Showing posts with label Kids. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kids. Show all posts

11/7/09

The Biggest Problem in Our Marriage

First of all let me say ROLL TIDE ROLL!!!

Second, blogging is like getting a tattoo, you can't just stop at one! You always want another!

Ok, now that I got that out of my system: This is my husband, Josh, and his naturally huge and fluffy Fro (we are looking in to permits for it to have it's own zip code).





Well, I put his picture up because this post is all about him and his condition that is ruining my life and marriage.
My husband (and therefore my family) suffers from a horrible condition. It can ruin lives, crumble marriages, and destroy any object it comes in contact with. This devistating ailment is something I have learned to live with. Until 2006 this condition did not have a name. It's Wandering Ass Syndrome, or WAS for short. WAS is no laughing matter. Anything that gets within a foot of Josh's butt gets destroyed by being knocked about or flung to the ground by his tiny posterior. You see Josh is very skinny (but strangely strong, just like his dad), and I mean like Jim Morrison skinny. With a husband that skinny you can only ask, "How can a hiney that tiny cause so much trouble?" I only wish I could tell you.

It never fails. Josh walks by a table and, CRASH, a full glass of tea hits the ground. Josh walks by a huge frame on our wall and, BAM, it tumbles down the stairs and breaks into several pieces. Josh is standing next to the tv tray that I have all the beads that I use to make jewelry sittin on and, BOOM, I spend the next 4 hours combing seed beads out of our carpet. I have watched a WAS moment happen before my very eyes many times, and there is no warning when WAS will strike. It's not like he falls into something or trips and knocks it. He has wonderful balance. I've rarely seen this man fall and I've known him since we were 17!

How can you tell if your loved one is suffering from Wandering Ass Syndrom? Side effects of this condition are broken plates, cups and bowls (well, generally anything glass), ripped posters, over turned tv trays, carpet stains, scuffs on hardwood floors, dents in any metal, chairs inexplicibly moved mere inches, and, occasionally someone who is WAS inflicted will accidently knock over their loved ones (particularally toddlers, as they are booty high). As of now there is no cure for WAS. Based on private studies, WAS may be hereditary.






I'm worried about my sons. Ray has amazing balance too but he's showing early signs of WAS. Bruce may show them too when he learns to walk. I guess when we build a house, we'll need padded rooms… so their WAS's won't break anything and I'll have nice soft walls for when I'm driven insane by the Wandering Asses in my life.

Mad Love!

- Whether you love me or hate me, you know who I am.

11/6/09

Music and HotWheels

I love music. I use to have an endless depth of knowledge concerning singers, songwriters, bands, and albums. Now, I couldn't tell you the name of a single song or musician (even though most "artists" don't play instraments nowadays so therefore they aren't musicians, but I digress) that was released this year. Now, having said that, the other day I realized that while my intelligence regarding music has diminished, I know EVERY SINGLE WORD OF EVERY SINGLE SONG that is on EVERY SINGLE NICK JR SHOW. Ah, the joys of motherhood! But that is a very small price to pay for the love of my two boys.



I have also discovered an enemy hiding in little boy's toy boxes around the world. That vile, heinous criminal is HotWheels. If you don't know the downlow on these dastardly miscreants, let me enlighten you. Apparently the 160lbs I'm carrying on my 5'10" body and my massive size 9 foot are no match for a 2.5 inch long, inch wide HotWheels die-cast motorcycle. I stepped on it and I went DOWN! The motorcycle, however, is in perfect condition. No bent handlebars, no dented gas tank, no not even a scratch. So, in summary, watch out for these mini metal menaces! They may bring hours of untold joy to your son (just like my 2 year old, Ray), but they lie in wait to strike out at unsuppecting mothers!

Mad Love!

 
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