True Confessions:

1. OK-I was impressed with Anthony Weiner's ummm, ya know...
2. Shia LaBoef should keep his mouth SHUT if he had the good fortune to get naked with Megan Fox. Only douche bags kiss and tell. MAN CODE, dude! Follow it.
3. Does anyone really give a rat's @ss about Lyndsey Lohan???
4. I can live with dirty floors, but I am NEUROTIC about tidiness.
5.

Private Conversation

"Don't come in here! I am NAKED!!!" I shout from the closet. Which makes lil brother do an about face. And gives me an uninterrupted 20 minutes to chat on the phone in peace...fully clothed. HA!

Aspiration

Real life @ blither blather headquarters... It's EXHAUSTING, y'all.

Thank God for (No) TV!

Monday went a lil sumpin' like this:

CLASH OF THE TITANS
STARRING MOM VS LIL BROTHER!!!

So later in the afternoon lil brother asks me, "Who made up taking de TV away from de kids for a punishment???" And he is totally perplexed by the audacity of such a radical and unnecessary idea. "I mean, what else are de kids gonna do?!?" he logically queries.

Me: "Not sure. But pretty brilliant, huh???"

And honestly, whoever thunk that up needs a freakin' NOBEL PEACE PRIZE for sure.

Moment of Contrition:
So lil brother finds me lying prostrate on the bed after a full day of trying to slow his roll, and he crawls up to snuggle. He puts his big square hands on my cheek, looks into my eyes and says, "Do you need some lotion on your feet???" ...And all is right in the world again. I'm a total sucker, y'all.

Pain in the @ss

Jesus Murphy Malone! Lil brother has been stubbornly riding my @ss 'bout WHY he has to do his language workbook over the summer. Even though he KNOWS exactly why considering that was one of the conditions for participating in his martial arts class-which he LOVES. But with equal intensity, he HATES having to practice language skills. According to him, it's BOR-ing!!! Godamighty!!! When I complain to Mr B about all the manipulation and questioning and renegotiating that I have suffered and endured, he just archly stares back at me. His expression an essay in irony as he gives me the once-over. So I just harumpphhh off about my business, mumble bitchin' to myself...

Know this: There is a Come-to-Jesus in Lil brother's future FOR SURE.

Murky Parenting

So we let big kid invite a friend to the water park... but not lil brother...who said, "Das not fair!" followed by a huff, a stomp, and a door slam... And he's right, it's not. But Mr B and I didn't want to have to closely watch someone else's lil kid flounder around the deep end at the opposite end of the pool from our lounge chairs. So call this selfish (if you must), but we just wanted to soak up some rays in freakin' peace and silence without having to do the life guard's job ourselves. We actually discussed this beforehand, so this was a deliberate c*ck block to lil brother having a play date. And btw-he actually had a blast doing his usual fearless danger-ranger antics with no one to negotiate with as well as hanging with the older, "cool" kids. And Mr B and I got to lie in our chairs uninterrupted without having to get up and watch/worry about kids. Mission Accomplished-guilt free.

OK-moving on to the neighbor's kids (this is the juicy stuff-although a little risky to put it on the Internet-but who am I to walk away from that, right?!?). Lil brother loves the neighbor kids and has invited the youngest brother X to spend the night multiple times. And every time he does, he comes back to report that X can't come over unless the big brother Y comes too. Sigh....!!! F@#$! Really?!? When did brothers become a package deal??? So sometimes I capitulate and let BOTH spend the night, and sometimes I put my foot down and tell lil brother to tell them only ONE KID. Which I suspect causes high drama next door. And means that lil brother has NEVER been invited to a spend the night at their house and even got left off X's bday party list a few months ago. C'est la vie. Screw 'em... But it does hurt lil brother's feelings. However, a few nights ago, lil brother scored a spend the night invite from friend X. He was ELATED!!! "Dis is de first time EVER!" And I am happy for him. So we pack up the sleeping bag, brush his teeth, put him in jammies, have a quick manners review, and I send him out the door with a kiss. And Mr B casually reminds me, "Hey! You forgot to send big kid with him." And y'all, it was sooooo tempting...

Bunny the Crack 'Ho

My friend rolls up into my driveway with a pink and white zebra license plate that proudly displays the moniker BUNNY in a curlicue script on her hot-to-trot mama carpooling wagon. And of course I am instantly jealous... and curious. Has this magnet school-carpooling mom become a stripper since I last saw her??? She confesses that this attention grabbing moniker came hot off the presses from our local newspaper that had reported on the rather unorthodox antics of a local crack 'ho by the name of BUNNY. My friend was intrigued (and somewhat impressed) by Bunny's boldly whackadoodle moniker that clearly threw caution to the wind and spit in the face of Southern propriety. Southerners KNOW that only grandmothers can pull off a name like BUNNY. No one under the age of 62 should even try this without expecting a social backlash that would keep tongues wagging at the dinner table for five generations, at the least. My friend even reported that her 7th grade son begged her to take it off because he was having trouble at school explaining why he rode in a Bunny-mobile. So as any mother would-she took it off for two months-before proclaiming, "Screw it! Let 'em wonder!" I mean who wouldn't want a BUNNY alter-ego loudly and proudly displayed that would get all those vengeful magnet school mamas buzzing about on Facebook??? Sounds like my kinda fun frankly.

So as I finish typing this, I am currently trolling the criminal section of our local newspaper looking for a rare jewel of a moniker to blazon across my own lil retro set of wheels. If/when I find something tongue waggin' worthy, I'll be sure to report. Until then, there's only room for one BUNNY in this town.

Do as I Say...

Mr B and I were "disagreeing" in the car while driving round town the other day. So lil brother, who'd been listening intently to our "disagreement" pipes up, " Mom, I get in trouble when I say dat stuff back to you like you said to Dad!"

"That's right! I get to say it and you don't!" I retort.

"Yeah...but I can think anything I want, and you can't say anything 'bout dat."

...Hummmmmphhh... Kid's gotta point there.

Martial Arts

I signed lil brother up for martial arts class yesterday, but frankly was a lil concerned about what I might be getting myself into... since he is the miniature reincarnation of Genghis Khan himself on any given day. Not sure why I was given a warrior child to parent...although Mr B has a few theories on that topic that I will NOT go into here...ahem. Nevertheless, signing lil brother up for martial arts means that I have to get on the interstate and fight rush hour traffic, will have to locate all the pieces of the uniform as well as the water bottle and try not to forget it on the counter, and then PAY for someone to teach lil brother round house kicks and the like...which we all know he's going to practice on me, the dog, the cat, his brother, the neighbor, his grandmother, et al. (Notice Mr B is not in the list of potential victims. Kid ain't dumb). So anyway, against my better judgement I put my money on the counter and watch lil brother on his first lesson. And he is INTENSE 'bout this stuff. Totally taking these kick @ss lessons s'riously, as you might expect. But at the end of the class the instructor makes the class turn to their parents, look them in the eye, and BOW TO THEM while yelling their thanks in Korean. And let me tell you what...I woulda paid double for that alone. I've already signed lil brother up for the fall class. I'm getting my money's worth on this one.

Church Lady Dream

Mr B had a dream that our family went to visit another church (ugh!) but once we were seated I decided that we needed to move to another section (sounds perfectly reasonable), so we did. But once we got to the new section I discovered that Mr B had left all our stuff in the other section, so I say to him (in a loud and strident and demanding voice, I'm sure): "You forgot all our sh*t over there!" Which made the church lady in front of us REALLY mad. Who then got into a very accusatory argument with me 'bout my use of wordy-dirds IN CHURCH. So I left in a huff...naturally...with fellas in tow...naturally. Mr B assures me that this was the most true to life, vivid dream he has ever had of me. In my defense, I personally think it is perfectly reasonable to say, "You left our sh*t over there!" if you really did leave all our sh*t over there. Sheesh...! Those church ladies can be so judgey-judgey.

They can just kiss my grits!!!

Dadisms

Lil brother had a dream that he was wearing a jetack and needed to rescue a kitten stuck in a tree, but the jetpack wouldn't work so he gave up and walked down the street flipping the switch on his jetpack that then caught his pants on fire so he ran to the hose by the house and his dad put out the fire. And then got mad at him...VERY MAD at him for catching his pants on fire.

And Mr B said, "That's right! Even in your dreams you'd better not be playing with fire!"

Praise the good Lord for butt-busting dads. Can you just imagine boys running wild without them?!? Laws...

Happy Father's Day to all you fellas out there who are taking care of bid'ness!

I'mmmmmmm Baaaaacck!!!

Ya know what is so refreshing about leaving your zip code and taking a vacay??? It gives you new sh*t to worry 'bout! And we all know that it is vital to the well being of the universe to give your LAST NERVE a break once in a while. For example, here's what was on my vacay worry list:

1. Was that sea weed touching my ankle....!@#$?!? ...followed by wild thrashing.
2. ...one scoop???...or TWO?!?
3. So what is my shuffle board score NOW???
4. Is it time to reapply my sunblock???
5. Oh hell! That wave is gonna RUIN my hair!
6. Do these flip flops match my suit...???
7. Pirates or Transformers...that is the question.
8. So what is the protocol for reinserting a boob into a wave bashed suit???
9. If I owned this place, those curtains would HAVE to go!
10. OMG!!!! WHERE IS MY LIPGLOSS!?!

FYI-Two Ibuoprofen and a four hour nap in a wet swimming suit can cure a fun hangover!!!

Be Right Back...

The blither blather gang is taking their show on the road!!! I'm sure real life will happen wherever we're headed, but I promise to update when we get back!

Happy Trails!

List

I just ADORE making lists! It's one of life's most satisfying activities. Right up there with spa treatments, in my book. I even try and make Mr B sit down and make lists with me. I always tell him, "Let's play secretary and boss, and I'll take the notes!" (wink! wink!) But he's not buying any of that. That sh*t just gets on his nerves. What a killjoy... Anyhoo...!!!

What Excites Me:
1. Packing & planning for vacay!!! Always more fun than the event itself, ya know??? I just bought some adorable travel size products at Target. LOVE IT!
2. Phone calls and visits from good friends...outta the blue!!! Balm to the soul...
3. Nothing to do...nowhere I have to be...Ahhhh!!!

Sh*t that Irritates me for no Good Reason:
1. Cyclists-Get off the !@#fn road already!!! Don't make me and the dump truck try to swerve around you...@sshole. Leave that bike riding sh*t to the French or the 12 and under crowd. Sheesh...
2. Cleaning before, during, and after vacay. Sigh...
3. Crazy @ss coupon ladies who buy 19 bottles of blue cheese dressing and 37 bottles of Nestle Quick chocolate milk...Really?!?! Who needs all that?!?!? You're pissing off a whole lotta people waiting in line for sh*t we KNOW you don't need. And don 't act like you're sending that sh*t to starving kids in Africa...

Gotta go!!! More lists to make before departure time!!!

Toodles!

Chunky vs Smooth

Big kid was discussing (i.e. complaining about) my spaghetti sauce again. "It's toooo chunky! I prefer the smooth kind." ...Sigh & eye roll over his nit picking, culinary preference...

Then lil brother pipes up (seems like er'ybody has an opinion over here at blither blather headquarters). "Yeah, das right! Kinda like chunky barf. Nobody wants to throw up chunky barf. Smooth barf is much better."

Big Kid: Yeah!!!! You're right...! That's exactly how spaghetti sauce oughtta be."

Great. Just GREAT. The next time I make my sauce, chunky barf is gonna be on my brain. Sigh...

Out of the Mouths of Babes

So I've been toting kids to camp all week long and listening to their chatter. Here's some of their thoughts about kids at camp:

"I HATE having to watch those babies!"
"Those kids can't shut up for even a minute!"
"Do they not know how to walk in a straight line???"
"My group is just stupid."

Never one to be left out of a pissing contest, I step right up and take aim too, "Kids are soooooo annoying."

And all the kids in the car agree with me. Priceless...

Romance at the Skating Rink

Mr B presented me with a plastic yellow peace sign necklace at the skating rink last weekend. How romantic, right?!? I mean this was my 1979 fantasy come true-at last!!! I actually gave him the "eye" and forced him to kiss in public I was soooooo giddy with surprise. I mean that's the kinda thing that will help a guy get lucky-so I remind him. "Are you kidding me?!?" he responds. "After all the money I've spent this weekend on your clothes, swim suit, purses, and personal appearance paraphernalia?!? A $1 plastic necklace is what it takes to get LUCKY?!?"

"Yup," I blithely reply. "That's why it's called getting LUCKY. You just never know what's gonna tip the balance."

Gotta keep a man motivated, ladies.

Breaking News: Kitchen Slut at Peace!

Mr B was a little skittish and mistrustful the other day when he stepped into the kitchen and I was cheerfully putting away the silverware (the boy-barians have mutinied on this chore, and I don't have the energy to b*tch about it anymore). He stopped in his tracks, gave me the once-over-eye and a wide berth as he opened the cabinet. "So how long is this gonna last?" he archly queries. "Probably 'bout a week," I reply in a chipper voice as I perform an adorable bend-snap-toss with a serving fork. And for now I am strangely at peace with my kitchen slut status. Although not even I am under the illusion that is gonna last for long... I guess I am just so giddy about my two month hiatus from the roiling, boiling cauldron of my day job that Windexing idly for hours and organizing the dirty dishes in the dishwasher has put me into a zen-like, peaceful trance. So let sleeping dogs lie, folks. Just back away slowly and keep your eye on the door... You'll be the first to know when all this "peace" and tranquility goes BAD.

Adjustment Phase

Lil brother and I are having some adjustment issues now that we are home 24/7 together. Neither one of us can believe the other one rolls that way... Here are the "issues"-lil brother thinks I'm bossy and controlling and demanding and too needy of his hugs. I think lil brother is rowdy and messy and lazy and too standoffish with his hugs. And so the world turns... So we decide to make cookies together. And I let him eat one. Then he begs for another. Even though I said, "One!" So we make a deal-he can have another cookie as long as he goes on a walk with me later. He gobbles another cookie and appears to agree to said deal.

Fast forward to late afternoon: lil brother doesn't want to go on a walk. It's too hot, too boring... And he whines, shuffles, stomps, complains, slows down, jogs ahead, and repeats this cycle the entire walk. So I put my nose in the air, look straight ahead, refuse to slow down or speed up or acknowledge that we are having a power struggle while keeping my power walking pace when all I really want to do is jerk him up by the armpit and wear his @ss out in the middle of the asphalt like a freakin' crazy lady. Just wait til we get home... At which point I announce he's lost all tv/gaming privileges and he can just go to his room for his bad attitude, etc. (yadda, yadda, yadda)...

Thirty minutes later: lil brother comes humbly walking down the stairs, looking (somewhat) contrite (he's not as good a faker as I am) and reports that he's ready to apologize. And I am feeling triumphant that lil brother has finally seen the light regarding his annoying and ridiculous behavior when he says to me, "I'm sorry I went on that walk with you!" ...And I want to THROTTLE HIM while Mr B and big kid are laughing hysterically, rolling on the couch over this brutally authentic apology. So I decide to teach lil brother how a REAL apology should go: "Yeah! Well, so.... I'm sorry I made you cookies!"

And we called it a draw.