Archive for the ‘funny’ Category

In the almost 5 years I’ve been blogging there is one recurring topic that I can’t quite seem to stay away from.    In case you’re a new reader I’ll share just a few posts with you (HERE, HERE , HERE & HERE)


Most people dislike 4 letter words but me, nope, I like a lot of 4 letter words. … words like Love, Food, Hugs & Beer (and probably too often, just about all of those 4 letter words that are incredibly inappropriate in mixed company – yep, I have a mouth like a sailor!).  It’s generally the 6 letter words that I hate.. words like, crumbs, chores, toilet,  but there is one word that can top them all….the ever-so-dreaded 7 letter word that I quite simply, just despise – LAUNDRY.


I hate every aspect of it.

I hate the piles of dirty laundry in the closet.  The piles of dirty laundry in the bathroom.  The piles of dirty laundry next to the bed.

I hate the sorting.

I hate the process of carrying 6 baskets of dirty laundry to the basement.

I hate dirty towels.

I hate dirty sheets.

(I hate that I’m the only one who recognizes that linens actually need laundering….)

I hate remembering that I have clothes in the dryer before they become a crumbled mess.

I hate the absurd missing sock conundrum (which has apparently extended to actual toddler clothes – since I never seem to get out what I put in)

I hate the countless hours on any given weekend where laundry looms just underneath the surface and permeates just about anything we do.

I hate the weight of the laundry as it pushes down on my shoulders if I should opt to focus on any other activity (besides laundry) during a weekend.

I hate, Hate, HATE folding all the clean laundry.

And, I hate putting all the clean laundry away.  (or leaving it to be put away on the bed only to find that hubby has moved piles of it to the dresser and will live like this for the next 2 weeks – but that’s an entirely different blog post)


But the one thing that I don’t HATE (or at least not in the way I hate everything noted above) is the need to flip inside out laundry to be right side out.  I know this is the nemesis of Mom’s around the world.  And I know that many a woman has instilled a laundry rule… that you get back laundry exactly-the-way you put your laundry into the basket (assuming it makes it into a basket).  And, perhaps, when my toddler becomes a teen, I will be instituting this exact same rule (ok – it’s likely I probably will) BUT, for now.. this has never been a huge deal to me.   If I take a moment to self-analyze I think it’s because I hate the laundry folding process so much already, that there’s virtually no way to make it worse for me.  Inside out – Or right-side-out  folding… they both pretty much suck!  So, while I may grumble under my breath as I flip t-shirts to be right-side-out… I’m grumbling because I’m folding laundry… not because 50% of the load is inside out.


Which makes where I’m headed below highly humorous to me.


2 weeks ago hubby did a load of laundry.  WHAT??  You may be saying……  So, I’ll say it again.  Hubby did a load of laundry.   Trust me when I tell you, I’m more surprised than you are.  It probably only happened because he ran out of underwear.  And, after an interesting recent conversation, about the under-wearing habits of most men… he was probably guilted into doing a load.


Anyhow… after he folded his basket of laundry he decides to take a dig at me.. or, perhaps from his point of view, he decides to “point something out to me”.


Hubby: “Hey hon, do you know that a ton of your shirts were inside out”

Me:  “Uhhh… hmmmm..”

Hubby:  “I just wanted to let you know….”

Me:  “You did….. Huh?”

Hubby:  “Yes.  You know, it makes this task even worse when I have to right-side-out every t-shirt”

Me:  “It does, does it?”  trying to wrack my brain for the last time he did any laundry

Hubby:  “Yes.  Maybe you could take them off right-side-out before you put them into the basket?”

Me:  wondering the last time he even put clothes ‘in the basket’ “You know, most of your t-shirts are usually inside out”

Hubby:  “No they’re not”

Me:   “Hon, I hate to break this to you but you’re mistaken… almost all of your shirts are inside out”

Hubby:  “I’m positive that you’re wrong.   I’ve always been good at taking them off right-side-out.. because my Mom had a rule growing up that if you didn’t she would fold them inside out”

Me:  “ Really…. All your life you’ve been good at making sure they’re not inside out.”

Hubby: “Yep.”


And I just let this conversation die… in the midst of the inaccuracies in which it was becoming increasingly buried.


Last weekend things were “back to normal” and I did laundry.


As I folded the laundry, I counted the total # of hubby’s shirts…. There were 17 in total.


Hubby came inside from doing some yard work.


Me:  “Hey babe… I would never normally do this but……”

Hubby:  “Yeah?”

Me:  “Remember last week when you so graciously pointed out that I didn’t right-side-out my t-shirts?”

Hubby:  “Yes?”

Me: “Remember how you so matter-of-factly told me that you never put inside out t-shirts into the hamper?”

Hubby:  “Yep!”

Me:  “Well, I did laundry today”

Hubby “Ok….”

Me:  “And again, I would never be pointing this out if you hadn’t opened the door to this conversation……”

Hubby:  blank stare

Me:  “Well, I counted your t-shirts… there were 17 of them.”

Hubby:  “Ok”

Me:  “Do you want to know how many were inside out?”

Hubby: “I’m not sure….. Do I?”

Me: “You do.  It was TWELVE of them”

Hubby:  silence………………………..

Me: “I just feel the need to remind you again….. I have done 16,928 loads of your laundry (give or take).  And, I’ve never complained about having to right-side-out your shirts”

Hubby:  more silence……………

Hubby: “ I’m sorry.  I will try to be better”

Me:  “I honestly don’t care…. But I’m sure your Mom would be very disappointed in you.”

Hubby:  “Hmmmmmm”


And there you have it my dear readers……………….I will let you know how the next load of laundry goes!


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Last year I was on a mission.  A mission to find a cool gift for hubby.  A mission to give him a gift that he would tell his friends about.  A mission to buy something that stood out.  While he may have a variety of hobbies, some of which fall pretty far down on my “approval” list (things like his motorcycle –which I despise.  Or his video game interest – which I don’t understand.  Or his obsession with new tvs – which I can’t support for fear we’d have a new tv every 6 months!).  It’s not always easy to find him a gift that he will like, that is unique, and that has some sort of longer term appeal – you know, something beyond an enormous box of cookies (although – I did give him a Cookie of the Month subscription once – which I *think* went over well??).


So, as I scoured the internet and asked around, I found myself… like usual…. coming up with nothing.


Then one day I was feeding my reality tv addiction.  An addiction that hubby despises (probably as much as I despise his motorcycle!).


“Why do you watch this crap?” he asks.

“Because sometimes it’s awesome, mindless entertainment!”  I happily reply.

“But, you have it on all the time….  Who can possibly watch this many house buying/renovating shows?  Who cares about these moronic celeb wannabes, or the failing bar/restaurant, or the cupcake baking, or Donald Trump’s ridiculousness, or the.. – fill in just about any blank- ?”

“Lots of people do.  That’s why there’s so much of this crap on tv!”  I solidly state my case.

“But you’re a smart, successful woman.  How can you possibly be interested in this nonsense??” as he worries about my brain becoming mush – he’s such a caring guy!!

“But see, that’s why I watch it.  I’m under so much pressure all day at work AND I have to actually use my brain all day.  When I watch this garbage – there’s no brain necessary!!”

“But, it’s rotting the brain you have.”  Again, such concern for me (see why I love him??)

“I suppose that might be true – But, even you watch it sometimes!”  touché hubby. touché.

“I only watch it because you have it on….”

“Not true” I snarkily reply

“Ok, tell me what I watch… if you’re so certain.”

Shark Tank




So hubby has to admit.  Even if it’s by silence, that he does, in fact, watch (and enjoy) Shark Tank.


mission beltSo, back to my original story.  I’m watching Shark Tank (wishing and praying that someday, I will come up with an idea that will be marketable and make me some moolah).  And they show this awesome product.  This seemingly nice guy has come up with a belt, called The Mission Belt – a belt without any holes…. It’s friggin genius!  You can wear the belt, like….. FOREVER.   You put on some baby weight (and I’m referring to hubby… not me!) no problem.. just loosen the belt.  You go back to the gym… no problem… just tighten the belt.   You consume too many slices of pizza & beer at dinner… no problem.  No holes, no fuss… the belt is like a magical solution to the ever-changing man belly.   It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen…. And BAM!  I’m like, that’s it!!  Awesome gift for hubby!


So, I run to the internet and buy a belt… (actually I buy 2 belts – one for casual wear and one for dressier occasions – in the dreamy (aka wishful thinking) hopes someday hubby will take me out on the town).


Well, I think I hit the jackpot.  Hubby tries on the belt.


“This is sooooo cool!” he says. 

“Wow, this is awesome!” he says.

“This is the smartest idea I’ve ever seen” he says.

“I will never wear another belt” he says.


And then……


“Why did you buy 2 versions?  I’ll never take this one off.. no need for 2”   And poof, in half a second he crushes all my dreams of a dressy date night.


Ahhhh well, such is the life I live!  My next Mission….. if I chose to accept it, is to get him all dolled up for a date.  The good news is that since the belt is so versatile, I can make it small enough to fit around my own waist and maybe, just maybe, if I dance around in only a belt, I can convince him to put it on himself and take me out??   I’ll have to let you know if this mission is successful (only – I probably won’t blog about that …..so don’t expect a full report!)


So, the long story short is.  These belts are awesome.  We have since purchased one as a gift for almost every male family member.  Hubby still loves his and, while he still despises my penchant for reality tv, he can admit (albeit in a whisper and behind closed doors) that sometime, just sometimes, there’s some good to be had from my “addiction” and *gasp* reality tv


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Hubby is a smart man.  A caring man.  A compassionate man (unless of course you’re driving below the speed limit and making him late for work).  He is a good dad.  An involved dad.  A dumb dad.


Wait……. Did I say dumb?  I guess when you type free-flowing thoughts, sometimes your fingers get ahead of your brain…. OR, sometimes your fingers type the truth –even though your brain is saying geez… that was mean.    Your fingers… as they type (and apparently talk) say “shush brain…. I type truths….. You may not always like how they come out but the truth shall set you free…. (or at least make people laugh in an entertaining blog post).


So, perhaps I should explain why he’s a dumb dad.   It couldn’t be the fact that he watches bloody war movies while our 21 month old plays with his train in the family room in front of the tv.  It couldn’t be that he occasionally slips a naughty word into conversations while the mini-version of himself is within ear shot.  It’s definitely not because he lets our son eat graham crackers on the couch and then NEVER cleans up the crumbs (heck – he himself does this regularly!).  No, it’s none of these reasons.  These things are silly oops moments where hubby’s not necessarily being dumb.. he’s just being forgetful or oblivious or perhaps just being….. A Man.


The dumbness can best be illustrated by this past week.


We (and by we – I mean poor little mini-hubby) were lucky enough to contract Coxsackie this week.  If this specific word means nothing to you…. You may perhaps know this toddler illness better as Hand, Foot & Mouth disease (or if you’re a bit older you may know it simply as Hoof & Mouth disease  -which, I’m sorry – is just a horrible way to refer to a virus).  In case no one remembers what this looks like.. I’ll give you a few highlights.


High Fevers – Also known as 48+ hours of no sleep for Mom & Dad.  As your poor little one tosses and turns and whines and cries and you can’t do anything at all to make it better but hold him, cuddle him and pray for the sun to rise.


Sore Throat – This is a tough one because you don’t immediately realize what’s wrong – and you debate with each other about which tooth is causing such horrible pain as your toddler refuses to even eat yogurt.  You surmise (mistakenly) that the mere chunks of fruit in the yogurt are painful to chew… until you realize that he won’t eat anything at all, no matter how soft it is.  Add to this random outbursts of crying which makes you wonder what the heck could possibly be wrong – and if it would be horribly inappropriate to just buy some ear plugs!?


No Appetite – Mini-hubby can usually be bribed with yogurt to do just about anything.  But now he not only won’t eat yogurt but, no applesauce and not even ice cream.  You wrack your brain to try to come up with something that’s softer than ice cream (btw.. the answer is nothing……………)


Sores in the mouth/throat – You finally get a Dr diagnosis because he has that special knack of getting your toddler to let him look into his mouth – you know the knack of “let me shove this tongue depressor into your mouth no matter how much you scream or writhe (“Hey, Mom – can you please hold his arms so I can get a better look?”).  It’s a knack most parents are lacking as I have yet to even master the “let me get this toothbrush far enough into your mouth so I can brush your molars”  or the “sit still and let mommy see if you have a new tooth coming in” without getting bit or into a wrestling match with a new species better known as squirmy, tight mouthed, non-cooperative toddler.


Blistery, Red Rash (normally on hands & feet)  – Oddly enough, though this seems to be the driving force behind the non-scientific name of this virus.  You may, or may not ever see this rash.  We did, in fact see it, 3 days after the fever and on his knees.  Maybe I should rename the virus as Knobby Knee, Throat virus (which  honestly still sounds way better than Hoof & Mouth).


Now that you know the virus, the symptoms and the fun-filled week we’ve had, here’s the crux of my post.  This is VERY contagious.   I’ll say it again…. VERY contagious.   Hubby knew how contagious this is because he’s a Googler.  You know the type.  He must Google Every. Single. Thing. that we experience with our little guy.  Sometimes this is great and we are WAY informed… sometimes it’s awful because, as you may remember, hubby is an awfulizer and mini-hubby’s normal low-grade illness will sometimes be overblown into a non-existent problem beyond your wildest dreams.  Ahhhhhh…. Such is the life I lead……………..


Anyhow.. it’s contagious.  Oh, wait I said that.  And hubby knew that.  So tell me why……………..


  • He wanted to finish mini-hubby’s uneaten cup of ice cream (with mini-hubby’s spoon). And when I asked him “Why???” He responded.. “well, should I just use a different spoon?”
  • He ate the half gnawed on pieces of leftover graham crackers from mini-hubby’s dish?
  • He binky shared with mini-hubby (which is not abnormal –during illness free times) as he played a cute game with our sick little one to make him smile
  • He took the toy trumpet from our little guy and put it from mini-hubby’s mouth directly into his own, as he tooted the tune of “Mary Had a Little Lamb”


All the while…. I’m washing my hands 500xs a day.   Using hand sanitizer in between hand washing.  Spraying Clorox on every surface.  And, washing and re-washing binkies like there’s no tomorrow.


I’m happy to say… mini-hubby is on the mend.  He’s even back at school today.


Hubby… well, he’s in bed right now with a raging fever, shivering, moaning and whining about how awful he feels.


DUMB?   I don’t know, I’ll let you be the judge.


(and, as I type this…. I do realize that the timing is almost perfect for me to come down with this illness just in time for the weekend………………so I just may eat my words  – but it did make for a good post today!)  :-)

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There are a few life events that can very easily overwhelm you emotionally, in ways you’d never imagined.


If you think I’m about to talk about having babies or celebrating first steps….. you are WAY wrong.  There are far more significant, emotional moments in every-day-life.


Take for instance, the first time after your blissful new marriage to the love of your life, that you stumble into the bathroom in the middle of the night only to plop your little tushy right down into a wet, open toilet.  Yep, those are emotions that you never thought you could have…. Certainly not half asleep as you dry off your ass and consider (if only for a moment) about scooping up a cup of toilet water and throwing it on your adorable, slumbering, new hubby.  But, you stop yourself realizing that if you did toss a cup of toilet water on him… it would be all over the bed where you are also sleeping and that your hubby likely has no concept of how to launder the sheets… Thus, you’d be doing nothing but compromising your own sleep environment and creating more laundry to do the next day.


Or, how about the moment when that very same toilet seat is down, but loose, and you go to sit only to realize you’re sitting with too much force (or you shouldn’t have eaten that extra bowl of ice cream last night) and you slide sideways across the toilet and you’re no longer properly aligned, but you’ve had a baby (and obviously not done enough kegels!), and you’ve held it as long as you possibly could but now you’re peeing sideways and there’s nothing you can do about it.  Now you’re pissed, as you’re pissing and you’re probably wondering how a toilet seat (that never gets put down enough) could be that loose……


Or, maybe you’ve cleaned yourself up, inspected the screws and realized that although you almost fell into the bowl, all you need is a screw driver to tighten the seat and all will be ok with the world again.   So you head downstairs to the place where you keep the screw drivers.  Only to realize that the “screw driver spot” is missing said screw driver.  Now, as you screw up your face and try to contain yourself, as you mutter bad words under your breath, you look around and wonder where on earth the screw drive might be.  You think back to the last time you used it.   You know you put it back.  Then you remember the last time you nagged hubby into using it.   You acknowledge, that he has an inability to ever put anything back…. It’s probably one of the biggest reasons he can never find anything.   You feel those emotions start to bubble up…. You think about the last project he did.  You think about how many times you had to ask him to do it.  You think about your wet tushy in the middle of the night.  The loose toilet seat.  The missing screw driver.  You’re overwhelmed with emotion.  You fantasize about finding the screw driver and stabbing your hubby with it as you push his head into the toilet.  (Oh wait… did I take that too far……………..) 


You take a deep breath and remember that hubby last used the screw driver upstairs.  You go upstairs and open the closet.  You know the closet…. the one filled with clothes and suits and purses and  hats… and oh yeah, a variety of lost tools.  You find the screw driver.  And, oh by the way… the drill, a hammer, a ball point pen and a level.   You shake your head.   You mumble more curse words.   You look around and realize you’re by yourself mumbling out loud.  You pick up the screw driver.. go to the bathroom… fix the toilet.


Then, you stand there for a moment.  You wonder what to do next.  Your emotional side says.. put the screw driver into the bed on hubby’s pillow.  Your rational side says… put the screw driver back in the ‘screw driver spot’ downstairs.  You’re frozen for a moment as your emotional inner self debates what to do next.  Then, you realize you have the answer.  You go back to the closet.  Replace the screw driver.  And then you go to the man cave… grab the tv remote, the game console controller and hubby’s favorite beer glass.  As you make your way back upstairs you walk past his sunglasses in the kitchen.. and just for good measure you grab those too.


You head back upstairs, in the most determined, steadfast way you know how.  You open the closet and you place each item neatly next to the hammer, screw driver and the drill.  You smile.  Applesaucy Hubby….. Apple….. Saucy.


(and if that last comment means nothing to you please read an incredibly funny blog post HERE by The Honest Toddler that will explain it to you!)


 ** Disclaimer – Some (or all) of this post may (or may not) be true in the THD household! **


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So, when I sat down yesterday to write this post…. It somehow got derailed as I started to think more about mini hubby than I did about hubby and I wound up with a heartfelt post about being a Mom (if you missed it you can jump directly to it HERE).   If you’ve been reading this blog for longer than like, a minute, you probably know that I’m anything but heartfelt (unless my heart is feeling annoyed and frustrated at hubby) and that warm & fuzzies have no place in my blog!


I can only assume that the hormones that take over your body when you have a baby linger for quite some time.   I’m definitely softer and nicer than I used to be…. But since I have to use this softness, niceness and patience for my mini hubby, it leaves far less softness and pretty much ZERO patience for my hubby.   Ahhhhh… that felt better.  All is right with the world.  As you likely know, after 10 years of marriage – there’s simply no place for softness (unless, it’s coming from being buried under a pile of laundry) and there’s absolutely no place whatsoever for patience.  I used to believe hubby when he said he’d “get to something”.  I used to patiently wait for him to discover the trash can… or the sponge .. or the laundry room.  I used to gently nudge as I emptied my patience tank, while I waited for him to move heavy objects from my kitchen.  But now, I realize that patience has no place in our house.   If it doesn’t happen now… it probably won’t happen.


So…. That has nothing to do with my post today.  But, it sure made me feel better to get it off my chest…. HA!


Anyhoo…. Here’s my REAL Mother’s Day post.


It’s only my 2nd Mother’s Day as a mom.  So, it’s likely hubby still needs a bit of practice.  Either that, or he truly lives in la la land… I’m not sure which….. yet…………..


Here’s my story…  it’s short, so stay with me.


We get a daily email from mini-hubby’s day care at the end of each day.  It includes the normal stuff.. what he ate, how many diaper changes etc. etc.  And, there’s a space for “reminders” so they can tell you to bring more wipes or that picture day is next week, and so on.


Earlier this week this section of the email said “Reminder Fri May 9th is Muffins with Mom.  Join your child for a snack at 3:30pm!”

Hubby was next to me when he read this out loud and he immediately turned to me and said “Wait… What the….. How come it just says moms?  What about Dads?”


And, I stood there, for a moment…. Practicing my patience or maybe I was just waiting for the punchline…..


But, he was serious….. and clueless.   Apparently, incredibly clueless.  He just looked at me.


So I slowly replied…. “Uhm, do you know what this weekend is?” pause…..  waiting for it to sink in  “it’s Mother’s Day”.


“Ohhhh…” he said.


So the next day I’m with a co-worker.  A male co-worker (if I may point this out).  And he asks me “So, you have any big plans for Sunday?”.  And I reply…. “It’s unlikely, my hubby didn’t even realize why day care was hosting an afternoon with only moms!”




This is the life I have chosen.   It’s a damn good thing hubby is cute when he’s clueless.



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Many years ago I posted about some of the unintended consequences of marriage.  I wrote about all the unexpected responsibilities bestowed upon the wife as she (oftentimes) becomes the administrative assistant for hubby;  his chef, his housekeeper, and his personal shopper.  Getting married, from the male side, is a pretty dang good deal.  Because even in marriages where life is “split” evenly, it seems the wife may somehow take on more of these particular tasks as she earns a whole new job description.  It’s a slow process, like with most jobs… extra duties just creep up on you.

When you accept the ring after that romantic proposal, you read the posted job overview and negotiate your best deal with the hubby-to-be.  Then as the years go by, and your world begins to demand more and more with less and less time, you take on a few more tasks.  Then as other employees go on strike –or hubby forgets where the hamper is or burns his last grilled cheese….. you take on a few more tasks.  Before you know it your responsibilities have doubled – you add kids, pets, after-school activities, a bigger house.. and you take on even more tasks.  Then, years later, you wake up one morning and realize you’ve been getting the standard 2% cost of living increase via an extra back rub here and there, or maybe a sparkly piece of jewelry on occasion, and you begin to recognize that you are now doing the job of 3 people.  You are putting in extra hours, doing things you never said you’d do like darning socks (do people do this anymore??) and sending Christmas cards to your hubby’s crazy Aunt Barbara – who you only met once at your wedding….. and, you stop.  You step back.  You wonder… how did I get here?


You think back…… “Hmmmm… I don’t remember the job description mentioning anything about buying new undies for hubby or making sure he changes them every day.”  You sigh “ I don’t recall signing any agreements that said I would be the gift buyer for any and all holidays/birthdays/anniversaries of everyone we know.”  But here you are.  This is your *new* job.  You celebrate the fact that you still have a job.  Many other people you know have been downsized and are no longer “working”.  You still love your job.  You work hard and there are still quite a few perks.  And then you realize, that while your job may have changed,  you’re still your own boss (well – some days………… ) and the daily grind is still rewarding.  And, ultimately, you still love what you do… even though you’re now the designated booger wiper, boo boo kisser, cleaning fairy, buyer of TP and finder of lost things  - even though, these are all things that hubby can do for himself!! J  (and just for the record these all apply LONG before you ever have any kids!!)


So, it’s probably no surprise when I use the above info as a “warning” for all new brides-to-be.   This is just a glimpse into your future.  You may not think so.. you may say… “nope, not me”.   And, at the beginning, you may actually fight the good fight…. and, you may actually win on some occasions.  Or, you may be one of the lucky few who marries an award winning grilled cheese maker.  Or maybe you hit the jackpot and you have a man who just loves to do laundry (do these exist??).  But I can assure you that there will be tasks that you take on without even realizing it.  Because eventually, you will realize you need to pick your battles.  And you will discover that the definition of marriage, is learning how long you’re willing to wait to have a heavy item removed from your kitchen or recognizing how many days can pass before you give up and move the empty soda can from the counter into the trash.   Because remember, nobody ever looked at a married man who is dressed in wrinkled clothes, holey black jeans, white socks and a flannel shirt and said…. “Oh boy, he looks awful”.   Instead they say….. “How could his wife let him out of the house like that??!!”… and *poof* you have instantly become his personal shopper and wardrobe consultant… just one more of your job duties!


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