Wednesday, December 25, 2013


I have about 8 minutes til the Benadryl I took kicks in, so this post should go from bad to worse by the end. I seem to be having a rash of hilariously dicey conversations with the kids as of late. About a week and a half ago I was tucking James into bed and he made a comment about a penis, mine specifically. What?! I informed him in no uncertain terms that indeed women do NOT possess a dangling participle, thank the good Lord. He was puzzled and said 'Well, girls do but its flat.' Um, yeah. I told him that it had a different name, which led to the obvious 'well what is it called then?' as he giggled with his adorable grin. Doh! It occurred to me in that moment that IF I were to give him the name of the anatomy in question, I would likely hear it about 376 times before the novelty wore off. I may have learned that when I was all 'they might as well know the correct term' and taught them the word testicles. James actually declared in front of friends: "Look, Mom! There is the sheep with the giant testicles!" It was at that point that our friends looked at us in horror and forbade their precious children to associate with my heathen children ever again. Or something like that. Because of this, I decided that I wasn't ready to spill the beans and told him I would think about telling him but not that night. This led to a variety of guesses which combined the two facts he had determined: it was a penis, and it was flat. His guesses included penuflat, crap-nis (because hello...pee-nis?), poopulus, flatulus, and...wait for it.....flatipus. With no sense of the irony of that one. In case you are wondering, no, I was not able to maintain a straight face. And at this point, it would be a tragedy to actually tell him because my source of entertainment would be gone. Today, however, brought the advent of an awesome development in the case. Uncle Phil is here and brings with him all manner of rough-housing and Nerf wars. I went upstairs to get something and Phil accidentally shot me, in the know. He yelled "Oh, I just shot you in the flapjack!" and you could see the light bulb turn on in James' brain. He exclaimed "Uncle Phil just told me what its called!!!!!"  .....Nice.

Thursday, December 19, 2013

An Awkward, Hilarious, Befuddling Conversation

After dropping Katie off at school, Tyler and I headed to the Walmarts so I could soothe my self esteem regarding my running pants/leggings/tights/spandex issues. Just kidding. I actually had to get stuff but I did see some rumps that made me remember it could be much worse. All that, however, is beside the point. My little sidekick decided to pepper me with questions on the drive there, and it quickly turned dicey. I will try my best to reconstruct it for you. My inner monologue is in italics. 

Tyler: I was born in Colorado, right?
Me: No, you were born in New the ghetto, son, I birthed you in the ghetto.
Tyler: Where is New Jersey?
Me: Over the river, on the way to the farm.
Tyler: But then where were you when I was born? 
Me: I was there, because you were in my belly and then when you were born you came out of my belly. Oh, crap! This is not heading in a good direction.
Tyler: But how did I get out of your belly?
Me: Uh....there is a kind of a door, or an opening that babies come out of. What kind of explanation is that? A door? Hey, Bob, show 'em what's behind door number one!
Tyler: Where is the door? 
Me: Uh, well, its not really a door, more like an opening that moms have to get their babies out. It is by my legs. Huh? 
Tyler: When I came out of the bottom of your feet was it bloody?
Me: Uh, yes, and no. I mean, you didn't come out of the bottom of my feet. Santa dropped you off! It was simple! Easy! Less explaining!
Tyler: Then where did I come from?
Me: Inquisitiveness is overrated!!! Sort of at the bottom of my belly, top of my legs. Stop asking me questions!
Tyler: Oh. Was it bloody? Did the door have to stretch a lot? 
Me: What the heck, man! Where are you getting these questions??? OK, maybe you did watch a horse being born on some show recently...apparently you were paying attention. Well, sort of, and yes. It hurts to have a baby but then you came and I was so happy.
Tyler: And then your belly got small.
Me: Yes. Mostly.
Tyler: Is the door still there?
Me: Yes. 
Tyler: Why is it still there? Is it still stretched out?
Me: Is it naptime yet?? Yes, it is still there, but it is not big. This kid is too smart for his own good!
Tyler: So its stays there in case you have another baby? I would crawl back in the door and be your baby again if you want.
Me: No!!! That is not possible.
Tyler: When I was in your belly, how did I see through your blood?
Me: When is it ever going to end? You had your eyes closed, but you weren't in blood.
Tyler: I didn't eat in your belly did I? 
Me: You had a hose called an umbilical cord attached to your belly button that gave you food from me.
Tyler: To my belly button? And how did I grow a belly button from the bilical cord?
Me: That's just how God designed it. The cord dries up and falls off and then you are left with a belly button.
Tyler: How did I grow two belly buttons?
Me: You didn't. You only have one.
Tyler: Hey, is that Alaska?
Me: What? 
Tyler: Is that Alaska over there?
Me: No, that's the landfill. 

Wherein I breathed a sigh of relief that we had reached the Walmart parking lot and turned to new realms of conversation. I don't think I could have carried on much longer with that conversation! I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Spoiling Santa

Katie came home yesterday and said she had told her friends that Santa was fake. Oh no!! My kid is THAT KID. I tried to explain to her that while we don't do Santa, some kids do and their parents have fun with the story of Santa and the experience of it all. And not to spoil their fun. She told me she had told two kids that Santa was fake. Today I helped in her class and her little friend looked at me incredulously and said 'Katie and my other friend told me Santa was fake! Can you believe that?' I had to play it cool and tell her what silly girls they were. The other little girl looked at me and said 'You know how I know Santa is fake? I found all my presents in my Dad's room.' Somebody got busted!!

Tuesday, December 17, 2013


You know you have yourself a keeper of a friend when you lament the size of your butt and she tells you "Meg, just go to Walmart and walk around. You will realize you have nothing to complain about." Thanks for the sage advice, Erin! :)

Friday, December 13, 2013

Random Thoughts: Otherwise Known As A Whole Lot Of Nothing

  • It has come to my attention that my mother is cleaning her house an entire week before the company comes. Who does that? Isn't that, like, putting the cart before the horse or something? Apparently when you don't have a surplus of undersized but over-zealous children running about the house will actually stay clean. Interesting. Very interesting. I am just hoping there are no stray waffle remnants lurking in the guest bedroom, which incidentally is Katie's room. And in that case our guest is more likely to find a pair of scissors under the bed, or the missing roll of Scotch tape hanging from the curtains. 
  • Chili: it has become apparent to me that I am something of a chili snob. In fact, I have come to believe that it just might fall into the same category as jewelry and artwork: don't just walk up to someone's house with a gift of your favorite framed Lisa Frank print and expect them to hang it on the wall. As in, chili/artwork/jewelry is personal. Yeah, so my analogy is breaking down faster than Donald Trump's hairpiece in the rain, but do you get my drift? Some people are soupy, watery chili people. Some people leave out the beans (blasphemy!) and others make a sweet chili (horrors!). The possibilities abound: pork, chicken or beef (ground or shredded), black beans, kidney or pinto and spicy/mild/bland? My mother in law used to make a pot of chili every now and then and she would put both pork and beef in it. At the time, Jeff did a valiant job trying to convince me that the white meat in it was not pork, but dog meat. The reason this whole earth-shattering (or mind numbing) topic has come up is because tonight the kids and I are tailgating with some friends in a church parking lot. Tailgating in a church parking lot? Is that legit? I can guarantee that over half our number will be comprised of those aged 10 and under, and that we will be visiting a live nativity scene afterward. But the tailgating involves chili, and it has caused me to spend approximately 6 seconds pondering what the chili will be like. And since I have nothing else to blog about, this is what you get. You're welcome.
  • Last night Tyler told me he didn't want to be Tyler anymore. He wanted to change his name to Jesus. But that no one would let him, because you have to be really old to be named Jesus. I think I will call him Hey-soos from now on. 
  • Last but not least, my backyard intruder notification system just went off to warn me there was a feline interloper. Would you like to know which brand of intruder notification system (INS) I use? It is called a Rhode Island Red and it sounds like this: BAWK! BAWK! BAWWWWWWWK!

Friday, December 06, 2013


Tyler bought a giant plastic candy cane for Jeff for Christmas. He explained his purchase to Mom and I saying "it's shaped like a cane so he can use it when he gets old. And when gets dead I will put it in his pocket so he can have it forever.

Tuesday, December 03, 2013

Kid Funnies

Today Tyler and I were snuggling on the couch. Tyler happens to excel at snuggliness. He loves to snuggle, and who can complain? Not this girl. We happened to be curled up with a Christmas I Spy book, and he pointed out a doll: "Mommy, I'm going to get you a doll like this because you love dolls, right?" I said "Do you know what I love more than dolls?" After thinking for a second, he said "I will get you a Squatchy doll."

For Christmas I bought James a rifle. Don't get your undies in a bunch. Its a toy. The problem, though, lies in the fact that it is a rifle. Not exactly easy to wrap without being obvious. Hey! Look at this really long package of socks Mom got me! said no one ever. This isn't James' first rodeo and the rifle was at the top of his list. I finally decided to pad it with paper to obscure the shape and just wrap it. On it I wrote To: Sir Francis Bacon From: Octavius Arnold and put it in my closet. As I had predicted, an excited little boy spent a bit of his quiet time closely analyzing the packages in the closet. Afterward, he told me that he had seen a package in my closet that he was SURE was his rifle. However, there were some strange names of people we didn't know, and that he didn't think it was his rifle after all. I asked him what names were on the package and he said "it says its to Sir Francis Bacon but I don't know who that is. And its from some weird name." I told him maybe it was for Uncle Phil and Katie suggested that maybe his middle name is Sir Francis Bacon. They all latched on to that idea and now I am pretty sure that they think the mysterious package is for him. I'll just let them think that!