Worst blogger ever

After one too many creeptastic search terms that generated views to my blog, I took a hiatus. I continued to post the daily exploits of Stumps and Beans, but on the much less threatening facebook, where I know all 500ish people who have access to read about my children in real life.  I will backward blog the highlights into the archives to fill in the past three months soon. In the meantime, nothing motivates me to de-lurk out of blog sabbatical more enthusiastically than a ridiculously age-inappropriate Biblical-themed picture colored by one of my tiny daughters at their church preschool.

Don’t worry sweetie. Very few of our nightmares actually come true. And in truth, I hear that being violently impaled by a spear is actually a surprisingly peaceful way to die.

stumpsgiant

 

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On today’s episode of Dubious Compliments from Stumps

“Mommy your face looks like a sandwich ’cause it has moles all over it.”

I assume she is referring to my sun damage age spots large pores freckles.

Um. What types of sandwiches have they been feeding my children at daycare?

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In unrelated news, I am pleased to discover that Stumps and Beans are quite creative and am veritably bursting with copious amounts of understandable mommy pride.

For example, just today Beanie repurposed a pair of toenail clippers into a shank.

“No Beanie. Stop Beans. STOP!!! Mommy she got the clippers! Mommyyyy she is trying to clip meeee!!!”

It is worth mentioning that they are both sick so I am home from work and we are quarantined to the house. Only 170 more minutes until Husband comes home. Not that I am counting. Or completely disgusted from doing many hours of post-puke laundry. Or entirely out of BRAT diet ingredients, Florastor, and Pedialyte.

Or going stir crazy and slowly rapidly losing my grip.

I would be a really shitty SAHM.

Much, much respect ladies (and the occasional gent). I don’t know how you do it.

Unfortunately I can’t unremember any of this

One of my children has been throwing up all afternoon and the other has a 102 degree fever. Pretty certain the one who has thus far not started vomiting just has not started yet.

Alarmingly, cleaning up multiple episodes of The Pukes off of all of our belongings is only the second most disturbing reality of my Monday evening.

Having one of my children ask to have her “bottom temperature” taken (repeatedly) this evening unquestionably topped the list.

What. The. Hell. Kid.

For very special occasions, such as her 60th birthday…

CIMG6390

…they sometimes let Mother Catlady out of the institution.

(pretty certain this couple is featured in the first few minutes of Mullholland Drive, dropping Naomi Watts off in Hollywood after she wins a jitterbug contest.)

If only I had the rudimentary photoshop skills necessary to superimpose sharp knives or chainsaws into their hands.

In case you are wondering if MC is deserving of her blog nickname, note the litter box beside the kitchen table.

Happy birthday mom. Love you :)

“…Intimacy! That’s the you in me…”

I can neither confirm nor deny that tonight’s Top 10 List items are true stories of romance from the House of Stumps and Beans.

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You know you’ve been married awhile when…

…a nightly dutch oven is as much a part of your bedtime routine as saying goodnight to your spouse.

…offering to take care of the kids’ bedtime rituals is the most successful type of foreplay if you want to ensure that you will score.

…”scoring” means getting a really long, deep, thorough, and attentive footrub.

…you beckon your spouse into the bathroom, point to the inside of the toilet bowl, and say “Baby come look at this. Should I call a doctor?”

…you beckon your spouse into the bathroom, point to the inside of the toilet bowl, and say “Baby come look at this. Grab the camera. Call Ripley’s.”

…the ultimate betrayal is not infidelity; it is discarding your spouse’s most cherished pair of exceptionally and unacceptably holey underwear.

…your beloved occasionally checks the garbage to make sure you haven’t committed the ultimate betrayal by discarding said cherished underwear. And while you aren’t 100% certain, you suspect that there was one time you caught him cradling that particularly frightful pair while whispering “My precious”.

…Your level of disgust with, and outraged overreaction to his farts pretty directly correlates with his general level of happiness in your marriage.

…You reserve your sexiest most risque lingerie – you know, those pink plaid pajama pants with the sassy word on the butt and the matching pink sweatshirt- for very special occasions like your anniversary or weekends when your parents are sleeping over in the next room and have promised they will get up with the kids the next morning.

and finally…

…you have ever yelled across the house “Hey! Bring me a new roll of toilet paper! Imma ’bout to tear it up in here!”

An etiquette lesson from my four-year-old

This morning I authored my 200th blog post. I struggled with writing this, as I felt the milestone deserved the respect, gravity, and solemnity one reserves for a truly memorable occasion. I only hope that what follows measures up. Deep breath. Here goes…

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“Ohmigod! Ew! Whoever just did that needs to excuse themself! Quiet toots that stink that you don’t apologize for that mess up other people’s air are RUDE!”

Despite Stumps’ very public admonishment, no one stepped up to claim responsibility and express any sort of remorse.