When I Laugh at Myself, to Myself

I admit, I often find myself laughing to myself about myself. Mostly obscure thoughts I've had, like slapping a large woman's butt when she bends down in front of me at the grocery store. "Move it, Ol Bessy," I think to myself," your butt is blocking the entire isle." Cracks me up. Not that I can't get by her McDonald's endorsed rump, but that I am actually resisting the urge to spank a complete stranger.
I'm so rude.
Does anyone else have thoughts like this?
Here's another:
A bratty little girl was mouthing off to her mother by a fountain. She was bending over the edge, trying to get the pennies at the bottom. I wondered if I'd be doing her mother a favor if I bumped her daughter right in the water. She was teetering anyway... the wind might just pick up suddenly. The thought of this little wretch soaking wet and in the fountain made me start laughing. And when the mother glanced up at me to see what was so funny, I had to pretend it was own children who were just over joying me.
This made me laugh at myself even harder. Jude didn't know what was so funny and Rocky just went along with it. Poor kids!
So, the next time you see me, if I begin to break out in laughter and you can't figure out why... know that it's a crazy, twisted mind.
And if you happen to ever come visit me at a home, I'll be the one they've put in the corner because I just couldn't stop giggling to myself.

The Flinstones Were Onto Something...

Family road trips are... interesting... especially with young ones. The baby doesn't understand why he's got to be strapped down for eternity, the toilet trainee always wants to stop to pee off the road, either my butt or my feet are asleep (strangely never simultaneously), and my husband turns into some kind of endurance athlete.
My wonderful husband is the endurance driver. He keeps his blood stocked with plenty of caffeine and sunflower seeds. I guess the work to get the seed out helps him stay awake... and my yelling when he spills them on the floor of the car. So if anyone wants some fresh cut sunflowers, they'll be ready to harvest out of my car in a couple weeks.
What someone needs to invent is a car with a removable floor. Easy to clean. Easy to find things. Like that cell phone that fell out of your pocket between the seat and the console. You call it and you hear it ringing. But for the life of you, you don't see it. Where is that darn phone? You empty your purse, the diaper bag, your kid's backpack, the pockets on the backs of the seats that magically collect cheerios and french fries. You are getting desperate and start picking up the papers strewn on the floor: coloring pages, oil change/tire rotation documents, registration forms... that's where it went... you'll have to fill that out later. You discover scrolls written on papyrus... And then, your phone rings. You remember your quest is to find your phone, not an archaeological dig of your back seats. Your phone is so close. You wedge your face to the floor and see it! You reach for it, but your hand is too big. You take another route on the other side of the seat adjuster, you got it! Unfortunately, your hand is now stuck.
Not to worry, if the floor of your car is anything like mine after a road trip, you will be sustained on goldfish crackers and raisins for months... not to mention sunflower seeds.
Now, just imagine how much more simple it would have been to just remove the floor, retrieve your phone, shovel everything else onto the compost pile, hose it down and put it back. Wasn't that easier?
Course, now you won't have fresh cut sunflowers every time you take a drive.

Children Are Hazardous to Your Health

Children do get their fair share of owies and boo-boos. Unfortunately, so do their parents because of them.
For me, there's the everyday head bonks that come from Jude, who in his excitement, forgets his head is hard as cement and bashes it into my face. Then there's Rocky, who is teething. Enough said.
But every once in while along comes the rare injury, like when Jude dropped a heavy wooden block on my foot and broke my toe. Granted it was just the little toe, but that incident sent me to the next room (hopefully out of earshot) with a mouth full of F's and SH's.
Most recently, however, I was awaken by a framed poster crashing down on my face. Thank-you, Rocky.
How did it happen? How does any of this happen?

Here's the recipe:

1 part curious child
1 part sleeping, distracted or otherwise non-suspecting, never-think-it's-gonna-happen parent
something(s) hard (preferably with sharp edges)

Cook for .000000001 second

Viola! Injury a la mom.

26 Things Learned the Hard Way

1. Remember to put the seat down after your older brother just used the toilet (age 2)
2. I don't like lamb chops (age 3)
3. Putting your finger down your throat WILL make you throw up (age 4)
4. Don't put the mixer on "HIGH" when you've just added flour (age 5)
5. When your uncle tells you grasshoppers are delicious, don't believe him (age 6)
6. Don't try to catch grasshoppers in your mouth on your uncle's motorcycle (age 6)
7. Uncles are mean spirited and enjoy laughing at you (age 6)
8. When you play in the sandbox of someone who has cats, be extra careful (age 7)
9. When a rooster runs at you, he does not want to be friends (age 8)
10. Feed your pet rabbit (age 9)
11. Pet graves are hard to dig in winter (age 9)
12. Boy are gross (age 10)
13. I really did like that boy (age 14)
14. Don't offer to help just to be nice (age 15)
15. Move your foot slowly off the clutch (age 16)
16. Those lamb chops were OUR baby lambs (age 17)
17. College exams are easier if you go to class (age 18)
18. The "courtesy flush" is a courtesy to yourself (age 19)
19. Maybe that wasn't such a great idea (age 20)
    
20. "That Boy" really did like me too (we got married) (age 21)
21. When your midwife says,"Don't push,"... DON'T PUSH! (age 23)
22. Tuck the baby boy's penis down in the diaper (age 23)
23. Newborn boys have surprising accurate aim (age 23)
24. Pick up the dog poop in the yard BEFORE your toddler goes out to play (age 24)
25. Don't assume your 9 month old can't climb out of the shopping cart (age 25)
26. It is by the grace of God that I am alive to celebrate another birthday (age 1-26)

"Mommy, I drink water..."

Sometimes kids say things and you say, "Great... good..." not paying attention and keep doing what you were doing.  No need to be alarmed.  Kids say a lot of things and, "Mommy, I drink water..." is not a statement that is cause for alarm.  Until you turn around and see that your child is drinking the water out of the fish tank.  What does one DO after such a moment?  Of course you take the air filter tube out of his mouth that he is using for a straw.  Of course you tell him, "never do that again," as you reattach his straw to the air pump.  

But then what?  Wash his mouth with anti-bacterial soap?  Pour iodine on his tongue?  hydrogen peroxide?  bactine?  

You do nothing.  Because there is nothing you can do... nothing but pray he doesn't catch some deadly bacteria.  And then give him a glass of water and remember not to let him drink out of your glass.

The "BUMP!" in the Night

If you've spent more than 10 minutes ever talking to my husband, you know that I talk in my sleep.  I even sleep walk.  Have for years.  Don't know when I do it or what causes me to get up in dream sleep and incorporate waking life.  

Strange.  

For those of you who suffer from "vivid sleep" as I do (I made that up... you won't find that on Wikipedia) you know how awful it is... you can't help it! 

During pregnancy was the worst.  I could swear there were bugs and spiders crawling and leaping at me in my sleep.  When I tried to show Eric they were REALLY there and not just a figment of my imagination, they were gone... but ready to come out again as soon as Eric rolled over back to sleep.  

Poor Eric.  

Many a night he has awoken to my screams and scrabbling out of bed to avoid a figment of my imagination.  

 

Just the other night Jude came into our room in the middle of the night.  Not so much as a peep out of him... course I wouldn't be able to hear him over my talking.  He climbed up and snuggled down by our feet.  

What's the dog doing down there?  He's not supposed to be on the bed.  My feet... I can't move my feet.  My legs are aching... I need to stretch them... but that stupid dog is laying right there... 

BUMP!

What the h--- was that!?

Eric and I both shot up in bed.  For once the figment of my imagination was REAL!  Sort of.  

Poor Jude.

He was crying... jerked awake from a sound sleep by getting kicked off the bed.  

Oops.

 

Don't Spill the Beans!

I never truly understood the meaning of "Don't spill the beans" until this morning. My husband starting roasting me coffee. It's delicious. It's fabulous. It's the best cup of coffee you'll ever have. Every bean is cherished. Every bean.
These beans are to me as the lost coin is to the women (as repenters are to God: Luke 15:8-10). There was rejoicing at finding every last bean that had spilled. A whole lot of rejoicing because there were a whole lot of beans... a whole bag to be exact. And Jude reenacting "Woody-walks-across-the room-through-a-mindfield-of-cheese-puffs" scene (Toy Story 2) did not help.

Oh well. All the beans were found... rejoice with me: come over for lattes!