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 :)

To mistreat a child. The nerve.

Within the House of Stumps and Beans, a full-fledged theatrical tantrum is occurring at this very moment.

The words being tearfully, hysterically, and repeatedly screamed are “Nooooo!!! I don’t want it cut in sliiices..!!! I don’t want you to slice it!!!” 

From the sheer severity of this episode, one might think the “it” to which she refers is a prized posession. A treasured lovey. The family pet. Perhaps one of her fingers.

In the interest of full disclosure, the subject of this particular tantrum is an apple.

How can you just stand by and witness such tragedy?? Get off your duff, stop reading this blog, and alert the authorities!!

Callous people of this world – have you no souls?! Due to your apathy, ambivalence, and inactivity, a child is suffering!

“…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 open letter from your friendly neighborhood hiring manager

To the Hopeful Employment Applicants Whom It May Concern:

The python tattoo that wraps constricts around your neck (you badass) is best kept under cover until at least the second interview. (If  you are applying to tend bar, swing around a pole, or cashier at a used record
store, please ignore this tip and be sure that all body art is as conspicuous as possible throughout the process.)

Also, I am just going to assume that when you listed “did daily failing” under your current job responsibilities, you meant “did daily filing.” Please remember that though it may take a little extra effort and time, there is a bit more to proofreading than running a spellcheck.

Regards,

Employers Everywhere

(*Both of these stories are true. One occurred about five years ago, and the other occurred about five hours ago.)

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.