Tag Archives: humor

His Favorite Hooker

My son loves hookers. There, I said it.

It started couple of years ago, when he asked Santa for a hooker. (I guess I should clarify, in case you weren’t one of the 10 people who read that post, hooker=clothes’ hanger)

He pulls all the hookers from his closet and plays with them. With his hookers, he can be Captain Hook, an armed ninja, or a giant crane! He can pick things up, hook his siblings, and drag trucks. The hooker possibilities are endless!

I feel you judging! Stop!

We think that four years old is a little too young for a ‘sit down’ about the true dangers of hookers, so we just enjoy the laughs. The two other kids also call these lovely plastic devices by Bubba’s inappropriate name.

I recently walked in on a truly memorable conversation. Sissy was teaching Baby Boy how to clean up. This is the hilariousness I was so blessed to overhear:

Sissy (speaking baby talk): Ok baby, I am going to cover the floor with hookers and teach you how to clean them all up!

Baby Boy: Hookers!

Sissy (full of pride for having taught him a new word): Yes! Yay! Hookers! Now, we are going to pick them up and take them to Bubba’s room because Bubba LOVES hookers!

Baby Boy: Hookers!

Sissy (throws hangers all over her floor): There. The hookers are everywhere! What do we do, baby?

Baby Boy: Hookers!

Sissy: Yes, we pick them up! Sissy doesn’t like hookers all over her room! So, pick up the black hooker.

Baby Boy: Black Hooker

Sissy: Yes! You are learning your colors! That’s the black hooker! Pick it up!

Baby Boy: Pick up hooker…

Sissy: Very good! Now take the hooker to Bubba’s room.

A few minutes later the hookers were all returned to their rightful owner. (My thoughts, “Oh my gosh! Am I raising a pimp?”)

Sissy found me in the kitchen and smiled brightly as she asked for a piece of tape. When I asked why, she told me she was making a surprise for Bubba.

I finished loading the dishwasher then walked to Bubba’s room to see the surprise…


Bubba walked in behind me and said, “Thank you, Sissy! How did you know that is my favorite hooker?”

Sissy beamed, “I just knew!”

Is it weird that this totally touched my heart? Gah, I love these unique little humans!😃



New Year’s Eve Yoga

My mama gave me her Kohl’s cash. It was $90, and since I recently quit my job this made me rich. I had to spend that cash. So, I threw the kids in the tub, put them in their clothes, hopped into my blue jeans (literally, it takes hopping now), and jumped in the car. We got to Kohl’s and I browsed for about five minutes before everybody started whining and crying. Baby boy hates Big Bertha (double stroller). I bent over the handle bar and held his hands so he could stand. This really put me in an awkward position, because I am not very tall. Bubba didn’t want to sit in Big Bertha, but due to his wandering spirit, I forced him to ride in the front. He was mad because he didn’t want to look like a baby, so he was bouncing up and down in the front seat. (Which only made him look more like a baby…kids & their silly logic.)  Sissy’s dance class does a lovely little jig to Taylor Swift’s Shake It Off. She has sung it so much lately that bubba knows it too. Both kids were singing loudly.

Recap: baby screaming, me hunched over Big Bertha holding his hands, sissy dancing around singing, bubba yelling, “Haters gonna hate, hate,hate…” while bouncing the front of Big Bertha (think el camino with hydraulics), oh & I am sweating profusely.
Of course, I knew everybody in the store. I chatted and smiled. Once I looked back and saw the nice lady I was talking to still staring at us & grinning. I assumed it was just my kids’ adorableness. This went on for over an hour while I nervously grabbed stuff trying to get to $90. I finally gave up and got in the giant line snaking through the store. I had a yoga DVD, yoga mat, rug for the bathroom, stress relief eye mask, yoga pants (like I didn’t have enough of those), and two tank tops. I was in line in front of a couple of people I knew who stared at me with sympathy. (I thought the sympathatic looks were because baby boy was screaming and big kids were singing.) It seriously felt like the entire line was gawking at us. I paid (handed the lady the Kohl’s cash) and started to leave. The alarm went off because of the DVD which redirected everyone’s attention to us. As we were leaving the store I ran into one of my husband’s coworkers and his wife. We spoke and I heard them snicker as we walked away. (I assumed the snickers were the ‘haha arent they cute’ type.) I made it to my car, and reached into my back pocket for my keys. I felt something sticking out of the back of my pants. With horror, I realized that in my hurry to leave the house I had grabbed lime green maternity panties (sooooo comfy). They had been sticking out of the top of my way too small skinny jeans with my t shirt pushed up. I walked, bent over Big Bertha, through the entire store for two hours! Nobody told me! Not one staring lady could say, “Excuse me, your giant granny panties are sticking out like a balloon,”??!!
I pulled away from the store with all my weird purchases in the back feeling serious buyer’s remorse (more yoga pants?!?) and a grave disappointment in society.
That horrible trip to town cannot be in vain, so I began my New Year’s Eve with an attempt to do yoga. Yes, that is spit up on my yoga pants.


I just performed surgery.

sur·ger·y ˈsərj(ə)rē/
noun: surgery; plural noun: surgeries
  1. the treatment of injuries or disorders of the body by incision or manipulation, especially with instruments.

I had just gotten off  the phone with my mama. She called to tell me that Brad Pitt and Jolene, AKA Angelina Jolie, do not let their kids use the internet. The big kids were already in bed. As I wagged baby boy around on my hip, I picked up a few toys and contemplated the Pitt’s parenting practices. I was imagining each of their children sitting in a room playing solitaire while a nearby nanny secretly glanced at her phone. Suddenly, Bubba appeared in the doorway looking very guilty. “Mama, there is a makeup thingie in my nose,” he said.


“A makeup spongy is in my nose.”

“That’s crazy, what are you talking about? You put something in your nose?”

“Yes Mam! WahhhhhAhhhhhWahhhhh!”

“Well that’s just great.” (I can no longer control my sarcasm.)

I put down the now screaming baby boy and looked up Bubba’s nose. I couldn’t see anything.

“Are you sure,” I asked.

“Yesssss Maaaaammmm!”

“Grrrrrrr Why?”

“I don’t know; it was soft.”

I put him on the floor (surgical table) and grabbed a nearby lamp. I told him to blow his nose. Nothing came out. I couldn’t see anything. I almost googled Can you let your child go to sleep if they say they stuck something up their nose? But my mama’s voice was playing in my ear, “You know, Brad Pitt and Jolene don’t even let their kids look at the internet. You need to watch that.”

Ugh! Both boys were freaking out. Baby boy because he is apparently opposed to any location other than my hip, and Bubba because he didn’t want to go to the hospital like last year when Sissy said he swallowed metal (a whole other story).  I needed more tools; bulb syringe, tweezers, and a bobby pin.


I sucked his nose with the bulb syringe and looked again. There it was. The end of an eye shadow applicator. It just wouldn’t come out. I tried the tweezers, but they wouldn’t fit. Bubba screamed. (Good, that little stinker needed to feel a some pain.) I used the bobby pin to push it against one side of his nose and slid it out.

Bubba was so relieved. Of course, I gave him a whole speech about putting things in your nose; he yawned and climbed into bed. I covered him and loved him while baby boy screamed and sister shook her head.

I wonder if any of those Pitt kids have ever put anything in their nose? Probably.



Santa, I want a hooker.

Today was the day I finally decided to do it. We saw Santa. It was all I expected and more.  There was a class of preschool children in line in front of us. We waited for a little over an hour. (If you are saying, “I would never stand in a line that long,” well, you don’t understand the persuasive techniques of a determined child.) We waited and waited. To pass the time, each of my children engaged in their own little activities. Bubba, 3 years old, made snowballs out of the fake  snow. He was unaware of the stink eye Santa was giving him. I sweetly asked Bubba to stop being a heathen, and he surprised me with a quick, “Yes mam.” He then quietly returned to the line where I could feel him against my leg. I was thinking how wonderfully this mall trip was going and congratulating myself for kindly redirecting my child. What a progressive disciplinarian I had become. I had no idea that my little man had snuck in his plastic Swiss Army knife. The baby began crying which gave Bubba the opportunity to do a little ‘work’. He slipped out his knife and began ‘fixing’ the motorized wheelchair behind us. He was unaware of the stink eye the poor lady in the wheelchair was giving him. (I say poor lady not because of the wheelchair, but because she was stuck in line behind us.)

Sister, 4 years old, had apparently been appointed line mother. She stared at the little boy in the preschool class who got in trouble. She scolded Bubba fifty million times. For an hour and a half, the whole line had to listen to her sweet but loud voice drag out the following phrases:  “Bubba, Santa is watching. You won’t get any presents.” Has she not heard me threaten him with this over and over? It doesn’t work Sister.  Of course, her true mothering spirit shines its brightest with baby boy. She just loved and loved and loved and loved and loved (I am trying to paint a picture with my words) and loved and loved and loved…ok, you get it. For almost 2 hours, he recieved a massive amount of unwanted hugs and kisses.

Baby boy may have eaten a few inedible objects including the envelope the nice elf lady had to scan. When I handed her the paper, she crinkled up her nose and said, “Yuck.” (Ok, come on elf lady, it’s just a little damp.) Men, women, and children alike stared at baby boy as he happily gnawed on his favorite toys; a plastic saw and measuring spoons.

I will admit, by this time I didn’t care what the picture looked like. I just wanted to see Santa and get away from the North Pole as quickly as possible. I was sweating as though I had run a marathon. The last of the preschool children began to walk away from Santa when the teacher said, “Ok, let’s all go back for our group picture.” (I think I let out an audible cry.) About 20 four year olds piled onto poor Santa’s lap. The teachers gathered around him. The elf ladies shook their little attention getters and said, “Say Cheese!” The cute little kids all smiled. The lady pushed the camera button and NOTHING happened. Nothing! The camera would not work. The little elves scrambled around. The giant line let out a collective gasp. The elf in charge pulled out a bright orange box labeled, Repair Kit. She worked and worked while all those kids squirmed and flounced all over the elderly Santa. Bubba offered his Swiss Army knife, the elf wasn’t amused. She turned around and made an announcement that she was calling tech support. I sat down. The next 20 minutes were a blur. (It must have been the sweat dripping down my forehead and into my eyes.) She finally got the camera working and took the group picture.

It was our turn at last. My children approached Santa hesitantly.

Santa smiled at Sister, “And what would you like for Christmas?”

Sister, “I want a lalaloopsy diaper surprise.”

Santa, “Oh, what is that?”

Me, “Just a doll.”

Sister, “No, she is a special baby that poops charms.”

Santa, “Huh?”

Me… Nervous laughter.

Santa turns to Bubba, “Well hello young man. What would you like?”

Bubba, “I want a helicopter and a hooker.”

Santa, “What?”

Bubba louder thinking Santa couldn’t hear, “A helicopter and a HOOKER.”

Me, “Oh my gosh Santa, I am so embarrassed. He means a hook that comes down from the helicopter and picks up things. You know, Santa, like the coast guard.” More nervous laughter.

Santa, “Ummmm, ok.”

The elf lady put Bubba and Sister in place for the picture. I put baby boy in Santa’s lap. Baby boy grabbed Santa’s beard and smiled. I moved his hand. He grabbed it again. I moved his hand and immediately started singing and making silly hand jestures while I backed away. (I looked like one of the Wiggles.) The elf ladies made their sounds and said, “Say cheese.” The kids all smiled! The picture was adorable!

I know one day my children will be grown and I will look at that picture and remember this innocent moment in time when a hooker was a life saving device, sister only wanted to be a mama to a baby who poops prizes, and baby boy simply needed a dance from mama to smile!



Elf on the Shelf


I keep seeing these scary adorable Elf on the Shelf calendars. My family has an elf named Beaux. (He is quite pretentious, that’s why he needed the x.) I too have made a lovely little Elf on the Shelf calendar. I am sharing this super time saver with my thousands (ok, I may be exaggerating that number) of followers.  Make sure you print this calendar and hang it in a secret location. As always, post pictures! Others will envy your exceptional ability to create an entire life for a fictional little doll. **You can view the calendar below or click here to see the word document. Elf on shelf calendar


~ December 2014 ~
Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat
  1  Elf shows up, probably terrifies youngest. Start savings account for future therapy required to recover. 2 Do something weird with marshmallows. ex: Elf bath 3 Hang clothes-line with kids’ clothes & Elf in the middle. (personal note: tell husband so he doesn’t run into line causing tree to fall like last year) 4 Elf writes kids’ names in flour. (Too bad Elf doesn’t clean up. I need an Elf for my Elf.) 5 Put Elf in Barbie clothes. Or you can buy specially made Elf clothes. That’s right, BUY your Elf clothes. Just what you need to spend money on. 6 It’s getting old… Just throw the Elf in the tree.
7 It is Sunday… Your Elf should be resting not writing on mirrors or hanging from ceiling fans. 8 Ugh it is Monday…Elf literally on Shelf. 9 Elf on Mantle. 10 Elf on TV. 11 Elf on counter. 12 Elf on picture frame. 13 You are feeling guilty…Elf makes a mess with toilet paper. (You think again how Elf needs an Elf.)
14 Seriously, this Elf rests on Sunday. 15 Oh no, other mamas’ elves are doing good deeds. Hmmm… Elf leaves a note, “Kids, be good.” 16 They have probably forgotten the Elf bath thing… do that again. 17 Do something scary with Elf like tie up the kids’ toys. Maybe it will scare them and you will “have to” put Elf away. 18 You know your kids. Nothing scares them. Now they want Elf to be mean…Great. Elf sits in highchair, gets baby food everywhere. 19 You must redeem Elf’s goodness. Sit him on the chair with the Bible turned to the Christmas story. Post a picture on Facebook… good mama. 20 Elf draws mustaches on the kids pictures. Those little stinkers love mischievousness.
21 WooHoo! Elf’s day of rest. 22 Elf wraps presents. (Too bad that useless little thing can’t actually wrap presents.) 23 Elf is so weary…just google your own ideas. 24 Last one: Buy another Elf. Elf needs an Elf friend. Come on, everybody else is doing it. Just think, next year double the Elf fun! 25 Put both Elves away. 26 Start planning for next year. 27
28 29 30 31 Notes:

Why I’m the disciplinarian

On a few occasions my husband has found himself in a position where he needed to discipline the kids. (I said, “You need to discipline the kids.”) I have learned his methods are crazy unique.
The last time he was given the opportunity to show the kids who’s boss he really let his creativity shine. We were on our way home and the ridiculous whining started. Whining that makes you want to jab sharp objects in your ears. It was late, and the kids were hungry. We drove through Taco Bell and picked up food. (I know…fast food=bad mama) The whining didn’t stop.
“It’s cold.”
“Noooooo I’m hot”
“She kicked me.”
“Well, lasterday he took my baby, and now I’m gonna take his Spider-Man.” (Lasterday translation: yesterday)
“Noooooo, now I’m gonna throw Josh off the castle.” (Josh: baby doll’s name, castle: loft bed)
Me to my husband: “This is getting out of hand. You have got to start disciplining them.”
Husband to me: “You’re right. I’ve got this.”
Husband to kids: “Hey, are y’all hungry?”
Kids in super whiney voices: “Yesssss sirrrrr!”
Husband: “Well, too bad. I am throwing your food out the window.”
Before I can explain to him why this is the worst possible idea ever he rolls down the window and pretends to throw the food out. Oh my goodness, I cannot express how horrible the last five minutes of our ride home were. Those kids screamed and cried the whole way. As usual, there was no reasoning with them. They couldn’t understand that daddy was only pretending. They cried in the house, they cried while they ate, and they cried getting ready for bed.
They finally calmed down and we sat together to say our prayers. The oldest looked at me with teary eyes and asked, still in a very whiney voice, “Mama, can we pray for daddy because he lied?” I gave my husband the stank eye, said, “You’ve got this right?”, then walked out of the room.


Halloween Headache

So, I made a mistake the morning of Halloween… a rookie parenting mistake, not one a mother of three should’ve made. My little boy woke up, came in my room, and I said, “Happy Halloween.” I must’ve been tired or something I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking about how the word Halloween would see him off, but it did. As I dosed back off I began to hear scratching  and screeching sounds. Something leaped onto my bed and I screamed. It took me a few seconds to realize it was my son… in his bat costume… it was Halloween. I tried to explain that it was Halloween day, and we weren’t dressing up until our party that night. He didn’t get it. (I always forget how totally irrational these little creatures are). After bellowing, waking up the baby and big sis, and thirty full minutes of whine I finally got him out of his costume. Sister started with the questions, “When is Halloween? If it’s today why can’t I wear my costume to school? When do we trick or treat? Who is coming to our party? Why can boys stand up to tee tee?” (That last one somehow ends up in every conversation.) We left the house late and I got in the car wondering, as usual, why I am never on time.
With sister dropped off at school I knew I could get tons of housework done. (In my mind I always think I can lay the baby down, turn on the T.V., and do an entire week’s worth of cleaning in two hours.) We walked in the door and all sorts of craziness began. It started with Bubba and his I wants… I want a drink, I want a snack, I want Darth Vader movie… After I met all these ‘needs’ the baby started crying. I sat down and fed him. When I got up Bubba started blubbering about never getting to ride his four wheeler outside… cue mama guilt… We go outside for 20 minutes. When we get back inside the baby starts crying… Ugh… sleepy. I rock him to sleep and lay him in my bed. He wakes as soon as I walk away and I hear a crash then crying coming from the living room. I run to check and find Bubba on the floor with Halloween decor surrounding him. He had jumped (like a bat he says) and grabbed the “smooky ole owls” from the mantle pulling down all the other decorations as well. Once I realized he was fine, I ran back to my room (more mama guilt, the baby can roll over now. He could’ve fallen.) I pick him up and get him back to sleep. I put him on the bed and surround him with pillows (cause that will keep him from rolling over)… I start cleaning up the mess Bubba made while he plays in time-out (great discipline). Soon he starts to whine about eating… Grrrrrr they always want to eat! I make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He squeezes it and jelly plops onto the carpet. The baby starts crying. I sit down and give up…time to call for back-up.
My mama arrives a few minutes later and we clean as much as possible. I try to teach her the proper way to clean my house (hide the mess) but she insists on throwing stuff away and putting things where they belong (I would insert an eye roll, but she’s helping me… I must be nice.) With the house clean, mama leaves to pick up a few decorations (apparently my fall decorations and kid color sheets aren’t enough). I make cupcakes, the boys nap, then we pick sister up.
My mama returns with a bag of decorations, my daddy, a four wheeler, and a trailer of hay. (She can’t do a small party.) So…. I get the kids ready; sister the cat, bubba the bat, & baby the bear. (I wanted a Star Wars theme, but I lost). My mama makes chili and tells me to look at her decorations. I open the bag, my jaw drops. I am staring at a bag full of severed hands and skulls. The oldest child coming to the party is five…
Me: “Mama, don’t you think these are kind of scary?”
Mama: “No, my goodness, we had our music leader dress up like a vampire in a coffin at church when you were a kid.”
Me: “Yeah, I remember, especially at night when I am trying to go to sleep.”
Mama: “Oh you are fine, don’t be such a fuddy-dud.” (This must be one of her Jonesboro words.)
Me: “Well, why don’t we put those out in the yard?”
Mama: “No, I want everybody to see them.”
Me: “Whatever” (eye roll)
So, my daddy, doing my mother’s bidding, hangs the severed hands and skulls while I hang the skeleton on the front door.
At this point I decide to try to take some pictures. I get my camera and return to see the big kids licking green icing off my mixer attachments. (Thanks mama, they really needed that sugar boost.) I think I got one good picture. The rest were blurry, you know cause the kids were hyped up. By now I am sweating profusely and the kids are crying because they want to go trick or treating. The rest of our family arrives and the real fun begins.

Summary: Bubba dry heaves but doesn’t puke, Sister has some type of nervous energy that makes her super sassy, cousin Emma starts running fever, cousin John Easton sneaks so much candy his hair is brown with melted chocolate, all the boys run wild, the baby falls on his head (I thought he could sit up a little better), I lose Sister (don’t worry I found her hiding in the kitchen eating candy).
But…. Let me tell you, it was great! I love my little family and our crazy Halloween parties! The yearly Halloween headache is worth it!