Rants

Scary Baby is back home.

With a new Texas-Bohemian look.

This means the end of The Grunter’s short-lived “I’m an only child again” phase.

It also means he can start blaming one of his sisters for putting the toilet lid up and not flushing.

I kid you not.

While we were in the 3 week “only child” phase, he actually said he did not put the lid up and he always flushes.

He’s totally busted after blaming his sisters for many years that they are sooooooo gross and he always flushes. (I’m just talking about pee here – seriously even my gross kids aren’t that gross.)

Big fat lie.

Totally gross.

But not as gross as what he has to deal with at work.

*** W A R N I N G ***

This may make you stop going to the movies.

Or at least wonder what the heck is wrong with people?

This was our text message conversation with him last week while we were in North Carolina. I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried…

Side note: Do not read while eating.

The Grunter (TG): Somebody made a poo on the floor of a theatre again.

Me: A baby or a grown-up poo?

TG: Grown up poo

TG: Or maybe a small horse

Me: Wow did u have to clean it up?

TG: Yes

Me: Where was the poo located specifically?

TG: Located on the floor in the front row.

Me: Did you get a gift card?*

TG: Nope I got nothing

Me: Publix should be looking good right now

Me: Any toilet paper near the pile?

TG: Nope the horse didn’t wipe. His butt is gonna itch…

*This is the 2nd incident. The 1st one he only smelled but never located until a movie patron located it IN A SEAT where they sat down IN IT. When the 3 lucky employees had to clean it up, they all got generous gift cards from the managers.

PhilBillPaul affectionately refers to this as a “Code Brown” from his year of hotel employment when they would walkie talkie each other when there was an incident in the pool. (Caddyshack anyone?)

Soon, I will be unable to function in public.

For some reason, our family (Grandma included) finds this cry-tears funny but also utterly disgusting. We actually made him call Grandma and relay the story to her on the phone after dinner last night.

Let me tell you, I inspect the seats before sitting down now.

Grandma has a good visual in her head of some poor soul (like me) walking in with thin sandals and slipping in the floor variety. (I’m trying to refrain from using the word “poo” too many times.)

So many unanswered questions.

WHO? WHEN? And most of all…WHY?

Anyone? Anyone?

I tell you he really earns those free movie tickets.

Another proud mom moment.

Thanks for letting me share.

Leave a comment and let me know if you laughed or you unsubscribe now.

Just sharing our real life. 😉

Mother’s Day 2009 is imprinted in my memory.

Not for the usual reasons of past years in my “perfect” life.

Side note: A few weeks ago, my sister and a friend told me that they think I should be more real because everything at my house always sounds so good.

I laughed at them but was a little puzzled. I guess me writing about spiraling into depression, getting a phone call from the high school principal and taking xanax now and again is too upbeat and perky for some people.

Yeah, I’ll work on that 😉

Back to Mother’s Day. In past years, Saint PhilBillPaul has had the kids make me breakfast in bed and make lovely homemade cards, taken me out for brunch or dinner and all the other cliché but wonderful things that moms love.

This year…

not so much.

But in the midst of the day, I did receive this heartfelt and touching card.

WARNING

Do not scroll down if you are eating or if you are offended by super short shorts.

That’s my girl. And I especially love how she signed with her last initial “H” because otherwise I wouldn’t have known who it was from.

Roger Leroy has inherited the same warped sense of humor that the rest of us have.

The card is a winner even if Mother’s Day wasn’t.

I’m saving some of my more real venting for a later date.

Perhaps in about two weeks and two days.

Because that’s how much time is left before the darling twins have here at home with us before they graduate and then ship to basic training.

For now, I’m still trying to respect their privacy.

Until then, please leave a comment and share some warm, fuzzy Mother’s Day moments that will help me remember when they were tiny and cute.

P.S. Scary Baby did make me a sweet book of poems at school in her handwriting complete with her own drawings!