Hump Day Humor --- Funny Cade Stories

Story One:
Recently we visited Papa & 'Lene. While we were eating, Cade burped really loudly. Being the ever vigilant mother, I informed him that his behavior was inappropriate and that if he needed to burp, he should do so with his mouth closed.

Then I asked him, "Cade, who taught you that --- where did you ever learn how to do that?" Thinking that he would probably blame daddy, I sat back to wait for his answer.

He looked up and confidently replied, "From Grandma!"

(I knew 'Lene was behind the scenes secretly teaching my son bad manners, I just knew it!)

Story Two:
Yesterday as the kids and I were leaving the gym, I noticed that Cade was looking particularly cute for some reason. I asked him how he got so handsome and he replied, "I'm handsome like God!" Then he thought for a minute and said, "No, I'm smart like God --- and handsome like Daddy!"

Story Three:
Last week, while I was outside working in the yard, I asked Cade to go inside and get my glass of tea that I had forgotten inside. Being the distracted 4-year-old that he is, he went inside and never came back. I went inside to check on him and he was sitting in front of the TV watching cartoons. I inquired as to the whereabouts of my tea and this is the conversation that ensued:

Me: "Cade, where's my tea? I thought you were going to get it for me?"
Cade: "Mommy, I can't."
Me: "What? You can't? But it's right here on the table where I told you."
Cade: "I know, I just can't."
Me: "Why?!? You're tall enough to reach it, it's right here!"
Cade: "I know, but my legs are broken!"

Apparently I must ask him if his legs are broken quite often because that is now a common excuse for why he can't do something!

Story Four:
A few weeks ago Cade rediscovered his batman halloween costume that had found its way to the bottom of the toy box. He put on the mask and his batman p.j.s that Grandma C. gave him for Christmas and was having a fun time pretending. I decided to pretend with him and said, "Hey Batman, have you seen Cade? I can't find him." He stopped suddenly, lifted his mask and whispered, "Hey mom, it's me, Cade!" Then he lowered his mask and went on his super hero way.

Girl Power

In honor of cousin Ryah staying with us this weekend, we (the girls in the house) had a little girl time! I waited quite awhile for Chloe to join me so we could partake in all things glitter --- I can't wait until she gets older! Watch out Cade, Camden and Daddy, Mommy and Chloe are a hot pink force to be reckoned with!

Chloe's first mini-pedicure!

And a picture of Ryah and Chloe after Ryah's hair styling session.

I'm getting lots of practice on my niece's hair --- watch out Chloe, Mommy is armed (with hair spray) and dangerous!

And one last picture of Chloe that pretty much tops my list of favorite pictures of her. She is such a happy baby, this picture captures it perfectly!

Cade and Camden begged to join in all of the girly fun. Their little 4 and 2-year-old minds just didn't comprehend why hot pink finger nails would not make daddy very happy! (I personally don't think it would hurt --- the artist in me just doesn't understand why we can't have a little FUN?!?) Don't tell Daddy that Cade got to wear a hair clip for a few minutes! He was in Heaven --- he said, "I look very handsome!" (remember Cade, don't tell Daddy!)

Do your childhood memories involve Potato Bugs? ----Mine Do.

Disturbing, I know.

Today I mowed the lawn. We may possibly be the only people in the Dallas area that do our own yard work. Yes, the sad commentary on life in the "big city" is that more often than not people hire out almost everything --- yard work, house cleaning, childcare, etc...

Well, anyway, back to the disturbing reality of the potato bugs that are firmly planted in my psyche ---

As I was mowing the lawn, the smell of freshly cut grass took me back to Billings, Montana, where most of my formative years were spent. It was there that I became an indentured servant a willing participant in the Potts' family household "chores." I put quotes around the word chores because chores in today's vernacular are NOTHING like what I did as a child --- oh, nay --- my sisters and I earned our keep! (walked to school, uphill both ways, over broken glass, sound familiar?)

Now my Dad has always been a gardener --- in fact, a very prolific gardener. We logged countless hours weeding each summer (did I mention that I was a child slave?) but it was the ever dreaded task of Potato Bug Picking that tops our collective "Things We Could Have Done Without During Childhood" lists. Let me explain.

First you have to appreciate the disgusting nature of these bugs. (Click on the highlighted word for a pic and explanation of them.) Not only were we instructed to remove the adult beetles from the potato plant, but also the baby ones, and the bright orange egg clusters (which look a bit like potato bug caviar) that were laid on the underside of many a potato plant leaf. Seriously, what pre-teen in today's world would oblige this request?

Now, don't tell PETA, I would hate to be branded as an animal abuser --- but once the offending potato bug was spotted, we were instructed to place him or her in an old coffee can containing an inch or two of gasoline. A painful way to go I am almost sure of it. Justice swiftly carried out as punishment for the heinous crime of eating my father's potato plants. Judge. Jury. Executioner.

So, why the story about potato bugs? Because as I raise my kids, I can only hope to give them as colorful a journey as my parents gave me. Will their journey involve picking potato bugs --- probably not. But it will involve some good old fashioned hard work! Were my parents perfect, no. Am I? Hardly! But, they loved me, sacrificed for me, and yes, made me pick potato bugs. Today, I am a better person for it. Mowing my lawn is therapeutic --- thanks in part to parents who taught me to work hard and to be proud of a job well done.

Happy Father's Day and Happy Birthday, Dad (yes a little late, but I wasn't finished with this post on time, and well, it just had to be perfect!) Your work ethic and integrity will never cease to amaze me. You are a dying breed!

And to my Mom, Happy Mother's Day! (I wasn't posting back in May, so I will piggy back this note onto my Father's Day post.) I had no idea how hard you worked all those years when the three of us girls lived at home. Thank you for the countless hours you logged working behind the scenes. No wonder the chore lists were so long! As a mom I am finally comprehending the unending work load that exists. I can't wait until I can put my kids to work too!

UPDATE---

After a few years of picking potato bugs, the Potts girls staged a mutiny and collectively won their freedom from this particular chore. Larry Potts was left to tend the potato plants himself. The sisters, to this day, shudder at the sight of old coffee cans --- and the smell of gasoline.

PETA declined to press charges citing that the statute of limitations for animal cruelty in the state of Montana had invariably run out. They also noted that the sisters had already served a hard sentence ---"The potato bug picking is punishment in and of itself" --- but that Mr. Potts would be closely monitored to ensure that his grandchildren were not involved in any future potato plant maintenance.

Hump Day Humor

Some of you have emailed me and had such nice things to say about this little upstart. Truth is I have always had a frustrated author in me that could never figure out where to begin. Blogging has been perfect because it gives me a way to compile my stories, get feedback from the public and maybe (just maybe) I can go to a publisher armed with some ammunition (someday!) So thank you for the encouragement, keep the comments coming!

So, on to "Hump Day Humor". Well I don't know about you, but I personally need a little laughter each day to get me through the "mess", so here is my contribution to your laughter meter for today --- (This is a joke that I personally wrote my very own self --- I think it is hysterical --- if you don't, that is okay. Wrong, but okay.)

What did the paper clips, stapler, pencils, and note pads say when the secretary opened up the cabinet door?

SUPPLIES!

And by the way, I don't mind if you spread this joke or tell your friends, just please give credit to its author! I am a stickler for copyright infringement---being an artist and a writer will do that to you! If I see it on the next episode of "The Last Comic Standing," I will hunt you down for my royalties! (Yes, I think this joke is that funny and have held it close to me for about 7 years now --- If it ever gets its 15 minutes of fame, it better have my name attached to it!)

Coincidentally, the baby in the pic is Cade. The older Chloe gets, the more she looks like her oldest brother!

Mommy, I'm So Sleepy!

While I was preparing lunch for the kids, I put Chloe on the couch (propped her up) so she could watch her brothers play, etc... I looked over and this is what I saw...

Just so you know, after I took the video I did go put her in her crib... poor baby was SO sleepy!

"Mom, I'm 'Peach', Right?"

Lately, I have been working with Cade on things like his colors, expanding his vocabulary, counting, his letters, etc... For some reason this year a little fear gripped my heart that he would somehow grow up completely uneducated if I didn't start taking drastic measures --- right now. (as moms we tend to blow things a little out of proportion don't we?)

So, yesterday while I was cleaning the kitchen the boys wanted to "help". Well, you and I both know that their version of "helping" isn't really "help," but at least it was something to keep them occupied while I was getting the dishes done --- namely keeping Cammy from destroying another room simultaneously! We were working with colors and going around the kitchen finding things that were green, then yellow, etc... When we got to the color orange, Cade couldn't find anything orange, so he pointed to himself and asked if he was orange. I said that he was more of a "peachy" color --- remembering that I used the "Peach" crayon to color skin tones when I was but a budding artist. He pondered this revelation for a moment and I could see him almost mentally tucking it away somewhere to be mulled over for awhile.

Later we were outside, I was mowing the lawn and the kids were "helping." A neighbor boy was outside throwing the football with his friends. Cade watched as they were playing. I stopped mowing to empty the grass clippings and he came over with a quizzical look on his face. I asked him what was "the matter" and he said,

"Mom, that kid is 'brown', my C.J. cousin is 'brown', but I'm not 'brown'. What color am I, mom?"

Well, I didn't want to get into the whole racial discussion or intellectualize the conversation since my 4-year-old was making a simple 4-year-old observation, so I said, "Well, Cade, you are 'white'."

He immediately looked at me, rolled his eyes and said, "No-oooh --- I'm not 'white'! I'm 'peach' --- right momma?" And ran off to play.

So next time I am filling out one of those surveys that asks my "color", I'm going to check "other" and write in "Peach" --- and smile.

Here's a pic from last summer of the boys playing with C.J.



Cade absolutely LOVES his cousins ---He talks about them on a daily basis. Later on in the day Cade assigned colors to both Tate and Ryah as well. Tate is "peach" like Cade, and Ryah is "pink".

Weekly Photoshoot

As you can see it is nearly impossible to get all three looking at the camera at the same time. Cade is definitely my "poser". Cammy was busy trying to figure out why the baby was crying (maybe because he was "manhandling her?") Chloe was just not sure about being in her brothers' care --- I don't blame her. Anyway, I love these pics though, because kids this age just aren't "perfect", so these are definitely characteristic of my kids --- one's usually happy, one's usually in la-la-land, and the other is often crying... if you have the secret to getting kids happy all at the same time, just let me know. I could use the key to unlocking that one!

Tia Is Another Word For. . .

As I’m sure most of you know, “Tia” is Spanish for “Aunt”---plus a whole lot more. . .

Tia’s just another word for “When you kiss me, slobber on me, and give me The Great Sickness of 2008, and then I return, still sick, motherless to Houston, because now she’s your Gramma ‘Lene and everything you feature is so much smaller and hypothetically cuter than I—well, I can’t hate you and call you a Germ Hive. Okay—so maybe I’ll say “germ hive” under my breath—but I for sure can’t hate you."

And why can’t I hate you?
Because I’m your Tia, and that’s another word for “Yes, I’ll share my candy with you. No, not the pink ones (those are mine--really--I mean it!) but you can have some of the others. In fact, you can have the whole rest of that bag if there are no pink ones left—I mean, isn’t candy yummy? I know! Hmmm, you have a tummy ache? Let’s go find your Mama."

And we look for your Mama
Because I’m your Tia, and that’s another word for, "This situation smacks of vomit or other unattractive bodily fluids. And if the fluid can’t be featured in a cocktail, not much of a chance I’m interested," I boldly stand aside while nudging the child toward Mama-but gently lest he spring a leak and begin to ooze startburst jellybeans (sans pink) all over a newly swept floor.

Hmmm…cocktails sound yummy
Because I’m your Tia and that’s another word for "Let’s make some cocktails!" And when Mama’s not looking, you may or may not get to do a little partaking. Not to shabby, eh? My sister/your Mama may pretend to be mortified, but you don’t find her putting up much of a defense to my argument that the family car trip appropriately punctuated with liquor goes quite a bit quicker. (not for the driver of course)

Being a Tia is certainly not being a Mom, but it’s not too shabby. The boys are still young enough to bond with me over a beautifully hand-crafted pair of black patent leather 4 inch high heels and the girls—well all I gotta do on that is bring out the lip gloss or something “diamond-y” and we’re good to go. (dont' think a 3 month old can't appreciate a high quality gloss) They love me even though they don’t really have to and I’ll continue to reward their love by pinching their bottoms, hanging them upsidedown by their feet, kissing their bare tummies, racing them down the street and telling them I win (none of this over-inflated self-esteem crap), and telling them they’re the cutest children I’ve ever seen --- really.

He's Everywhere...

How is it possible for a two-year-old to be everywhere all at once? I swear Camden has super-human abilities and that someday I will find out he has an alter-ego capable of making messes in every room simultaneously --- and that I wasn't just imagining things. It's pretty sad when daddy arrives home from a long day at work and instead of asking me how my day was, all he has to do is look around at the house and quickly assess how exactly the past 8+ hours have been.

There are good days ---and then there are bad days. Days when I think I have mastered the art of keeping my kids so incredibly occupied that they have little time to even think about touching anything around the house, and then days where I find myself still in my pajamas at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, not due to laziness mind you, but because when my feet hit the floor earlier that morning I was already half a day behind in the mess-making department and well, you just never recover from that type of handicap in the land of mothering. (when was the last time you wrote an 92-word sentence trying to capture the essense of mothering a two-year-old? yeah, I thought so --- oh, and i dare you to go back and count just to double check!)

Anyway, a wise woman (my mom!) once said, "It's not that your kids are bad or hard to control or anything like that, it's just that they are CONSTANT." I knew when she said it exactly what she meant... constantly moving, constantly testing the boundaries, constantly hungry, constantly into everything ---constant, constant, constant. You know what being the mom of a two-year-old has taught me? Domestic Engineers like myself should have unionized all those year's ago ---we get no coffee breaks, no lunch breaks, practically no potty breaks (unless you count having 2 or 3 kiddos in the lieu with you as you hurry to pee before someone gets into something they shouldn't a real potty break!), no vacations (need I say more?), no holidays, oh, and my favorite --- no paycheck. What other profession puts up with these working conditions?!? We missed out on the union ladies.

Instead of union benefits, I get the following:

- at least 50 hugs, "i love you's" and kisses per day (not many from Cammy, but I'm not bitter, no,really!)

- told "Mommy, you're so pretty!" on days that if Cade really knew what the world considers "beauty" the word pretty wouldn't have even made it in his sentence!

- smiled at by Chloe, just for showing up --- just because I'm the mommy!

So, I guess afterall what I do have is a pretty good deal ---if I can just make it long enough to look back on these days and savor the memories! I get stopped in the grocery store at least once a week (do I really look that pathetic and worn out?!?) by someone with kids older than mine and they always say the same thing, "Cherish these times, you will miss them---someday!" Here's to figuring out how cherish these years ---not only 'someday'---but also now, smack dab in the middle of them!