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.

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comedy

“Toilet head. Toilet head! Bottom privates pooping peepee toilet head!! Bahahhaaha!! Mommy isn’t that funny?? Bahahahaha!!”

Questioning whether I should humor Stumps’ terrible sense of humor in favor of preserving her developing four-year-old self-esteem and say yes. Perhaps force myself to laugh.

She thinks she’s hilarious. I’m at a loss.

The last time I will ever ask my four-year-old about her day

Every afternoon at pick-up, I ask my girls about their day. I very much look forward to hearing their responses.

Okay. In the interest of full transparency and disclosure, I very much look forward to Stumps’ responses. When I say “Beanie, what did you do at school today?” her response is always “No!”

Yay two.

Anyway. Mine and Stumps’ little routine is always the same. I ask who her friends were that day. Sometimes she lists nearly every kid in the class. Other times, crushing my mommy heart, she lists only her teacher.

We progress to the day’s excitement, and Stumps tells me that she played in “home living”, “sensory”, “manipulatives” (Yes.), or “block area”. I then ask what she made, or what she built ,or what she sensed, or what whom she manipulated and she tells me all about it.

Today when I (as I have unfailingly for the past two years) unwittingly inquired “Stumps, what did you do at school today?” she responded with

My friend Blank threw up in the bathroom and not in the toilet or in the trashcan but on the floor and some splashed on the counter and some made it in the trashcan and it was really wet and brown.

So anyway, I am now in the market for some new post-pick-up conversational topics if anyone has any suggestions.

“…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.

Stumpsisms of the day

Aside

Stumps will ask me “Why?” nineteen times in a row and still not be satisfied with my answer. Since I am not quite ready to surrender to earning the very special Mother Of The Year award that is reserved for mommies who tell their preschool-age children to “shut up”, I oftentimes find myself saying “Sweetie, it’s my quiet time now.”

This, however, has started to backfire. Now when I pick the Stumps up from daycare and inquire about her day, she responds with “Can I have some quiet time please?”

In other news, Husband was upstairs this evening giving our pitiful little Beans, who was mid-overtired-and-overstimulated-helltantrum, a bath. Typically my children bathe together so when I came downstairs and found my four year old still down here playing, I asked why she wasn’t with her sister in the bath. Stumps replied, “I don’t want to listen to all that freaking out.”

Instead we played beauty parlor for awhile. Stumps was styling my hair and just tooting up a storm. I asked if she had gas and she stated matter-of-factly, “Yes, that usually happens when you fix someone’s hair.” Hairstylists – Is excessive flatulence a universal issue within the industry? It must be all the exposure to processing chemicals. I now feel like I am privy to one of the secrets of the trade. Prior to this evening, I just always assumed she got it from her dad.