Proof That I Am A Reincarnated Adolescent Boy

Two nights ago, W. asked what SEX was. Flat.out.asked. *cringe*

Last year when I had this close call, and then when my niece almost started the ball rolling, and then when I really thought the "talk" was inevitable, I swore Mr. Schmitty was going to have to have a sit down and soon.

Nothing ever transpired. It was swept under the rug because W. dropped the subject. But really, we chickened out.

He's starting middle school in three weeks. I don't think we can ignore a point blank question. I quickly sent a text to Mr. Schmitty, "The time has come."

He told me he would talk to W. in the morning. Good idea. Yea, YOU talk to him. In the morning.

I slept in the next morning, or at least I pretended to, and when I got up Mr. Schmitty pulled me aside. He informed me that he had talked to W.

"How did it go? Did he have any questions?" I was very curious to know how my baby had reacted.

"It went fine. He didn't have any questions, but I told him that if he should think of some, I was here to answer them. Mr. Schmitty seemed quite proud of his parenting.

I raised an eyebrow. "So, exactly what did you say?"

I'm not going to type verbatim the conversation, however, I will tell you this; My son will NEVER EVER HAVE SEX. Not when he is a hormonal teen. Not even if his guys turn blue. Not even when he gets married. He won't touch his wife, except maybe for a handshake. Even then he may need antibacterial lotion.

I know we have to warn our children about disease. I know unprotected sex can kill. However, when that's the only part of sex you relay to your son, well, let's just say he might as well join a Monastery today. Oh wait, that won't work.

My bad.

I asked Mr. Schmitty if he explained that sex is something grown-ups, who LOVE.EACH.OTHER, do. Did he explain that sex can make a baby? Or did he just make sure that our son would go screaming from the first girl who wants to hold his hand?

SHEESH. Men.

"I am going to the book store. YOU need a book."

Last night my best friend and I went to Barnes and Noble. We began seeking out sex education books. She looked in the Child Care section, while I searched the Children's section.

Eureka! I hit the mother lode. I grabbed more than a half dozen or so books and went to find my friend.

"LOOOOOK!"

"Wow, let's check them out and see what will work best."

We started flipping through the pages. No, too scientific. Next. No, this one is more about girls. Next.

"Hee Hee. Look this cartoon has a boner."

"Snort. This one is masturbating."

"I AM NOT showing that one to W. He'll go blind when he discovers that."

"BWWAAAHHHAAA!"

"Or get hairy palms."

I looked up at the camera in the ceiling.

"You do know that security is thinking we are complete juveniles. What are we twelve? OH MY GOD THIS SAYS SCROTUM!!"

"I think I just peed myself!"

I'm Too Sexy For This Shirt

I love to people watch. The world is full of so many colorful characters and I need to see them all. How else can I find blogging material? I've got to be nosy observant to bring you the funny, don't I?

I am very aware of my surroundings and usually never miss much. I can hold a conversation and still witness, though not happily, an old man inappropriately adjusting himself at Walmart. I never miss any drama, which means I will see you flip off your significant other, whilst you are sporting that cheesy smile.

I also never fail to spot the freaks more interesting folk in the crowd. You know, like the bat-shit crazy lady that talks to herself and answers herself back. And the Fred Flintstone look alike that browses the local mall in a dress and heels. How about the frazzled mom with the half eaten ear?

Oh wait, that's my reflection. Strike that.

The most amusing part of watching others, I find, is eyeing their outfits. I seriously wonder if some own a mirror.

Last weekend Mr. Schmitty and I went to two concerts; Carrie Underwood on Saturday and Daughtry on Sunday.

Two different types of music = two different types of people = a whole lotta strange.

The concerts were being held at a nearby festival. Before they began, we walked through the rows of food vendors and t-shirt mongers. We were thoroughly enjoying our grown-up weekend out. As we strolled hand in hand, we entertained ourselves by pointing out the various ensembles the patrons were donning.

And we were laughing our butts off.

There was the shirtless, rail-thin boy who looked like he needed a belt to hold up the jeans that seem to be sliding down his boxers. Oh wait, maybe that was a fashion statement.

There was the did-you-spray-paint-those-jeans-on biker chick who needed a little more fabric added to her top before she fell out of it.

There was the 10 foot giant that must have grown during the opening act's performance because his jeans were about a foot too short and his shirt about three sizes too tight. Maybe he stole the rail-thin boy's shirt. Hey, and maybe they swapped jeans too.

That would explain a lot.

The music was about to start and we found our seats. We wiped away the tears of laughter and I said, "Thank GOD we're so perfect!"

Well, at least I am.

Learning To Read In Target

I took the kids with me to Target today. I needed to get some cleaning supplies, paper products, and hygiene items.

I had my trusty list in my hand because I swore I was not buying ANYTHING that wasn't written down on that list. I was at the end of an aisle using one eye to read the label on an allergy medication, while the other eye watched the kids, who were now slightly up the next aisle.

T. was pointing to words on boxes and bags and then asking W. to read them to him.

Up until that point, I hadn't been paying attention to the dialogue, because I was crossing things off my list. Got to stick to the list.

I tuned into the conversation.

"W., what does this word say?"

"Gentle."

"And that one?" "Glide."

My five year old ran over to the other side of the aisle.

"What about this long one?"

"Pantyliners."

Snicker...I looked closer. It was the girly aisle.

Heck, at least they weren't throwing bouncy balls around. Plus they were teaching AND learning. My kids. Who'da thunk it?

This was such a proud moment. I pushed the cart ahead, I needed stuff in this aisle anyway.

"W., here are two words!"

"Sound it out. F makes the fu sound. E makes the eh sound. M makes the em sound. Fu eh em. Fehm. Fehminen. Feminine Wash!"

SNORT! I'm such a child.

I heard flip-flop running sounds behind me. I turned to see R. grab a box off the shelf at the end of the aisle.

Ah, how cute she wanted to get into the act!

"W. read me this one!" she exclaimed.

"Trojan. Magnum."

BAAHHHAAAAA!

I'm an ass.

I Did Giggle, Just A Little

But I just couldn't help it. It's in my nature.

Did you hear...chuckle... about the Lifetouch Studios...hee hee... incident at McKinney High School in Texas? Snort. Ahem. Sorry. I feel really...giggle, sniff....badly.

Based out of Minnesota, Lifetouch, or Retouch as they should now be named, provides portraits and yearbooks for schools nationwide. Seems they've got a closet Photoshopper in their midst.

One with a sick, twisted sense of humor...guffaw...cough, cough...deep breath.

This is what went down.

McKinney High School had apparently asked for certain alterations to be made by Retouch Lifetouch before the yearbook was printed. They required the student's heads be the same size and eyes at the same level in all student photos. From what I have read, only one Retouch Lifetouch employee had "an unfortunate lapse in judgment".

Only ONE employee worked on making the heads and eyes the same for ALL of the Stepford Children students? No wonder he/she cracked!

You see the culprit switched bodies and heads and heads and bodies of about 600 students in this year's publication. There was no sense of gender, as body parts were mixed and matched. The possibly disgruntled sociopath worker also stretched the necks of some students. Was this the effect that he/she was trying to achieve?

They should have hired me. I could have done SUCH a better job, I mean c'mon, look at MY new image on the side bar. Now that's realism at it's best!

As I was saying....

Things became more gruesome when some discovered a dismembered girl within the pages. Her arm had mysteriously been erased from her photo! OH.THE.HORROR!

Thankfully the employee knew to keep things rated PG-13 and blurred the chest of the girl whose clothes seem to have disappeared. Those involved are under age, after all. Except for that one kid, you know, who's like 23. The one who sits in the back of the room and either sleeps or blows spitballs at the chalkboard. At least he's got all of those previous senior year pictures to look at.

But I digress.

So, this weekend is seriously going to suck for that yearbook staff. They have to figure out which noggin goes with which torso. They have only 48 hours to sort it all out so Retouch Lifetouch can reprint their memories for a whopping $75,000.

That employee has got to be SO fired!

(P.S. I really do feel for the students of McKinney High School. However, after reading about violence, earthquakes, and famine this just seemed, well, slightly humorous. I'm just saying.)

Things That Made Me Laugh Yesterday

What is it with men? My mother told me that my brother stopped by her house the other day with her Mother's Day gift. She had missed out on the brunch that I had thrown for her and my mother-in-law and our families because she was ill. My brother's gift was a Tiger Lily, nice right? Well it probably was before it was left in his trunk for 3 days.

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I stopped to gas up the minivan, as I was practically on *E. I rolled down the window and as I cringed at the price per gallon, I told the attendant to fill it up. The man was middle eastern and had a heavy accent. When he returned my debit card to me he said, "Thank you ma'am." By the way, I hate that I am now a ma'am, when did that happen? Anyway, R. asked, "Mommy, what did that man say?" I told her and she responded, "No, I think he said thank you muffin."

*(Update for Jen at Problem Girl: E=Empty not E=Ecstasy. I save the drugs for when I'm not driving around with the kids!)

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When W. got home from school yesterday he informed me, "Mom, I think I'm going to have to get a girlfriend next year in 5th grade." "Oh really?" I replied. "Yea, then I'll ask her if she wants to make out." Oh Mr. Schmitty, I think it's time for a sit down with oldest!

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We went out to dinner last night. I was talking to Mr. Schmitty and as usual the kids were all trying to get my attention by yelling over one another. I kept right on talking until I heard T. say, "Mom, am I going to have to whistle to get your attention?" To which R. needed to say, to one up her brother, "Mom, am I going to have spit at you to get your attention?"

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And lastly, I saw this at Kelley's blog and just had to steal it. It completely cracked me up!

My Little Lady Killer

T. is, if I do say so myself, a very handsome fella. He has one of those faces you just want to grab and kiss all over. And he's got the most kissable little lips, ones that are going to make the girls swoon some day. Though shy, he seems to draw in those around him. He does so without saying a word and with almost no effort. He smiles and the room brightens. He's got this amazing aura.

On Saturday, Mr. Schmitty took the boys for haircuts. W. has finally given up the latest trend and cut his long, shaggy locks. He is currently sporting a not-too-short crew with the front spiked up. Very adorable and very easy for him. That's all he cares about at the moment. Ease.

I was cleaning when they came home and had my iPod blaring some P!nk. I jumped a mile high when I turned around and they were standing there staring at me. Once I recovered from my mini-stroke and their ears recovered from my scream, I took a better look at my newly cleaned up boys. I had to do a double take when I saw T. He had the identical cut his brother did. He looked absolutely precious!

And he down right knew it. He grinned ear to ear anytime anyone noticed. He was beside himself. W. told him that the girls would all be chasing him on the playground come Monday. He blushed 4 shades of red. But in his eyes, you could see that he couldn't wait for the weekend to come to a close.

Sunday morning he made sure that I put some "Crew" wax or gel or whatever that gunk is, in his hair. He then jumped up on the vanity and combed his hair up, making sure it looked perfect.

Later on that day, I was talking to my brother in our living room. T. walked in, stopped, and whipped out his sister's compact mirror in one hand and his comb in the other. He fixed his flip and pocketed the mirror and comb. He then continued on his way without missing a beat.

We rolled on the floor laughing.

Monday, after school, I overheard him telling his brother that Zyasia, Emma, Elizabeth, and Sarah all noticed his haircut. I had to duck into my own room to avoid getting caught giggling.

Today when he was getting ready for school, I again helped him with his hair. When I was done, I said, "There you go, does it look okay?" He smiled, then looked deep in thought, he finally said, "I wonder if Miss Meagan will be there today."

Miss Meagan is the teacher's assistant. A pretty little blonde, about 22 years old, that T. has a MAJOR crush on. I told him to stick to girls his own age.

What a little Casanova!

What Being Married 15 Years Feels Like

We are pathetic. Mr. Schmitty and I are pathetic with a capital P.

P-A-T-H-E-T-I-C.

Yesterday my MIL and SIL came over to babysit T. and R. while W. was in school. T. asked why they were coming to babysit and told them that I was going out with my boyfriend on a date. He grinned and said, "That's daddy, right?" Then he ran off and told Mr. Schmitty that he had to open my car door for me on our date. He also asked if I was going to wear my wedding dress.

No sweet child, mama couldn't get that thing on even if she used a crowbar.

So off we went on our little date. Mr. Schmitty did indeed hold every door for me. The dear. We decided to have some lunch so we went to a diner that we love. We sat in a booth and for once had all the elbow room we needed. Aaahhh, the glory! No crayons, no booster seats, no kid's menus! We ordered from the adult menus and then we looked at each other.

Crickets, birds chirping, silence.

We laughed.

Our waitress brought our lunch and then we proceeded to scarf down our food. After almost 10 years of eating with children you get into the habit of inhaling your food. You just never know when you'll have to yell for the check.

Okay, so that used up about 45 minutes. Now what? Where to go? What to do? We had nuthin'.

We resorted to our old schtick of, "Whatcha wanna do?" for a few minutes.

That wasted another 5 minutes.

"Blah, this sucks, you know?" I said.

"We could go to a motel!" Mr. Schmitty replied.

"We could take a NAP!" we chimed in together as we burst out laughing.

So we did what any old married couple does. We went shopping for shoes for Mr. Schmitty. He bought a really nice pair of work boots. It's his birthday today so when he pulled out his credit card I patted him on the back and shouted, "Happy Birthday!!"

I'm telling, you we are just SUCH the romantic couple!

The kid at the register took the credit card. He then said to Mr. Schmitty, "Nice boots, plan on going hiking?"

My husband and I looked at each other and raised our eyebrows. Apparently this kid didn't realize how old and out of shape we are.

"Ummmm....no, not really."

The kid raised his eyebrows as if to say, "Then why the hell are you buying hiking boots!"

I just about split a gut.

He handed Mr. Schmitty his credit card and the bag and said, "Enjoy your kicks."

WTF?

I think Mr. Schmitty should have said, "You bet!" And then he should have done this:

The Ways They Entertain Themselves!

I was on my laptop, literally the whole day on Thursday. I had seven browsers going at once, each open to a different store; ToysRUs, Target, Walmart, Amazon, Buy.com, Best Buy and Ebay. All in that order. I had my three wishlists from each of the Schmitty children. I began with ToysRUs and typed the first item on W.'s list into the store's search field. Out of stock. I went on to Target. Sold out. So I tried Walmart. BINGO! I placed the item in the shopping cart. Back to ToysRUs and the next item and so on and so forth until I went through all three sheets of paper. It took forever, but I did find much of what I needed. I used the mentality that if I had gone out shopping in the real world, I would have been wasting precious gasoline driving to all of these stores anyway, so what's a little shipping expense?

As I was getting ready to purchase my loot, T. and R. came running down the stairs, through the dining room, through the kitchen, and back up the stairs. I looked up, shrugged, and went back to work.

A few minutes later they ran past me again, this time with their shirts off. They again run back up the stairs.

A few minutes later, I hear giggles, they zoom past me, now only in their underwear. Again they disappear to the second floor. I'm beginning to get dizzy watching them.

Suddenly I hear belly laughs, feet pounding down the stairs, and they run past me for a fourth time. R. is now in the lead and she is wearing her brother's tightie-whities. "Oh NO!" I think, I know what's coming. Yup, in runs T. in his sister's Minnie Mouse undies. They run back upstairs before I can even open my mouth. I just shake my head and laugh, Mr. Schmitty would be so proud!

I'm about to go back to my shopping spree when I hear laughing so hard I swear someone is going to choke. In they run, both are looking like they have eaten way too many donuts. She is still wearing his underwear and he is still wearing hers, except now they have about a zillion pairs on apiece.

"What in heaven's name?" I ask.

"Look mom!" yells T. as the two of them begin to pull down each and every pair until they are standing butt naked. As they peel down the layers they both count, "1, 2, 3, 4..........." They finish at twelve.

I guess I should be thankful they are practicing their counting skills!

After I finished laughing, I continued with the task at hand. I proceeded with my checkout. ToysRUs; DONE. Target; the effing computer froze up!! IT.FROZE.THE.HELL.UP!!!

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Hey guys, do you know where Daddy's underwear is?"