You know that kid in the park that intentionally knocks over every other one. The one that hogs the slides and goes up the wrong way.The one that throws rocks to greet the latest slider. The one that pulls the little girls’ pigtails. The one that jumps in the middle of every ball game and grabs the ball. The one that pulls a kid’s cap off so that he can yank his little hairs. The one that, without notice and without provocation, slaps a kid across the face and then trips him. The one that sits in the corner crushing the ants or any helpless little creatures. Read the rest of this entry
My internet is not working (it would really help to pay our bills) and now I am left with nothing productive to do. It is kind of depressing to say that, but I have the washer and dryer running and the house is basically clean. The baby is napping and I am in dire need of a shower, but of course, I will post instead.
I started reading a lot of blogs and they are all different in many ways aside for their one similarity. Most people have stories to tell because they get out of their houses, and most people have pictures to display because they have a camera. How profound, I know.
Problem is, I never leave my house and I don’t have a camera. Yeah, how do I survive? I am beginning to see that perhaps, I do not. I used to own a camera and still do. However, a few months back, I lost the charger in the enormous mess that is strangely concealed somewhere within my home. So basically, there is no camera.
I hardly ever leave the house and therefore, I don’t meet people. My husband, on the other hand, is a chick magnet and ‘the craziest thing ever’ magnet. Every day, he comes home with a tale of “You won’t believe what I saw, it was the craziest thing EVER!” or “I saw so-and-so today and she is blah blah blah.” (How descriptive) Did that sound jealous? Neh.
I am pretty sure he does see the oddest things ever, though. One time, Read the rest of this entry
There’s an unspoken rule in our home to keep at least one light on at all times. The house is a scary place in the dark. You never know what you will step on or who you will step on. You don’t ever want to run to the bathroom and step on one of those little matchbox cars. Trust me, your feet will never forgive you. There are balls, blocks, trucks, and even large riding toys. The toy companies make announcements every day to their staff and it goes as follows: “Men, this is a factory that manufactures toys for boys. They must, and I repeat, MUST all be sharp and painful to step on and should preferably come with wheels. That should take the parents for a ride. Oh, and we mustn’t forget. Create them all with no way to switch off their sounds. They should be loud and obnoxious and go on endlessly with songs, tunes, and all sorts of announcements.” I know, how sweet. But, at least they have our boys in mind.
I refuse to have those boys who have no concept what girls really are. I can’t stand that look that they give you like you are a foreign being. I have seen them lift up skirts with wonder. I try to introduce them to everything in my world, except for the anatomy part that I skip for now. Some day, just not now. My son showed me a panty liner and asked me what it was. I told him it was a liner. He just put it down and said, “Oh. Okay,” and continued on to his cars. He asked me what I was wearing under my shirt- now how can I explain that one. Well it was easy, and I told him it was a bra. And of course the questions must go on. Where is the fun if not? “So mommy, What IS a bra?” “It’s simple” I told him, “It is a shortened version of your undershirt. We don’t need as much coverage as you boys need.”
I try to use it to my advantage that we are so different. I want them to understand me to the best of their abilities. I can’t be alone. So I tell them how awesome (and hot, of course) us w Read the rest of this entry