Why Men Should Always Wear Their Wedding Rings

We have been hit with a gnarly virus at my house. I’m feeling extremely uncreative, so thought I’d share this story on why men should always wear their wedding rings:

http://www.abcnews.go.com/GMA/WaterCooler/story?id=3951160&page=1

Dear Mrs. Clause:

I’m writing my letter to you this year
In hopes that you’ll lend a hand.
You too live in a male-dominated household
So my requests you’ll understand.

You must be busy keeping all those elves fed,
Looking for lost hats, and keeping things clean.
Honestly I don’t know how you do it;
I’m guessing lots of caffeine.

If you could find a moment to read my letter
And put these gifts under my tree,
2008 will be a much easier year
Living in a ratio of one to three.

I’m not asking for normal gifts this year,
Not for jewelry, clothes, or shoes.
My requests have a more specific goal -
To cure me of my MDH blues.

I would like bathrooms that are always shiny,
And toilets that clean themselves.
You must be aware of the dribbling pee problem
From cleaning up after all of your elves.

Can you bring me cups, utensils, and dishes
That carry themselves to the sink,
Then wash and put themselves away
While I relax sipping a drink?

I also need rubber walls and floors
And furniture, while you’re at it.
I can hose them all down when they get grimy
And they will be soft when my boys’ heads hit.

And while I’m asking maybe you can send
A chef to cook meals in this amount:
One for Luke, one for Jack, and one for John
Hot dogs and Lunchables don’t count.

I know you’re not a miracle worker
But with your help I wouldn’t have to pay,
Cause living with boys is speeding the process -
Please stop my hair from going gray!

And if you can do that you can stop the wrinkles
That living with all boys induces.
And reduce the aches that I feel in my bones
From the boys’ daily bodily abuses.

And it would be nice if I could enjoy a meal
Without the gross factor ever starting.
I can’t remember the last dinner I had
Minus poop talk, burps and farting.

I know you have empathy being outnumbered too,
Yet your face always has a smile.
So my last request is for a year’s worth of patience
And if not that, send me to a tropical isle.

Star Light, Star Bright

My boys are big on wishes. They love to wish on stars, on coins in the fountain, on eyelashes and whatever other wish superstition they can come up with. And, like most children, they are convinced that their wishes will come true. There's the rub.

Luke wished on a star a couple of nights ago. He said he couldn’t tell me what he wished for or it wouldn’t come true. Which, by the way, I think is the method some parent came up with years ago as a way to keep from being the bad guy because the parent knew that kids can’t keep secrets. As in, “I wished on that star for a pony.” “Well, honey, you told me the wish so now it won’t come true.” And now I won’t have to buy you a pony.

Anyway, back on point, Luke decided he could tell me his wish.

Luke: I wished for a snake.

Me: Oh, that’s nice.

Luke (being the smart boy that he is, he knows that the star will need a little help getting him his snake): “So can I get one.” I hate Jiminy Cricket.

Me: I don’t think so, sweetie.

Luke: Wail, wail, wail, cry, cry, cry.

Me (when wailing subsided): Do you know what snakes eat? They eat mice. And you love mice. You would be really sad if you had to go to the pet store to buy mice only to bring them home and feed them to the snake.

Luke: I don’t want a snake anymore. Whew!

Luke: How about a bird? Ahh, jeez.

Me: Well, birds poop everywhere.

Luke: What about a puppy?

Me: I don’t think Shasta would appreciate that. She’s really old and a puppy will want to play with her and it would make her mad and she wouldn’t like the puppy and wouldn’t like us for bringing a puppy home.

Jack: I know what she feels like.

Me: What do you mean?

Jack: I’m older and Luke’s like a little puppy and sometimes he just bothers me.

Luke: Ruff, ruff.

Jack: Hey, little puppy. (Giggling) Stop trying to lick me little puppy. (Petting Luke on the head) Good little puppy.

Luke: Ruff, ruff. Crisis averted.

Santa’s Jolly Cranky Elf

Take a look at this picture:

I know I’m biased, but I think the boys look pretty darn good. Especially considering that the visit to Santa was a spur of the moment decision while we were at the mall, they were dressed like orphans, and we are currently going for the record for the longest time between haircuts .

So what did the lady dressed like an elf taking the picture of my boys ask me, perfectly seriously and within earshot of Jack?

“Is that the best the older boy can smile?”

Ummmm. Things I wanted to say:

“Where’d they find you? The elf reject store?”

“Oh, goody. Another graduate with a degree in Working-With-Kids-For-Mean-People-That-Don’t-Like-Kids.”

“Well, he’s been really sad since we told him Santa was a sham.”

“Hey older boy. Come over here and kick this lady’s a**.”

What I did say – nothing for fear that if I opened my mouth one of the above, or worse, would escape.

What John said – “I think they look beautiful.” And he was right. Take that, cranky elf lady.

Sunday Inspirations 4

"A mother had a slender, small body, but a large heart - a heart so large that everybody's grief and everybody's joy found welcome in it, and hospitable accommodation."

Mark Twain

Saturday Laughs 4

One summer evening during a violent thunderstorm a mother was tucking her small boy into bed. She was about to turn off the light when he asked with a tremor in his voice, "Mommy, will you sleep with me tonight?" The mother smiled and gave him a reassuring hug. "I can't dear," she said. "I have to sleep in Daddy's room." A long silence was broken at last by his shaking little voice: "The big sissy."