Freaky, Freaky, Caption, Caption, Contest, Contest… …

Under comments post what you would give photo #1 as a caption and photo #2 as a caption.   I will sit back and enjoy (he he he) and on Monday I will choose my favorite and put a trackback to your blog.

Here are two of my older posts that make me laugh and they may make you too!

March 10 “Make sure mom is REALLY dead before we dig the hole!”

March 2 “Forgot to tell them to keep their heads out of the toilet.”

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I want to give people a place to go that makes you smile, laugh, think, love, cry or cry laughing.  A place to go after you have read the news on your mobile and now you need a story you can relate to because we are all part of some kind of family.  I am so honored you stopped by and I am looking forward to sharing more of our family stories!   Mostly I am just trying to document why I deserve a trip to the nutt house for a week to a spa. Have a great weekend and may you have happy chaos that shakes you alive.

How to Hatch a Robin’s Egg in Your Night Stand

Some mothers don’t have to do a daily morning safety check throughout their home. Some moms have daughters or kids that look like Harry Potter and sit and read books all day. I have three boys that I will have to eventually write a book about or someone will write a book about me once one of their experiments goes awry and I am blown to bits. My mornings consists of mad chaos while I cook and pack lunches and play drill sergeant.


While wrangling three boys our patient dog stares me down to say, “Feed me!” and “Let me out!” and my husband yells, “Abbie, did you pack me a lunch?” and “Stop yelling yelling at the kids so much!” and “Boys, stop beating each other with pool noodles at the kitchen table!”

You would think that after dropping them off at school I would sit in silence and drink my coffee.

Not in our house. I have to be sure that our house will still be standing when Jim comes home from work and I am still alive when everyone starts screaming, “When is dinner!” Mother’s of all boys also know boys are born with two stomachs to accommodate the Hobbits meal plan.

I walk through our home and look for signs of mayhem or hopefully pre-mayhem to nip in the bud. The house was looking pretty good other than the odd light that they left on. Toilets were flushed. Faucets were all the way off.

I was walking past our first grader Peter’s bedroom when I saw this…

Why would his nightstand drawer be glowing?

Here is where I do that walk that all mothers of little boys do. I walked with eyes squinted, holding my breath and thinking about the exit strategy to get whatever it is quickly out of the house and thinking about how many more days until the garbage man comes.

I open the drawer and find a Robin’s egg wrapped in a towel and with a reading lamp on and inside as well.

Oh, my sweet little Peter.

I had found the egg while out gardening. It was completely intact and I called him over to show him. I explained that it had been out of the nest long enough that it would no longer hatch and that if it gets broken chances are it will be rotten and stink.

“But isn’t it beautiful!” I said.

When he asked if the mothers was sad I told him I was sure she had already laid another egg and these things happen when eggs are up in trees.

I kept on gardening.

A little while later he came outside and asked how long you would have to sit on the egg to make it hatch.

I patiently told him that if he sat on the egg it would break because he is not a bird and reminded him that it was old and would never hatch.

Then he came out and asked how warm it would have to be to hatch.

I told him, “So help me Peter if you put that egg in my microwave!!!!”

He snickered, “I am sure. Like I would do that. That would cook it.”

I thought that was the end of it.

Until I found the night stand incubator.

When he came home from school I told him I found his little experiment and while it was very smart and sweet I told him he is lucky he didn’t burn the house down.

His reply (said with a minor head shake and slow blink that all little boys do to their mothers), “That is why I used an LED cool lamp. I am sure, like I would use a regular bulb. That would catch on fire.”

I know far too much about rotten eggs. Read my post, “Exploding eggs and nakedness” and follow for more stories.

Please do not try to incubate an egg this way. That would be dangerous. 😉

Thanks for letting me share and I hope you are “following” our stories,

-Abbie, All that makes you smile, laugh, think, love, cry or cry laughing.

I may be on the “No Chaperone” list after this field trip.

This is the ridiculous story of how I may be banned forever from chaperoning any field trip at school again. It is the story of how when faced with someone’s probable MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT OF THEIIR LIFE I am standing with someone else’s son trying to determine whether to tuck her boobies back in or RUN...

This little corner of the Renaissance festival looked like an Ewok village from Star Wars. There were old-fashioned street vendor carts selling things scattered around. Some were open like the one in the above picture and some were closed like an old-fashioned wagon. This one in particular looked like the fortune-teller’s wagon in the Wizard of Oz. It had a little metal side porch for the person inside to get in and out. It had been raining fiercely and it was letting up. There was a woman who sold perfume in the porched wagon and had peeked her head out the window to see if it was safe to come outside. She then decided to step out onto the metal stoop of the wagon and held her hands to the sky, palms up to determine whether to venture out further.

Renaissance festivals are bawdy by nature and the costumes are made for every size and shape. It is a very “one size fits all” costume assortment. This woman was dressed like a peasant in a long brown dress with a large elastic boat neck and elastic waist. This woman was on the larger end, (I have to say it now so you understand later) she was at the largest end of the peasant dress spectrum. While this boy and I were bee lining it to the porta-potties we were also walking directly towards the bottom of the wagon stoop steps as the peasant lady decides to venture off the wagon and takes one step down and the back of her dress catches on the metal stoop.

The back of her dress catches but she continues the downward momentum but her center of gravity shifts and she is now going face down, feet up SPLAT into a mud puddle…but her dress stayed on the top of the porch. Well, most of it did. The neck was around her ankles. and she was face down in soppy, soft mud.

Do none of the people who work these festivals believe in bras? Is this the hidden underworld of the traveling renaissance people? Is the “Renaissance World” not about history but about women who don’t believe in wearing undergarments?!

I am standing there. This woman is laying there with one boobie off to the side and pointing straight at us and the other boobie is pointing down towards her feet and she lifts her head and spits out the mouthful of mud, (with the same shocked expression and manerism as if socked by a pie in the face) and I just realized this boy I am chaperoning is going home and telling his mom and dad that. “Mrs. ______ and I were alone at the field trip and we saw a naked woman.”

I am frozen. The boy is frozen. We are both frozen with eyebrows raised and eyeballs hanging out. Do I reach down and tuck her boobie that is closest to us under her? Or the other boobie that is further away? Do I lift her up and let her boobies hang where they are supposed to be for all to see? Her head is at our feet and she is looking at me.

I then realize this boy is now going home and telling his parents, “Mrs. ______ and I were alone at the field trip and we saw a naked woman and Mrs. _____ touched her boobies. I turn my head and look at this boy just as strangers began throwing their rain coats on the poor woman. Thank God. He and I walked briskly forward to the bathrooms not saying a word.

I failed. I am the girl who if there is a possibility to get a curling iron stuck in your hair it will stick in mine. Like stick “Lucille Ball style” on the top to your scalp and you don’t have to hold it because it is holding onto the roots and is perky like a cartoon curling iron.

Like a cartoon curling iron hidden under a towel turban until you unveil it to the hairdresser for help. Like so embarrassing you have to send flowers to the salon the next day as bribery hoping they forget your name.

Here is a naked peasant woman with boobies trying to run away from each other and I froze. Perhaps when I have to answer for this God will understand. Perhaps there is a “pass” for “curling iron girl” or “exploding egg girl”. For now I will have a moment of silence for “Peasant Woman” and say a thank you for the people who did come to her aid. I bet they never had rotten eggs explode on them and get stripped naked and hosed off in the front yard. I bet they never had to bribe a hair salon.

First half of this story from the day before

Chaperoning boys school field trip and the unthinkable… (

The exploding egg story

Exploding Eggs and Nakedness…Typical Sunday with Family

The $hit my kid says is better than your dad’s $hit

“Old soul” is so over used.  Peter is more like a crotchety, disgruntled old man stuck in the body of a seven year old.  You all know the guy that became famous for sharing “Shit my dad says“, well his dad should know better!  When your young child starts saying this stuff you begin to believe in reincarnation, of Archie Bunker
I am sharing with you today some of the $hit Peter says…
When Peter was five years-old Jim was trying to wake up the boys early for breakfast.  He only had success with the older boys.  He lifted Peter’s blanket and said, “Time to get up!” Peter’s reply, “I keep trying to open my eyes but they keep closing. Can you just bring my coffee to bed?
“You have to try my coffee this morning it is so good!”  I tried it, it was good…it should have been it had about a cup of creamer and a pound of sugar! When did he start pouring himself a cup of coffee and who told him he could?  He was five.
Peter instructed me that I was not to cheer him on during his first swim meet.   He told me I I was not to yell, “Go Peter! Kick, kick, kick, Good job!…” He said, “That is for BABIES!” I asked him what I may yell. He said, “ONLY ONCE you may say quietly in a Darth Vader voice, Go Peter”.  I looked so weird.
“I’m drunk on chocolate milk mom!!!!!!
And the next step is a bar fight!!!!!”
“Oh no! You gotta be kidding me!” I inquire as to what his dismay is about and his reply…
“Yesterday at tennis camp a kid had on this exact same shirt you laid out for me, (cute tennis rackets embroidered on it) and the other kids were whispering what a nerdy shirt it was and I was like yeah he looks like a super NERD, and now I have to wear the same shirt!”  I explained many lessons including Karma.

When Peter started kindergarten I asked him how school was going.  Elliott, “Horrible. My assistant teacher is so mean!”

Me, “What is her name again?”

Peter, “Ms. No.

Me, “Ms. Snow?”

Peter, “No! Ms. N-O! Like she says NO to everything! 

About a week later he came home from school and said, “Ms. No quit. I asked if she got fired but my teacher said she just quit.” Thank goodness we had a curriculum meeting that night. I asked his teacher if it was true she no longer had an assistant. She confirmed that Peter was correct.

Our kids have traveled enough to be accustomed to walking through a metal detector. What struck them all funny while entering a pro basketball arena is that were using the wand to manually scan people. Peter stood in line for a long time completely fascinated watching people step up and put their arms out and legs out while the gal went all around them. He asked if they were going to do it to the kids as well. He asked what exactly they were looking for and he asked LOUDLY, “What are you going to do with your pocket knife mom?!” I felt it best to ignore him like he was just some crazy kid. He showed me. He waited until the mob of people were even closer to the security person and said again, “Whaaaatttt are you going to do with your pocket knife MOM?” It’s always a good day when it ends without my kids getting me arrested.

He came home from first grade with the above picture.  I spent FOREVER trying to figure it out so he wouldn’t be insulted.  A mom having multiple babies perhaps?  I finally asked and wished I hadn’t.

His reply, “Oh. that’s Fat Bastard from Austin Powers and he’s all like…GET IN MY BELLY!  That is the guy being sucked in his stomach.”  For the record my darling husband let him and his older brothers watch a couple of scenes from the movie, when I wasn’t around, I found out.


Peter doing his kindergarten homework, “This is just ridiculous homework. She wants me to count our windows and doors. I’m only counting the doors that go outside.” He writes 8 for doors. Then I look down and ask him what he wrote in the space for windows, as I’m confused . Elliott, “I just wrote the symbol for infinity because this homework is dumb and I’m not walking around counting windows! Like I can’t count. I’m sure!”


Pulled over to fill up with gas on our way home to NC and Peter proclaims, “Free air! Why would anyone pay for air? It’s everywhere! It’s even in your butt!”

He said he was going outside to play


The kids had a random day off from school so I dragged Peter with me to run some errands. While at the mall and after telling poor Peter this was the last store, “I promise!” We were at the checkout counter when Peter did the thing I do to the kids when I mean business. Peter standing to my side said, “Mom” (to get me to look at his face) then he says, “Mom, I need you to walk back out of this store and through the mall with your eyes closed. Do you understand? No more looking…eyes closed.” (said out of the top of his eyes with a tortured look of Lurch from the Adams family.)


This is what everyone with kids below age five think of their kids


This is what happens when they turn five and have two big brothers.
“Mom, since I cannot tell if my hermit crab is a boy or a girl…can I name it uniSEX? (said with the sex in a low slow whisper and a coy look on his face) You know, like a bathroom and not like a bad word.”


When the second year of swim season was about to begin I asked Peter if he wanted to be on the swim team again.  His reply, “No, and if you make me I will break my own arm so I can’t swim.
Jim’s mom was here visiting. I am pretty sure I’m going to win “Mother of the Year” after this one…Peter, as most people know, prefers his hair on the “longer” side. It is currently on the longest of the longer sides right now. Jim’s mom asks him if he wants to got get a haircut. Peter’s reply was that he likes his hair like this and that he is not losing “that” twenty bucks. Jim’s mom confused asks him what he is talking about and he says, “two of my buddies and I have a bet who is going to get a haircut first and Will already got his cut now it’s just Andy and I left.” I was speechless and yet supportive of his endeavor and also certain none of them have thought about where the 20 bucks was coming from. 


The teacher has him write down his favorite dish that is made at home and has him write down how to make it. Then the teacher has the parents submit the actual recipe. What recipe does Peter come home requesting? Beef loin with shallots and rosemary.


 Peter’s perfect Saturday morning…Star Wars computer game..rockin the head phones, in his underwear, at his big brothers desk. You cannot keep clothes on him! He would live on Hot Tamales…he is so strange!
Peter woke up recently chuckling. I asked him what was so funny that early in the morning. He replied, “Oh, I dreamt about tasing the Tooth Fairy. She was all sneaking and taking my tooth and I was like…my mom emailed you to leave it and the money! Then I taser her! It was so funny when she was like ahhhhh!”
He really is a sweet boy and will grow into, were hoping, a funny old man.  Read about our other two boys on the “Us” tab.  Follow my blog if you enjoy hearing about real kids who aren’t crafting all day and are in a Harry Potter book club and are usually barefoot in a creek with a golf club.  That is us.

Forgot to tell them to keep their heads out of the toilet.

While my husband was in residency we had the twins in a preschool program that was run through the public schools. The school system had many requirements that included the children being “bathroom independent”. This means they require no assistance in the restroom.

I walked in the classroom one day to pick up the boys when the teachers suggested that all of the parents of boys to take the boys home and put them right in the bath. The teacher was smiling and could barely say it without laughing. I waited until all the other parents left the room, (my morbid curiosity as both my boys were wet) and approached the teachers. I said something like, “OK, I know mine were part of whatever went down today. What exactly happened?”
The teachers suddenly had a confused look on their faces and one said, “Well, I was in the hall waiting for the boys to finish their bathroom break and they were taking a little longer than usual. I decided it was getting way too loud in there so I opened the boys bathroom and…I don’t understand why…I mean they were laughing and…ALL OF THE BOYS WERE STICKING THEIR HEADS IN THE URINALS AND FLICKING THEIR HAIR AT EACH OTHER AND LAUGHING!”

Whhhhaaaaattttttt????? Then suddenly I figured out what would make them do this and I knew that mine had started it. The night before, to keep them busy, I put a couple inches of water in the bath and dyed it BLUE and gave them toy sailboats and they were pushing them around. I told them we were playing “ocean”.  I was busy changing sheets when I heard them getting loud and when I walked into our bathroom they were leaning over the side of the bathtub and were dipping their hair in the blue “ocean” water (the color of blue urinal thingys) and flicking it at each other and laughing like fraternity boys half way through a keg.
So mine were to blame and since it was pretty funny and since I never really got along with “teachers” 😉 I said, “oh, that’s my fault. Whenever one of them has an accident in their pants I dunk their head in the toilet to teach them a lesson.” And then I walked away. What are they thinking leaving a bathroom full of boys unattended?!