Ass Biting -- It's Not Funny! OK, It is...

The quickest way for a mother to get her kids' attention is to sit down and look comfortable. It seems that every time I sit down to relax, they have an issue...
"Mommy, I'm thirsty", "Mommy, I want a snack", "Mommy, I have to go potty", "Mommy, my brother bit my butt!".
WHAT?!? Did he just say his brother bit his butt?!? BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!!! LMFAO. Oh wait, that's not funny.... YES IT IS!!!

Now W1 is sobbing and distraught because he is in terrible ass-pain and his mommy is laughing at him. *stop laughing, stop laughing*
Trying to compose myself I manage to have this conversation with my oldest son:

"What's wrong baby?" *snicker snicker*
"Brother *sob* bit me *sob* on the butt!"
BWAHAHAHA!
*hysterical child* "STOP LAUGHING!"
*OK, it's not funny..stop laughing*
"Mommy, why are you laughing at me?"
*stop laughing, stop laughing* "I'm not laughing at YOU, Baby" *giggle*
"Mommy, you're SO MEAN! Stop laughing!" *runs away crying*
"Come back here, Baby, let me see your boo-boo".

I unveil his bum and *Holy Crap* his brother bit him HARD! The little vampire child almost broke his brother's skin! Poor baby. He is really hurt and I'm laughing at him. *worst mother of the year award right here* So, to make myself feel better, I put the vampire child in time-out for biting and post this on my facebook:

W1 just ran up to me crying, "Mommy! Mommy! Brother bit my butt!". Then he got pissed at me for laughing. I feel kind of bad now because I looked at his butt and his brother bit him HARD! It almost broke the skin. I hope I never have to explain why he has a bruise in the shape of teeth marks on his butt. SMH.

W1 is feeling better now that he got some sympathy from mommy and returns to his room to play. Now the big question is: why did W2 bite his brother's butt??? And, was I totally mean for laughing?


© 2010 CJH

BC is my new BFF

For someone who never intended on having kids, I am truly blessed to have spawned three beautiful boys. There are many reasons why I have decided to stop reproducing, but today *reason #421* probably takes the cake.
As a mommy of boys *AKA demon spawn*, I am somewhat accustomed to *adapted to existing condition; being in the habit or custom* being assaulted pretty much on a daily basis *hourly*. Today's assault sent me over the edge of "maybe I'll have one more" to "F@ck No! I'm never having kids again"!
Let me elaborate... Driving home from picking up W1 and his carpool buddy from school *against my better judgment* I decided that the nice thing to do as a carpool mom would be to swing through the Mickey D's drive-thru and treat the boys to lunch.
I should have known better than to hand food over to four boys in a moving vehicle, but I wanted W1's carpool buddy to be able to eat his 59 cent cheeseburger before we got home.
As I pull up to the drive-thru, I ask each boy what he would like, a hamburger or cheeseburger. They all agreed on cheeseburgers, so cheeseburgers it was.
After picking up the order, I hand cheeseburgers to each boy. W1 and his buddy are content and eat their cheeseburgers in a polite and clean way. W2 and W3 are not as content, but still unwrap their burgers and start to nibble away.
I am halfway home thinking that I just may make it home in peace when it happens... I hear an ear piercing shriek come from W2 along with a sobbing, "I don't want a cheeseburger, I want a haaaaambuuuurger!" Of course I respond with the "You chose a cheeseburger, it's cheeseburger or nothing." At this point, W3 *the baby*decides that he doesn't like pickles and *SPLAT* a pickle get tossed to the front of the vehicle. Ummmm....NO! Throwing is NOT okay! "Don't throw!" I tell the baby. He responds with a giggle and some food spitting. *gag* At this moment I decide that ignoring the behavior is the best way not to encourage anymore food throwing or spitting from the baby. *Oh man, I was wrong* I'm racking the improv parenting manual in my brain for how to deal with the cheeseburger/hamburger issue with W2. I decide on good ol' reverse psychology which *surprisingly* works with W2. *sucker* "No, you can't have that cheeseburger." I fib. "But I want it!" responds W2. Yes! It worked. Again. *I wonder how long I can play this game* I think I have won this battle.
Victoriously I whip the truck into the driveway, when *SMACK!* I get hit in the face with a cheeseburger! What! Oh F@ck no! That brat child did not just throw his cheeseburger at my head! I am pissed. *Stay calm. Stay calm.* I turn to address the inappropriate behavior when *SMACK!* I get hit in the face by yet another cheeseburger! Apparently the baby thought that it would be funny to throw his too. "That is not OK!" I yell with ketchup and minced onions dripping off my face. I am so pissed at this moment that I do not know whether to laugh or cry. I evacuate the vehicle of all children and proceed to send my hubby this text message:

"I'M F'N PISSED! I JUST GOT HIT IN THE FACE BY 2 CHEESEBURGERS. WHAT A WASTE. I AM NEVER BUYING THESE LITTLE ASSHOLES MCDONALDS AGAIN!"


As if getting hit in the face with cheeseburgers wasn't bad enough, the added insult to injury is that I have to clean up melted cheese, mustard, ketchup and minced onions from all over the inside of my vehicle. *UGH*

Here are a few more reasons *just today* that Birth Control is my new BFF:
* Boys do not come with a snooze button.
* Locking your bathroom door does not ensure that the door will not be opened.
* Realizing that I need a plunger in all the bathrooms so I don't have to search for one during potty emergencies.
* Fruit Loops ALL OVER the floor.
* My three-year old biting my five-year old on the butt *blog post to follow*
* Broken changing table.
* A bottle of water being poured into the top of a floor lamp = nearly electrocuted children
* Nap-time negotiations
* Realizing that all this happened and the day is only half-over *FML*

My kids are the reason I wake up each morning, the reason I breathe, and the reason my hair is graying, my house is a mess, and that I'm crazy.


© 2010 CJH