PPT, God bless him, is on a Crocodile Hunter kick. He's holding full-on debates with himself to try and perfect his Australian accent, and it's driving me bonkers. This was our conversation this morning as he was getting ready for school (this whole discussion was in a horrible, 10-year old version of an Australian accent, so use your imagination):
M: PPT, are you finished eating?
PPT: Crikey! Ay mate, I'm finished.
M: Then go brush your teeth, we have to go.
PPT: Crikey! I'll go brush me blooming teeth. Did you see the kangaroo in the hallway? I almost got the little bugger...
M: GO!
PPT: Crikey! Don't yell! You'll scare the koala bears.
M: I'm going to kill you.
PPT: Crikey! She's a wild one, I don't want to scare her. I'll just creep up quietly...
M: Your life is over.
PPT: (running down the hall) Crikey! Crikey! Crikey!
Remind me to cancel Animal Planet, stat.
PPT & The Crocodile Hunter
My clients kick ass
One of my policyholders just came in, and he was born and raised in Egypt. This was our conversation:
C: My brother works at Connell Chevrolet, and he's the same color as you...
M: White?
C: Red.
M: Pink?
C: Red.
M: Lighter skinned with some brown freckley accents?
C: Red.
M: Thanks.
C: You're welcome.
I can't make this stuff up, people. My clients kick ass.
Best parent ever
If your children are 5 and 10 years old, and you ask them what CD they want to listen to on the way to school and they reply:
D: Ooh, do you have Jay Z? Or Guns N' Roses?
PPT: No, it's my turn! Dropkick Murphys...or do you have Linkin Park?
Then you might be the best parent ever. Like me.
Thank you for being a friend
I'm feeling all pink unicorns and rainbows and shit today, so I'm going to blog about my friends and why I love each and every one of them so dearly. Look for your initials, because that means I've known you since I was in the womb and I love you more than life itself. And if you're not in there, it's because we may be friends, but we're not super close yet. So just suck up to me and do everything I ask, and maybe next time, you'll make the list.
If your initials happen to be J.D., I know you read my blog and you're going to stab me for not listing you...but since these are all my childhood friends, you don't fall in that category. So let me just say that I love you to pieces. I can tell you anything, and you make me giggle even when I'm Bitter Betty. I call you every single day and start to panic if you don't answer the phone, because you're totally my Lifeline. And I'm so glad PPT played baseball and I got to meet you. But really, we shouldn't ever go out to eat together again, because $63.00 each at Red Robin? Ack!
And pals' husbands, although I adore you all, aren't listed. Sorry boys...this is strictly a vagina thing.
A.J.: You have one of the most wonderful hearts I've ever known. You don't judge me, and you're so mellow, and I know you've survived so much that your strength just amazes me. I know you're there for me no matter how bad anything gets, and I adore you for that. And I want to be like you when I grow up. BONUS POINTS FOR: Having me pick you up behind your back fence the night you ran away from home...for one night.
C.F.: You're so amazing and brilliant and have done so many wonderful things in your life. You take everything in stride and truly find the good in everything. You don't have a mean bone in your body, and live by what you speak...faith and simplicity. And I know you'll be there for me, always, no matter what. And you have a killer body. BONUS POINTS FOR: Getting mad at me for being late when I got hit by a car in 6th grade.
E.C.: You might be one of the most direct people I've ever met, and since my mouth tends to speak before my brain can stop it, I truly appreciate that. You are driven and determined and know what you want, and you're younger than me but much more successful, which pisses me off but also makes me admire you tons. And I think you're much more sensitive than you want anyone to know...and I feel you, sister. BONUS POINTS FOR: Almost brawling with me during Bunco over a weekly planner.
A.G.: You're a new addition to the group, but man, do I dig you. You're funny and outspoken and opinionated and I think you're really whipping your husband into shape. I love that you blog stalk and are obsessed with UFC just like me, but seriously...Frank Mir is not a vampire. And Rich Franklin is not Ace Ventura. And I can't understand a word George St. Pierre says. So there. BONUS POINTS FOR: Telling the other girls to take the Sharpie away from me at your baby shower. You already know my evil ways.
G.G.: You're honestly like my sister, which sometimes makes me want to punch you in the eye but most times makes me love you. We disagree about lots of things and probably will continue to...but I know if I need you, you'll be there in two seconds flat. And I'd do the same for you, because I love you to death. And you make me laugh like no other, besides Hubs. But I have to wash his stinky underwear and clean up his pee around the toilet, so you rank higher, as far as I'm concerned. BONUS POINTS FOR: Living with me (twice) and making me cry by saying New Kids on the Block sucks.
*Side note: Didn't I get a message from you this morning asking if I'm going to the NKOTB concert? 18 years later, FACIAL DISCRIMINATIAL!
J.B.: You're my go-to gal, and the true definition of a friend. You listen when I need to talk and laugh at my stupid jokes. You don't mind when I drop an F-bomb (well, I know you mind, but you don't say anything) and you always seem to make the right decisions. I have honestly thought so many times when I'm struggling with something, "What would J do?"...and that's not Jesus, that's you. I value our friendship immensely and love you for loving me, faults and all. BONUS POINTS FOR: Googling unmentionables when your mom walked in, and that cockroach that flew down your shirt...one of the funniest things I've ever seen. EVER.
K.O.: First of all, your initial are K.O.! How have I never noticed that? You are so considerate and thoughtful, and are always thinking of other people. You never miss a birthday and even know most anniversaries, which boggles me. You've listened to me rage about Babe and know just when to say, "Mmm-hmm" or "I know" to make me feel better, and you don't feel like you need to put up the appearance of perfection. Honestly, I adore you for that, because we all know how screwed up I am. And you're super sensitive but somehow put up with me, which you deserve much kudos for. BONUS POINTS FOR: Laughing at Babe's sleep mask in Vegas. I think you're the first friend I've ever called a bitch...to her face.
N.N.: So, you moved far away and I never see you anymore. But I still love you. You're kind and sweet and always, always laughing...even at yourself. When I see you, it's like we're in 9th grade again, and nothing has changed. Except I've gained 100 pounds. But you're still cute. Whatever. And...you were a delivery nurse, so if ever there is a vagina question that needs answering, you're the lady to call. BONUS POINTS FOR: Getting me grounded after our double date with I don't even remember who to Black Star.
S.C.: You're full of piss and vinegar and we should hang out all the time. You're only 4'10", but honestly, you terrify me and I wouldn't ever call you a bitch to your face (sorry K.O.) because you'd probably beat my ass. But underneath all that, you're a girl who would truly give the shirt off her back to a friend in need. You have a heart as big as Kansas and an incredible inner strength that I truly admire. BONUS POINTS FOR: All the funny shit you've said when you're blitzed off your ass. I can't even remember it all, I just remember it ruled.
S.A.: You're so freaking cute and stylish and your hair does things that mine never could. You're always there for anyone in need and have a heart of gold, and although we're not super close, I get the feeling that I could call you to vent and you would totally listen and never judge. So you rock. And you make me laugh. A lot. BONUS POINTS FOR: Introducing me to "J/K, J/K, LOL" and "Shake it off!" These are regulars in my vocab now.
V.S.: There should be a law that nobody can be as cute as you are and be hysterical, brilliant and kind. You love me with all my ugly, and that is priceless and so cherished by me. You are a true friend, one that is there when needed and doesn't pry unless asked. And you don't judge me, even though there's plenty to judge. You're a survivor with a tender heart, and I worship the ground you walk on. And James is hot. BONUS POINTS FOR: James. And sleeping in the doorway of your room during an earthquake.
And that, dear pals, is why I love you all. Here's my thought: we all need some warm fuzzies every now and then. Why don't we all do this? If you have a blog, blog about why you love your friends. If you don't then email me. I mean, them.
Alright, fine, I really just want to know why you guys love me in return. So if you don't blog or email, I'll think we're not buddies anymore, and I'll draw an X across your yearbook picture and you WON'T get B/F/F next to my name. So there.
B/F/F!
Bathing, bonding & pokey hair
I was checking out my posts today, and I realized I post about The Dictator way more than I post about PPT. It's not because I have a favorite child...rather, it's because The Dictator tends to get in more trouble, cause me more grief, and he has a way with words, to put it nicely.
PPT is a glorious child...moody at times, yes, but nowhere near as high maintenance as the little gnome that popped out of my womb 5 years ago.
So tonight, Hubs and PPT went to Michael's to buy materials for a book report that's due on Friday, which left The Dictator and me home all by our lonesomes. I decided to take a bath while he was playing Wii, which was wonderful...until his keen 5-year old brain sensed that mom was relaxing, and that simply can't be done on his watch. He came in, butt naked, and declared he was getting in the bath with me, which he hasn't done in about a year.
Now, let me start off by saying that I am not a small girl. And the bath is not a big bath. So by myself, I was pushing maximum capacity. But fear not, fellow crimefighters, for he is clever. The Dictator was able to firmly wedge his little ass in the tub, and we were able to bond, he and I, me hugging my knees and suffocating on my own boobies and him playing with his wiener.
Here are just a few gems that came out of The Dictator's mouth while we were enjoying our time together in the tub:
D: You have a lot of hair. (Legs, you perverts, legs.)
D: This tub doesn't fit you.
D: Your hair is pokey. (Legs!)
And, my personal favorite:
D: You're the best mommy with a big stomach EVER.
*Note to self: Repeat three times quickly: Children are a blessing, children are a blessing, children are a blessing.
Fun with art and The Dictator
At 5 years old, The Dictator is not only a soccer protege, but quite an artist. He's graduated from drawing giant penises all over every single piece of paper he can get his grubby little hands on to scribbling lollipops with stick legs.
Here's what he usually brings home:
This particular specimen seems to be missing a couple of limbs, but you get the idea.The other day, The Dictator brought home this:
Now granted, I'm no Picasso- but I'm fairly positive that my angelic little spawn has been watching too many TLC programs, because dammit, if this isn't a sperm fertilizing an egg, then slap me twice and call me Sally.
He is so my kid.
Sex thoughts
The Guy That's Snoring on the Couch always complains that we don't have sex enough. I'm not sure why two times a month isn't enough for that nympho, but I've tried explaining to him the difference between me (complex woman) and him (single cell organism).
Nothing's working, so I'm hoping this can clarify for him.
Here's what's going on in our respective minds as we lay in bed and prepare for "doing it" (as he ever so romantically puts it):
TGTSOTC: Weiner. Vagina. Boobies. Fun. Sleep.
M: God, I'm so tired. I hope I got everything ready for tomorrow. Did I put PPT's cleats in his bag? Does The Dictator have his bedding ready? Did I finish the whites? I think I finished the whites...no, that was the darks. Damn, the whites are still in the washer. Now they're going to mold and the whole washer's going to stink for three days. And I love that washer. It's red, and I love it. I'm so glad I got it, and what a great deal, because I had that coupon from ebay. I love ebay. I need to go on tomorrow, I need a new watch. Watch...shit, what time is it? I'll bet it's late. Did I set the alarm? I can't get up late, PPT's got to be at school at 7:30...7:30! Who in the Hell gets to school at 7:30? That's insane. Is he touching my boobs? He is. I should get a new bra. Note to self: go to Kohl's tomorrow. Look for a white bra, because the pink one you got last time shows through all your shirts, and then you look like a hooker. Hookers have it rough. I can't imagine getting it on with people you don't even know. Did PPT finish his math? I think he did. Poor kid, he's really struggling with that subject. I need to get him a tutor. "Tutor? I don't even know her". Ha, that joke makes me laugh every time. Did I let the dogs out? I should get up and let the dogs out, otherwise Bad Dog will pee in the house, and I'm almost out of dog pee cleaner. I need to go to Home Depot and get more. I should get new plants while I'm there too, because the ones we have need to get the Hell out of my life. Damn shrubbery. I water it and it dies. What's that about? I need to go to the grocery store. I hate the grocery store. But we're out of produce. Did I just think the word 'produce'? Who uses that word? Apparently I do. God, I'm tired. Am I asleep? Am I dreaming? Nope, he's still feeling my boobs, so I must be awake. How is that he falls asleep while I'm talking but all of a sudden when boobs and vag are involved, he's wide awake? Caveman. I saw the new Geico commercial today. Pretty funny. My favorite is still the one where he's in the airport. What time is it now? Can I go to sleep yet?
And that's just a small sample of why we only have sex twice a month.
Baby on Board
The other day I was driving on the 22 freeway, or, as I like to call it, "The Path to Hell". In my usual commuter fashion, I was trying to juggle a water bottle, the radio dials, my purse, two Target bags, lotion, an old sippy cup of milk and my God-forsaken Bluetooth while steering with my elbows. What? I have 25 minutes all to myself, I have to multi-task.
In the process of debating the benefits of Jack Johnsons versus Guns N' Roses and hanging up on someone (blow me, Bluetooth), I seemed to forget to brake, thereby causing me to stop .00003 inches away from a minivan's back bumper and leave a nice trail of smoke billowing up behind me.
Yes, I put (almost) everything down and started steering with opposable thumbs. But the woman I nearly hit was none too happy and felt the need to glare at me the rest of our 14 minute ride home. Whatever. I was far too captivated with her "Baby on Board" sign to give two shits about her evil eyes.
Why on earth does someone feel the need to advertise that there's a small human in the vehicle? Does that tiny yellow sign scream, "DO NOT HIT ME. I HAVE AN INFANT IN THE CAR. GO FIND SOMEONE ELSE TO HIT, PERHAPS SOMEONE WITH A TODDLER. THEY ARE NOT BABIES SO IT IS PERFECTLY ACCEPTABLE TO SLAM INTO THEM."
I'm just saying...the tiny yellow sign almost didn't stop me.
I'm off to find a car full of 5-year olds.
Top 15 reasons The Dictator kicks ass
Today is The Dictator's birthday, and because I don't have a warm fuzzy blog, I'm going to honor him by making a list of the top 15 reasons I think The Dictator kicks ass.
1. He makes me laugh, every single day. Sometimes it's intentional, but usually it's just him being him.
2. He loves to cuddle, and actually asks me to schedule it in for him- "Mom, is it cuddle time yet?" It makes my cold heart melt.
3. He takes the longest craps I've ever witnessed. Honestly. Every single time he gets up from the toilet, he has a ring around his ass because he's been sitting there for 25 minutes. And he gives you a play-by-play of what's happening. "Okay, I'm pushing again. This one is big!" And bath water motivates his bowels, because the second his bath is done running, he has to poop. And then his bath gets cold, so I have to run the water again. But I still love his marathon craps.
4. He knows almost every word to every song he's ever heard. It's amazing. He hears a song once and the next time it's on he's singing it.
5. He's always hungry. If we eat dinner at 6:30, by 6:45 he's hungry again. And this continues every 15 minutes until bedtime at 9:30.
6. His favorite show in the whole world is Wipeout, and he insists that we all sit down and watch it with him. And we do, because seriously...it is the BEST. SHOW. EVER.
7. At 5 years old, he's smarter than me.
8. He remembers everything you've ever told him since he was in utero. And where he was when it was said. And who said it. And why.
9. He loves his brother more than anything on earth, and will share everything he has with him. When he's not socking him in the stomach as he walks by.
10. He is very, very, VERY strong-willed. Right now, that makes me want to smother him, but when he's older, it may actually do him some good.
11. He believes in God and Jesus, always, no questions asked. There is no faith with him, it's just fact.
12. He's the slowest eater ever.
13. He looks like my family. Not me, so much, but my family...especially my mom, and that's a nice little reminder now that she's gone.
14. He has absolutely no impulse control. He says whatever pops into his head and does whatever seems like a good idea at the time. About 98% of the time, it gets him in trouble.
15. He's the sweetest little boy in the world...unless he's the meanest. But mostly the sweetest. Sometimes.
And that, my friends, is why The Dictator kicks ass. And why I love him forever, no matter what, more than anything in the whole wide world.
Happy Birthday Dictator!
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