**Just a quick warning, there is some undesirable language in todays post. If you don't wish to see that sort of thing, please stop by another day. People aren't naughty here everyday. Well, actually they are naughty every day, but the naughtiness doesn't always include foul language. ;)
This past weekend the boys had the awesome experience of being bat boys for the big 12 baseball tournament. They suited up early Saturday morning in their big 12 shirts and khaki shorts, tossed their "all access" passes around their necks, grabbed their helmets and gloves and off they went. The tournament was played at the local minor league baseball stadium, so hanging out on the field and in the dug outs was a pretty big deal. There were 4 games Saturday so they spent the better part of 12 hours down there. Sometimes they were in the dug out getting bats in between batters and making sure the umpires had plenty of balls. You can imagine the amount of jokes that job brought about, enough to make my ear holes hurt. ;) Other times they sat on the field on the foul ball line just past third or first base and grabbed any foul balls hit their way. Pretty cool gig for these baseball loving kids. When you sit on the foul ball line it's called "shagging". I was under the impression that shagging was when you wore your pants down around your hiney....apparently there are multiple meanings for the word as I was told when I heard the little was shagging the first game and I about had a come apart. "You will not go down to that ballpark with your underwear hanging out!" This brought guffaw laughs from the bigger two as they explained he would be "shagging" the foul balls not his pants, and then the big one added, "You know mom, shagging can also mean something else....at least thats what I heard on Austen Powers." Ummm, let's keep that definition to yourself there big kid, I'm about explained out on sex terms for this month. ;) Famous last words.....
After 4 games I had 3 reeeallly tired and stinky boys. Sitting at dinner late in the evening the middle one says, "Ha! I learned 9 new words today!" I'm thinking there is no way there were 9 naughty words he didn't already know. The first one he blurts out is "frick". Well, I just breathed a huge sigh of relief that he didn't just yell out the big "F" word and then told him he shouldn't say that, it's just another way to say the really bad F word. He comes right back with, "Well, then how come you always call me and the little frick and frack?" Uhhh...I have no intelligent answer for this, I think because my brain has been fried by the sun all day...at least that's what I'm blaming it on. ;) At this point I send the little one to the shower, I'm not sure what he learned from his baseball experience, but I have no wish to add anything to it. The middle moves right on to, "One guy called a player on the other team a pu...puuuu....puss...a puss" (Hearing this I interject, oh, puss isn't that bad of a word, it's just that junk that oozes out of infected sores, gross but not really naughty)..."no it's not that, it was something....something else....a PUSSY! Yes, that's what he said! He called him a pussy! I don't even know what that means." Ohhhh, well I do and you don't need to know what that means! You also never need to say that word again unless you are referring to the rock group The Pussycat Dolls. Never...NEVER EVER say that again! NEVER! After I went on that tirade, I started to panic. Often when I make too big of a deal about something that is just the spark needed to start a ginormous forest fire. Crap. Sometime in the next few days I'm gonna have to call in the forest rangers to douse that fire, probably in the form of a little tobasco on the tongue. Or maybe my personal favorite, imitation maple flavoring. Blech! Smells so good, tastes so nasty!
Not to be outdone in this dinner shock wave the big one says, "Well, I learned something new today too." I seriously doubt that. But then he says, "Ya a player on this team said "sniff my pickle" to the other team. I've never heard that before. What do you think that means?" I have no idea, but it sure is imaginative. We batted around a few ideas and finally decided it was another way to say suck my wiener? That's my best guess. And then it hit me like a ton of bricks, I am actually sitting at the dinner table with my two oldest kids (who aren't that old) discussing different ways to say suck my wiener. Oh. My. Gosh. In an effort to regain some form of parentalness I offer the following advice, in my best kindergarten teacher voice, for the next day's championship game, "Now boys, at tomorrow's game you might hear some bad words, but remember those players are actually grown ups and can say whatever they choose. Of course, that doesn't make it right and when you are grown up you should choose better words, especially when you are around children such as yourselves. So tomorrow when someone strikes out, just throw your hands up over your ears like earmuffs until the words stop." The big one looks at me like I've lost my mind and says, "OoooKkkkk, right on mom, we'll just throw up the earmuffs right there in the dugout." And the middle one adds, "Um, mom you do know that we can hear right thru our hands, don't you?" Sheeesh, why don't you two just go to bed now. ;) Just in case you were wondering who is going to come in last in the mother of the year award....I think it's pretty obvious I've got that one wrapped up. ;)
The wine of the day is The Slammer syrah because I'm pretty sure that's where I'm headed for the parenting genius I've got going on around here. I just hope it's the crazy slammer and they have pink straight jackets and cupcakes there....sounds like a happy place. :) Oh dear, maybe they really have driven me crazy!
The W(h)ine Hour..
Every household has one…the whine hour. It’s those bewitching hours between approximately 5 and 8pm in the evening when the kids go crazy and moms across the world lose their minds completely. It doesn’t matter if you have babies, toddlers, kids, tweens, or teens; those hours of dinner/homework/bath time/ bedtime can just about do a momma in. What is a girl to do? It’s simple and brilliant actually, just slip in a little wine of your own! Now, I’m not suggesting anyone down a bottle of whiskey everyday between the hours of 5 and 8, in fact if you do that you will have a few whine hours of your own the next morning. Basically, a little wine during the whine hours will keep you out of the padded cell at the local cookoo house where people will walk by and peek in your little window and say things like “aww, poor mom has lost her marbles” and “hmmm, now that’s a crazy one right there, sits in there all day and hits herself over the head with a Barbie and a hotwheel”. Don’t smirk, it can happen.
So, enjoy the tales of my whine hour, and how I survive each and everyone of one of them with a sense of humor and a good bottle of wine! After all, the whine hour comes around every single day, a girl has to be prepared!