If I Only Had a Brain

Roman: "Mom, I have two parts of my brain, and the man side says 'hey, baby' to the girl side. Yeah, my brain can talk."

Gaius: "Mom, my bwain don't talk."

That's Women's Work...

Just bought a case of Comice pears, and pissed off some old guy, but amused the hell out of the produce lady. "What are you going to do with a whole case of pears?" he says.

"Not that it's your business, but I have a decent size family that will eat them. If they ripen all at once, I'll can some."

"You can't can. Canning is women's work."

Raised eyebrow. "Really? I beg to differ. And I bet this lady would too."

She crosses her arms and awaits his reply.

"Everyone has their place. Men do the work, women do the housework, the cleaning, the canning."

"Huh. Well, I have been an at-home dad for the last six years. I love to cook, I love to can, I love my kids. I make soap. If that's women's work - sign me up to be a women!"

"Well, God has a purpose for all of us."

"Ohhhhh...okay then. We're gonna go now."

I personally don't believe there is any way to argue rational logic against religious conviction. It's like cars vs. a wombats bunghole. It makes no sense.

Boogie is having the boys sing angelic chorus whenever she enters the room.

I give you Zombie:The Musical

R:(singing)"BRAAAIIINS! I want your BRAAAIIINS!"

B:(Singing gruffly) "You can't have them. you can't have them. Dun dun dun dun."

R:(Singing higher) "BRAAAIIINS! I need BRAINS! Does anyone have brains for me to eat?!"

Gaius:(singing loudly and gruffly) "I godth brainth for you to EEEEEEEAAAAT!"

B:"And those brains are tasty and sweet."

R:"Gosh these brains taste a lot like meat!"

Gaius:"I godth bwainth fo you to EAT!"

The Good Earth

Holy crap! Just spent 4 hours in the garden with the kids without realizing it. Did have a couple OTHER realizations, though.

1. My kids make awesome helpers, but suck at gardening.

2. I hate having dirt under my fingernails, but also hate wearing gloves.

3. My nail polish kicks ass.

Home Alone 12

B:"Daddy, you need to go to the store and get eggs for me."

Me:"and what-leave you guys home alone?"

(simultaneously) B:"YES!" R:"NOOO!"

Me:"Curious. Why "NO", Roman?"

R:"Because, if you go, and we are here alone, we will do sneaky stuff."

B:"NUH-UH! I would just lay in my bed and be asleep."

R:"No, you said you would make pancakes. We would cook stuff. And paint. Maybe the house. And make coffee. And play Wii."

Me:"Wait- you've discussed this? And made PLANS?!"

(simultaneously) B:"NOOO!" R:"YES!"

Gaius:"You guys in twubble."

They're Heeeeeeere...

Apparently, my television likes to turn itself on and watch children's shows at the unholy buttcrack of dawn. I mean, I don't SEE anyone, so it must be the television. Wait- I hear giggling. Must be a ghost, then, because none of MY spawn would dare challenge a big, mean, scary, uncaffeinated ogre before the the sun has risen and that bitter nectar of sustenance has passed his lips.

It Was the One-Armed Man!

Trying to discourage Gaius from getting his hand stuck in the outdoor table umbrella hole:

Me: "If you stick your hand in there, it will get stuck and I'll have to cut through the table to get it out!"

Gaius: "Noooooo! You cut through table, 'den you cut through mine AWM!" [grabs arm] "And I say 'aaaaahhhh! My awm! My awm!'"

Me: "No! I would never cut through your arm!"

Gaius: "Yeah-huh! Maybe jus' my fingah."

Me: "I wouldn't cut ANYTHING, just the table to get your arm out!"

Gaius: "Nuh-UH! You cut my Awm off! And I say," [stumbles around dramatically and falls to his knees] "'My AWM!! My AWM!! Where my hand at?!?'

Skills

The kids were playing in their room when I peeked in and

overheard THIS:

R:"How do you make it so real?"

B:"First, I do this (hunches her shoulders) then this (causes

shoulders to shiver) and this (makes lower lip start to quiver

and tears well up in her eyes ON CUE ) and that's it."

R:"It's so GOOD!"

B:(flourishes and giggles)

Me:(Leaning against the doorframe)"REEEALLYYY..."

B:(jumps, startled, turns all doe-eyed, lower lip starts quivering)

Me:"Yeah- I just watched you teach your brother how to fake cry. No way in HELL I'm falling for it now."

That girl has mad skills. Now I just need to figure out how to channel her powers for the cause of good...

Patience, young Grasshopper

B:"Daddy, I'm sad, because I'm not grown up. I want to do grownup things."

Me: "Like what, honey?"

B: "Karate. I want to break bricks with my face."

Soylent Green is People!

Hey! Motherfuckers at the USDA - a can of V8 Fusion juice is NOT a serving of fruits and vegetables. Neither is a can of fucking SpaghettiOs. Food is food, you eat what you can to survive, blah blah fucking blah, but don't allow companies to package Grade A bullshit and try to pass it off as nutritious. An APPLE is a serving of fruit. 15 grapes equal a serving of fruit. A cup of greens is a serving of vegetables. A can of V8Fusion, however, is just a can of fucking juice. It's sugar wrapped in a sweet little lie, bitches. And I'm not even going to delve into the SpaghettiOs conspiracy. Eat your vegetables. 

Now You Know. And Knowing is Half the Battle!

B: (singing) "Old Mac Donald had a farm -"

R: (interrupting) "andonthatfarm he had some GUYYYS... GEE EYE GEE EYE JOOOOE!"

B: (Cracking up) "And Cobra Commanderrrrrr..."

R:"That doesn't rhyme."

B:(Still cracking up) It's ALLITERATION!"

Me: "Please don't sing that in front of your mother. She's gonna think I'm warping your fragile little minds with Saturday morning cartoons." 

The Cause Of - and Solution to - All Of Life's Problems.

Boogie: (Observing me drinking at the sink)"HEY! I see you drinking those beers..."

Me: "I'm whatnow? I'm drinking water, child. Look. See? Water."

B: "You changed it with your magic. You're drinkin' all the beers. I see youuu... and you better save some of those beers for mama."

Me: "I am NOT drinking BEER! Why am I even defending myself to you?! I can drink beer if I want. But I'm not. So shut it and go away!"

Boogie:(Backing slowly out of the kitchen while pointing at me) "I got my eye on youuu. You save some beers for mama. She works hard and needs beer for when she comes home...I waaatching youuuuuu..."

Me:"Whatever, ya weirdo. I'm watching YOU. HA! How about that?!"

Crap. Now I want a beer.

R: "Mom, are you taking that little yogurt to work?"

Mommy:"Yes, for my lunch."

R:"Do you have a spoon?"

Mommy:"Yes, I have a spoon at work."

R:"Do you have a bunch of spoons?"

Mommy:"I have two spoons at work."

R:"Mom... You need more spoons! *arms akimbo, lip quivering* How will all your work friends share your yogurt???"

I'm "Tom" When I'm Good...

Just convinced the kids to sweep/wash the deck by telling them the brooms were really big paint brushes and the bucket of water was paint. Eat your heart out, Tom Sawyer. 

Never a Dull Moment

It's raiiiniiing

It's pouuurrring

I wish my kids were snorrrring

Napping in their beds

With dreams in their head

Instead of fighting over that stupid musical guitar don't HIT YOUR BROTHER GET DOWN FROM THERE SWEET GOD HOW DID POOP GET ON THE CEILING FAN FOR THE UMPTEENTH TIME PUT YOUR CLOTHES BACK ON

something something and a word that rhymes with snoring

The End.

Bob Had Bitch Tits

R - "I want apple smoosh."

Me - "You mean apple sauce?"

R - "GIRLS eat sauce - I want smoosh."

Me - "I eat sauce."

R - "You have boobies."

Me - ...

Touché, son. Touché.

The White Stuff

R: "Daddy, what's a 'chocolate raper?'"

Me:"Um, what?"

R: "On "How it's Made", they are belting creamy chocolate rapers. Maybe something about goats."

Me:(after watching the show for a minute to see what the crap he's talking about) "Wafers, son. Say that word about a dozen times. Cream-coated chocolate WAFERS."
Great. Now I can't even look an Oreo in the eye.

Gojira!

Roman was just running around the house screaming "THE WHORRRE! THE WHORRRE!"

Me: "Hey! What the hell are you yelling about?"

R: "Boogie."

Me: "That doesn't help."

R: "She's a monster that's terrorstating entire countries! The WHORRE!"

Me: "I think you mean "The HORROR! The HORROR!"

R: "That's what I said."

Me: "Not quite. But A for effort and dramatic effect."

They'll never see it coming

I'm standing here watching out my window as my kids play peacefully with each other in the backyard, and all I can think is "Man, if I just had a couple of water balloons, their lives would suddenly get a whole lot more exciting..."

Now is the time to PAAAANIIIIIIC!!!

Ro effectively ruined my chances of getting a good nights sleep last night. He came stumbling out of the boys bedroom, whimpering - "I think something's wrong with Gaius." Instant panic sets in, as Mommy and Daddy rush to the bedroom to see what's the matter. Gaius is sleeping peacefully.

"What do you mean, something's wrong, Roman?" Mommy asks quietly.

"Well, I was talking to him, and he didn't say anything back..."

To which I reply, in a shouted whisper - "It's because he's friggin' ASLEEP! Which you should be! GAHHHH!!!"

Mommy did good, though, and thanked him for telling us when he thought Gaius was in trouble.

It's the one thing I dislike about being a parent. Panic mode. Everything else, I can deal with. In panic mode, my head immediately goes to worse case scenario, and it sucks. Sucks sucks sucks sucks SUCKS.

As god is my witness, I'll never be hungry again...

Confession time. So. I have a little secret - I'm sort of a food snob. Not in the snooty "I only eat caviar massaged from the wombs of virgin beluga floated to me on crackers made of angel farts" way, but in the "I feed my kids tons of organic fresh fruits and vegetables and meats and very little processed food so when you offer my kid a Twinkie I'm liable to insert said Twinkie into the most uncomfortable orifice on your person" way. So when moms would tell me "All my child eats is peanut butter and jelly," I always thought - and I think I may actually have said this to several  moms - "It's because you don't know how to cook well, or you are choosing not to feed them good food." Yeah. Well, turns out, I'm kind of a jerk. I have my own reasons for hating PB&J, and I never really took into account the kids side of it, that they might actually like peanut butter and jelly. Until now. When it is the only thing my children request to eat. For every meal. Ever. My children. The broccoli loving, fast food hating, water guzzling, juice-is-too-sweet-for-us champions of healthy, constant consumption.These kids would rather have a peanut butter sandwich than PIZZA. PIIIIIZZAAAAA!!! In fact, they actually HATE pizza. What. Thehell. I mean, I know it's not the healthiest food, but C'MON! I thought that was every kids go-to food.
Self-doubt sets in. I'm sobbing in the corner going "What have I done wrong?!?! Why?! Why do they hate me?! WAHHHHH!!!! Is it my cooking? Does it actually suck, and all this time people have just been being nice to me, when really, they thought I was feeding them roadkill skunk scraped off the freeway, slathered in frog sauce and slapped on a plate?"
I'm a feeder. I like to feed people. So this is just not acceptable. I have to find a way to turn peanut butter and jelly on its head. Or stop buying it altogether, but then I'm afraid my kids will stop eating... what to do, what to DO?!

Nothing good will come of this...

R: "DAAAAAA-DUH! Boogie just took that teacup out the butt of her pants and put it on my head and now it's going to go through my head and into my brain and into my eyeballs and I'm gunna get pink eye and pink brain from her BUTT PARTICLES!!!"

Dumb and Dumberest

Overheard conversation between 2 employees of the local supermarket:

"Do you know if you can catch AD/HD? I took one of my brothers AD/HD pills, and now I'm feelin' all cracked out, like he acts when he doesn't take his pills."

"Um, I don't think it works that way... I THINK YOU HAVE TO TOUCH THEIR BLOOD. Or body fluids."

...Really? *sigh*

Me: "What are you guys doing?"

B: "Finding the artic pole."

Me: "Finding the artic pole?"

B: "The ARCtic pole."

R: "THE POLE OF DOOOOOOOOOM!!!!"

Argument on who misses mommy more:

B - "Where's mommy?"

R - "She went to work. On a unicorn."

B - *giggles* "I miss her. I want hugs and smooches."

R - "Me too, but I GOT hugs and smooches. You need to wake up."

B - " I miss her SOOOO much my tummy hurts."

R - "I miss her so much I throwed up. Twice. In my shoe."

Giggling commences.

Roman: (watching me mix a few spices into a pot of water)"Whatcha maaakin'?"

Boogie:(Without looking up from playing, in a gravelly voice)"He's makin' chicken bross..."

Me:"Uhhh...how do you know that, Boogs?"

Boogie:"I can see into your brain."

Me:"You shut the hell up."

Boogie held up a piece of paper on which she had drawn a single diagonal line and said "This means no circles allowed."

B: "Roman, you screeched. That wasn't axectacle. Axebitle. Asketakle. Mom, is this making you laugh? It wasn't Axectatul. ACCEPTABLE! Hahahahaha!"

R:"Man, my cows are so sore..."

Me:"Your what?"

R:"My COWS." (Indicate legs)

ME:"OHHHH...Your calves..."

R:"Yeah, but mine are so bigger, they're cows."

Me:..."I think, in your case, that would be "bull"."

R:"No, it's real."

Me:...

R:"Daddy!"

Me:"Yeah?"

R:"I gotta tell you sumpin'."*mumbles incoherently*

Me:"What was that?"

R:*mumbles*

Me:"Dammit, boy - you know I hate repetition. Speak up!"

R:"I SAAAAIIID - NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP, NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN, NEVER GONNA RUN AROUND, OR HURT YOUUUUUU! BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Me:You. Little. Bastard.

Boogie:"Daddy, can I have another dough thing?"

Me:"Eat the rest of your breakfast and we'll talk about it."

Boogie:"How about I eat ONE bite, and then get one?"

Roman:"DADDY DOESN'T NEGOTIATE WITH TERRORS!!!"

Spot on, son.

R:"Did you check the mail, Dad?"

Me: "Yep. Only junk mail."

R:"Only what?"

B:" It's actually "Gunko". It's Spanish for mail."

Me:?!?!

Getting up at 0230 does not agree with me. I just yelled "Flick your OWN Jiggermawhizzer, ya PERV!" at the Cat in the Hat. He doesn't deserve that.

The Schnozberries Taste Like Schnozberries!

My children had silverdollar sourdough pancakes with blueberry coulis and fresh whipped yogurt for breakfast. Apparently, it "Tastes like purple", and "I want strawberry."

Let's hit the links...

Okay, so, I love this site,someecards.com, because it's fun and easy to use. I created several cards, and thought it would be fun to share them with you. Go here -My fucking AWESOME creations. Adore me, dammit!. Look at this. Rate them. Here's my favorite -

After learning about "Punch Buggy" Roman invented a NEW game - Punch Boogie.

R- "Kay, anytime I see Boogie I get to punch her."

B- "NOOOO!!! ...Wait - okay. That's fine."

R - (laugh nervously) "that's okay?"

B - "Sure. Just, if I see you whenever, I get to kick you. In the junks."

R-"No, I'm not gonna play Punch Boogie I decided."

Issue resolved.

B: "Is it delicious?"

R: "Delicious as CANDY!"

Me: "Candy is NOT delicious. It's flavorful for awhile, but then it starts to taste like poop. Because that's what it is. It's made of bug poop. Like makeup."

R:"No it's not."

Me:"Yes it is."

R: "Fine then - let's watch how candy is made on How It's Made on Netflix and I'll shows you."

Curses!

Smite me, O Mighty Smiter...

So, had a random text conversation with a complete stranger. Here is the transcript -

“Hey ya there”

Identify yourself, heathen!

“You got it. I’m heathen is gale there?”

No, but Wendy just blew through…

“Who.s wendy”

You are, after taco night…

“I don’t get it? I am wendy after taco night? Oh shit never mind I blow hurricanes off anything.”

Yeah, you do! I remember this one time,  we were over at Pike’s, and you were LOADED, and you ate like 5 lbs of fries and a sammmich the size of your FACE, and like an hour later, we rolled up on these shorties, and you were all, “Daaamn, you fiiine,” and then you farted so hard you shit yourself.

“When was that at pikes”

Like you’d remember. Ask K.

“You think i’m someone different. Plus who’s k”

Who texted whom?

“Touch.”

No thanks. I have someone for that.

“Is it k?”

Who’s “k”?

“Who’s this?”

God.

“If your god whats my middle name?”

It's *you're, *what's, and your middle name is whatever the fuck I want it to be.

“God doesn’t say swearss.”

I invented swearing, bitch. Check this shit out - I’m the goddamned motherfucking cocksucking kick-ass king of the whole cunttastic universe, you twatwaddling smegsucker. Also - bollocks. And penis. 

“You win.”

Damn straight. Now stop texting me. I’ve got stuff to do. Creating life and smiting and shit.

Leaf Soup Muffins

Okay. Boogie named these “Leaf Soup Muffins.” I have no idea why. Neither leaves nor soup come into play in the making of these muffins. Anyone having insight into the mind of that child, you let me know.

Sift together about 3C of Gluten-free flour substitute and 1t Xanthum gum (This is simply 3C flour for those not going gluten-free)in the biggest fucking bowl you have, because you’re going to need it. If you don’t have a big bowl…use a roasting pan. A bucket. I don't care. Have your 2 year old add and whisk everywhere (because there is not a snowballs chance on Vesuvius that he will be able to keep it all in the bowl, hence the biggest bowl you have being implemented in an effort to reduce spillage) -

2T baking powder

1T salt

1T cinnamon

1/2t Ground Fennel seeds, because, hey- why the hell not. He’s already added a dash of curry powder.

Fight with same 2-year old that "pepper is not necessarily a good ingredient for these muffins!"

Add 1 grind pepper to stop the screaming.

Sift that all together.

In a wet bowl - help your 2-year old whisk -

4 eggs

2C milk

1T vanilla

1C packed brown sugar

and about 1 and a half to 2 sticks melted butter, whilst your 5-year old twins put the muffin cups in the muffin tins, and argue loudly about who is the fastest.

Have the twins THEN fight about who is going to pour the wet ingredients onto dry ingredients, then do it yourself, spilling about a cup on the countertop in the process when the 2-year old bumps your arm in his attempt to get up on a chair and “HEP!”

Stir a bit, just enough to moisten dry ingredients evenly.

Right about now, kick everyone out of the kitchen because they are in your way, and you stubbed your toe on the bottom of one of their chairs.

Then, to the giant bowl, add about 3C leftover cooled Bobs Mighty Tasty Gluten-Free Cereal to which there has been added a shit-ton of cinnamon, a dash of nutmeg, and 2 whole chopped apples during the cooking process. Mix briefly until mostly not lumpy.

Call the crying kids back into the kitchen and watch their faces light up when you tell them they can put the muffin batter in the muffin cups. Stand back. Expect that ½ of the batter will end up either on the counter or on the muffin tin and the other half mostly in the cups. Have the 2-year old top with brown sugar and whatever spices he happens to add last second. Cook for 15 minutes in a 400 degree oven. May take a little more or less time, depending on your oven and whether or not you (or your sneaky, sneaky children) subbed in some stuff.

NOBODY puts Baby in the corner!

You know what's cool? Just Dance 3: Electric Boogaloo. The songs are awesome, but the REALLY cool part is the fat guy. I think he's from one of the first games, but he makes a guest appearance in JD3:EB and I'm like - "Sweet! A fat guy that dances! If he can do it, so can I!"

So I do my warm up stretches (I attempt - in vain - to touch my toes. Once.), crank it up, and begin. This feels good. I feel good. I'm EXERCISING!
I start breathing like a hippo with asthma about a quarter of the way through. Halfway into the song, my legs have suddenly lost rigidity in the bone, and my vision is starting to blur as I flail about the living room like Gumby with a seizure. 3/4 of the way in I'm gasping and clawing in the general direction of the television "MAKE IT...-*huh...huh...HUHHHHHH*-...STAAAAP!!!" By the end I'm trying to stab myself in the ear with the Wii remote but the fucking rubber sheath mocks me. "Heh heh heh, fatty - you're not getting off that easily." About that time I realize my decision to choose Infinite Shuffle may have been a bit of a lofty aspiration, only my fingers are too weak to turn the damn thing off. CURSE YOU,ELECTRIC BOOGALOO!!!

We were riding the bus, and a well-dressed African-American gentleman got on the bus. Boogie looked at him and said - loudly - "HEY! He looks like President Obama!" Several people on the bus visibly cringed, and the gentleman scowled first at me, then at her, and exclaimed "Excuse me?!" I looked at Boogie and said "Sweetheart, tell him why you think that." She looked at him and said "You look like President Obama because you have on a blue tie."

I think we as adults project our own insecurities, prejudice, bias, and fears far too much into the words of our children. Stop perpetuating. Start progressing. Much love.

2 to beam up, Mr. Scott.

Anyone else have that math/physics/logic nipple problem where you look down at your shirt and see that, because of the cold, your erect nipples create a crease directly between those 2 points and so, understanding Euclidean distance, you know that this crease is the shortest distance, but then, your REAL science brain (Star Trek) kicks in, and you remember spatial warp physics which state that the shortest distance between 2 points is to bring those points together, and so you have to explain to your wife why you are trying to get your nipples to touch each other, and she walks away muttering something about what our poor children have to deal with? Yeah, hate that.

Go ahead - make my day.

If anybody asks why I don't take my girl on shows like "Toddlers and Tiaras", I like to think I have a pretty good reason. Other than common sense, I mean. Boogie would elbow check every one of those painted tarts right in the juicebox. Then she would go to work on their kids. Pa-DOW! She is sweet, and loveable, and intelligent, and absofuckinglutely ruthless. This one time, when she was a little over 2, she and her brother were playing in the play area in the mall, and this 5ish big ol' bully came along and pushed Roman down. When he got up, he pushed him down again. Little jerk was prancing around the play area, so proud of himself. Boogie, in all her innocence, was sitting at the top of the slide, and, calculating speed and trajectory, and factoring in the kids inflated ego, pushed off at the right time to take him out at the knees. He buckled, then pitched forward, slamming into one of the foam cars and split his lip. Boogie got up, dusted her knees, then STEPPED ON HIM, and went on playing. The child's mother was livid. "Aren't you going to do anything?!" 

"You're right - BOOGIE! Come here please." Boogie walked over. 

"Want to go get some ice cream?" 

And we walked out.