Let it not be said that I don't have the where with all to do some documenting of bebe stuff.
Eh, just don't look at the baby albums.
Maybe I just suck.
Well tonight I've decided to write down some things that surely only Earl and I would find amusing because really, truly - how many times have you thought other people's kids were funny?
I don't count. I laugh at everything. And your kids are hilarious.
I still don't count though. I always visualize that one comedienne, I think it was Kightlenger (sp) when she joked about not wanting to talk to her friends kids on the phone.
It's that. Who wants to impose? I dooo, I so do, because quite frankly, my kids freaking rock but that's neither here nor there.
Anywho, here's the stuff to remember Earl-when-you-return/me-cause-your-memories-already-shot-out-the-damn-window.
On the bebes and I at the townhome:
For some reason, each and every single stupid time I decide to become brain dead and take the girls to the town home for the running of the water/posturing so that people know that I care about the place/a little open freedom, the girls take it upon themselves to:
Poop.
They save it up. For the town home. In anticipation of going someplace new and exciting to poop their pants.
Nothing like checking your home out and being pushed out of the way by two hyper, screeching, stanky girls running up and down the stairs.
Yeah, I let them run UP and DOWN the stairs.
For they will learn to be more careful if they fall.
Just making the herd stronger for y'all that's all - don't want two eensy, fraidy kittys being sent into the world.
I do have my limits though, I mean come on! Hurling yourself down the stairs may be good times,good times, but not to momma. I'm easy going, not foot loose and 'hey, come take my kids away'.
Alas, being the fantabulous mother that I am, I have taught them the most upstanding of words...
Annabella knows chandelier and various other high falutenz while Samantha relishes in yelping "tawld" at me when wiping her heiny. She also enjoys shoving her sippy cup in my face and demanding "wader".
And since the town home came up, what better time than now to explain Annabella's awareness of phrasing and intonation, coupled with a few choice words momma taught her.
On being in the backyard, I left the sliding door open so that the girls could meander in and out.
Samantha did so at lightening speed, seeming fascinated with this whole 'our yard' business and the ability to get back inside quickly.
In and out, laughing, in and out. Over and Over.
This sending Annabella into a complete tizzy, being the stoic little person she is, and after so many times of Samantha not staying inside! for the love of Gawd! I heard this:
"okay! 'Mantha, gawd damnit. Inside house now!"
WTF?
"hey! we don't use that word!"
to which if looks could be translated, I believe hers would be, "uh, yeah, you do woman. Maybe you should take some time to do the mother freeking momma herdin here and while you're at it lady, watch that potty mouth of yours. So that I don't have to use mine! Please bitch"
There are just no words.
Earl's gonna be pissed. Or maybe not. You never know with him. Anyhow, we'll see what he says cause next we're moving on up to "oh holy hell" and "bitch what?"
Good times, Good times
So then we're home and I'm chasing the girls around the house (we have a circle of bathroom/my bedroom/walk-in/back to bathroom route we make) to get some last minute bebe energy out and we're tearing around the corner and bam....
Dizzy.
So old Mcfarty olden pants stops to take a breather so she doesn't stroke out, sitting on the corner of her bed hoping the world stops spinning.
When whaddya know, two bebes stop dead in their tracks and Annabella pats the top of the shredder (cut off.unplugged.shusshh) and announces...
"This is cheddar . . . cheese"
Thank you karma. That was a much needed belly laugh.
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