talk to text and he doesn't have to touch the screen to text any more.

Great, wonderful.

Whatever.

Randall looks at Driver2 and asks him about his cell phone.  Driver2 states that it is just a normal cell phone.  That he has to text the normal way and that he can take pictures.

He fumbles around with his phone as Driver1 and us continue to chat about various things.

Finally Driver2 looks at Randall.  

"See?  This is the camera here.  Oh!  Let me take a picture of you, Stasha."

OK.  Like that isn't obvious.

He sticks his phone in my face and snaps a picture.

Awkward.

He then looks at Randall.  "I guess I should take a picture of you too, huh?"

And proceeds to snap a picture of Randall.  

Randall is all smart-assy, "Don't use my picture to jerk off to!"

Driver1 and Randall laugh at his comment.

I giggle.

Then we hear, "Oops!  I erased your picture on accident."

Uh huh.  I believe that like I believe the sky is yellow instead of blue.

It suddenly gets really awkward.

I look at the time.  

"Babe?  We need to get going so we can pick Kaylee up from school."

We turn to leave.

I want out of there ASAP.

We get in our car and drive off.

The radio is on but Randall and I are silent.

I am wrestling with the awkwardness of Driver2 taking my picture.

We get on the highway.

I am the first to say something.

"I can not believe Driver2 took my picture!"

He laughs.  "I told you he had a crush on you, didn't I???"

Sigh.

You did babe.

You totally did.

Now I'm left wondering what Driver2 is doing with that picture.

On second thought?  

Maybe I don't want to know after all.

********************

This was written and posted in June.  It totally fits with prompt #3, An awkward moment, so I am linking up with Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop.  

Check it out, choose a prompt, write it out and link up!

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June-uary

It is June.

Lovely, summer is on it's way, pull out the sunscreen 'cause it's gonna get HOT and you don't wanna be red like a lobster, June.

Unless you live in the Pacific Northwest.

Saturday was beautiful.  Sunny and warm and in the 70's.  Kaylee and I spent most of the day outside.  Soaking up the vitamin D, people.

Yesterday was cloudy.  Even though the weather person said it would be just like Saturday.

Liar.

It was still warm but there was no sun.

This week promises to have 60's and chances of rain.

Of course, because we don't get enough rain here as it is.

Even though we have been here four years?  I still am not used to the mild summers.

Last year?  It was so cold the news called the month of June, "June-uary".

That's the thirteenth month of the year specifically for the PNW to describe how FREAKING COLD IT WAS IN THE MONTH OF JUNE.

People walked around with COATS on, people.  Not jackets, COATS.

That's just not right.

June is supposed to be littered with highs in the 80's pushing 90.  Hot days and warm nights.

Days so hot that you are filled with a need to go swimming or play in the sprinkler.  Or seek out air conditioning.

June is all about rushing to eat your ice cream before it melts and giving yourself brain-freeze.  Or eating one of those popsicles in the plastic tube and then drinking the leftover melty juice like its Kool-aid.

I loved those popsicles as a kid.

So far, June is looking to be normal.  Or as normal as it can be for here.

But it is only the sixth of the month.

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Tootin' in the Booty

Kaylee is laying on the bed with me.

She is snuggled up and we are relaxing, watching some silly show on TV.

I love these moments because they are getting to be few and far between.

A few minutes pass by.

Kaylee farts.  It is big and it is loud.  And might possibly be able to peel the paint off the walls.

It is rotten.

*crickets*

She says nothing.  Doesn't even acknowledge that she tooted.

I look at her.  "Really?  REALLY??  Something along the lines of "Excuse me" might be appropriate. Don't you think?"

She sits up and looks at me.  "I'm sorry.  Excuse me for farting."

She is nowhere near being sorry.  I am not happy with her apology.

So I say, "Excuse you for farting in my . . . ????"

And leave her to fill in the blank.  I want her to say something like 'Excuse me for farting in your bed.'

She looks at me with eyebrows raised.  She is smiling from ear to ear.

I am not prepared for what is about to come out of her mouth.

"Excuse me for farting . . . in my . . . butt?"

She melts into a fit of giggles.

Oh. . . my. . . God. . .

Totally not where I had wanted it to go.  I am laughing so hard I have tears rolling down my cheeks.

I can not breathe.

I may have snorted a time or two.

Duh.  Why didn't I think of that?

This kid cracks me up sometimes.

Through my giggles I manage to say, "I was thinking of something different but your version is way funnier."

Of course I had to share the fun with Randall.

So now every time he farts?  He states that he has farted in his butt.

Obviously.

Farts are funny, people.  At least they are around these parts.

Even more so after you have kids.

Really.

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New Found Respect

For the past few weeks I have been cooking dinner.  Shut up!  I really have been!

My MIL has been sick and {should probably go to the hospital} has not felt like doing anything but sleeping.

Tuesday night we decided on soup and sandwiches for dinner.  Something quick and easy, right?

Not around here.

Of course we can't all agree on one soup.  That would make things way too easy for me.

Kaylee decides to have chicken noodle.  She always has chicken noodle.  Always.

Randall and I decide on the Campbell's Chunky Potato Bacon Cheddar soup.  Yummy! 

And the in-laws decide on Split Pea with Ham.

I am not a fan of peas.  I hate the little suckers.  And I have never cooked pea soup, ever.

So you can imagine my surprise when I opened the can to find smashed peas and slices of what I assume were carrots, all stuffed inside.  I had to use a spoon to pry it out. It was vacuum packed and made a small pop when I started removing it from the can.

People?  My conclusion about condensed pea soup?  It looks like vomit in a can.

And as it is warming in a pot on the stove?  It looks like warmed up vomit in a pot.  

I am also pretty sure that it looks like vomit in a bowl after it is dished up.

I know, I am gross and disgusting.  

Can't help it.  

I really don't like peas.

Pretty sure they picked pea soup to torture me.

Anyway...

I am cooking dinner.  Three different pots on the stove with three different soups.  Trying to make sure that the potato soup and the vomit pea soup doesn't scorch.

Randall walks into the kitchen.  Apparently I must have had a crazed look on my face.  Trying to get sandwich fixings together mixed with trying to make sure the soups didn't burn was more than I could handle. {Not really.  But I was slightly aggravated.}

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You overwhelmed??"

"Maybe a little."

"I'll pour Kaylee's drink.  Will that help?"

I nod my head.

All the while my FIL is in the kitchen, in the way, trying to open a can of dog food so he can feed the dogs.

ARGH!  Do that shit before dinner is done.  Seriously.

Dinner gets eaten and I find myself in the kitchen doing dishes.  No one offers to help.  No one.

No.  I take that back.  Randall offered to help.  He always offers to help in some way.  He is a sweetie like that and I love him for it.

So now I understand why my MIL gets pissed off about having to cook dinner and do the dishes.  All the time.

A new found respect.

I get it now.

So whenever she gets better and starts cooking again?  I will offer help with cooking and offer to do the dishes.  

She may not take the offers but at least they will be put out there for her to take or leave.

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Sprouting What?

Walking home from school with Kaylee yesterday evening this is part of the conversation that took place:

"So I went to go see Daddy at the hospital today."

"AWW!  You got to see Daddy and I didn't?!  That's not fair!!!  I NEVER get to go see Daddy!"

"Sorry babe.  But even if I took you, you wouldn't be able to see Daddy."

"Why not?????"

"Because you are not old enough."

"WHAT?  I am eight years old.  That is plenty old enough.  I, am an adult!"

"No.  No you are not an adult.  Not even close."

"OK, maybe I'm not.  But I will be soon!"

"Oh yeah?  What constitutes being an adult?"

"Having boobies!"

Wait...  What?!  I stopped in my tracks.  I could not help but start to giggle.

"So you think that having boobies is what makes you an adult?"  I say between giggles.

She is giggly now too.  "Yes."

"No babe.  You don't just one day sprout boobs and then suddenly turn into an adult.  There is way more to it than that."

Kaylee is laughing now.  "Sprout boobies?!?!"

I am sure she is having visions of boobs popping up on her chest in the way that a new seedling pushes up through the soil as it grows.

I am almost in tears by the time we get home.  And this was only a five minute walk people.  A five minute walk!  She really can crack me up sometimes.

Kaylee can not wait for the boob fairy to bestow upon her a pair of boobies.  The bigger the better.

I, on the other hand, can wait a lifetime if it means I get to keep my little girl just a tad bit longer.

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This Morning

This morning, school was on a two hour delay.

The school district usually calls via automated message to inform you of delays or closures.  This morning was no different.  Got the call at 5am.

Woo Hoo!  An hour or two of extra sleep?  I'll take it!  I didn't even look outside to see how bad it was.  I knew when I had went to bed that the roads were looking pretty bad.

I got up about 8am.  Figured I would give myself time to wake up before I had to get Kaylee up to face her day.  

I go look out the window immediately.  I was expecting the ground to be covered in white and the roads to be a slushy mess.

What did I see?

Green!  Green grass waving in the wind.  It warmed up and all the snow melted.  The weather people had said that this would be the case.

Not exactly sure why school was on a two hour delay.

Time comes for me to get Kaylee up.

"Hey Sweetie?  It's time to get up and get ready for school."

Big stretch and a yawn from her then, "What time is it?"

"Twenty minutes to nine.  School is on a two hour delay."

She jumps up.  Expecting, I'm sure, to see a ton of snow outside.  

So I tell her, "Snow is all gone.  So I am not exactly sure why you're on a delay."

"What??  That's not fair!  I didn't even get to play in it!"

I then remind her that she has Safety Patrol.  "UGH!  Do I have to do safety patrol this morning?  I don't want to do it this morning!"

"Yes, you have to."

"UUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!  WHY?  I don't want to!  WHY CAN'T I HAVE A DAY OFF???  I NEVER GET A DAY OFF!"

"What did we tell you before you signed up?  That it's a responsibility and you have to take it seriously, right?"

"Yes."  Imagine that answer in the best pissed off, whiny, attitude infested 8 year old voice that you can.

She is. not. happy.

And it doesn't continue to get any better.  She had picked out a pair of jeans to wear the night before that had been deemed to small to wear.  She insisted that she could still wear them and that they fit fine.

Whatever.

This morning?  "Why did you grab this pair of jeans Mama?  I didn't want these."

"What are you talking about?  Those are the pair that you picked out and said you could still wear."

She is holding them as though they are infected with the plague.  "No I didn't!"

"Ummm...  Yes you did.  I picked out a pair and then you grabbed this pair and asked why you couldn't wear them to school if you could still actually wear them.  Remember??"

She is looking at me as though I have sprouted another head.  But I can tell she is trying to remember.  She then slowly nods her head in agreement.

I look at her and say. "I'm sorry Mama for arguing with you."

Very quietly she repeats it.  It's almost inaudible but she does say it and apologize.  And I get a hug out of the deal.

She puts on her jeans, pulls them up and attempts to button them.  

No success.

"UHHH!  Yeah...  These pants are too small!  I can not wear them.  I can't get them buttoned."

"Go get the other pair then."  I guess she thought I would get them for her.  Not a chance.  Not after all the attitude I had been given.  

She finally gets dressed and finishes getting ready.

We get our coats on and head out the door.  I walk her to school and come home.

I am ready for a nap.

Most mornings aren't like this. 

But this morning?  Left me wanting to crawl back into bed and hide.

I can only hope the rest of the day doesn't follow suit.

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Makeovers~R~Us

As I said yesterday, Kaylee received some make-up from Randall and I for Christmas this year.

Am I nuts for giving my 8 year old daughter real, honest to goodness make-up with which to cover her face with?

Probably so.  But she loves make-up.  And she is not allowed to wear it to school.  She can only use it to play dress up with.  Needless to say, she has been playing dress up since Christmas morning.

Also on Christmas morning I let the words escape my mouth that have haunted me ever since.  But I do not regret saying it in any way.

I told Kaylee that she could give me a makeover.  I know you are probably thinking that I am nuts now.

I promise that I am as sane as I was last week.  I have not gone completely crazy yet! ;)

As promised, I have before and after pictures.  And yes, I am going to share them with you.

There's no shame in my game...

Me, pre-makeover

And this is me after.

Yellow eyeshadow.

So me...  Don'tcha think?

She honestly didn't do that bad.  She just needs a little practice with the eye liner is all.

And no, she didn't get any eyeliner, that is mine.

We had fun.  Kaylee laughed the entire time.  She laughed really hard when she was putting the eyeliner on.

And I wasn't allowed to look until she was done.

Randall even allowed Kaylee to give him a makeover...

I am not allowed to post those pictures...

So I will keep them for blackmail as I had originally planned!

Hee hee!

;)

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Silly Facial Mud Putty

I was going through my journal and came across an entry from the beginning of September.  Thought I would share it with you.


Friday Sept. 3, 2010

Today, Kaylee was playing with her silly putty.  Usually not a bad thing.  Until you start playing with it and pretending you are in a spa and you're using it as 'facial mud'.

Can you guess what happened next?

She came crying that she had silly putty stuck in her hair!

She was balling.  She was so upset.

I was angry.  Very angry!

But I didn't blow up.  I held my temper.

And immediately started wondering, "How the hell do you get silly putty out of hair??"

Randall's suggestion was to try and comb it out.

So I did.  It did get most of the putty out but left her hair streaked with pink goo.

I made her hop in the shower.  And we washed her hair.

I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed some more.  I used a ton of shampoo.

I was skeptical, thinking the whole time, "This is gonna be bad.  I'm gonna end up having to cut her hair, I just know it!"

Would you believe that simply washing her hair actually got the silly putty out?

I was totally amazed.  I was expecting to have to get my scissors out.

Hopefully Kaylee learned her lesson.

Silly putty does not a facial mud make...  LOL



Happy to report that since this happened 3 months ago, Kaylee has not once put the putty anywhere near her face!  


Hee hee!

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Thanksgiving Thankfulness

I was not in a good place Wednesday night.

As I was making my dinner plate, I overheard my MIL talking about all the things she needed to do for Thanksgiving dinner.

Randall immediately told her that he and I would be happy to help with anything she needed help with.

She politely declined.

I don't know why but I instantly became homesick.

I instantly started missing my Mom.

I teared up.  Teared up while making my dinner plate.  I had tears dripping into my eggs.

Randall was beside himself.  He totally had no clue as to why I was crying.  He thought I was upset over the soda almost being all gone.

It so was not the soda.

So I eat dinner in my melancholy mood, fighting tears as I ate.  I kept thinking about home and how if we were home, I would be helping my Mom fix Thanksgiving dinner.

How I would be helping with the deviled eggs.

How I would be helping with the turkey.

How I would be helping with the mashed potatoes.

How I would be helping with the shuck beans.

How I would make the stuffing, even if it was Stove Top and not made from scratch.

How I would help watch the rolls so they wouldn't burn in the oven.  Mom is notorious for burning the rolls!

I can't do any of that here.  Haven't been able to do that for the three years we have been here...

I love my MIL, I really do.  But she is the type of person who will refuse help when it's offered and then complain about no one offering to help.

All these thoughts and more go through my head as I try to eat dinner.

Later, in our room, as we were winding down for the night, Randall asks me again what was wrong at dinner.

I shook my head not wanting to talk about it.  Knowing that if I did, I would start to cry again.

He continues to ask me.  So I tell him.  And cry.

He then makes me laugh by looking at me and asking, "It's me isn't it?  Me being funky is what has made you so sad, right?"

I look at him through my teary eyes.  I can't help but giggle.  I respond with, "Yes babe.  It is definitely you.  You and all your funkiness are what have caused me to be sad."

I love that I can always count on Randall to cheer me up when I'm down.

I'm thankful for that.

Hope your Thanksgiving has been full of fun, love and thanks!

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Prep Time

My Mother-In-Law started baking pies Sunday night in preparation for Thursday.

I got up Monday morning to find that she ended up making twelve pies.  Twelve Pies!

I am guessing that would be six pecan and six butternut squash.  I don't like either!

She is not done with the pie making.  She still has to make two chocolate pies and two lemon pies.

I am flabbergasted at the amount of pies she has made!

What on earth are we going to do with sixteen pies?  This five person house does not need sixteen pies!

I do know that the neighbors will be getting pie.  Two pies a neighbor, knocks it back down to twelve.

Oh, plus also?  One of the pies has already been eaten.  One Pecan Pie did not last 'til Turkey day!

Randall is to blame for that.  He is a pie fiend!

So we're down to eleven.

Eleven pies for a family of five.  Does that mean that we each get two pies?  And share the one that's left over?

I call dibs on the lemon pies!  They are MINE, all MINE, and I am not sharing!

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Age of Text

First of all?  I am finally feeling better!

Throat is still a little sore but not as bad as it was.

Think I even got through without infecting any of my loved ones.

The fix?  Hot as I could stand it Ramen Noodle soup and apple juice.  What a combination!  But it was a combo that actually helped.

Yesterday, I was sitting here eating Ramen Noodles, drinking apple juice, playing on the computer and texting my Mom.  I am so good at multitasking!

Mom and I exchange a couple of texts and Kaylee chimes in that she would like to text with Mammaw.  Sure, I don't have a problem with it.  OK, that's a total lie.  I did not want to share my phone with her.  I did not want her to text.  But Randall made me feel bad, so I gave in.

Kaylee sends off a text.

She patiently waits for Mammaw to reply.

Mammaw replies.  Note that it takes Mammaw a few minutes to send her reply.

Kaylee sends another text.

After a minute, Kaylee says, "What is taking Mammaw so long??"

I look at her and say, "Sweetie.  You have to remember that Mammaw is older, so it takes her a few minutes to type what she wants to say."

Kaylee thinks about this for a quick second and says, "Well, how old is Mammaw anyway?"

I cringe a little bit, because I already know what will be said before I answer.  But I do the quick math in my head and tell her, "Mammaw is 68 years old."

"Wow!  Mammaw is old!"  I totally knew that is what she would say.  "Well how old is Pappaw then?"

"Pappaw is 72 years old."

Her jaw almost dropped to the floor.  "Oh my gosh!  He is old too!  I didn't know he was that old."

I guess when you're 8 it's hard to comprehend just exactly how old old can be.

My Mom replied to Kaylee during all this and she quickly sent off a text.  It took my Mom a few minutes to reply back, again.  Kaylee can not understand why it is taking Mammaw so long to text back.

So I finally say to Kaylee (after listening to her complain for a couple minutes), "Babe, Mammaw is kinda slow at texting.  She is out of practice because I haven't texted with her in awhile.  Just be patient, OK?"

Eight texts and an hour later and Kaylee is done texting with Mammaw.

She did not enjoy texting with slow fingered Mammaw.  But said she wants to text with Mammaw the next time she texts us.

Really thinking that Kaylee just wants to text to practice for whenever she is finally able to have a cell phone of her own.  Which won't be for a few years!

Thank goodness for unlimited text plans!

Hoping your Monday is a good one!

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That's NOT a Ball...

Randall, Kaylee and I were all sitting around the other day when Kaylee went and grabbed a small ball.  We started tossing it back and forth between the three of us.

After about 15 minutes of ball tossing, a memory comes flooding back to me.

A memory that is probably better kept to myself because it is sort of gross.  But I will share it anyway because I am all friendly and like to gross people out when I can. LOL

OK, so the memory that came flooding back to me was of Randall and I playing toss when Kaylee was just a tiny little baby.

We did not play toss with a ball.

We didn't play toss with little baby toys.

We didn't play toss with baby clothes.

We didn't play toss with the baby.

I am suddenly feeling Dr. Seuss-ish.

What we did play toss with was dirty, freshly changed baby Kaylee diapers.

It started purely by accident one night as Randall had just changed a really rotten poopy diaper.

He felt the need to share it with me.  Thus closing it up fairly tight and proceeding to wing it at me from across the room.

A diaper tossing war ensued.

And so started the game we would play almost every single time a diaper was changed in our house.  Of course we never played this game any where else.  Could you imagine the looks of horror if we would have started this crazy game in public?  Although it might have been really funny to include a stranger in on the fun.  OK, maybe not.  That wasn't something I was willing to find out anyway.  

Pee filled diapers were actually kinda fun to toss around.  You didn't have to worry overmuch about them.

The poopy ones were the ones you had to worry about, obviously.  You were pretty much shit out of luck if one opened up on you.

I had more than my fair share of shitty luck.  

I can remember having to remind Randall more than once that it was HIM who started this sick and twisted game that we were playing.

I do have to say that it made diaper changing time fun.  For the most part anyway.

See?  I so told you it was gross.  

Sorry if I made you gag.

Have a nice and poop free day!  ;)

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The Elephant in the Room

I was standing in the kitchen, alone, or so I thought, making a peanut butter & jelly sammich for Randall.

Not an unusual thing.  

I thought I was alone...

So I'm standing there waiting for the toast to pop up out of the toaster (Randall likes his PB&J on toast) and I decided to break wind.  

No, let's just be honest here.  We're friends, right?  

I farted.  It was not the grand-poohba of farts but it wasn't tiny and meek either.

Let me reiterate that I thought I was alone.  

About a minute after I let it rip, Kaylee comes walking into the kitchen.  By this time I am slathering peanut butter on a piece of toast.  I tell her Hi.  She looks at me and has a grin on her face a mile wide.

"I heard that."  She says to me.

Damn.  This kid can be super stealthy when she wants to be.

"You heard what?"  I ask, trying desperately to sound innocent and keep my composure at the same time.

Because farts are funny.  At least in this house they are.

"I heard you fart."  She's giving me a look.  That look that she knows...

"What are you talking about?"  I am fading fast.  

"Mama!  You farted!"  She's getting a little sassy with me now.

"You must have heard the floor squeak."  I am giggling as I try to talk.  I am all but busted.

"MAMA!  I heard you fart!"  {she then attempts to make the same sound as my fart}

Remember, this is all in the span of about 45 seconds.  I have moved on to putting jelly on the other piece of toast...

As I am putting everything away, I finally get tired of her trying to mimic the sound and say, "It actually kinda sounded like a baby elephant." 

Yes, my farts can sometimes mock animals.  Most frequently the sound is of a duck.  But that is neither here nor there.

My 8 year old gets a look of triumph on her face, "AH HA!  So you admit that you did fart!"

I smile, grab Randall's sammich, look at her and say, "I don't know what you're talking about."  

And promptly walk out of the room.  

Moral of the story:  Don't toot your own horn if you're not ready to share your music with everyone!  ;)

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