Thursday, May 31, 2007

Slower and Louder.....

We have a phenomena at our house that we call "slower and louder." It occurs when our children are telling their ever-so-lame parents something and we don't respond immediately or say "what?" The children, because they are oh-so-smart, huf and say it again--S L O W E R A N D L O U D E R.........

This comes to mind because my youngest will be having his 8th birthday at the end of June. He has been throwing out birthday ideas since last July. His sister had her 10th b'day party at Embassy Suites, her b'day is in Feb. and she wanted a pool party. Rent a room and you get to use the pool, plus my middle child can totally get our money back on the breakfast buffet--he may be skinny but he can eat his weight in bacon.

But I digress, Magnuts wants a "hotel" birthday, with 7 of his closest friends. Now, he doesn't want them to come over just to swim, he wants them to shack up with us for the night. Oh yeah, those are gonna be some awkward calls....."Mr. Smith, I know we have not known you very long, but my husband and I would like to take your son to a hotel for the night *crickets chirping* " So this is fictitious phone call is running through my head when my son decides to repeat his request for his dense mother " M O M------- A -------- H O T E L,------ L I K E-------- W H E R E----------- P E O P L E-------- O N------ T R I P S----- S L E E P"

I would love to smack him in the back of the head, mid-sentence, and then dance circles around him while yelling "How You like Me Now!" But, I know that would just be wrong, damn.

Anyway, for now, talking over him LOUDER and MORE SLOWLY seems to get the job done.

About the b'day, I will invite the parents to bring their children to swim for the afternoon, I will be sweet, there will be cake and ice cream for all the little monkeys, presents for Magnuts, and when they all of them leave, there will be me and a very large cocktail.

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

The One Where Magaret Tags Me......

Margaret of Just Me tagged my sleepy behind. I have a horrible cold and my eye hurts, but for her........

-Each Player Must Start With 8 random facts/habits about themselves.
-People Who are tagged need to write their own blog about their 8 things and post these rules.
-At the end of your blog, you need to choose 8 people to get tagged and list their names.
-Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them they're tagged and to read your blog.

1. I hate snakes. Not in the normal way people don't like things that could kill them, I don't like to touch the pages in a book that have pictures of Mr. No-Shoulders. A non-venomous snake could bite me and the heart attack from just seeing him would kill me.

2. I once threw a ping pong paddle at my husband and hit him in the crotch. We were playing around, and I was a good 25 feet from him, I could never make that shot on purpose. It dropped him where he stood, we both thought I was gonna have to take him to the hospital. But in an hour or so he was able to get off the floor and he was fine, frozen peas and know the drill......

3. I do not like to eat outside. I am a big fan of food, I do not want bugs and wind playing havoc with my stuff, jeeze...

4. My Mom is one of my best friends. She is one of the most generous people I know, and I can't imagine my life without her. She always has time for me and I love her. Plus she is funny as hell.

5. I am super competitive. My husband used this trait to lure me into Fantasy Football and now I am addicted. Until this I never watched pro-ball, now I never missed an Auburn game, but pro-ball, I didn't see the point. Now I am trying to convince him we need the sports package from our cable company.

6. I love "One Tree Hill" there I said it. It is my guilty pleasure, and one that I share with one of my favorite family members, whose name will not be mentioned, because this person might kill me.

7. I always wanted to try storm chasing, always wanted to see a tornado. Since I had children, not so much...however I do still love a good storm.

8. I eloped with my Husband on a work day. I was off duty because of an ankle surgery he took a half day and we went to the Justice of the Peace. My Maid of Honor was pregnant and ate popcorn through the entire thing. My parents did not meet their new son in law until 7 days after we were married, at a family reunion. They did not know we were married until we got there. They love him, and so do I. It will be 13years this June.

Ok, here comes the tagging part, I am all new at this, I really don't know anyone who hasn't already been tagged. Plus believe it or not I am a little shy, so I am gonna do a little cop out here and ask those who read this, yes all 2 of you, to consider yourself tagged, if you have a moment please post your answers in the comments section.

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Shocks, Pops, and Salutes....

We just had Award's Day at my children's school. For the 1st and 2nd grade presentation I was seated in the back, right behind the last row of 2nd graders. All of the 1st grade awards were given first, so the 2nd graders started to get a little fidgety. The 3 little boys seated closest to me caught my attention. They had their hands palm side up and were very slowly moving them back and forth right over the top of their plastic chairs. I was intrigued.......
I couldn't for the life of me figure out what they were up to. I began to think that this was some new version of the old "flinch" game, and was waiting for one of them to slap the crap out of the other one.

Curiouser and curiouser....

This strange hand rubbing went on for a few more minutes and then each boy leaned forward in their chairs, did I mention that the row in front of them was just full of 2nd grade girls? Little girls all dressed up for Award's Day? The boys eased their hands right though the back of the girls chairs, closer and closer to their skin and POP! They shocked the everloving sh*t out of them; the girls yelped and the boys jumped back to their seats, perfectly innocent expressions on their little faces.

Now the teacher is looking and the girls can't do or say a thing....but the one girl, the one in the middle, I can't swear to it, but I am pretty sure that that I saw her ease her hand behind her back (right past the big chiffon bow) and offer the boys a little One Finger Salute..........

Monday, May 28, 2007

Stupid Horse....

Several years ago Santa brought my children a miniature horse. Santa's helper located this animal at a farm a few miles from our house, so I had a chance to go check him out. The man that owns this particular farm is a goober, at 240lb I would have really rather not seen him mount the little horse to show me how gentle it was.

A few weeks later the kids had the ultimate Christmas fantasy come true, they got a pony.

Things went really well until he was introduced to our two mares, he was supposed to be a gelding, and it turns out he was the biggest horn-ball on earth. He managed to throw both mares into estrus in less than 48 hours. Life at the barn went from rated G to XXX in a matter of days. I had him checked out by the vet, who confirmed that he was a gelding, so now I am thinking "What tha....".

He got so buck wild that I now had to chase his butt down to get a lead on him. The walk from the barn to the house was crazy, he would call to the mares and they would go nuts trying to get out of the fence. He was like some black hairy Lothario.

Eventually I quit taking him out for the kids to ride, and allowed him to live in studly-hood with the mares. It was around this time that he discovered a way out of the fence, he found a place that he was just small enough to get through. He would take off, up the driveway and across the Hwy. The mares would just go insane, calling and banging into stuff. Eventually someone would call me and tell me he was out and I had the fun job of chasing him down on foot. I hated this horse. He HAD to go, it was him or me and he couldn't drive the kids to school; plus as I have mentioned before, I DON'T run, all of this chasing him was really starting to piss me off.

This nice young Mom and her Mother came out to take a look at him. I met them at the barn and was telling them how gentle he was, and "oh yes he is great with kids...." (he really was as long as there was no mare within 100 square miles of him) They were petting him and he was actually behaving. Then my dog (a St. Bernard) walks over so that she is face to face with the horse. She had a piece of deer fat in her mouth and proceeded to tease the stupid horse with it. When she dropped it and leaned to get it the damn horse bit her on the back of her head...This is when I dropped the price $50...gentle my butt.

So money was exchanged, and I am trying to get this albatross loaded in the trailer before I end up having to pay them to take him. He loses his flippin mind, raring up, snorting, and causing the mares to follow in kind. We ended up throwing a shirt on his head to blind/calm him, and were able to walk him right in the in right into the side of it, WHAAP. Eventually I got him lined up and he was good to go.

About a month later I got a very angry phone call from the lady that bought the horse, apparently the little bugger had impregnated two of her mares (think hill). Can you say undescended testicle...........

Sunday, May 27, 2007


My 5yo son was using my bathroom, and in a standard move, left the door wide open. I walked by and something felt off, but in that moment I did not know what. Sure he had his hands on his little wee wee, but then he always did. Something caused me to do a double take, he was standing perfectly still, his face was bright red, tears on the brink; thinking he must have gotten soap down ye ol' willy hole again I look down. Oh sweet God, the little genius had taken these freakishly strong magnets and placed them on opposite sides of his wee-wee. I am talking about magnets that were smaller than a dime, and they had connected THROUGH THE SHAFT OF HIS WEINER! The end of his willy is now swollen and red, tears are falling and I yell for my husband. It was like a scene right out of ER, my husband throws him on the bed and is yelling at us to "clear" as he grips the little magnets trying to break the connection. The tip of said wanker is now turning a dangerous shade of purple, I am saying that we need to get him to the hospital. My husband screams "he will never make it" and in one last heroic move manages to release the magnets (and a small amount of skin). He ended up with two perfect purple circles, one on each side of his wee, a bag of frozen peas a few motrin and he was fine.

And this is how my youngest child became known as MAGNUTS.

Saturday, May 26, 2007

Schwack Schwack Schwack.....

My Mom had a great idea to help me get rid of some of the brush and bramble around this place...goats. She and Dad went to an auction and bought six nannys, the following is a snippet of our conversation as we were unloading them:

Me: Uh Mom you said there were 6 nannys..

Mom: yeah

Me: two of those nannys have awfully big balls...

The next day as I am leaving to take the kids to school, I notice that all of the goats are running around OUTSIDE of the fence. Long story short, all 4 nannys escaped, but the the billys...........

This is my theory about why the billys stayed until winter:

Let me start by saying that in order for them to escape they would have to cross a two lane highway. A two lane highway in the DEEP south, in May, the equivalent of walking on hot coals. Well for the nannys this was no biggy, but the billys would have to drag their giant goat testicles across two lanes of molten lava. I believe that they decided to wait, dragging your bits across asphalt is bad enough, but at least in November they wouldn't have road rash and 3rd degree burns.

Until the road cooled they could be spotted in the front field entertaining themselves by standing head to head, pushing back and forth thus creating a nasty pendulum effect with their giant scrotums. There is no delicate way to say this but...They got enough momentum going so that their "stuff" slapped together in the middle....schwack schwack schwack (is that goat for "who's your daddy?")

Kinda like this but with goat heads and fur.

Friday, May 25, 2007

NO! I Don't Want Those Panties Back....

Once upon a time, a long long long time ago, I was in the Army. I thought it would be interesting, the recruiter (read: big fat liar) told me about things like bivouac, the Army version of camping, but failed to mention that there would be no beer, campfire, talking, or lights. He also failed to mention "The Tower of Terror," no kidding that is it's real name, and I believe it says it all.

At the end of Basic Training we marched 100,000 miles up and down the hills aptly named Misery and Agony, "camped out" for a few days, then marched back. While out there we had all kinds of fun, digging foxholes, peeing in the woods, not showering and my absolute favorite - "tactical field chow." That just means that we had to belly crawl from tree to tree to get to our food. I understand these tactics, kind of, but there was an event that seemed in glaring contradiction to all of the hard core training...on day 2 we put on our extra uniform and sent out the funky one to be laundered. Seriously, laundry service in the field, what they couldn't find some rocks and water for us to wash them ourselves?

So here we are, our last night in the woods, our extra-uniforms safely at the laundry, and I am awakened at 4am by the sound of someone crying. It was coming from the tent a few yards behind mine, this girl had had and accident, in her only uniform. See, in order to go to the bathroom you had to zip, buckle, tie, and strap on about 50 different things, grab your gun and run/waddle like hell. She just couldn't make it. The Drill Sergeant hears all of this and yells from his tent for me to give her an extra pair of panties and then go get the extra pair of pants out of his truck (notice he had a truck, guess who did not march the 100,000 miles with us). Well the pants were easy (not for her, they were huge) but it was still dark, digging around in my waterproof bag I grabbed her a pair of what felt like panties.

Later in the afternoon, on the march home, she whispers to me that I sure have some "kinky drawers." She seems to find this hysterical, I am wondering how in the world she came up with "kinky drawers" to describe white cotton granny panties.

It all became horribly clear when we finally arrived back and were released to shower... Imagine my surprise/disgust when I looked over and saw this girl wearing my white cotton sports bra over her hoo hoo dilly...legs through the arm holes, basically giving a "crotchless" panty effect. Blech.....kinky indeed.

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

This Post Brought To You by Wrinkle Guard....

5 people create a ton of laundry, and as a result the Laundry Fairy is always busy. Even though I do at least two loads a day, I can't tell you what color the floor in the laundry room is. I have a rappelling rig hooked up to move around the mountain of funky clothes.

This mountain was once named Mt. St. Monkey Butt. Any of you with young boys have probably already guessed why, for the rest of you - think - love of wedgies + dislike of Charmin

I have ended this disgusting phenomena; when OSHA requires that you wear a HAZMAT suit just to do a load, it is time to make some changes.

Now, about wrinkle guard, my husband's pants must come out of the dryer the moment it stops, if not they will need to be ironed, and that is not in my contract. So, the wrinkle guard feature is like my little snooze button for the dryer. Delusional, yes, lazy, perhaps, but it does let me pretend that it is not yet time for me stop what I am doing, strap on my harness and climb Mt. Funky to play hot potato with scalding pants.

For the love...

For those of you not from the South, the title of this blog may be a bit misleading. In this case, "For the love" is actually short for "For the love of God what the hell were you thinking you crazy....." With 3 kids it has really helped me cut back on the WTFs.

I am starting this blog in hopes that it will cheer me up. 2 of my favorite things will be coming to an end in the next week: school and free cold air. Living in the DEEP south makes me a huge fan of free cold air (winter, early spring, late fall), you would be too if your average summer power bill was in or around $450. As far as school being out, kids home all day, nuf said.

Anyway, there are 5 of us and we live on a farm. Our closest neighbors are almost a mile away; you could run butt naked laps around our house and no one would ever know. You may ask yourself how I know this, well it sure as hell wasn't me, I never run - I have a car, but my boys....

So to get this blog started, a little story:

Yesterday, when I got home from taking the monkeys to school I left my car window open about 4 inches. After lunch I needed to head to town to run some errands, I jumped in my van, whipped it in reverse and headed for the road. That is when something brown and loud caught my attention from the back seat. I am freaking out, throw the car in park and fling myself out. THERE IS A FLIPPIN BIRD BANGING ITS STUPID BUTT INTO EVERY WINDOW IN MY VAN! After my heart starts again, I open the driver's side sliding door, the bird moves to the back of the van. I open the tailgate and the little pecker flys to the front, I move around and open the other sliding door. Now the bird has 3 GIANT holes to fly out of, so of course it chooses to fly into the small space between the open sliding door and the van. I am picturing how gross it is going to be if I can't get this, clearly insane, bird out of there. I move to the rear of the van to try to get the bird out, it turns and flys straight out and right at my face. I scream like the girl I am and drop to the ground.

Moral of this story: If you see bird poop on your arm rest check the back seat before you buckle up.