it's the blue one

i am usually late. this has led me into many incidents.

one day i was getting ready for work and was very short on time.  i had recently run out of the product i use to make my hair so spectacular. i asked husband if he had any gel or anything.  "yes, in my drawer. it's the blue one."

i reach into the drawer and remove said blue one, dispense product into my hand and apply to my hair.

it is indeed the blue one. 

this is not standard hair gel with a blue tint.  it is i'm-trying-to-win-a-free-trip-to-the-superbowl-in-a-craziest-nfl-fan-because-i'm-such-a-huge-indianapolis-colts-fan-mohawk blue.

and it's not hair gel. it's hair glue.

awesome.

"why didn't you tell me this was blue?!?"

"i said it was the blue one."

i needed to be at work 3 minutes ago.

perfect.

i need to be at work 3 minutes ago.

i was saving that

the night before last, husband ws folding a load of laundry, and found something red.

and kind of crusty.

in the pocket of #1's school uniform pants.  what could it be?

it was also on some jeans, a few tshirts, socks, and a favorite sweatshirt.  all mine, of course.

the next morning, husband asks #1 "we found something red in your pants pocket last night. do you know what it could be?"  he shows #1 the newly decorated pants pocket.  "I have no idea. maybe that red crayon i was saving."

"well, it melted and got all over the clothes and some things got ruined." anything of mine? "no, just your mom's."  oh, good!

we want more!

i know, i know.

i have a million more stories and will try to post regularly.  no promises, though.

in the near future, i will share some favorites, including "the drivers license", "the invitations", "it's the blue one", and others.

if i caused an incident for you, let me know and i'll write it up.

the poop deck

when i was a little girl, my dad called me calamity jane.  something was always going wrong.  well, i'll be 35 in may and my dad is no longer here, and everyday there is still 'an incident'.  sometimes more than one. 

i noticed it  few years ago.  my now 8 year old, aka #1, was potty training, and he simply could not be left unsupervised in the bathroom.  there were many days i ended up elbow deep in s**t crying on the bathroom floor wondering 'how did this happen?'  another one of his favorite tricks was to redecorate with a sharpie marker.  yes, this did happen more than once, and i think he passed this talent to his brothers.  husband insists that we will not purchase new furniture until we are 100% sure that all three boys are out of the sharpie phase.  not looking good since #3 just wrote on the couch two weeks ago with a dry erase marker.

my friend jj asked me the other day if i ever make it through a day with out an incident.  no.  now i am journaling them because some of my days are pretty outrageous.  as an example ... this morning i let beagle out at 645 am.  she began barking and howling like a complete fool.  it was 25* out.  i donned shoes and a coat and proceded to investigate.  she had chased the opossum back under the shed and wanted everyone to know. she would not come out.

i left to deliver #1, #2, and #3 to school and husband promised to return beagle to her kennel.  when i returned home, i received a phone call ..."are you home yet?" yes. "did you let beagle out of her kennel?" no. why? "she's filthy and needs a bath." great.

then i go to release the hound, and she's clean. woohoo.

not so fast.

#2 & #3 are outside playing when #2 reports that beagle has pooped on the deck (aka the racetrack) and she is eating her own vomit in the backyard.

awesome.

i call beagle and realize that she is now covered head to to in mud as she has been protecting the shed again.  then i turn and see that she has also vomited in her kennel ... and it's full of sequins? what the hell did she eat?

i board up hole between fence and shed to prevent further muddiness, scrub poop off deck, wash dog, clean up sparkle puke mess.

man, i am livin' the life.