Kids Say the Darndest Things

In society, we are all taught to live by certain rules. As children, we are taught by our parents what's appropriate and what's inappropriate, including things we should say and things we should not say. As parents, we do our best to pass those same lessons down to our own children.

But then come along things like the X-Box. And the next thing you know, you’re hearing your kids say things you never imagined would come out of their mouths.

Things like:

“I shot him three times and he’s still alive!”

“Shoot him in the head!”

“More zombies! Get the machine gun!”

“Cool...a missile launcher!”

“I’m going to use the sniper rifle. What kind of gun are you going to use?”

“I’m shot! Get over here, quick!”

“Wow! You killed 42 of them! Sweet!”

“Make sure you get lots of grenades...we have to blow up the water tower.”

“You’ve got to be frickin’ kidding me! I totally killed that guy!”

“Crap...I’m dead.”

Yes, this has become the normal banter in my house. But no matter how terrible it may sound at times, I find comfort by reminding myself of three important things:

1. Given the right weapons, my boys can take down an enemy tank any day.

2. If zombies ever attack our home, my boys will know how to kill them.

3. The boys are having fun and spending quality time together...that is until I hear one of them yell, “Mom!”

It’s usually then that I have to intervene and lay down the law. I do so by simply saying:

“Stop killing your brother or else you’re done playing!”

Back From Hell

I know, I know. I said I was going to get with the program and post more often. But, hey, I told you I had to go to the DMV, didn't I?

I wish I had taken my camera with me to the DMV, because there were two things there that played right into my whole "trip to hell" theme. First was the sign right outside the door that read "No smoking within 20 feet of this facility." (See...wouldn't that have made for a great picture?!)

The second was a man (at least I think it was) that looked just like the devil himself. He had long black dreadlocks down to his waist and an even longer gotee that was divided into two braids. He was dressed in red, tattered shorts and a black T-shirt with a red imprint of Jimmy Hendrix on the front. Oh, and he had those circle, John-Lennon-looking glasses on.

What? That's not how you picture the devil?

During my two-hour visit to hell, I had a lot of time to think. One epiphany I had (and loyally shared with Happy Hour Somewhere first) was that people who work at the DMV have got to be the smartest people on the planet. I mean, think about it--they never have to wait around at the DMV to renew their license or registration. (Brilliant, I tell ya!)

Luckily, I did not have to take any tests to renew my license. I thought I was going to have to at least take an eye test, considering it had been at least ten years since my last one, but the lady said there was no need. So if you see a lady in a gold Jeep running stop signs and red lights, with a trail of roadkill behind her, it's probably me (sorry, little squirrel).

It actually feels good to have a legitimate license again (even if my new picture looks like I was eye-fondled by dirty old men for two hours--a little more to the left, please...oh, yes, right there). I can speed again and everything without having to worry about getting a ticket for driving with an expired license!

It also feels good to post again. Where else am I going to share my sightings of the devil and DMV epiphanies?

A Trip to Hell

Instead of working this morning, I'll be taking a trip to hell.

I have the fricken cashier at Barnes & Noble to thank for it. I was totally oblivious to the fact that I needed to pay a visit to hell until she rang me up, I swiped my card, and she asked to see my driver's license.

I handed my license to her like I've done with every other cashier for the past four and a half months. It was then that she asked, "Do you know that your license is expired?"

I looked at her like she was out of her mind. I said, "What?!" took a look at my license and sure enough, it had expired on my birthday back in November!

Why didn't I get a renewal in the mail? Oh, that's right...because I moved two years ago and never updated my address.

So off I go on my trip to hell...the dreaded DMV.

Turd Tongs

Today I read Bat Crap Crazy's post about variuos life lessons. She asked for everyone to share their own life lessons, so I shared one of my own with her. It had to do with kids and their giant turds.

The uncanny thing about it all is that within 45 minutes of posting my comment, I hear my son yelling from the bathroom, "Mom! The toilet's backed up again!"

ME: "Shit! Not again!"

Of course, when I arrived in the bathroom, the toilet was full of so much toilet paper, it looked as if the entire neighborhood stopped by my house to wipe their ass.

ME: "Son, just how big do you think your ass is?

SON: "Sorry...every time I wiped there was still poop on the paper, so I just kept wiping until it was clean."

ME: "Soooooo, that was what...572 times?"

SON: "I don't know."

As I'm having this conversation with my son, I see the real culprit lurking amongst the soggy mountain of toilet paper...another one of his infamous giant turds.

If you have seen my son, you know he's a skinny, little guy and the shortest kid in his class. You would never believe that the turd I saw in the toilet today came out of him. But this is a common thing in my house. Not only with him, but with my daughter as well.

It is actually my daughter who holds the record in our household for the biggest turd. She was about ten years old when she passed it. I mean, this thing was so long, I wondered if she was able to taste it before she crapped it out. It was so mind boggling, I couldn’t help but to take a picture of it! (I know...kind of weird, but believe me...now that my daughter's a teenager, that picture has come in very handy!)

Seriously. I don't know how my kids pass these turds without an epidural. By the size of them, you'd think my kid hadn't crapped in six months. But I know they have, because I swear I'm in the fricken' bathroom plunging a toilet full of one of my kid's shit at least once a week. And do you know how difficult it is to plunge a toilet with a giant turd in the bowl, not to mention Walmart's entire stock of toilet paper? There's a reason we have a pair of "turd tongs" in my house, but we don't need to go into that. I'm sure the words "turd tongs" create enough of a mental picture as it is.

As for today's giant turd, it didn't break the record, but it was a close contender.

ME: "Son, how many times do I have to tell you to flush these things before you start wiping?

SON: "Sorry...I didn't know it was that big."

ME: "How could you not know it was that big...it's GINORMOUS! You've got to be at least five pounds lighter than you were before you crapped that thing out!"

SON: "Did I break the record?"

ME: "No."

SON: "Dang it! Can you take a picture of it anyway?"

ME: "No."

SON: "Why not?"

ME: "Because I'm just not, okay. The camera isn't charged up anyway."

SON: "Do you need the turd tongs?"

ME: "Yes...unfortunately."

My son ran off and retrieved the turd tongs. (You should be happy to know that they are kept in the garage and not in the kitchen.)

Upon my son's return, he asked, "Can I do it?"

ME: "No, son...you've done enough."

Blondie in Wonderland

Hello, my friends! Just a quick story to share with you today. I know it's been awhile. I promise to get back in the swing of things. I've just been knee-deep in work and kids, but loving every minute of it.

Anyway, last night I got roped into going to the "midnight" premier of the new Alice In Wonderland movie. But it's not the movie I want to tell you about. Although it was great, the more interesting part of my evening was right before the movie started.

The theatre was packed, so I had to get a seat near the front, which not only annoyed me but also reminded me once again why I need to start carrying my "glasses" with me (one day).

I ended up in a row with a hot blonde sitting one seat over from me. She was wearing a slinky, white dress and all dolled up, hair and makeup as perfect as could be. The first thing I thought when I glanced over at her was, "Damn, she's pretty!" (Hey, as long as my husband is not with me and checking her out, I can appreciate the beauty of another woman!)

It wasn't long before the manager came around, telling people they needed to move together to take up all the seats. But I had my purse and coat laying on the seat between me and blondie, and I really didn't want to have to move over. So I looked over at blondie and said, "If we get told to move together, let's just say the seat between us is being saved for someone."

Blondie looked at me, flashed me a pretty smile, then with a DEEP, DEEP voice, HE says to me, "Sure, no problem!"

Yes, hot blondie was a DUDE!!!!!

I tried not to stare after that, but I really could not help but to look over every now and then, trying to figure out how I had not noticed.

But a few minutes later when blondie got up to go to the bathroom before the movie started, I heard one of the young guys behind me say, "Mmmmmmmmmm...oh, yeah," as he was admiring blondie himself.

I chuckled as I thought about turning around and telling the guy behind me that blondie was a dude, but I figured it would be more fun to let him keep dreaming in his own little wonderland.