falling down

thing one woke up this morning. disgusted. after throwing open his window shade to see that the leaves were still on the trees. 'it's the first day of fall, you know.'

road trip

warning: this post may contain offensive language. more offensive than usual. hence the warning.

tonight we headed back home. for my husband's high school class reunion. i was looking forward to it. after planning my own high school reunion last year i could actually sit back and enjoy myself. or so i thought. we left our house after my husband got out of work. knowing, scratch that, dreading the fact that we had to stop with thing one and two for dinner on the way. they always want to stop at mcdonalds. we do not. especially after seeing the youtube video on how chicken mcnuggets are made last week. but that's for another time. we didn't tell them ahead of time. to prepare them. and we paid. let's just say they were total assholes. so much so that we changed their names from thing one and thing two to asshole one and asshole two. after what seemed like five hours at applebee's. and fifty-seven minutes. we left the restaurant. with the assholes. and headed the rest of the way home. until we got pulled over. for speeding. usually, when you see a cop, you slow down. nope. not asshole three. he keeps on speeding. the nice officer just gave us a warning. but not before he had to write us up for not having a current certificate of insurance. in the car. enter asshole four. we finally made it to my parents' house. after what seemed like a day. and a half. there were two nights of reunion festivities planned. the first night we headed out to dinner with the barnyards. before enjoying a loon's baseball game. the second night was the big shindig. and lots more. and by lots more i mean crazy mother fuckers. every time my husband, who was now well on his way to alcohol poisoning, would introduce me to another of his former classmates they were crazy mother fuckers. all of them. 'now this guy, this guy, here, was a crazy mother fucker, right here'. all. night. long. until we got home. at four am. now, this wouldn't be all that bad. but we had to leave at seven am. so we could make it back home. for asshole one's first ever birthday party that he was invited to. that sunday. and there was no way we were missing it. so, after staying up until four am, with all of the crazy mother fuckers, i had to pack everything. including the car. while the crazy mother fucker-er lay in bed. until the very. last. second. and i thought the trip over was bad. i'm just glad these things only happen once every twenty years.

here's your sign

you might be a redneck engineer if... this gem was found at a mcdonald's. in kokomo indiana.

check that

it's not a one time incident. i hope my husband gets home. sooner rather than later. i'm sure glad he enjoyed that flyers game. and i was so looked forward to this morning. it's a preschool morning. don't you know.

since you've been gone

monday morning my husband left for a business trip. by eleven o'clock in the morning thing two had gotten a dvd stuck in the dvd player. sometimes i just don't have it in me for one more argument. so i let her put the dvd in. and spent the next half an hour removing the player's cover. and getting it unstuck. but she didn't need to know it was fixed. by one o'clock in the afternoon there was a small flood. in the downstairs bathroom. now, i can't scold either one of them. they were washing their hands. after going to the bathroom. however, when i went downstairs because they had to 'show me something' i had no idea. their step stool was up to the sink. and there was a half a bowl of water. because they put the stopper down. the other half was on the counter. and puddled in the drawers. beneath the sink. after i soaked up all the water i called the plumber. to fix the broken seal. it's a vessel bowl. guess who's getting a new sink? later that evening we have tantrum 2,925. tuesday morning i wake from a restful night. surprisingly. it's going to be a great day. until the children woke up. the tantrums and hitting are all. day. long. thank god for my good neighbors. mr. good neighbor is going to watch the evil spawn while mrs. good neighbor and i are going for a walk. i then learn that there were burglars in the neighborhood early that morning. great. when we get home from walking i get the kids to bed. i finally fall asleep. out of pure exhaustion. listening to every. single. noise. like the furnace burglar. and heat duct burglar. and sump pump burglar. and then making sure that all outside lights are on. including several in the house. so it's now three-thirty in the morning. i hear something out in the living room. it's not the furnace burglar. or the heat duct burglar. or even the sump pump burglar. i freak out at first. because, you know. it's the burglar. i hear tinkering. i wake up a little bit more. get brave. and stand up to peer out my door. i thought i would find the burglar. or thing one. at the very least. instead i see just a book. seemingly in the air. turning the pages all by itself. upon further investigation, it's thing two. laying down sideways in the chair. i can now hear her whisper reading a book. over my rapidly beating heart attack. i stand there for a few minutes. watching her. until i catch her eye. i was ready. to unleash my first tirade of the very early day.

thing two [looking over at me with her sweet little face]: 'mom, i went poop. it's all over my hand.'
me: 'what?!'

so, i take her in the bathroom. only to find she had already been in there. because 4,936 clean wipes were already in the toilet.

thing two: 'i wiped my hands already.'

oh, really? whatever. so, much to my surprise, she had this very smelly pull-up to which she told me was waiting for me to get up. so she could change it. well, that was thoughtful. i really hope this is a one time incident. because that would just make my day. and it's only three hours into a new one.

here's your sign

just in case

you can find me on facebook too. in case you were that bored.

http://www.facebook.com/?ref=home#!/pages/Ten-miles-South-of-common-sense/131675526886412?sk=info