Thursday, April 23, 2009

Rambings: I married a 6 year old

The guy I married and just celebrated our 11 year anniversary with may be over six feet tall, but alot of his sense of humor still hasn't made it past a six years old's.

Case in point:
Last weekend I was in the kitchen doing dishes and Jeremy comes in laughing his head off.

"What's so funny?" I ask.
"I found the MOST AWESOME app," he says.

(An "app" or application is like a little program or game you can download for your iphone. I'm sure you've seen all the commercials. They can track your budget, calculate tips, tell you where the best deals are, etc. There are about as many commercials as there are app's--like a million.)

And since he had just given me an iphone for the aforementioned anniversary (even though I told him not to, I'm not the type that has to have the latest or greatest technology. Mostly I just get frustrated that I don't know how to work anything. And I DON'T NEED ANY DANG GPS--I DON'T GO ANYWHERE.

But he did anyway--"so we can text each other like teenagers in love." I think we've texted each other maybe 12 times in two weeks. And he programmed it to play Barry Manillow when he calls me. But I have to admit it's a nice little gadget even though I still think it's completely unnecessary and an attempt to make us all a little lazier than we already are. I mean, do I really need to control the music playing on my computer from the kitchen with my PHONE? I can't walk 20 feet and push a button? Ugh. I do like being able to pay my bills while I'm sitting in the car waiting for Alex to finish soccer practice. But I think all the joy of all its convenience is outweighed by the fear that either I will lose it, or the boys will grab it and unleash their evil forces upon it, with its fate being similar to the little furry moss ball that the plumbers extracted from the toilet a few months ago.)

Back to the story:
So of course I'm thinking that it's an app for my new phone, perhaps showing me where the closest Sonic is at all times, or something that will immediately silence a screaming carful of kids at the exact moment I'm considering veering into oncoming traffic JUST TO STOP THE NOISE.

But no, no it's not anything useful like that.

It's a program of fart noises. Yes, you read that correctly F-A-R-T-S. Farts. (I hate that word--my kids aren't allowed to say it. It causes me heart palpitations to even type it. They are forced to say 'toot' because fart just sounds too Bart Simpson and trashy to me.) The program consists of about 20 different sounding farts, all of them having very descriptive names. That's it--the most awesome, amazing, life-changing app is called iFart and is described as "The #1 Fart Machine For All Ages." I'm hoping that title is self-proclaimed and that nowhere on this earth does a fart machine competition really exist wherein their program took the blue ribbon. But get this--he had to BUY IT. He paid money for fart noises. And he thinks it's the best thing since sliced bread.

He didn't understand my total lack of being impressed. Or my disgust at having to listen to something someone recorded and named "Burrito Maximo," after which I'm quite sure there had to be an underwear change. So with full volume to drown out his gut-laughter, he attempts to convince me at this app's awesomeness by playing the farts one by one. Silent but deadly, wind bag, squeezer, squirt, the sick dog....ALL OF THEM. At that point, I was getting really annoyed. Mostly because I'm thinking, "How can I be married to someone who finds this entertaining? Where did I go wrong?" and also "THIS is why my kids are disgusting" and finally, "I can't believe he actually paid money for that."

And of course, all the kids were magnetically drawn to it, running from various areas of the house so they could come hear all the fart noises. All five of them sat there hysterically hooting and hollering at each one. And Jeremy was right at home amongst a group aged 2-8. Sheesh.

We even had a friend over for dinner that night and he whipped the farts out for him, too. Just to prove to me that someone else thought it was funny. But he was a guy and also thought it was horribly funny, so maybe that's just one of those things they never outgrow.

Poor, poor Maddie really has no chance of turning out normal. I mean, look at me--it seems I spend all my free time talking about poop--and I only had two brothers and a dad that never forced me to listen to fart noises (well, recorded ones that is. hehe.) The girl will be telling poop jokes and making fart noises with her armpits during her first date. I can see and hear it now. The small chance of her turning out normal just got flushed down the toilet with a bunch of farts.

Oh and don't worry. Jeremy was nice enough to load it on my iphone too, so if you think I'm lying I can prove it next time I see you. Apparently I can also program the phone to make a fart noise whenever it's picked up. But I have yet to figure out why anyone would want people around them to think that they just farted when they're trying to answer a call...especially a fart named "Kazoo," which sounds exactly like you'd expect in case you were wondering.

But wait, just WAIT. The worst part is that the thing Jeremy was most excited about is that on iFart, get this...

You can record your OWN fart.

Enjoy your Monday with a little more potty humor...

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Ramblings: Green thumbs, naked bums and MORE POOP

1. Yesterday was hot. Today is hot. Over 90* of hotness. And the rest of this week is supposed to be hot. Like summertime hot. I'm not ready for this. "This" meaning entertaining the four crazies all day long in the Texas summertime heat without a pool in the backyard. But anyway...if there are any blogstalkers out there that also happen to build pools, I wouldn't be opposed to an anonymous "donation" to my backyard. Just something to think about.

A few days ago I picked up as many flowers and plants as I could strategically jam into our two-shopping carts and yesterday the boys and I spent all morning planting them. And by "we," I mean that I tried to plant them and the boys made it their mission to dump as much dirt on me as possible while I was in the defenseless planting pose. Nothing like soil down your drawers and in your hair when you're already hot and sweaty. They LOVED all the earthworms we dug up and squealed with delight each and every time they saw a wiggly, squirmy, recently chopped in half little worm body. All the big pots around the house got new things planted in them for me to kill over the summer...although if you will take note--my wisteria from last year is still alive and THRIVING. whoo hoo.

Eventually I convinced them it was fun to put the plants in the holes I was digging, so that became their job. I really, really hope the little new plants survive after being squeezed, dropped, fought over, and basically mutilated before they made it into the safety of their worm-ridden holes. When they grew tired of that, we started watering all the plants and bushes that made it into the ground. Within about 3 seconds flat the boys were naked and running around in front of me screaming "Spray me. Spray me."
What person in her right mind (or not) can refuse that request? So the plants got watered and the naked bums were blasted into submission with the water hose. And all my neighbors got a creepy pedophile peep show. And I didn't get pictures of the naked water fest because 1) I was covered in dirt and water 2) I couldn't leave the naked dorkos out in the front yard alone to go fetch the camera--they are notorious for wandering down the street and 3) I figured at some point they'd gain control of the camera and/or hose if I looked away and it would get sprayed into submission, too. But I caught this one when we went out later to clean up and Avery had only managed to get a dry shirt and diaper back on. Nice pantless wolverine.


Trivia question of the day: Did the potty seat fail Aidan, or did Aidan fail the potty seat?

OH BROTHER. I found Aidan sitting by the basket of shoes, calmly trying some on (naked from the waist down). So I ask him what he's doing and why he's naked. "I just pooped mom, come see." So I'm congratulating him, saying "wow, great job! You haven't pooped in your pull-ups for about three weeks. You're a big boy!"

And then I see this. This mess. This absolute wrongness. This poopoo catastrophe.

"Aidan--what happened in here?"

"Yeah, my poop didn't get in the toilet. I tried to make it. Maybe next time. Tomorrow. Gimme my jelly beans now?"

Keep in mind, he has to slide down off that potty seat because the toilet is really tall. Now imagine what his backside looked like. And remember...?...he was sitting on the carpet trying on shoes. I've had a busy hour de-pooping around here. So long pristine new toilet of a few months ago...

3. The awesome ledge shelf that we hung above Alex's bed awhile finally had it's run in with the twins. Aidan, in particular. He naps in Alex's bed because Alex is at school most days and he and Avery would NEVER fall asleep if in the same room for naps. Nighttime, they do fine. They barely even make a sound once they've been put to bed. But naptime is a different story altogether. So Aidan's been sleeping in there for months without any incidents....until Sunday. (I blame it on that new 3 PM church time. It's evil.) We hear this huge crash about 10 minutes after we put him down for his nap and go up to find a chunk missing from the wall and the shelf and cars lying in a heap on the floor. I'm guessing he was trying to see how many chin-ups he could do???
The before:

The after(math)

I managed to capture a common occurrence when I was snapping the photo of the wall damage. The boys piled into the bed and then proceeded to have a hair pulling extravaganza. Aidan may have started it, but Avery finished it.

At least they can't reach the license plate collection. It's coming along nicely. But we still have a bunch to go...

4. Aidan has had a busy day. He wanted to watch a dvd this morning so he tried to help himself. Or he tried to take apart the tv stand. I can't really tell. There were splintered pieces of wood and a couple of bent screws lying around the door. This is what I found right before he ran and hid in the drapes behind the couch--his favorite place to hide when he's about to get busted for something. He got the THIS IS WHY WE CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS lecture, but he's heard it all before and it hasn't changed anything so it was more for me. 5. On the way home from running errands this morning I told the boys I was tired and that I needed a nap. That always gets them fired up. They think it's preposterous that a Mom would take a nap. It is because it's practically impossible, but that's a different story. I said, "You don't think moms like to take naps sometimes, too?" They both screamed "NO" and laughed like crazy drunken monkeys. Then Avery said, "Mom's don't take naps. They eat lettuce."

Well, if that's the case, then I really, really, really need to eat lettuce.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Rant: The nerve...

Have ya ever been patiently waiting for someone to exit a parking spot so you can park there, and had someone whiz in from the opposite direction even though THEY KNEW YOU WERE WAITING FOR IT? 

Grrr. I was out furniture shopping (still sofa-hunting) with my brother and his wife on Saturday afternoon and that's exactly what happened. We were in a very busy shopping center, and there happened to be a car beginning to back up, so I situated myself out of the way and put my blinker on to wait for them.  They had to drive past me to exit, and while they were blocking me from moving, this NASTY girl/woman zipped right into the spot from the opposite direction at about 30 mph. (There was a bit of debate amongst us as to whether she was an older teenager or "mom-aged" because none of us really got a good look at her as she went speeding by.)  It was completely obvious that she had seen us waiting there and didn't care. I locked the windows so my brother couldn't wave around any finger in particular at her. We all just sat there with our mouths hanging open in disbelief for a few seconds. 


So we slowly cruised past her and parked a little ways away. She literally jumped out of her car and RAN into a store because she obviously didn't want to be out there when we walked by. The funny thing was, the stolen parking spot was actually farther from the store she went into than a lot of other spots that were vacant.  I had to hide my brother's keys as we passed her car. No illegal activities on my watch. 

But as hard as we tried, we couldn't stop being completely bugged by her blatant rudeness.  If she hadn't seen us waiting until she was almost completely parked and at least feigned being surprised, or given a little "oh, I'm sorry. I didn't see you there" wave, I seriously would not have cared a bit. That happens to all of us at some point. But come on people. Is a little common courtesy too much to ask for anymore?

 We contemplated parking directly behind her and just waiting it out till she came out and then just "accidentally" staying parked there so she couldn't leave.  Or following her into the store and just walking about three steps behind her everywhere without saying anything. She probably would've called the cops or something. And I can't be getting myself arrested this soon into my parole. hehe. 

We spent way too much time and energy being bugged by it, especially since I'm sure she had completely forgotten about it as soon as she escaped the scene. People like that usually do.  The nerve...

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Ramblings: High tech breakfast

Me: What do you want for breakfast Aidan?
Aidan: Email
Me: Huh? What?
Aidan: Email. Cinnamon roll email.
Me: ?????
Aidan: EEEEMAAAAIL. Cinnamon roll.
Me: Ahhh. Cinnamon roll oatmeal. Got it.

Monday, April 13, 2009

Ramblings: Ugh Part 2

Here it is...the winner of the "Name that Psycho Picture" contest. I had the kids pick a number between 1 and 17 and they finally (after much arguing and some hair pulling that has been ruled by Mom as accidental , even though I'm pretty sure it was fully intentional) agreed on Number Six. That means **Jackie**, you win a cd that I will mix up to get you out of any child-induced funk on a bad day, or keep you hoppin' and movin' while cleaning or doing any other monotonous job around the house. But you'll need to send me an email with your address...unless it's on the family website. Just lemme know.

In actuality, the screams were, as many of you guessed, due to Jeremy teasing them that he was going to throw them up in the air like this (see left). My theory is that if you marry someone that is the oldest in their family, you've married someone that is going to endlessly tease and harass your kids like he did his siblings all those years growing up. He has spent far too many hours perfecting his teasing skills just to put them on the backburner.

Although my title to the psycho picture would probably have to be: If you don't stop fighting, you have to go with dad next year to the Barry Manilow concert wearing a t-shirt that says "Pick Me: I'm Mandy!" (We seriously saw someone at the concert with a shirt like that on. Search itunes for "Manilow and Mandy" if you don't get the reference.)

If you watched the video, you will see Aidan sporting the World's Stupidest Present Ever Delivered By the Easter Bunny. While it seemed like a funny idea, in actuality that "voice changer" is nothing more than a machine that makes kids already loud and shrieky voices even LOUDER and SHRIEKIER, with just a hint of robotic weirdness in varying pitches. It doesn't help that the dumb Easter bunny only brought one (a Rookie mistake that the Bunny will live to regret), so they all sit and fight over it and whoever has it spends most of the time yelling into it about how it's their turn, producing an extremely amplified robotic, metallic, face-melting tantrum. There's the consumer report on that. Unless you have normal children, and then it's probably actually a really cool toy.

Easter day itself was quite horrendous. It was cold and we had torrential downpours the night before and all morning. There went the Easter egg hunt in the backyard. Plus, they just recently divided our ward (congregation) at church and gave us the new, absolutely horrible, make-you-want-to-stab-someone-in-the-face time of 3 PM so that all the wards would be staggered enough to meet in the same building. And that means we don't get home till well after 6. Plus, they asked Jeremy to speak for 20 minutes in the first meeting, and then also to teach the hour long adult Sunday School after that. Which of course meant that all day Sunday (super-procrastinator) while he prepared for all that locked away at the computer, I got to try to entertain four crazies with that wild hopped-up-on-sugar look in their eyes. And then get them dressed in their Easter finest, and all without screaming and yelling because it was EASTER, after all. No pictures, it just didn't happen this year.

They were completely bored locked in the house all day and just ended up fighting and running for most of the time. Remember the cool voice changer? Ugh. The boys were on a rampage and within 2 hours I had cleaned about a pound of melted chocolate bunny off the carpets, 6 containers of chocolate pudding that they stole, opened, and tried to eat behind the couch, a spilled can of diet coke that they swiped and then fought over, and cheesy scrambled eggs that someone thought would taste better smashed into the carpet fibers in a trail leading from the kitchen to the upstairs playroom. I was pooped before we even got there at 3. And then they were horrible the entire time and just super cranky and sick of being with each other all day. I didn't get to hear Jeremy speak--I spent the time locked in a classroom forcing the boys to sit on metal chairs for time-outs after a mammoth, rip-roaring brawl over a Pirates-Who-Don't-Do-Anything Veggie Tales book. Next week I will be toting a Costco sized bottle of Benadryl along.

Dear 3 PM--
I hate you.
Love, Me.

On a less traumatic note, Alex and Maddie have class pictures today. All the girls in Maddie's class agreed to wear their Easter dresses, so we set hers out before bed. After about 20 minutes after we put them all to bed last night, Alex came out and said, "Do you think I should wear my suit for pictures tomorrow?" (His suit from Uncle Greg's wedding.) This is a kid that hates even wearing shirts that are button-down to school.

"You don't think that will be too dressy? I don't think anyone else in your class will probably be wearing a suit."

"Maybe not. Hmm. It's just that I look really good in my suit."

Oh, the biting of the lip to keep from laughing.

Jeremy was stoked. "Let him wear his suit if he wants to. That's awesome. He'll look classy." I'm wondering if he would drive home from work early to pick him up from school if he got beat up by all the older kids.

We settled on a much less-formal outfit that he still looks really good in and is hopefully less enticing to any lurking bullies. If I can figure out how to get the pictures off my blackberry and onto Mac, I'll put up some pictures from the barbershop marathon from yesterday during the boys' haircuts. Sheesh. Avery was NUTS and the only thing that kept him calm was looking for a pretend cat that the lady kept talking to him about and Alex snapping pictures papparrazi style. We were, once again, a complete FREAKSHOW. But at least they got good haircuts this time.

HAPPY TUESDAY. Let's all try not to be TOO cranky because tomorrow is Tax Day. Along with our anniversary of 11 years of wedded bliss...or sumpin' like that.

Ramblings: Ugh Part 1

I haven't forgotten to announce the photo winner--I just haven't gotten to it yet. It's on the agenda for tomorrow, I promise. I've loved all the funny guesses and comments and the crazies are actually going to choose one soon. 

If any of your children watch Backyardigans as faithfully as the twins, then you know the episode I'm talking about where they start all their sentences with "Ug." That's how I've been feeling this past week--"UG." For whatever reason, alot of random stuff piled up and we had about three weeks of parties, activities, and other to-do's all jammed into about one week's time.  And then throw in Easter and all the related/required egg celebrations, and I'm downright pooped.

Friday was supposed to be the Father/Son's campout with our church and Alex was SUPER excited. All his friends were going and he had already planned who he wanted to set up next to. Although Jeremy pretended he wanted to take the twins, I knew he was just offering for the brownie points and had no real intention of taking them because he knew I'd protest. I'm not interested in nursing two camp-fire burn victims back to health. Have I mentioned they are usually in bed by 7:30? Not much fun for all the other campers in the tent--and they are not ANY fun if they don't get their required hours of sleep in.  Anyway, I got "the call" at about 4 pm on Friday and I had already figured what it was about since Jeremy was supposed to be home by 3 to pack their stuff and leave for the campout. 

"Uh. Hmm. Yeah. I, uh, think that I'm, uh, kinda of not, um, not going to make it home in time. I'm stuck here until something gets filed with (blah blah blah. insert something legal to do with petitions and courts and basically mumbo jumbo for "the campout just got bounced").

"Ok. Well, you are going to have one upset 8 year old here."

"Maybe I can take him to a movie or something?"

This is where I give the phone to Alex and he reacts, as expected, like someone just told him that he will never get any Christmas or birthday presents ever again because he was BAD!  Or that he was going to have to send out notarized letters, with photos, to everyone in his class saying that he wears pink heart underwear. 

But Jeremy made it home by about 7 and they went to the 3-D showing of the Monsters vs. Aliens movie and Alex ate his weight in candy (purchased by a cash wielding, guilt-ridden Dad). And then when they got home at 9:30, Alex got to eat an entire bowl of ice-cream (scooped by the same guilt-ridden Dad) and allowed to stay up WAY past his bedtime until the guilt started wearing off when all the sugar really started  kicking in. 

Saturday we were all invited to go to a big birthday bash for the son of one of Jeremy's main clients. We've been to dinner at their house before and all the kids played together and had a blast. We were expecting a pretty fun party because it was at one of these farm/ranch places with ponies, etc. But I'm not kidding you, this party set the bar freakishly high for all other birthday parties. There were about 100 people there, tons of catered food, horse rides, a zip line, trampolines, swings, a pinata, hayrides, playgrounds, and the holy grail for all the kids--unlimited Sprite and candy and cake. (Don't worry--my kids were brainwashed on the way home never to expect anything so fabulous for their birthdays.) 
(pics to come later)

But here's the funny thing: we were just about the only honky white people there. Everyone else was Indian or Asian and I LOVED IT! We had such a good time because they are so warm and gracious and you just immediately become part of their big extended family.   I have a picture of our kids on the hayride that I need to get off Jeremy's phone to put on here. (Miraculously, Alex reported that the twins sat down the entire time and never even came close to falling off and getting run over like I predicted might happen.) The kids didn't even seem to notice that they were in the minority and now have a great new group of friends. I got brave and now I've learned to like Indian food without being so nervous of the spiciness. Turns out when Jeremy makes it, he just makes it way too spicy. On the way home, we knew that they had fun because 3/4 kids fell dead asleep within 10 minutes. But we were off to more partying because my little (heehee) nephew James was celebrating his 1st birthday. Strangely, we were NOT the only white peeps in attendance. Man, James really needs to start diversifying who he hangs out with. After more yummy cake and grub, breaking in all his new toys, and the inevitable wrestling matches, we ended up back home trying to get all ours ready for bed. 
(pics to steal from Dee later)

We'd lined up babysitting and Jeremy and I managed to sneak off to do some furniture shopping (for the piano-room that I sort of randomly and impulsively decided to repaint and start redoing last Saturday).  I got in repainted and finally got the curtains hung that I picked out months ago. So it's slowly coming together. Let's just say there's zebra print involved. I was especially excited when I found this table that matches what I had a mind  and was a steal because it was a floor model and on major-clearance. Sorry--I didn't take the time to clean the glass or polish it before the photo and now it's driving me crazy. 
And we got one step closer to picking a couch for the room, which is really saying something since I obsess about decisions like that endlessly. I hate the thought that I could order and pay $$$ for something and then hate it. But I'm getting closer to finding exactly what I want...we'll see. 

And I can't finish this gargantuan post because I have to take the two hairy boys (Alex and Avery) to get their afros trimmed while Aidan repeatedly asks me if he gets to get his cut, too. If only, because he'd be so good and wants to so badly. If he'd just get that hair growing cuz no matter how he begs, I can't stand paying them to trim four hairs by 1/8 inch.

A recap of Easter Sunday and the report of our dreadful new 3 PM church time to follow tonight...or in the morning if I'm able to sneak off and get my hairs redone tonight. yeehaw. Should I go purple or pink or maybe? Or stick to the same ole blonde and red highlights...T.B.D.  

Monday, April 6, 2009

Ramblings: Clarification

First, NO! Jeremy does not really have that Clay Aiken tattoo--I never would've allowed it.  But if he could, I'm guessing he might. I'm thinking of bedazzling him a set of American Idol body-pillowcases so he can snuggle up all night long with the jeweled faces of his main man squeezes. 

Secondly, this picture of the boys makes me laugh. Probably because I see those faces far too often. 

I'd like to suggest a small contest. The idea being you have to leave a comment (did you HEAR THAT PEOPLE?  You have to actually click on that button that says "What do you have to say for Yourself" and type something. It's easy. Everyone is doing it. You wanna be cool, right? Is that enough peer pressure? I don't even care if I don't know you. I promise--I don't scare easily. Unless of course you include some sort of violent physical threat or you've been featured on America's Most Wanted, any season of Rock of Love, or one of the Dateline: To Catch a Predator shows--then I scare fairly easily). 
Where was I? Ok. Leave a comment with a suggested photo title, take a crack at what might have elicited this violent reaction, or you can even insert your own dialogue into their growling mouths.  The winner will receive a mix CD of my favorite songs to listen to when I feel like they look in the picture--think of it as auditory antianxiety therapy.

Friday, April 3, 2009

Ramblings: Passing the American Idol Love Torch

Jeremy's dreamy-eyed, lustful, man-crushing gazes that used to be aimed in little Archie's direction have been shifted to another...

Out with the old--

In with the new.

It's funny, I don't know if I would be more comfortable with him salivating over a hot girl on there or maintaining a man crush for yet another year.

He definitely has a type though, doesn't he?

Let's just hope the dermatologist can laser off his "Archie Rulz" heart tattoo so he can have it updated. Or perhaps he'll just add a new one. But I don't know how many more he'll be able to squeeze in next to his first tat (Clay, of course) cuz pretty soon he'll just look completely ridiculous.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Ramblings: Breakfast of Champions

To be filed under: Things they do while I'm in the shower. Although, I can't say I blame them. Cookies and Cream for breakfast? Why not. 
Aidan has been saying all day, "Whew! That was some good ice cream!" I don't know where he learned "whew," but it's been making me laugh. I think he figures if he can make me think it was funny, they won't get in trouble when they try it again tomorrow morning. And trust me, they WILL try it again tomorrow morning.