Sick of Sick

Corbin's home sick again, and of course his idea of an enjoyable activity has to be messing with his brother. Such fun! Gavin screams and a real life action game of Rockem Sockem Robots ensues. I've reached the point of just letting them "fight it out."

So why do boys find bowel movements so funny? It doesn't even matter what age? My brother at 26 or my dad at 53: "It's hilarious." Well, my mother doesn't help with this "wash your mouth out with soap" matter. She bought the boys 2 "poop books." I have to read them every night. What a calming feeling: reading about poop before you go to bed. Especially since my boys have to do the actions: making their faces red as if constipated, "where's the poop?" and then discovering it, and then making the sound effects with their lips. At the end of one of the poop books it has a nice graphic picture of some Indian (from India, not Native American) kid using the toilet. They show a nice long poop hanging from his ass. Corbin laughs hysterically and Gavin just looks at me, seriously and says, "Mom, that kid needs to spank that poop out." I was like, "What?" He told me that the other day he had tried to poop and it got stuck so he (imagine the actions as well) spanked his butt cheeks to break it free. Nice.

Their dad and their Uncle Chris don't help in this problem either. Uncle Chris told them the trick of farting on the campfire to make the flames rise. Of course, Gavin, Corbin and even Diego (though he'll deny it) spent the evening trying it out. I decided to not even try to make smores that night.

Being the mom, I get the wonderful joy of viewing all the nice poops in the toilet. "Mom, come see this snake." "Mom, this is a 'mongous one. It's a Man poop!" And then, I have to feign excitement.

Please let my next child be a girl.

Save as Draft

It's April Fool's Day. I always sucked at practical jokes. I'd try so hard to keep a straight face and then buckle under pressure. I do remember one time, syran wrapping the toilet seat and my brother pissing all over himself in the middle of the night. Oh and we once stole all the trash cans from the boys dorms--even the HUGE ones and hid them. We thought it was hilarious, but the RM's tried to write us up. For goodness sakes, we were at BYU. What else was there to do, besides jump the moat in cowboy boots and spandex?

Saturday we spent 3 exhausting hours at Gameworks. Corbin spent 3 hours chasing Penny and fighting with his dad over the game card. Gavin spent 2 hours trying to get a Lightning McQueen toy out of those claw of debt machines, knowing I could buy one for cheaper. The third hour, I had had my fill of gamers and geeks and took Gavin for ice cream. He wanted "Buloooo" icecream which he then proceeded to smear accross his face and nose. Then, ofcourse, kissing me and sharing the flattering color to my lips. My children are weird and I sometimes wonder if I've done something wrong. Here Gavin and I are in the little ice cream shop. There is a TV showing National Geographic channel. My son starts yelling, "Mom, look at the ZEBRA! Woah a lion and a Tigger and a snake!" After every animal he simply MUST make the appropriate animal sound. Why can't he be like one of those "normal" kids who finds educational shows boring.

And, since 3 hours of exhastion is not enough for Diego and his ADHD, we left to go to an Indy Car race. I actually love that environment. It makes me miss the South-lots of barbeque, turkey legs, funnel cakes. My favorite of the booths had to have been the "International Foods" booth. The menu consisted of bratwurst, pizza and sandwiches. Only in Miami, would these foods be "foreign." Three Doors Down played a concert outside the race--a total sign of the direction their careers are headed. After listening to the only 2 songs I knew, we went to find our seats. The race begins with the usual national anthem sung by the usual female, barely known, country singer. Fireworks blare and stealth fighters fly overhead. Gavin was freaked out. He hid between my legs, under the seats. "Gavin scared Mommy, Gavin scared." He and I spent the rest of the night outside. Being the lame mom that I am, I was sitting in the middle of the concrete racing cars and jumping and skipping over the lines of sidewalk. Suddenly, there were two "official race personel" behind us. I though we were in their way, so Gavin and I moved over--Gavin proceeding to jump. The officials still kept behind us and began skipping and jumping with Gavin. They gave him an Indy flag for his room--which he didn't really care about because he was too busy jumping. Not sure if that story is cute, funny, or kind of creepy.

Gavin still thinks he's a dog. For some reason, he turns into this "animal mode" whenever we go into the elevator. After he pushes the button, he's down on the floor barking and panting on all fours.

This morning Gavin and Corbin spent an hour chasing an imaginary bee. My voice was completely gone the other day, but is starting to come back, making me sound like Melissa Ethridge. Thank goodness I don't look like her though.

I would love to get my nails done. Pampering myself is a once every few months thing. I mostly have to do it myself, which never comes out as good. Hey Heather, maybe we could ask Obadiah for his manicuring tips. He had like Flo Jo claws.

Corbin is obsessed with workbooks, to the point of driving me crazy. There is a reason I did not go into Elementary Education--I hate explaining "which one doesn't belong, which one comes next." Hence the great necessity of Sesame Street. Ernie explains perfectly. But, I guess I should be grateful. It could be worse. At least his addiction to video games has come to a halt. He has learned how to count money but doesn't quite understand where it comes from. "Mom, I know you are going to get paid more than $100 this week. A DS is only $129." What happened to keeping up with your friends being less expensive. Remember pogs and slap bracelets? Remember when they started getting confiscated? I'm not sure what the great issue was with pieces of circular cardboard with eyeballs and skateboards on the front or a bracelet/ruler with leopard print.

Gavin has rediscovered his Tickle Me Cookie Monster TMX. We had to spend 10 minutes today giggling and rolling over like little blue monster and then getting up again to start the process over. I'm tempted to remove the batteries. "Oh Honey, Cookie's just too tired."

I can bake a pumpkin swirl cheesecake, a chocoloate molten cake, a lemon merengue pie with perfection. How can I have such issues with chocolate chip cookies. They either come out too flat or not flat enough. Who, besides Mrs. Fields, has perfected this art? Let me know.

Diego's finally home. I feel like a newlywed. I've missed him so much. But, he'll be leaving again on Sunday to go to Wrestlemania (my husband the redneck). Watching grown men roll around on the mat and talk smack is more enticing than time alone with me. Talk about a self-esteem dropper. J/K

I'm starting to get tired of turning on the radio or turning on the computer and having to deal with the obnoxious political banter. I don't know why it's so complicated for these people. I can sum it up in one sentence: One's a racist hypocrite, one's a feminazi, and the other is a grumpy old man who can't make up his mind. Do we really have a good choice?

Beginning Ramblings

Gavin has decided to be a dog again today. He brought me the dog's brush and laid down with his back upstretched. Then he licked my face with satisfaction. Gavin also pretended to be my dad, putting a playing card below his nose and going, "Look at me, I'm Grandpa. Look at my moustache." (Love him. Learned his sarcasm from me.) My dad is one of the last men to pull off the stache--from the Magnum generation. I do have to say, without it, it looks scary. Keep looking like Tom Selleck, Dad. Chris tried it, but he just looked like a dirty redneck homeless man.

Corbin's soap opera never ends. "Penny broke up with me," he sighed. I didn't realize he was a one woman guy. Her "new boyfriend" tried to beat Corbin up. The great amount of money my parents have spent on tae kwan do paid off as he blocked his blows and scared the kid to running off. Penny returned to Corbin's side.

I stayed up till 1:30 last night talking with Heather about the horrors we endured at BYU. I was so giving and kind then, offering to make ugly people pretty with makeovers. But, as they gained confidence in their new selves, they decided they were too good to associate with me any longer. I was like, "I fricken made you. I can take it away." Oh well. Next time, I'll just let ugly people fend for themselves. There's someone for everyone, as Heather was told at Church on Sunday by a ridiculously immature 18 year old. Obviously she must have been talking about herself. She'll end up one of those girls, who at 30 have never even been offered marriage. Karma always comes around to kick our butt in the end. J/K

Did you know that they make ballet neck shirts for men? I have seen one first hand. Heather thought she saw a loose thread on it and pulled at it hard. The boy screamed,"That was my chest hair." I almost peed my pants.

Sorry for the randomness, but if you decide to read my blog then do so at your own risk. Rambling in circles is my normal speech pattern.