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Archive for the ‘I Couldn’t Make This Up’ Category

Every great once in a while, the boys have a conversation so outlandish with Ed that it simply must be preserved for posterity on the internet.  This is one such story. :)

Ed had picked the boys up from their last day of school.  On the drive back to the office, they were looking at their little yearbooks and talking about all of their old girlfriends.  Trip’s little girlfriend moved away this year, so Ed asked Trip if he missed her.

Trip said, “Not really.  It’s good to be a bachelor.”

Ed asked,”You don’t miss having a girlfriend?”

Trip replied, “No, I got bossed around a lot.”

Logan then piped up with, “You dummy!  That’s the point of having a girlfriend!”

Ed blames me for the skewed views on relationships.  I’m pretty sure it’s just because he’s evil.

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I’ve tried all manner of diets over the years and now, I’m trying the paleo diet.  It’s working for me and I feel good.  I haven’t made a big deal out of it with Ed or the boys, but it is obvious when I don’t eat some of the same things they eat.  I have told the men in my house about the finer details of my diet and they have run with it!

A couple of weeks ago, we were eating a big weekend breakfast at one of our favorite restaurants and I ordered coffee.  Here’s the thing though:  I don’t like cream in my coffee.  I like milk.  Cream is too thick for me.  So naturally, I asked for milk instead of cream.  My milk versus cream issue has absolutely nothing to do with my current diet, but my guys had to add in a few details for my request.

Ed started, “The milk should be whole milk from a cow that has only eaten organically grown grass.  It should also be a white cow with three large black spots.”

“The cow should be one born only in the month of October and not more than four years old,” said Logan.

Trip couldn’t be left out.  “And the cow should only have lived in Texas or in an adjoining state.”

I just smiled and asked if they could meet all of those requirements.  The server laughed and said, “Of course!”

Last weekend, we ate at the same restaurant.  I ordered an omelet and asked for a couple of things to be left out.  My requests were not unreasonable and the server said it would be easy to accommodate my requests.

Trip piped up first.  “The chicken which laid the eggs should be a white chicken.”

“It should have black spots, but the spots should only be on the chicken’s face,” supplied Ed.

Logan finished, “The chicken needs to have been born in the summer time of the last year.”

Our server was the same one who had heard their routine about the cow a couple of weeks prior and she was giggling at the onset of it.

My omelet was delicious!

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Last week we had tickets to go to the Rangers and Red Sox game.  It’s one of the games I absolutely insist upon every year.  Ed forgot when we had baseball tickets, so he ended up doing an all-day continuing education class less than a mile from the Ballpark at Arlington.  Because of that, I ended up with a long drive ahead of me with a couple of little munchkins in the backseat after working all day.

After driving for a full fifteen minutes, I was getting a little tired so I decided that I’d get the boys talking.  What better time and way to have a sweet evening with my little cherubs?  The sky was a beautiful shade of blue and the clouds looked like cotton candy in the sky.  To get a sweet conversation started, I asked the boys to tell me what the clouds looked like to them, if they saw any shapes in the sky.

Boy #2 started with his description first.  “I see an elephant.”

Aww!!  My sweet boy!!  He saw an elephant in the clouds!

He wasn’t finished.

“And the elephant has his trunk pointed at a hawk’s butt and the hawk is farting so the elephant can sniff up the fart!”

They both erupted in laughter.  My sweet parenting moment was ruined!

I groaned and they took my groan as an invitation to continue.

“There’s an alien’s head in the sky!”

“There’s a letter T and a bear.  It stands for teddy bear!”

“There’s a dinosaur on your side, Mommy.  It’s just opening it’s mouth.  No, he’s eating the crown of a king!”

“Three horses being shot at the same time by a number 3!”

“I see a Megalodon eating a queen conch!”

What’s a mother of boys to do?  I laughed with them.  It’s not like I was shocked by their imaginations.

Later during the drive, I asked them what they wanted to eat at the game.  Boy #1 spoke up first,  “I’m going to eat garlic flies and a hot cat and a hambooger!”

“That’s a lot of food, boy!” I said.

“Well Mom, I’m a hungry boy!” he replied.  Then he shrieked in disgust, “Eww, Mom!  He ate some of my hair!”

I should’ve expected this.  It’s not like I’ve never met my boys before.

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OMG!!!!!  I’m a published author now!!  I’ve been writing short stories now for a while and I went through a rigorous editing process.   

(Which means that I had my mom and my mother in law read them and then I had my father in law read them because he would tell me if he thought they were crap or not.)

(He said it wasn’t crap!)

So, I got it copyrighted.  I waited on pins and needles waiting for the copyright to come in.  It took FOREVER!!!

(Two and a half months.)

And then I published it on kindle!

It’s called The Consummate Family Betrayal and other stories! Here’s the href=”http://www.amazon.com/Consummate-Family-Betrayal-stories-ebook/dp/B008AKTJJU/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1341763699&sr=8-1&keywords=amanda+richardson” title=”link”>

:)

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I worked my usual shift at the hospital the other night and came home to a husband and children who had not eaten and were in agreement that we needed eggrolls for dinner.  Luckily, such a feast was available at the Chinese buffet, so we hopped into Ed’s Tahoe and he sped down the highway.  It was almost 8:00 in the evening, so it had just gotten dark.  Ed passed a UPS truck on the highway and then exited at the necessary exit.  The UPS truck followed us.  It followed us onto the access road and then down a really dark and quiet road that would eventually take us to the Chinese buffet.  While we were on that road, Logan started talking about the van following us.

  Oh my gosh!  There’s a robber following us.  Dad, here’s the plan:  first, you’re going to pull over.  Then, you and mom are going to pretend that you’re dead.

I turned to look at Ed, trying to hold in the laughter.  “What?” I asked.

 Then Trip and I are going to get out of the car when the robber stops behind us.  Trip, you are going to punch him in the stomach.  When he’s down, I’m going to punch him in the head and make his eyeball pop out.

(I was beaming with pride at my munchkin’s imagination.)

  When it’s safe again, Trip and I will let y’all know that it’s okay and you can stop pretending to be dead.

Me:  Hey Logan, don’t you think that since Daddy is bigger than you guys that maybe we should let him handle all of the bad guys?

Logan:  Dad’s not bigger than we are!  Besides, we are way tougher than he is!

Me:  Oh that’s right!  Dad is on 6’4″ and together, you boys are 8’2″! 

Logan: See Mom,  I told you so!

 

And I am one proud Momma!  One day, he might be selling his bad guy stomping services out to the highest bidders!

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Growing up, Mom would cook breakfast for us every weekend.  Cereal with milk was the norm for the week, but once Saturday rolled around, Mom would break out her Betty Crocker cookbook and open it to the breakfast section.  She didn’t really need the cookbook, but I think she opened it out of habit.  Mom would make pancakes and french toast and lots and lots of bacon.  Her repertoire also included some fantastic cinnamon toast, peanut butter and honey toast and oatmeal.  She would only ever cook one thing for breakfast, but whatever she cooked was bound to be delicious.  And what got me thinking about Mom’s Saturday morning breakfasts?  Well, I’ve been on a cleanse in an attempt to lose the holiday weight I have gained and I get to eat almost nothing.  In my food deprived state, I saw a breakfast tray for a patient in the hospital and it had oatmeal on it and the oatmeal seemed  absolutely decadent.  After drooling over hospital oatmeal (and not stealing a nibble from my patient!), I decided that the next weekend I was off, the boys were going to have hot off the stove oatmeal, made with butter and sugar.

That happened to be today.  I got out of bed at the perfectly reasonable time of 10:30 a.m. because the boys were begging for chicken nuggets and I told them they would be trying oatmeal today.  They moaned and groaned and made faces.  They whined and said they just wanted chicken nuggets.  I told them Oma used to make oatmeal for me with lots of butter and sugar.  Their ears perked up a little after I said sugar and butter, but only slightly.

So we all tromped down the stairs and I turned on cartoons for them and filled a pan with a bit of milk.  I then promptly forgot about the milk as I was getting the oatmeal and got distracted by my phone and the milk may have scorched a little bit.  I added in the oatmeal as the boys started whining again about starving to death.  I told them the oatmeal only had six more hours to cook and that I’d get it right to them.  They may have rolled their eyes at me, but i ignored them.  I stirred and stirred and then added more oatmeal because my concoction didn’t have the right consistency.  After it reached perfection, I divided the oatmeal into three bowls, added butter and sugar and brought breakfast to the table. 

And even I was a bit disappointed and I think I’d have been happier if I had just taken a bite of my patients oatmeal.  I don’t think she would have cared.  The oatmeal was good, it just didn’t live up to my expectations.  And my demon children hated it.  Logan absolutely refused to take a bite until I threatened him with housework.  Trip, who is a people pleaser and doesn’t like to hurt anyone’s feelings, ate as much as he thought was necessary to make me happy.

And Logan stopped after this bite.

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Ed said to me a few months ago that he wanted to start doing yoga and he wondered if a local gym where many of our friends exercised had a yoga program.  He asked around and I asked around and we were each told by quite a few people that the gym did indeed have a yoga class.  And then, we did nothing about it for weeks.  We’re proactive like that.  Gym memberships spontaneously appear in your wallet if you wait long enough.  So in November, the memberships still hadn’t spontaneously appeared in my wallet and Ed was begging me to take care of the membership situation, so I went up to the gym and signed up.  The guy who did the initial paperwork with me was a bit of an ass, but I figured he wouldn’t be in any of the yoga classes so I wouldn’t have to put up with his arrogance very often and I was right.  We attended our first yoga class the very next day.   The Yoga instructor, a blonde, new age-ish kind of girl,  arrived wearing stilettos and a dress.  She thanked everyone for coming, turned on the yoga music, and started us on the difficult Indian Style Sitting Pose while we breathed deeply in and out through our noses.  We were told many times throughout the class to practice each pose with our eyes closed, but it’s really hard to follow in a new yoga class while feeling like an absolute moron with your eyes closed.  You want to look at the instructor as she changes positions.  You want to look at your husband and make sure you are more flexible than he is.  You want to make sure the entire class hasn’t gotten up to encircle you  and point and laugh as you try a new pose.  Or that they haven’t all gotten up to encircle you with machetes.  Or Machine guns.  And how do you really know that a ninja intent on killing you hasn’t slipped down through the ceiling tiles if you have your eyes closed??  So I kept my eyes open the entire time, as did Ed.  And really, if you don’t keep your eyes open, how can you look at your husband’s cute butt?  So it was in this very first yoga class with Ed and the weird, new age music and my open eyes that I first did the Downward Dog.  For those of you who have never done a Downward Dog,  you bend over at the waist and lean forward until you get your hands to the floor, basically making yourself an inverted V.  We stayed in the Downward Dog position for eight of the yoga instructor’s breaths, or about ten minutes.  It was during the Downward Dog that my eyeballs flipped.  Yes, flipped. 

And now it’s time for the physiology portion of this story.  You have neurons, aka nerve cells, in your eyeballs that send any image you see to your brain, but somewhere along the way, the image has to be flipped in order for us to see the image with the right side up.  Researchers who were having quite a bit of fun with some college kids put their subjects in special goggles that flipped the image they were seeing and then waited for the subjects brains to flip the image right side up again.  Once they removed the goggles, the subjects had to wait a certain amount of time before their brains were able to flip the image again.  I think every student in an Anatomy and Physiology class has heard of this study and probably never actually read the case study and such is the case with me.

Now, back to the cool part of my story.  There I was in the Downward Dog position, eyes open, trying in vain to breath deeply in and out through my nose, giving up and breathing deeply through my mouth, watching the instructor as she told us to inhale deeply about every seventy seconds, watching Ed’s backside and checking his form when I realized that my arms and legs looked like they were connected firmly to the ceiling.  I watched my trembling arms and thought that I could just straighten out my legs   and stand where I was.  The whole experience was a bit surreal.  I looked forwards and backwards just to make sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing and sure enough, the floor had changed to my ceiling.  And then, too much blood finally rushed to my head and I got dizzy and the trembling in my arms reached its limit and I had to pull out of the pose and went down to all fours.  I was finally able to sit quietly in the class for a few minutes with my eyes closed, but it was only because I needed a break from my upside down world.  My flipped eyeballs (very technical term, I know) flipped back very quickly as they hadn’t been flipped the wrong way for more than a few minutes.

Now that you know you can flip your eyeballs, are you going to try it?

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Children are remarkable in their ability to read people.  They intuitively know who to ask questions.  They know when it is okay to misbehave.  Why do your children act like angels at school only to break down and have a temper tantrum with you?  Because they feel comfortable enough to be themselves with you!  Be grateful when your children know your love is unconditional!  They know with whom they can let their guard down.  And with that little rant, I have a funny little story about my boys for you.

My little munchkins have led a remarkably normal life with no major family events taking place in the 6 1/2 years they’ve been alive.  They also attend school with a bunch of kids who are in stable homes with comfortable incomes.  It sounds idyllic, but really, kids need to see some of the other side of life, just so they know what can happen.  Can a set of divorced parents provide a stable and loving home for their children?  Of course.  Do mine know about it?  Not at all.  Ed and I do show the boys that a marriage takes work, but I don’t think it means much to them yet.  They are however, very observant…

My mother takes the boys at least once a week, either for us to go on a date or because Ed and I are both working late.  When Oma picks them up, she likes to take them to IHOP.  She insists they share a salad and eat some vegetables and then they share a dessert and everyone ends the evening happy.  Depending on how hungry everyone is and how much day light is left, there is also a trip to a local park, either before or after their dinner.  Being together so often has created a very strong bond between the three of them and there is a fantastic level of trust that has developed.  So a few weeks ago, Oma took them out to eat and they bombarded her with questions.  The first one was “Where is your husband?”  Oma is divorced.  She tried explaining divorce to the boys, but her explanation was not sufficient for them.  The conversation about her marital status apparently lasted all through dinner and they still weren’t happy with her explanations.  The conversation only ended because I picked them up from her house.

The funniest thing to me was that they never asked me one question about Oma’s husband (or my father).  Not before or after their conversation with Oma.  Divorce is not a topic we’ve refused to talk about with the boys.  It just had never come up. 

Munchkins are amazingly observant and every once in a while, they will absolutely knock your socks off.

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The boys have always had the ability to embarrass me in public with the things they say, but as they’ve gotten older, they have learned that some things are not appropriate to say in public.  “Mommy, why is that woman/man/person/alien so fat?” was  one of their favorites.  “Mommy, is that person from (insert any country in the world)?” was another.  My favorite answer to the last one is, “That person sounds like they’re from Dallas.”  But the boys have gotten older and they now know to whisper such questions in my ear.  I know I am not alone in the inappropriate questions asked in public by my children and it is with great relish that I retell a story I was told about one of my girlfriend’s kids just yesterday.

My friend had gone out to eat at a local restaurant with her kids and another adult and her child.  My friend was ordering at the register and everyone else was sitting at the table by the door.  My friend’s son, “John,”  has a propensity to talk to everyone and everyone and he was doing  just that.  He’s a 4 year old bundle of energy and speaks very, very clearly.  As one couple is leaving the restaurant, “John” says, “Hey dude, I saw you here last week, but weren’t you with a different woman?”

My friend was mortified and her friend was red with embarrassment and as she told me this story, I thought to myself, It’s good to have 6 year olds!

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 To properly tell the story of our Easter weekend, we have to start with the events from last Thursday.  Ed and I had gotten emails from an old family of Ed’s inviting us out to their family’s country house and that some of the family would be out there for Easter celebrations.  Spring has been busy for us in part because of Ed’s acting schedule (I feel so suave saying it like that!) and the boy’s baseball schedule.  Ed and his friend emailed back and forth a few dozen times and originally decided that our best time to come out would be Friday afternoon once the boys got out of school and then we’d have to leave in time for Ed to be ready for his play.  Basically, we would have driven almost two hours to enjoy one hour of time with them, but on Thursday, that looked like our best opportunity.

So Thursday evening, we have just formed these plans.  Baseball practice got cancelled because of rain, so we got to relax a bit as a family before Ed had to go in for his play.  My mother knows how much I dislike being by myself so she came over to visit for a bit Thursday evening after I had put the boys down for bed.  The boys are not deterred by being placed in bed and having the lights turned out, so they get up whenever they want or whenever they hear something interesting.  This usually means that they sleep with every single book that they own.  Thursday night, it meant that they heard their Oma and came down the stairs to see her.  We told Oma about our big plans to go to the country on Friday and, as usual, Oma was full of useful advice.  The immediately told the boys they would have to watch out for snakes because snakes would be swarming all over the ground out in the country, waiting for a tasty morsel of little boy leg.  She also told the boys that all snakes are poisonous and they would die an instant death once they were bitten, because it is a foregone conclusion that they would be bitten.  So in a matter of thirty seconds, my mother had my children terrified.  I yelled, “Mother!”  and she looked at me like I had sprouted horns. 

“What?” she said. “I’m just trying to prepare them for what they’re going to see.”

“Mom, I have been out there plenty of times and have never seen a snake.  They are going to be staying by the house.  Besides, the snakes will be more scared of them and will be staying away from the hustle and bustle of the house.”

“They need to know what they might see though.”

The boys are now terrified and just staring at us, their heads moving back and forth like they are watching a tennis match.  Yes, I realize I’ve changed verb tense and I’m leaving it.  I’ll probably be changing verb tense several dozen times as I don’t like being constrained.

“Preparing them for what they might see is one thing.  Telling them they are going to die from a poisonous snake bite is another thing entirely!”

My mother started laughing so hard she had tears rolling down her cheeks.

I told the boys to go back to bed before their grandmother scared them with any more fabrications and they started up the stairs.  As they reached the bottom of the stairs, my mother yelled out, “You’ve got to watch out for the coyotes too!”

“Mother!”  I yelled.  It was pointless because they were terrified and she was rendered speechless because of her laughter.  The boys went to sleep and she left shortly after that.  The first thing they asked when they woke up was about the snakes and their poisonous nature and whether or not they were going to be bitten.  The questions stopped quickly though because I dropped the boys off at school and just hoped they would forget about the snakes. 

I picked the boys up from school at 3:00 that afternoon and we met Ed at the house to go out to the farm, but there were ominous clouds filling the sky.  Ed called his friend to ask about the weather in the country.  We decided to put off the visit until Saturday afternoon after the boys baseball game.  So the boys and I spent an uneventful evening at home Friday while Ed went to his second to last performance for the community theater.  (I was definitely on the count down for the end of the play.)

Saturday morning, we all got up in time to get the boys to their baseball game (more on the games later) which they “tied.”  I packed a bag of clothes for them and we left town to go to the farm directly after the game ended.  We got out to the farm at 2:30 that afternoon and had a late lunch from the spread they had put out.   The boys were reintroduced to Ed’s friend’s boys.   As little boys often do, they were fast friends and took off to play outside.  Introductions almost seem pointless.  It’s not like the boys are going to talk about anything other than deciding what they’re going to play and if they need rules for the game.

Here’s where the pictures start because the farm is just amazing.  There was a tire swing big enough for all four boys, another swing hanging from a tree (pictured here), a stock pond, baseball equipment, and no traffic so all of the boys were unusually free to roam.  I know I said earlier that the boys would be near the house, but they stayed on the freshly mown part of the yard.  That counts, doesn’t it?  There was always a parent nearby.

 

Trip enjoyed the swing immensely.  I have no idea where the other boys are in this picture.  It’s part of my parenting awesomeness.

Ed took all of the boys on a joy ride and I’m still not sure who had more fun.  They rode up and down the driveway at top speed at least a dozen times.  That’s not something you can usually say without someone else thinking you’re an idiot because who can drive top speed on a driveway.  The “drive way” is about a mile long.  All five of those guys were whooping and hollering.

One of the odd things about little boys who are having fun together is that they often refuse to stand together and pose for pictures.

And then we come to the fun part of my story. 

I had left the boys with Ed, I think.  They were being watched by someone.  An adult.  I promise.  I hope.  Anyway, I went off to walk by myself around the back of the house because the scenery was just gorgeous and we couldn’t have asked for better weather.  I slowly meandered my way about and ended up on the west side of the house.  The master bedroom is on the west side of the house and has French doors leading to a covered porch.  I saw the other boys’ mother just inside the door with her younger son and she gesture frantically at me.  I looked at where she was pointing and realized I was going to have to eat the words I had said to my mother two days prior.  I had even told the other women about my mother scaring my boys with tales of poisonous snakes and they, who had lived there and visited for a couple of decades, agreed that they had not seen any snakes up by the house and that the boys should be fine.  So there on the side porch, mere feet from me, was a huge snake!  I backed away from the snake and whipped out my iPhone to take a picture.  I snapped off one picture before the three 6 year old boys came running around the side of the house to check out the snake.  My  boys are now irritated with me because I didn’t take a video of the snake.  Ed’s friend came quickly behind the boys with an old machete and determined that our snake was a chicken snake and not poisonous.  Because the chicken snake was not poisonous, he was ushered off the porch and quickly made his way under the siding of the house.

And really, I could’ve handled seeing a two or three-foot long snake and not worrying about eating my words with my mother. Three foot garter snake–big deal!  That thing was six feet long!  Someone had to look at the snake closely to make sure it wasn’t poisonous!  And, it was right there on the porch like it owned the damned house! 

You know what really happened?  My mother jinxed us.  She brought the snake out with her portentous prophecy.  I think she did it on purpose.

The raccoon walked up later that evening like he owned the place.  All of the boys watched him for a bit, but he wasn’t quite as entertaining as the snake.

There was much more to this Easter weekend, but I’ve written  a novel at this point and I’ll save the rest for later.  I hope y’all had a Happy Easter!

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