“…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.


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!”


Mama needs to master photoshop in order to “stay in the picture”

Oh look! It’s one of those really flattering “Mom Stays in the Picture” shots where I am not supposed to crop myself out even though I am out in public with airdried product-free hair and no makeup in order to prove to my children that I did in fact participate in their lives. Incidentally, the baby’s hair was decidedly unblowdried and her face is bare, yet she still looks beautiful. So unfair.

Humpty hump

When I turned on the radio this morning and heard – of all things – “The Humpty Dance”, I immediately became a believer. The Mayans were right. Surely that has to be one of those signs of the arrival of the apocalypse. It’s been nice knowing you guys.

Peace and humptiness forever.

Three going on thirteen

(I am in my bathrobe this morning putting on makeup to get ready for work.)

“Mommy you can’t WEAR that. People will SEE you!”

At least she didn’t call me two-syllable “mo-om”