Just The Facts, Ma'am.

This post is for my husband who has hinted that some of my posts may be a bit "long winded":

Kid grab poo.
Mom went "Eww".


(kind of makes you wonder what really happened, huh? Its the story around the story that sometimes makes the story. Oops Ive already rambled. Sorry dear. ) ;)

A Tale of Two Brains

Before you have kids, your brain is whole. Living happily in your skull and making daily decisions with enthusiastic ease. Its quick to tell you if those pants go with that top, if you can squeeze your car into that parking spot and it easily remembers the lunch date you have thats still two months away. Life is good. So good, that you decide now would be a great time to have children.
And as you give birth, your brain has given birth too. To a mommy brain. This little brains sole purpose is to take care of the kids. It nurtures, loves, disciplines and it grows. Bigger and stronger. Its a tough cookie, ready to scrap and stand up to any danger in order to protect the offspring. The problem though, is that this brain is incredibly aggressive and in its constant pursuit to protect, it wages war on the old brain. The old brain wants to do things like go out to dinner, read a book, and tell time. These things are not in the best interest of the children so new mommy brain attacks old brain and beats it down to mush. It lays there, lifeless. Every once in a while, it quivers a little bit, and tries with quiet determination to not be defeated. It suggests maybe a quiet weekend away from the kids. Mommy brain doesn't like this. Mommy brain creates the illusion that the kids are sick and you cant leave. Old brain lays back down and plays dead. This works well for mommy brain.
But this plan isn't perfect. Mommy brain is good for some things. But not all. Mommy brain is not good at telling you that the car payment was due yesterday. It does not remind you that you forgot for the second day in a row to feed the dog and dammit it says nothing when you walk out of the house with macaroni stuck to your ass or crap in your teeth. (though mommy brain does pick up on the fact that people are staring at you, but it doesn't comprehend why.)
Its just sits, in smug contentment, perched on top of old brain and thinks its in control. Oblivious to the fact that you haven't combed your hair in a week and you've worn the same sweat pants for three days. The kids are taken care of, so all is well.
All I can hope is that old brain is quietly gaining strength and will one day fight back and learn to work together with mommy brain. I'm not sure if there has ever been a perfect balance with the two working together hand in hand. But I'm not giving up hope. I wont give up hope.

Against logic there is no armor like ignorance. ~ Laurence J. Peter

My son, my dear child,
I understand the infinite temptations that call to you when you are left unsupervised in a bathroom. Mom has left you in there with the hopes that you would simply brush your teeth like you were asked. Mom also knows that is asking too much of a 4 year old. And while Mom was thinking the worst you would do would be unravel the toilet paper, or open up Daddy's shaving cream bottles, or pump the liquid soap into the sink until it was all gone, you had other plans in mind.
But WHY, dear God WHY, if you are fully aware of what purpose that white porcelain bowl in there serves, having just parked your own little naked butt on it not an hour prior, would you think it would be a good idea to dunk your sippy cup in there? What part of that seemed like a good idea?
I'm listening.....

Surely you can't be serious. I am serious. And don't call me Shirley.

Conversation with my son at lunch:
Mom, can you teach my baby brother how to talk?
"No, he is eating, so he isn't talking, he is being quiet."
"No, I mean YOU talk and pretend its him."
"No, Im eating too."
"Then I'll do it."
"Why don't you eat too, and we will all be quiet."
"Okay."
"Sound like a plan Stan?"
"Ug! I wish everyone would stop calling me Stan. That is not my name! Ya hear that everyone?!?"

Wear dark or neutral tones when going to the Principals office. Or court.

Raising kids is hard. They are smart little heathens.
With mouths.
My 4 year old lately has dragged his feet to the dinner table then complained when his food is cold. I think I fell for that once and reheated it. Once.
This evening he was busy playing video games and I made him a bowl of macaroni and cheese. I said "Dinners ready. Come eat."
"I dont want to. "
"Ok, well eat it hot now, or cold later. Im not heating it up for you. Lets go."
"Not yet."
"Now!"
"Im racing."
"Seriously. You are going to eat it cold then. And you WILL eat it."
He finally peels his eyes away from the game and goes to the kitchen table where he stares at his pasta and is not happy that he can no longer see steam rising from the bowl.
"Its not hot!"
(refraining from the "no shit sherlock" comment that was cutting into the tip of my tongue.)
"No, its not."
"Well I want steam to come up from my macaroni."
"Then you should have come to the table when I asked you to."
"Im not going to eat it. Its not hot."
"You ARE going to eat it, and if its not hot, its your own fault."
"I want it to be hot."
"Im sorry."
"Sorry doesn't make it hot."

Im so glad I was holding the baby at that point, so I could hide behind him while I had my inappropriate "that was good one!" smile on my face. Once I had my facial expressions under control I sternly told him that if he makes one more comment like that and he is going straight into a time out.

Oh lord, am I turning into one of those parents who thinks its funny when their kid farts in public or says shit when he drops his hot wheel? What next? Should I teach him how to mix me a Jack and Coke and fetch me my tobacky?
I better go read through my parenting books again. I think I missed a chapter.

Because I have nothing witty to say today....

I stumbled across this blog a while back and now I love checking in and seeing what catastrophic failures of our society have been captured on film. Heres a few that Ive picked out because they are all perfect examples of exemplary parenting at its finest:


see more pwn and owned pictures

see more pwn and owned pictures

see more pwn and owned pictures

Abuse at the Glue Factory

The inside of my sons brain is a deep, dark complex jumble of crazy. But being that he is my son, I guess thats to be expected. He will be playing, or watching TV and out of no where he will pull something up from the deep recesses of his mind and want to talk about it.
Usually its a topic that has been discussed to death already. A dead horse. Beaten to a pulp and buried. Then dug back up, beaten to pieces, scooped up into a bag and beaten yet again. Today he brought up his doctors appointment which was a month ago. It involved 5 shots. He threw such a fit after the first poke, I'm not even sure he knew that he got 4 more. We buried this horse a few weeks ago. This afternoon he got the shovel out. It went like this:
Mom, is your sweater itchy?
No, its soft and I really like it.
Well my sweater is itchy and thats why I tell you its itchy and I don't want to wear it.
I know honey, you've said that 80 times. I get it.
So was that gown at the doctors office. That was itchy and I DID NOT LIKE IT!
I know dear, it was itchy wasn't it?
(his voice gets a little louder now, not yelling, but just louder to express the seriousness)
And I don't like the doctor! I don't ever want a doctor appointment ever again!
Really? Why not?
I DON'T LIKE THE DOCTOR! I DIDN'T LIKE THAT LAST PART. THATS WHY I CRIED AND I NEVER NOT WANT A CHECK UP!
Why didn't you like the doctor? What happened?
WELL!......I didn't like her because she put band aids on my arms, and I didn't LIKE the band-aids!
You didn't like the band-aids? Why did she put band-aids on your arms?
WELL!!....she thought I had boo boos on my arms.
Did you?
NO! AND I DON'T EVER WANT A CHECK UP! YOU DON'T TAKE ME THERE AGAIN!
(goes back to playing his trains)

I suspect he wont even bother burying this one again, he gets too much joy out of rehashing this. No, this one will be put on a shelf in the front of his mind where he can keep it handy in case there is ever a dull moment, or God forbid he finds himself with....nothing to say. (GASP)