Asker- "Dad, are you going to have time to eat breakfast with us?"
Toots- "Asker, you said diarrhea instead of breakfast!!"
Dave- "No he didn't Toots, you're smokin' crack." Nice, I know
Asker- "Yeah, Toots, you're cracking up."
Toots- "I know. I am correct!"
And everyone walked away happy.
Showing posts with label Mommy Laughs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mommy Laughs. Show all posts
Monday, May 12, 2008
Wish It Was Always This Easy
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Monday, March 03, 2008
Next Time, I'll Let Her Finish
"Mommy, why does a butthole have.."
"TOOTS, that is NOT a nice word. Find another word to use instead!"
Thinking.....
"Mommy, why does the man who opens the doow have two taiws (tails) on his jammies?"
Monday, February 04, 2008
Misinterpretation
Said to me, "Aw, man, I forgot to do laundry."
Said to Toots, "Toots, will you run upstairs and get Daddy the new pack of underwear on my bed?"
"Um, no."
"Please, Toots? I need those underwear. Run upstairs for me."
"No, Daddy."
"Why not?"
"Um, Dad? I weally don't want to see you naked."
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Moo
"Mommy, dat you boob?"
"Yes, Clam, that's my boob."
"Has milk for baby?"
"Yes, that's what Superboy drinks. Mommy makes milk for the baby. You drank my milk when you were a baby."
Pause
Pause
Big smile..
"Mommy...is...cow!"
Monday, January 07, 2008
The Differences Between One and Four
On pacifiers:
1st child- Sterilize upon opening and every other time pacifier is dropped from baby's mouth.
2nd child- Sterilize upon opening and wash when dropped from mouth.
3rd child- Suck clean upon opening. Wash when visibly dirty. Suck clean when no visible dirt.
4th child- Pop in straight from package. Pick off visible dirt. Follow 3 second rule all other times.
On crying in the car:
1st child- Pull over and nurse to comfort.
2nd child- Reach back and pop in paci while driving. Speak words of comfort.
3rd child- Drive faster. Have older siblings pop in paci. Speak words of frustration.
4th child- Turn up radio.
On nursing:
1st child- Prepare sanctuary with nursing pillow, foot rest and cold drink. Sit and gaze in baby's eyes while feeding.
2nd child- Sit down to nurse. Ask toddler to bring you pillow, foot rest and cold drink. Be happy with lukewarm drink. Out of a sippy cup. Explain the lactation process again. And again. And again.
3rd child- Sit down to nurse. Referee 3 fights. Hold nursing baby in one hand while chasing disobedient toddler.
4th child- Prepare sanctuary with sleeping pillow and locked door. Lie down and gaze into eyelids while feeding.
On Bedtime:
1st child- Nighttime ritual consists of soothing bath, gently brushing not-yet-formed teeth, lullabies in rocking chair and Mommy and Daddy mutually laying in crib.
2nd child- Nighttime ritual consists of splashing bath, forcing open toddler's mouth to brush teeth, completely forgetting about not-yet-formed teeth in infant's mouth, lullabies in bed and Mommy/Daddy switch-off for prayers and kisses.
3rd child- Nighttime ritual consists of skipping baths to get to the bed part, doing the 15 second brush to get to the bed part, big brother can sing lullabies, and Daddy does prayers and kisses while Mommy runs outside and screams.
4th child- Nighttime ritual consists of DIY showers (yeah!), DIY toothbrushing (yeah!), DIY pjs (yeah!), skipped lullabies as they inevitably turn into "poop" songs, and Mommy tries to calm down kids that Daddy insists on wrestling with.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
Haven't Learned My Lesson Yet!
New Year's Eve is definitely a holiday for people without kids. It's such a pain to get a babysitter on any holiday, and taking four kids anywhere after seven pm is just not worth it. So Monday, we planned to do what we do every night; put the kids to bed at 7:30 and CELEBRATE (the sleeping, not the holiday).
One of Dave's friends called around 8 and wanted to know if we wanted to hang out with he and his girlfriend, as his plans had fallen through (gotta' love being second choice, huh?). Since the house was actually clean, I agreed. Once I opened up the fridge and realized we had, well, nothing, I knew a quick run to the store was necessary.
I made a short list and sent Dave on his way. Now, this is the part where you remind me of Dave's shopping shortcomings and I make all my usual excuses as to why he had to go and I had to stay.
The list was short and simple and he managed it perfectly.
But a few minutes after he left, I realized that our wine glasses were still in storage. Now even though we live in a town that rhymes with "tons-a-hicks", I just can't serve a nice Pinot Grigio in a pink Dora cup. I could drink it just fine, but I won't serve it that way. So, I quickly called Dave and asked him to pick up some wine glasses.
This is what he came home with.
Candle holders. Painted.
The liquor store didn't have wine glasses, and this was all the grocery store had. Granted, his friend is from West Virginia, but I was not about to serve wine in an 18 inch high candle holder, so on to the Dollar store he went. As that exhausts the shopping options for Tons-a-hicks, I was crossing my fingers.
Luckily, he found some lovely plastic disposable wine glasses. They looked perfect. Until I opened up the package and (after attaching the stem to the base) realized they were about 4 inches high.
Dave refused to drink out of the midgets, and I refused to drink out the chalices, so we ended up using both.
I needed about 10 glasses to make a mouthful, but since I'm still breastfeeding, I nursed (ha!) a few all night.
Dave said he couldn't even taste the paint chips after one glass.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Subject to Interpretation
The kids have been singing Christmas songs around the house for the last few days. Overheard, recently...
"I saw Mommy's pickle sandwich..." (I saw Mommy tickle Santa)
"Let Diego sing, Let Diego sing..." (Let the angels sing)
and my favorite,
Happy Birthday Jesus
I'm so glad it's Christmas
All the pencils (tinsel) and knives (lights)
make the holidays bright
but the real gift is you.
Happy Birthday Jesus
I'm so glad it's Christmas
All the carrots (carols) and smells (bells)...
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
And Not The Dukes of Hazzard Guy
Asker told me last night that when he turns 6 (on Friday), he's going to start showering alone. I asked him if that meant I couldn't walk around naked in front of him any longer. He paused for a minute and said, "No, you're fine, but I'll let you know."
Most of my friends and family are slightly appalled by my anatomically correct vocabulary and openness with my children. For me, it just comes naturally. But to others, like Chicky and my sister's friend, it takes a bit more thought....
My sister's friend, Maureen and her husband Doug have an 8 year old boy named Dillon. Like a lot of parents, they taught Dillon everything he needs to know about his own body. But, having no daughters, they kind of avoided the whole girl-child body parts. Understandable. I mean, why bring it up until it's relevant, right?
Well, a while back, they took in an infant girl through foster care. The first time Maureen changed the baby's diaper in front of Dillon, the questions started.
"Mom, where's her wiener?"
"Um, she doesn't have one Dillon."
"Well, when's she going to grow one?"
"Girls don't have wieners."
"What do they have?"
Not having considered the wiener-equivalent nickname (burger? mac-n-cheese?), she walked out of the room to call Doug.
"Doug, Dillon wants to know what the baby's parts are called."
"Just tell him she has a cooter."
"NO, I can not tell him that."
"Then tell him it's a vagina."
"Aaahh. I can't tell an 8 year old THAT."
"Well, you've got to tell him something."
"Well, you think of something and tell him when you get home."
She walked back into the room and told Dillon that his father would explain it all to him when he got home. Later that day, Doug walked through the door ready to have a mature man-to-man talk with his son.
"Dad, Dad! Did you know girls have cooters?"
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Hey, I Gotta Take Out My Anger On Someone!
Dave- "Errrr, I can't believe the dog ran away again. When he comes back, I'm gonna' shoot him."
Toots- "NO DADDY, don't shoot the dog. He's ouw fwend........ Daddy, awe you weally going to shoot him?"
Asker- "No, we'll just beat him."
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Don't Worry, He Won't Be a Prince.
"What's the matter, honey? Why are you crying?"
"I -sob-don't want to gwow up."
"OK, sweetie. What's wrong?"
"I just want to be a kid." Sobbing.
"Toots, you are a kid. It's OK. Why don't you want to grow up?"
"I don't want to dance with a pwince."
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
What I Meant To Say...
I was at my sister's house and her daughter, a finger-sucker, came into the room. I looked down and noticed that Toots, who had only been sucking hers at night, was sucking away.
"What's up, Toots? Is singer-f***ing contagious?"
We were rolling on the floor for five minutes. Thank God only the 3 youngest out of our 8 were in the room.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Ladies, I Have A Story
We ate out more often this summer than we have in the past 5 years combined. We had a No Restaurants rule for a while when Toots found it amusing to bang her head on every public floor she encountered. But Clam is such an easy little fella' and we were on vacation, and well, we blew our savings. But the fresh seafood was worth it....except for one time.
One evening a few weeks into our vacation, we met Dave at a local seafood restaurant for dinner. We both loaded up on fresh shellfish, but he also had the tuna. We were walking around the town square after dinner considering ice cream (considering which flavor, that is) when Dave felt a rumble. I directed him to the nearest restroom and sat down with the kids to wait. And wait. And wait some more. Finally after about 20 minutes, I walked around the corner to where he had gone. I sat on the bench(pictured below), and proceeded to wait another 20 minutes. I noticed a man, who was obviously waiting for his wife, holding a baby. My amazing powers of deduction knew this to be true because of the proven fact that no man in history has ever held an infant for 45 minutes voluntarily. Anyway, after waiting a bit longer, Dave came running out, quickly said that he was going to get the truck and took off. A moment later, the man's wife and her friend came out of the bathroom talking at a rapid pace. I wasn't really paying attention to them; I was too focused on perfecting the exact verbal volley I was going to use when Dave reappeared. Then I caught what one of the women was saying....."and then he says, 'Ladies, I have a story.'"
In that moment, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was talking about my husband. I tried desperately to eavesdrop, but they turned the corner and I was left to wonder what on earth had happened to my love in the last hour.
When he pulled up, I helped him put the kids in the truck and casually mentioned that I overheard some ladies talking about him. He shook his head and said, "You don't know the half of it......."
His stomach was rumbling and rolling as he went into the men's room and he knew it was not going to be a quick pinch-and-run. But as he went to enter the only stall in the room, another man jumped in front of him and shut the door. Well, as Dave explained it, no man does his business in the time Dave had remaining before a full change of clothes was needed. So he did the only other thing he could do. He went into the Ladies' room. He knocked on the door, and hearing no answer, decided to risk it. When he saw that the two stalls had floor to ceiling doors, he was relieved. He knew if anyone came in, they wouldn't be able to see his size 13 shoes. He tried the first stall, but there was no toilet paper. So he rushed into the second one barely making it before the thunder rolled. He finished up, flushed and as he started towards the door, he heard the unmistakable sound of females entering.
Now, in hindsight, he could have just opened the door, said "hello"and ran out. But he did what most of us would have done. He sat back down to wait it out. But there was just one problem. He forgot that the other stall had no toilet paper. Perhaps a different breed of woman would have just gone. I've done the shake myself a few times when necessary. Or maybe these women really had to do number two. But, whatever the reason, they were not content to use a paperless toilet. They knocked on Dave's door and after getting no answer and trying the door (locked) started speculating.
"Someone must have locked the door accidentally."
"Maybe it's out of order."
"No, they would have posted a sign."
"Well, try it again. Maybe you need to push, not pull."
"It's locked. I can't push or pull it."
All said in the honeysuckle voices of South Carolina girls.
This went on for quite some time. They speculated about what to do as more women entered. Each time a new woman came in, the others would explain the situation in great detail. Well, after a while, Dave started feeling guilty. He couldn't let those poor girls suffer any longer. So he took a deep breath....and knocked.
"Ladies, I have a story.....
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Some Kids Are Scared of Global Warming
Actual backyard conversation with neighbor's child:
Elizabeth- "We don't eat cows."
Asker- "Yes you do."
"No, cows aw not food. Thew're pets."
"No, they're steak. And they have lots of protein to make your body strong."
"Oh. That's cows?"
"Yes, Elizabeth."
"I like bacon."
"NO. BACON HAS NITRATES. Tell your mommy to buy nitrate-free bacon. It won't give you cancer."
Sunday, February 18, 2007
This Thing Really Sucks
Had you told me 10 years ago that I would be a stay-at-home mom to three and 2/9 children and loving it, I would have laughed. Had you told me that a new vacuum would be my most exciting purchase of the year, I would have cried. Alas, I am officially domestic.
Our old vacuum should have died long ago. I did not have the courage to put it out of its misery, deciding instead to duct tape the hose over and over again. Dave finally took it outside and shot it. Really, he did. But that is another post and I am just not ready to admit the level of white-trashiness that has descended upon us.
Having used the shop-vac to clean for the last two months, I finally decided to stop fooling around and make the purchase. I don't know why I kept putting it off. I guess I was afraid that if I bought a fancy new vacuum with all the right features, I would no longer have any excuses for my horrendous housekeeping. But with the pregnancy thing kicking in, I wanted a clean house. So armed with the Consumer Reports recommendations, off we went to buy the Kenmore Progressive. Actually, Dave went and bought it as my truck was still covered in 10 inches of ice. And I had no snow shovel. Nor ice scraper. Nor helpful husband. But that, also, is another post and I am not bitter or anything.
I am so glad we bought this vacuum. It was $200 cheaper than the Dyson, which Dave really wanted (he actually had far more input into this purchase than I thought normal). Price is usually my determining factor, being the complete miser that I am. But because we have a dog, and because during shedding season I usually contemplate ways to kill him without getting arrested, I thought it might be wise to find out which vacuums pick up pet hair well. The Dyson vacuums weren't even in Consumer Reports top 10, so we went with the number 1 rated Kenmore. It is a lovely slate blue and we have decided to name her Blue Betty. This follows the tradition of the White Buffalo (my Suburban), and the Green Monster (family pick-up truck) and adds a bit of clarification to the previous white-trash comment.
This thing has so many features, I was astounded. I can go all the way to the top of the steps without trying to balance the vacuum on my left foot, while managing the hose with my right hand, while dangling a baby from my hip. Actually, I think my old vacuum had a nice, long extendable hose when it was new. But within a few days, the first of many toys, blocks and kids' socks were sucked into the black hole area that cannot be reached unless you chop the hose in two. Thus the duct tape.
Blue Betty also has a baseboard attachment. Did you know you could clean baseboards? I always assumed everyone just moved furniture around until there were no more clean spots and then repainted. She has the normal attachments as well: crevice tool (A's dagger), extension wand (A's sword) and furniture brush (A's periscope). I do realize that some people actually use these tools and clean such places as ceilings, trim and doorways. I, however, have grown quite attached to our cobwebs and do not see the need to mindlessly detach them.
The only thing I do not like about Blue Betty, however, is the Intelliclean feature. First of all, I hate this ridiculous concept that American manufacturers have that combining any two words makes a new word. Why couldn't they just call it Intelligent Clean feature. My son came home from Sunday School saying stinkalicious today. Errrrrrr. Anyway, this feature allows the vacuum to determine the level of dirt on the floor and adjust the suction level (and noise level) accordingly. Little to no dirt is indicated by a yellow light and nearly silent cleaning. Medium level dirt is two orange lights and a ramped up motor. Heavy dirt shows three red lights and jet-engine noise level.
You know what's coming. I got no green lights! Not one. Every room in my house was orange or red. The boy's room (where Zeus sleeps) was off the charts. The red lights started blinking, Blue Betty was churning, smoke came out the back and a little mechanical voice started repeating, "Dust storm approaching. Take cover. Repeat. Take cover." It was not encouraging. Thankfully, I discovered the Intelliclean Off button before I got into my bedroom. A recent bead spillage caused some interesting noises inside Blue Betty. I read somewhere that vacuums are similar to chickens and need small pebbles or beads to help with their digestion, so I'm not worried. Plus, we bought the extended warranty.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Everyone Says He Is Just Like His Daddy
There are times I post stories that need no introduction. They stand alone in their reflections of children's innocence and humor. And then there are the stories like today's. The kind that require a preface and double disclaimer. Disclaimer 1: This is the reason I do not use our last name or my children's first names. Because I am horrified to claim this child as my own. Although I am sure each parent reading has an equally disgusting story. Disclaimer 2: There is a distinct possibility that this child may not be mine at all. He was the only one not born at home, and we all know how sneaky those hospital staff are. Now that I think of it, I'm pretty sure he was switched at birth.
When we returned from an exhausting day of sledding last night, I was sure the kids would throw themselves into bed and peacefully sleep away the night. Didn't happen. Overly tired and limbs aching from being dragged up the hill by their pregnant mommy, they were all wailing. I yanked off clothes, pulled on jammies and did some really quick teeth brushing. At some point I climbed into bed with baby C and that's when I became convinced I am rearing someone else's child.
The boys have bunk beds, so I was lying directly under A. After a few minutes, he must have forgotten that I was below him. All was quiet, when I heard him whispering.
"Dear Jesus, please help me not to die. I don't want to die. Please help me not to die from the poop germs."
Of course, being the ever-loving mom that I am, my first reaction was to start laughing. But I did so silently, being even more concerned with evesdropping. I sneaked out of C's bed and peeked over the rail for a closer look and listen.
"Jesus, protect me from those poop germs. Help me not to die."
At this point, sympathetic sweet mom kicked in and I made my presence known (plus I knew a really good blog post was happening and I needed details).
"What's wrong, buddy? Why are you praying?"
"I can't tell you, mom. I'm going to get in trouble."
"It's OK, A, you can tell me. I want to make sure you're OK. I'm not going to discipline you."
"I'm not OK. I'm going to die!"
At this, my heart started breaking because he obviously believed his demise was imminent. So I climbed the ladder and snuggled up to him.
"Tell me what happened, honey"
"Well, I.....I....I was going to eat my boogie. I mean, I did eat my boogie, and my finger smelled like poop and now I'm going to die from the collie."
OK, can we just stop right there. There are so many disgusting, embarrassing, I-cannot-believe-my-child-just-said-that moments in that confession that I am still reeling. But, in that enigma of life, it is in weakness and vulnerability that we are most prone to tenderness. So, even though I was visibly trying not to laugh, I was overwhelmed with love for this stinky little boy.
"You mean, e-coli?"
"Yes, the poop germs."
"No, honey you're not going to die. Um, why does your finger smell like poop?" You would have asked too.
"Well, I was trying to wipe when I had all my snow clothes on, and I couldn't get it all."
"So, you didn't wash your hands and had a little poop smell on your finger from during the day? Well, don't worry, the e-coli are probably all dead from being out in the cold." Completely pulled out of my butt, that explanation was.
"No, mom, I didn't get it all before, and my hiney was itching, so I just tried to wipe it on my blanket."
"ON YOUR BLANKET? Why didn't you go to the bathroom?"
"I was too tired. I'm going to die!!"
I spent the next few minutes comforting him with various explanations as to why he wasn't going to die. Finally, we prayed together that God would destroy the poop germs (A adding "with lasers") and he was able to go to sleep.
I looked at him with the absolute, pure love that only comes when they are sleeping and realized what a special thing it is to have a child that is willing to share his most embarrassing moments with his mom. I don't think I would have told my mom had I done the same thing, even at that young age. I'm sure in a few years, his social skills will have developed and he will not even consider cluing me in. I looked at him for another moment, said a quick prayer of thanks, and rushed downstairs to tell Dave so we could laugh hysterically.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Just When I Think They're Normal.....
Yesterday, the kids and I decided to spend some time playing in the snow. It was loads of fun. Nothing like spending three hours layering kids in massive amounts of clothes just to have their gloves come off two seconds after they walk outside. Anyway, we trudged up and down our mini-hill sledding for a while. We attempted to make a snowman. Considering there was only about one inch of snow on the ground, Frosty was mostly rocks, sticks and grass. But the kids were really having fun. I took a minute to look around, breath in the crisp air and say a little prayer of thanks for my adorable, sweet, normal children. Then I saw the two oldest making snow angels......face down!
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Out of the Mouths of Babes
My MIL will be mortified, but I have to post this. I no longer keep baby books, I'm recording their lives on this blog instead.
Dave called his mom today to tell her about the pregnancy. A asked if he could tell her instead. I said ok, but told him to be sure she knew it was growing in me and not being adopted (something we've been planning). A, being the gracious son, let T tell her instead when she asked (demanded).
"Mom-mom. Mommy's having a baby. A new one"
"T, tell her where it's coming from." (says A)
"Um, it's going to come out of mommy's gina." (Dave and I are rolling)
A takes the phone, "Mom-mom. T said 'vagina' but she meant to say 'mommy's uterus.'"
Dave gives me that must-you-teach-our-toddlers-every-single-possible-anatomically-correct-body-part? look that has become so familiar.
Friday, January 19, 2007
I'm Really Starting To Wonder About This One
Recent T statements.....
"Mmmmmm, these potatoes with shwimp are good!" (said while eating mac & cheese)
"Mommy, why do you have nipples all over your face?" (she must have sucked on my freckles for two years.)
"Usually, God only cares about cows. But sometimes, he wuvs us all." (spoken to no one in particular)
Friday, January 05, 2007
Jumping to Conclusions
"Mommy, I huwt my fingoow!"
"I'm so sorry."
"Why you say 'sowwy'. You didn't huwt it, I did."
"I know, but I am sympathizing with you."
"But you didn't huwt me, don't say 'sowwy."
"If your cat died, I would say 'I'm so sorry your cat died.' It doesn't mean I killed your cat, it just means I'm sad for you that your cat died."
"YOU KILLED MY CAT????"
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