That Boy ...

Hunter Bunter is the frickin' Energizer Bunny! I don't know how he does it, but you'd swear he's on crack. He could probably bottle up what he has in his blood and sell it to dopeheads like Whitney and Bobby. He can stay up til 1 or 2am with a nap or no nap and wake up at 6 or 7am, screaming, "Mom the sun's up, so get up." While I, in a zombie like state, reach to strangle him, but miss!

Hunter Bunter proud of his big boy underwear! In mentioning, his big boy underwear, I just thought I'd share a story about our toilet training experience. When his grandmother purchased these underwear, I told him if he pooed or peed in them I would throw them away. Thinking this would work. I came to my desk one morning to find pee flooding the floor and a nice long terd plopped on my desk. Well, he didn't poo or pee in his underwear now did he?

3 Man Fartin' Band

Geez! My boys and husband could create their own band with the variety of farts they provide. It is quite interesting, but stinky (as my husband is known as the "Green Fog"). They could title their record, "Stink." The songs could be entitled, "What's that stench?", "Pull my finger", "That's the night that I lost my sense of smell", and "It was the cabinets." My husband has turned my boys into farting machines and I find no humor in it. Hunter Bunter even asked my dad in church to pull his finger, he made a farting noise and laughed. They make music with it and force each other to smell it. One night my husband farted and Seth(ocrates) came around the corner running to tackle him and you'd swear there was an invisible force field around my husband, because Seth(ocrates) hit it and said, "Whoah! God that stinks Dad!" and fell down. Just a little sympathy would be nice for the woman who has to listen and smell the "3 Man Fartin' Band".

Breakfast Guest

My sister-in-law sent me this story about their experience in Scotland with some very large birds, I just had to share it with everyone. Had pictures, but of course blogger is not working with me. "I just thought you might enjoy seeing pictures of some surprise guests we had Monday morning. Ethan was in the living room watching cartoons, and I was taking a bath upstairs when they arrived. Ethan came up to tell me about the big black birds in the yard. I told him they where probably ravens, thinking (quite naturally) that he was exaggerating when he shouted "They're bigger than me". When he failed to get the response from me that he craved, he dragged Hayden out of bed and down the stairs to see them. At which point Hayden started to scream "TURKEYS, mom we have turkeys in the yard." Being of true cajun blood, both then decided that we should have turkey for dinner and let Savannah (the dog) out. I was finally able to convince them that perhaps the farmer up the road may take offense to us killing his escaped fowl. In the bushes behind the turkeys was a pheasant. The day before we had about 5 grouse running about the yard. Ethan says (and I quote) "What next cows and sheep?""

Get OUT!

10 Signs you need to get out more often: 1. The highlight of your day is your trip to the mailbox at least here the creditors may find you, but they would let you pee in peace. 2. You can get drunk on Starbucks Coffee. 3. Conversations begin with "What do you think I am doing?" 4. Mac-n-cheese has become your new favorite delicacy. 5. You can recite all the words to all Disney songs with feeling. 6. You catch yourself watching Disney channel even when your kids are not around. 7. Your children ask you if you have any friends. 8. You've run out of Bath and Body Works Eucalyptus Spearmint Body Wash, so you settle for Spiderman's Watermelon Kid's Wash instead. 9. You have more playdates a week, than real dates a year. 10. You take the time to think of 10 Signs You Need to Get Out More Often!

BOYS!!

My boys are from another dimension. There must have been some time space continuum I missed. I don't get their humor. Maybe I'm just a stiff and dry mom, but ending every word with BUTT is not as hilarious as one may think. Hunter Bunter is so similar to his dad, in that he laughs at himself. I sit there thinking they have got to be sharing some brain wave that I'm missing due to a bad connection. Hunter Bunter and his dad got into a name calling match (which I in no way condone, but is harmless - well I hope so, okay there goes the guilt again).

Anyway it went something like this:

Husband: Monkey Boy
Hunter Bunter: Monkey Boy BUTT (laughs at self)
Husband: Silly
Hunter Bunter: Silly BUTT (laughs at self, dad as well)
(Now turning into a joke)
Husband: Scratch my back, BUTT
Hunter Bunter: Knock, Knock Who's There? BUTT (laughing hysterically)
Husband: Okay, Power Ranger
Hunter Bunter: Power Ranger BUTT BUTT (laughing with tears)

This went on quite awhile until I BUTTED in!!! Oh! God I'm doing it, too.

Can't Take Him Anywhere

To anyone who may know my husband, they know without me saying He is as Cajun as they come. We are sitting in Olive Garden having a nice dinner, surprisingly without kids due to some sad circumstances, but anyhow a night away and out comes "They sure do have a lot of wine here." Now that may not sound bad, yet he is kind of loud about it. Then he proceeds to say again, "Look it's everywhere." I'm sitting here thinking he can't be serious. The waitress then comes for our order and he makes an inquiry about the salad, "It's the big one right." As if we haven't been here a hundred times or so and he doesn't know it's a big salad. He then asks, "What kind of salad, do you serve here?" Again, normal questions but you have to understand, he asks the same freakin' questions every time. Thank God, we don't get the same waitress or I would just have to tell her he has amnesia or something. So, we are sitting waiting for our food and he blurts out, "I don't have a spoon, if I owned a joint like this everyone would have a spoon." Stating this as if he is making a promise to America, "I vow to improve our children's education, decrease taxes, and to have a spoon in every restaurant." What next? "They probably make a pretty penny here, huh?" We are now questioning The Olive Garden Restaurant's success. I don't even begin to answer any of his questions or respond because all I can do is shake my head and think why do I take him anywhere. So, now we have gotten our meal. I'm praying conversation is going to improve that maybe he is just lacking oxygen and nutrients to the brain, maybe we can talk about something a little more serious or at least important. Wrong!!! Again, loud and proud, "You know this is going to go straight through me, I hope I can make it to our house." @#$%, please God save me from my Cajun husband. I eat thinking if I just hurry, maybe he won't say anything else and try as I may to change the conversation he still keeps coming with the one liners for everyone to hear. "I hope you have enough money for this, because I don't." Ugh!!! What's sad about this is, this is not the first time. Once in a nice department store, he looked at a pair of shorts and loudly stated, "$25 for a pair of shorts, I can go to Wal-mart and get them cheaper than that." And another time in Chuck E. Cheese, "The pizza at Pinnochio's is so much better." Or the time we were in a fancy restaurant and the waiter began to place a napkin on his lap and he yelled, "whoah, buddy I ain't like that."  To make sense of it all would take a century or more, but he knows he is so embarrassing and enjoys every minute of my cringing, hands in front the face, wide-eyed, sinking under the table reactions; thinking God just strike me down now and he just laughs - laughs at himself. If only everyone thought they were funny, maybe they could all be as wonderful as my husband is.

Oh Guilt! You Haunt Me So!

Guilt, by definition in the "mother guidebook", an overwhelming feeling that you have somehow or another affected your children in a negative way through their upbringing and will spend eternity blaming yourself for all the wrong paths they take. Guilt, something all mothers live with. You'll feel guilty that you may not have given them a wholesome breakfast, or sent your child off to school, but not before yelling at them, spending all day writing and reading blogs, watching mindless TV, telling your child that Power Rangers doesn't play today,  or telling your hubby that due to your lack of sleep most of your body parts won't function properly so don't ask me for anything tonight.

Most of all, my guilt lies in what I may slip up with every once in awhile. Did I say something that will scar my child until late adulthood? Will he or she carry that emotional baggage with them and seek counseling for me telling them to "Shut-up" while American Idol was on, instead of "Be Quiet, Please!" Why do we torture ourselves with such thoughts? It's called anxiety or worry, but I'm going to give it another name for light of humor - Inyamama. So, when I'm spinning in a downward spiral of tears and my little one asks me why - I can turn around and say "Mommy has Inyamama. It's all in ya' mama's head, baby don't worry"