More Inappropriate but Hilarious Conversations with Children

I am starting to wonder if perhaps our children are smarter and more streetwise that we give them credit for. Because last week, while Emily and crew were visiting, the double entendres and innuendos were flowing like water! I mean, really, is it possible to make so many dirty jokes without meaning to...or do Emily and I just need to crawl out of the gutter?

You be the judge...

Now there was all of the usual talk from Libby about how excited she was that Jack was spending the night and how she couldn't wait to sleep with Jack and was she definitely going to get to sleep with Jack, etc and so forth.

Then there was also a rather humorous incident in which my younger daughter knocked Jack over and sat on top of him and started to bounce up and down. This caused both children to burst into giggles and Libby, never wanting to be left out of the fun, hops on too.

Now when you are only three and a half feet tall and there is already someone sitting on your stomach, really the only place left for another friend to sit is on your head.

So that is were Libby sat.

On Jack's face.

And then she jumped up two seconds later and Jack said, "Hey Libby, come back and sit on my face again!"

I thought Emily was going to wet her pants she was laughing so hard!

(Later, Em asked me if I had told my husband about that particular moment. I reminded her that my dear husband is still recovering from the whole "cock talk" incident with Emma Jane. Hearing about Libby sitting on some guy's face might just send him over the edge!)

While I did think the face-sitting remark was funny, my personal favorite conversation went like this: I caught Libby and Jack playing in Libby's closet. (I think they were having a tea party or something completely innocent like that.)

I reminded Libby that we have a very large playroom with lots of toys and that I don't generally allow my children to play in their bedrooms. But since we had twice as many kids in the house as usual, I told her that she and Jack could play in her room but they needed to stay out of the closet.

Jack immediately came out of the closet and said, "Come on Libby. We can't do it in your closet. I know! Let's do it on your bed!"

I think I did wet my pants a little...

A lesson in Anatomy

Okay, let's talk Bachelor!

After watching last night's final rose ceremony, we have come to a conclusion.

Jake must have failed his high school anatomy class. Because clearly every time he mentioned his heart, he was actually talking about the organ 3 feet below his heart. Just a show of hands, who doesn't think Jake picked Vienna because she puts out is spontaneous?

He totally picked sex over substance. Don't get us wrong, sex is very important in a relationship. But by itself, it is not enough to sustain longevity. And in a few months, Jake will join the long list of Bachelor failures because of that. You picked wrong, dude!

And I rather enjoyed watching Tenley call him out on it during After the Final Rose. Now we don't think for a second that she was as clueless as she was pretending to be...she knew good and well that his lack of physical chemistry was about sex. She (like any other woman in her place) just wanted to hear him say it. And Jake (like any other man in his place) totally avoided the question and gushed more about his penis heart!

What a tool! And not even a cool tool, like a hammer...more like one of those useless washer thingys.

And as for Vienna, she may be all into being famous Jake right now, but soon the skank whore inside her will rear its ugly head and she will be sharing a drink with it on the beach by Summer.

Let's move on to Ali and The Bachelorette!

Can you smell the desperation?

Breaking news...

As of yesterday, Taylor Lautner is legal!

You can fest your eyes on all this extreme hotness, and touch, without having to worry about being carted off to jail.



I'm so relieved. Taylor and I were really getting tired of sneaking around.

Writer's Workshop and the fall

Do you remember the early days of marriage?

Those were the days when I would don outfits such as this (Since I know you're wondering, this is not a picture of me but I pretty much look exactly like that.)

and shoes such as these

and parade around my pre-baby body that I totally took for granted solely for the, um, entertainment, of another.

One such night, I was wearing an outfit very similar to that in an attempt to seduce my new husband. (As if I actually need to seduce him. Please. He was a 20-something year old guy.)

As I'm walking down the hall, I hear him in the kitchen, popping open a beer. I rush down the stairs trying to get into the living room before he sits down and turns on the tv, around the corner, trip and fall over a box.

And in the process of falling, bust my lip on the couch so badly that I actually just laid there and starting crying. My husband runs in and tries to help me sit up.

Note that I said try. He's actually having trouble since he can barely breathe due to hysterical laughter.

He finally is able to help me up, checks to make sure all my teeth are intact, gets me onto the couch, then gets me a rag and some ice. My lip is killing me. And bleeding like crazy.

After an hour of gushing blood, we begin to wonder if I'll need stitches.

The thought of this makes me cry even more. Not the thought of stitches, but the fact that I'll have to go to the emergency room in stripper clothes. (Yes, in my distraught state, the thought that I could just actually change clothes before leaving didn't cross my mind.)

So, Alex decides to call my dad (who's a doctor) to see if I need stitches. I actually don't remember a lot of the conversation except the part when my dad apparently asked what I was doing when I fell and Alex responded with, "Um, well, she was just walking around."

I ended up not getting stitches, but this injury, combined with a lip injury I had as a child (which was all my brother's fault and material for another post) dooms me to a life where half of my lip is fatter than the other half.

See?

The light from the flash even highlights the fat part! Between this injury and my aforementioned lip injury, I have quite a scar. But since I rarely leave my house without lip gloss or lipstick, it's hard to tell.


The moral of this story is that if you're dressed like this

(Again, not me, but pretty much what I look like in the bedroom. *cough* yeah right! *cough*)

and running, then watch where you are going!

This has been part of Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop

What part of "help" don't you understand?!

We had en emergency in our family yesterday.

The short of it is that Jack had what we thought was the stomach bug. But after watching our child writhe in pain most of Tuesday night, we trekked over to Children's Hospital of Atlanta only to discover it was not the stomach virus.

Appendicitis.

As Jack is getting prepped for surgery, I immediately update Facebook call my parents to let them know what's going on while Alex calls his.

And his mom wants to come "help".

Apparently when I am faced with an emergency I deal with it by having a moment of complete, unbridled insanity.

Because, aside from the fact that my MIL hates me with a passive-aggressive passion, every little thing about her drives me batty. And, believe me, she is no help.

She's help in the sense that I can leave some (not all) of my children with her with the assurance that they will be alive when I return, although their mental state may be slightly unstable.

But that's it.

Is it help when someone comes to your house only to leave all kinds of crap lying around for your one year old and dog to get into? Because, Lord know, when you're child is in the hospital, I have plenty of time to clean up all the crap you had to bring with you to my house.

Here's just a snippet of her version of "help".

Me: Grandmother, Alex really needed to run into the office for a few hours today. Would you mind going over to the hospital and sitting with Jack so that Alex can work? I know Jack would love to see you and Alex really needs to go into the office.

Her: Sure, I'll do that.

Me: Great. You know where the hospital is? Good. I know that Alex is anxious to run to the office for a few hours. It's the first day of the fiscal year and very busy for him. (See how I'm stressing this?)

Alex (an hour later): Where's my mom?

Me: She left over an hour ago...you mean she's not there yet?

Anyone care to take a guess as to where she was??

No, not stranded on the side of the road.

No, not so distraught over the thought of her little grandson lying in a hospital bed that she couldn't drive and had to pull over.

She STOPPED FOR LUNCH!!

Yes, you read that right.

The crazy thing is that I knew this would happen. Because it does every time she "helps".

This is why I ban her from our state whenever I have a baby. I can't take it.

However, apparently in an emergency situation, I deal with it by going insane. And now, since she's on her way to the hospital as I write this, I have to face the consequences of my choices.

Pray for me, friends. And pray for her...she's dangerously close to coming to bodily harm.

This has been part of MamaKat's Writer's Workshop.


**In all seriousness now; Jack is doing well. He's recovering very nicely and is going to be heading home today. We are thankful we caught it in time and the procedure was able to be done laparoscopically, which is a faster, easier recovery.**

Blast from the Past

I had a fling with an old flame the other night.

A dream fling.

(Really, people? After all the ranting and raving we have done on the blog about infidelity, did you actually think I meant a real life, awake fling? Sheesh!)

So back to my dream.

It was totally random because I have seriously not thought about this guy in years! I think the only reason he popped into my subconscious was because he befriended me on Facebook a few days ago.

Isn't Facebook great? Keeping people that should probably just forget about each other connected.

We knew each other in high school and had one of those on again, off again non-relationships based solely on how much we liked hooking up with each other. And since I was all of 15 or 16, it was pretty tame hooking up. Even in my dream.

We pretty much just made out on the couch...in the dream and in real life. Not for any lack of trying to deflower me on his part. But thankfully at the tender age of something-teen, I still had a good healthy fear of accidental impregnation or STDs from the over-sexed man whore I was gettin' jiggy with on the sofa. And of the large arsenal my father had at his disposal...I mean I did like this boy. I didn't want daddy to shoot him.

So anywho, I woke up laughing. And a little ticked that my dream self did not have this smokin' hot 15 year body:

No wonder this guy spent over 4 years trying to jump my bones!

Of course, when I rolled over in my bed, I found my real life lover to be much more satisfying than memories of the past!

(Sorry, I promise that is as sappy as you will ever hear me get here on Brutally Honest. But cut me some slack, my anniversary was a few days ago and so I am just basking in the romantic glow of our love.)

(Crap! I did it again!)

Dear John

Dear John Edwards,

So, after however many years you finally came clean and decided to publicly claim your child. Kind of. You wrote it down and had a political advisor make the statement. Not just any political advisor though, a trusted advisor. How very big of you.

So, just to summarize; you had an affair, impregnated a tramp who knew you were married woman, then denied your child, who will now have to go through life knowing that her father rejected her. All this while your wife was fighting cancer. Congratulations, that is douche baggery at its best. In fact, I think you just beat out Bill Clinton for The Biggest Douche Award.

Really, John, did you think people wouldn't figure it out? You have an affair and approximately nine months later the tramp woman who had an affair with you gives birth. It's not rocket science.

I understand, though. Sex addiction is tough. *snicker*

Puh-lease. Just because it feels good doesn't mean you have to do it. It feels good to eat chocolate all day every day but you don't constantly see me with a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup in my hand.

Ever heard of the phrase "just say no"? It was coined during the Regean administration; I'm pretty sure you were around then. It can be applied to more than just drug use. When a tramp comes up to you and offers to engage in certain activities, just say no!

So, please zip up your pants, pick up your man card, oh wait, you don't have one anymore. Well, then, zip up your pants and be on your merry way.

You disgrace the name Edward.

Sincerely,