Tag Archives: humor

it’s not the stork…

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Recently, my friend Claire posted about talking to her kids about the birds and the bees.  (She’s hilarious, by the way, check out her blog here)

She got me thinking about when I talked to my oldest daughter about sex.

I was pregnant with my third baby and she kept asking how I got pregnant and how did the baby get in my tummy.

I always want to give my kids complete information and my thoughts are… when they ask about something, they are ready to know the answer.

Not quite knowing what to say or how to say it… I bought a book.  I bought a book called “It’s NOT the Stork.”

It was a cartoon book about sex.

Correction… it was a graphic, complete and detailed cartoon book about sex.

My mom stood at the bookstore and helped me pick out the book.  Her advice to me was “keep a straight face and keep reading.”

I bought the book home and read it to my daughter.  I took my mother’s advice and kept a straight face and kept reading.

(Note: I had NO idea why she gave me that advice until I actually started reading the book to my daughter.  I didn’t know if I was going to cry or burst out laughing.  Good advice.)

While I was reading (and trying my hardest not to laugh/cry) I could see my daughter’s face out of the corner of my eye.  No exaggeration – her mouth was hanging open in shock.

I kept reading.  I kept a straight face.

And, I hear “Wait. Wait. Wait.  Did you and daddy DO that… THREE TIMES????”   (We were about to have a total of three kids… Yes, we did it THREE TIMES and three times only).

I just said “Yes.” (Honesty, going out the window).

She seemed to recover and I kept reading.  We got to the part about sperm with cartoon pictures of giant sperm with smiley faces.  Again, I see her face out of the corner of my eye… shocked expression again.

Then, I hear “What happens to the thousands of sperm that don’t fertilize the egg?”

I said “They die.”

And, she said “You have DEAD sperm in you?”

We stopped reading the book after that.  It wasn’t my choice…

She said she didn’t want to hear anymore.

ouch, that hurt…

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I decided to pamper myself a bit today and I got a pedicure during my lunch hour.  I only had an hour, so I  was a bit rushed.

It did not quite turn out to be the relaxing hour I was envisioning.

When I first sat in the massaging pedicure chair and they turned on the water – it was a bit cold.  So, I asked the lady to make it a bit hotter.

She turned on the hot water and walked away.  The basin was filling up and now it was too hot.  So, I asked the person giving a pedicure next to me if she could turn off the hot water.  She was annoyed, but turned off the water.  I was not quite sure what she was annoyed about… for having to lean over about 6 inches to turn a knob?  Not sure.

Then, I turned on the massaging chair.  It made horrible creaking noises.  I turned it off.

When my lady finally got back she said “how is the water?”  Fine (well, fine now).

She was doing a great job on my pedicure and things were finally going well.  Then, she tried to get me to purchase the “up-sell” items.  She wanted me to buy foot cream for dry heels.  While I am sure I do need the cream, I declined.  She kept talking about the foot cream for the next few minutes and I kept telling her “maybe next time” and “no thank you.”  All I kept hearing back was “it’s only $25 and you only need to use it twice a day for 10 days.”

“No thank you.  Maybe next time.” Over and over (and over). 

I was trying to enjoy my hour lunch and I was reading a good book (she didn’t seem to notice the book).

Then, we got to the foot massage part (my favorite part of the pedicure).  She rubbed my feet and then, out of nowhere, she started hitting my legs and feet.  I am not joking and I am not exaggerating for the sake of a good story.  She had fists and was pounding on the lower half of my body.

I kept thinking she was getting my circulation going, getting my blood flowing, all part of the massage.  The only problem with this was…

It.  Hurt.

Then, she popped me on the top of my foot.  (Note: I’ve decided, by referring to the foot picture above, that she punched my metatarsal on my left foot)

She punched my foot.  With a fist.  As if she was pounding on a table.

I’ve had many pedicures in my time and I’ve never been assaulted during one.

I am sure this is not part of a normal pedicure and she was doing it because I didn’t buy the foot cream.

Just joking (sort of), but I really did hurt!

really, I’m better…

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My daughter is still in her sling and brace after breaking her collar bone (read more about it here and here).  She is healing well, but having a very difficult time remaining still and not using her arm.  I want her to stay still so she does not re-injure herself.  Not too much to ask, right?

Before her injury she had soccer and basketball almost every day of the week.  She has an incredible amount of energy and needs it directed somewhere.

Right now, she can move her arm, she’s in no pain… basically, she thinks she is fine.

Now, I see just how much she needs the energy outlet.  She can’t sit still.  She thinks her collar bone is fine and wants to jump off the diving board, run in the rain (normally, quite fun – but I’m envisioning her slipping and falling), play soccer, swim, and carry small children.

I’m mentioning the “carry small children” part because that is just what happened the other day at a Railhawks soccer game.

Her team was asked to play on the field during halftime.  She couldn’t play because of her injury, but she walked with her team to the field and stood on the side to watch.

I look across the field to where she is standing and she is holding a small child.  I am trying to picture in my head how she picked up this little person with one arm.

She is literally on the other side of a full soccer field, so I can’t yell at her to put down the kid – she wouldn’t hear me.

When she got back to our seats I asked her if she was holding a little kid with her broken collar bone and she says…

“I wasn’t holding him, he was sitting on my sling.”

Sigh.

 

the grass is not greener…

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I didn’t do it.  I couldn’t do it.

I did not keep the Samsung Galaxy Note. 

I woke up at 4:30 am today and couldn’t get back to sleep.  Finally, I woke up my husband to let him know that the Samsung was going back.  I had to have my iPhone back.

I’m sure he really appreciated that news at 4:30 am, but I had to deliver it.  I felt so much better after making that decision.

I was at the AT&T store this morning before they opened – waiting on their door step for the doors to open.

For the mere cost of a $35 restocking fee – I gladly handed over my enormous mistake.

Since I already gave my daughter my old iPhone and I would have completely traumatized her had I taken it back (yes, traumatized)… I had to purchase a new one.

I have NEVER been so happy with a purchase in my whole life.  I have my phone back.  I know how to use it and it was the correct size and dimensions.

I am thrilled to have my phone back (and I’m not exaggerating).  Thrilled.  I should not have strayed from my beloved iPhone.

It is true what they say…

The grass is not greener on the other side of the fence.

enormousness…

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I’ve had my eye on a new cell phone.  It’s called Samsung Galaxy Note.  It’s big.  Really big.

I have only looked at, in person, at the Best Buy store.

Inside Best Buy, with it’s enormous ceilings and utter vastness, the phone looked of average size.  Big, but not too big.

I had an older iPhone, but wanted something with a bigger screen.

So, yesterday I had a lunch date with my husband (and my 5 year old) and I mentioned to him that I liked the new Samsung Galaxy Note cell phone and he said it’s a great phone and he would go get it for me.  Right away.  Immediately.

(Note: My husband is obsessed with electronics.  You only have to mention the word “cell phone” or “laptop” and he’s on board – no need to try to convince him of anything.  Mention the words “new shoes” or “new rug” and he always says we don’t need it). 

He went right over to the AT&T store and upgraded my phone.

I didn’t see the phone until I got home from work.

My house is not the size of a Best Buy store.  So, when I saw the size of the phone in my house… with it’s normal sized ceilings and without the vastness of a Best Buy – I burst out laughing.

It.  Is.  Huge.

I gave my old iPhone to my oldest daughter already, so there is no turning back now.

I am going to try to love my new cell phone and embrace the enormousness (it’s a word, I double checked).

Photograph is of the Samsung Galaxy Note next to the iPhone.

swim team, anyone?

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I am a total fan of swim team… not all my friends are.

I love when my kids are interested in something. Anything. And, when we sign up… there is no complaining, no skipping practices, and no quitting.

If you sign up to be a part of a team – your team needs you. They may not be able to to play the game or win the meet without you.

That said. Swim team is a huge commitment. I understand why some people shy away from it.

The kids have practice every single night. This is not a big deal to me. We are at the pool anyway (every single night) for enjoyment. When one of the kids has to pop over to swim practice, it’s not a big deal. They practice and then have a little more fun before we go home.

Also, there is a meet… every single Tuesday night. Starting tonight until mid-July… every Tuesday night is booked. All night (not joking). We bring dinner.

Swimmers arrive at 5 pm and we don’t get home until after 10 pm (sometimes even later).

Volunteers are a huge part of any swim team. It wouldn’t work without volunteers. There are:

  • Timers
  • Stroke Judges
  • Kid Pushers
  • Turn Judges
  • Hospitality
  • Clerk of Course
  • Ribbon Distributor
  • Scorers
  • Timers
  • Time Recorders
  • Ribbon Sorter (that’s me!!)

Yes, I sort the ribbons (thousands of ribbons) for our swim team. It takes me hours, but I’ve got it down to a fine art (can there be a fine art of ribbon sorting?). It takes me a very, very long time, but I’d rather sort ribbons in air conditioning than stand up all night timing the races. I am able to enjoy every meet from the sidelines with my 5 year old (and 11 year old this year – since she has a broken collar bone).

Some of my friends can’t imagine going to the pool every day and attending every swim meet. To us, it’s fun.

Not only is swim team great exercise for the kids – it’s social time for parents and kids both.

The kids have a total blast. There are lots of Sharpie Marker drawings on swimmer bodies… “eat my bubbles” for example. There are lots of snacks. And, my husband usually picks up a pizza – good times (aren’t we exciting?).

My kids ask to join swim team each year. I am more than happy to oblige. If we sign up – they will attend everything, get lots of exercise and they will hopefully have tons of fun in the process.

Photograph was taken of my two swimmers in all their “swim gear” before the broken collar bone incident. Hopefully, she will be able to swim by the end of the season (read about her swimming in a sling here). In the meantime, we have one great little swimmer to root for – starting tonight!

better to fold and put away…

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The book I am reading now just made me laugh out loud (lol-literally)!

This is the title of the chapter that made me crack up:

Laundry: Better to fold and put away than to take only what you need from the dryer.

I don’t normally stop in the middle of reading a book to make a post – but this book is turning out to be quite good. And, quite funny!

Completely unexpected.

I need a little sign to hang above the washer and dryer. Or, more specifically – the dining room table, where the clean laundry ends up until I fold it and put it away.

Instead of helping me with the laundry duties… my entire household picks what they need out of the dryer (or the dining room table) and goes about their day. Nobody stops to think about helping fold and put away the laundry.

While I know I have a slightly messy house (read about it here) I am willing to wager that I am not the only mom and wife that encounters this laundry issue.

If you keep a to read list please add “The Journal of Best Practices: A Memoir of Marriage, Asperger Syndrome, and One Man’s Quest to Be a Better Husband.”

I think every husband should start a Journal of Best Practices.

And, let’s start the journal with…

Laundry: Better to fold and put away than to take only what you need from the dryer.

Brilliant.