A Friday Tail

If you are raising boys, you know that erections start at a very early age. Like birth. I was admittedly caught off-guard (and SHOCKED) the first time it happened. But not any more. It’s old hat around these parts.

It's a popsicle.  But it still makes me laugh.

It’s a popsicle.

My oldest used to struggle with it. Especially during car rides in which he would start screaming and shout: “My penis is sticking up!” I would attempt to calm him down and ensure him all was okay – the situation was only temporary after all.

My husband dealt with this a bit differently. Any time Abe would start panicking over his penis, Dave would simply say: “Good! That means it’s working.

So that has become our mantra for mini erections. It’s all good. It’s just working.

And then this conversation happened yesterday in the car with my 4-year-old:
Gus: My penis sure is busy.
Me: Huh?
Gus: My penis. It’s working. It’s busy.
Me: Oh. It’s sticking up?
Gus: Yes. Why does my penis have to do chores?
Me: <crickets>

Happy Friday! Cheers to all those busy, working penises…and little boys who make us belly laugh.

My Life in Facebook Posts

FacebookI am once again participating in Mama Kat’s (Pretty Much World Famous) Writer’s Workshop.  She’s a funny gal and I’m particularly fond of her most recent vlog post on the Vanilla Vodka ChaiCheck her out.

Over the past six years, I have documented my life on Facebook. Mostly the comical parts – because good or bad, that’s what I want to remember. Motherhood makes me HaPpY (and tired).  My boys make me HaPpY (and tired).  And looking back at Facebook posts over the past five years makes me HaPpY (and tired).  Here are some of the highlights – though some may consider them lowlights – of my wonderfully fun and poop-filled life. There's more…

Cleaning a Dirty House

I have the privilege of seeing what search terms people use to land on my website.  Some poor soul recently searched:  “Cleaning a Dirty House.”  And stumbled upon Eat Clean. Live Dirty.  Obviously, that was a terribly wrong turn.

Speaking of cleaning a dirty house…

Out with the Old

Out with the Old

I mentioned in a previous post that there was a ring around our upstairs toilet base that caused some suspicion.  At first we thought the toilet was leaking.  Then we decided it was simply pee.  From three little Dirty misdirected fire hoses. That kept getting pee’d on.  And eventually resulted in a dark brown circle under the caulk that elbow grease and bleach wouldn’t touch.

Live Dirty. There's more…

This Ain’t No Pinterest House

We recently had a friend of Abe’s over for the first time. As always in our house, play was loud and lively. They shot indoor basketball and Nerf guns.  They snacked and crumbled.  They took the cushions off the couch to build forts. And later used the cushions as trampolines to dunk the basketball.

When Friend’s mom came to pick Friend up, she seemed mortified to see the aftermath of pillows, blankets, and balls that spanned the floor. I figured this would be second-hat to her. After all, she has boys of her own. But she kept apologizing for the mess. I assured her my house looks like this every day. EVERY DAY. It had nothing to do with her son.  And eventually The Dirties would have their chance to help clean the clutter. There's more…

About a Boy

There are a few things I’ve learned about boys over the past seven years.  I’m sure these early rants won’t compare to the things I’ll learn in the next seven years.  But here goes:

A crime scene?  Nope.  Just an unidentified stain on our living room chair.

A crime scene? Nope. Just our living room chair.

The crappier your house is prior to having boys, the better.  IT IS GOING TO GET DESTROYED.  Buy furniture second-hand.  Avoid light colors.  Use plastic corner protectors throughout your house.  Brace, fortify, and secure all shelves, doors, and window blinds.  Become a master of drywall plug, patch, and texture – or have a handyman on speed dial.

Do not waste money investing in toys.  The only things you need are empty refrigerator boxes, PVC piping, yarn, duct tape, and bubble wrap. There's more…

Brotherly Love

There was an adorable video posted several years ago that showed toddler twins communicating.  In their own special language.  It was endearingly cute and drew mass media attention.

My twins were around the same age at the time the video went viral.  My experience in watching my boys communicate was (and still is) very different.  Their special language goes something like this:
There's more…