Sweet Sixteen

In our house, The Wiggles is contraband. Chet figures that there is better shows for the boys to watch, and let's face it - The Wiggles aren't exactly manly.

Yesterday though, Sharks asked if he could take a Wiggles dvd on an upcoming road trip. Chet said no.

Of course Sharks tried to go all lawyer on us:
Mom! I have an idea. Maybe when Pops is at school we can watch The Wiggles!

(I tried my best to nip that in the bud - and explained that even when Pops isn't here we still remember and obey his words. I think he understood because he didn't ask about it anymore that night.)

The next morning at breakfast though, Sharks started chucking to himself and said,

Mom! I thought of something really silly. What if Pops died, and the rest of us were still alive - then could we watch The Wiggles?

(Sharks almost got his wish because Chet and I both just about died of laughter right there in the kitchen.)

After we recovered, Chet told Sharks that when he turns sixteen he can decide for himself whether or not to watch The Wiggles.

So my son is looking forward to being sixteen not because he'll be able to drive, but because it means the freedom to choose...to watch The Wiggles.

And I for one cannot wait for the day when I get to remind him of this moment.

You talk weird

My husband has many gifts but one of them is not doing fake accents. Actually every time he tries I tell him he sounds like a constipated, drunk Irishman whether he's doing an Irish accent or not (you might think that means it sounds legit - but in this case not so much.)

Let me think for a sec about how to describe this to you in all it's glory. Ummm...ok. Here goes. He sounds like he was terribly constipated, then got drunk to forget about the constipation, except he got so drunk he forgot where he was from or what language he was speaking and yet somehow what comes out of his mouth still sounds constipated, with a twist of gibberish - there's his fake accent in a nutshell.

Lest you think I am being mean to the hubs, let me just say that few things in life bring me as much joy as his Irish accent.

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Most of you peeps know that I spent my junior high and high school years in Scotland. I came back with a funky accent, a sort of American-Edinburgh hybrid. My first week back here I overheard some girls talking about me and they were like, "Why does she sound so weird?" Awesome. Every high school girl wants to be told they sound weird.

Like most teenagers, I wanted to be like everyone else and tried my best to get rid of my accent as soon as possible. (Boo to my high school self.) So now, though accent-less myself, I love listening to other people talk.

Which is how Chet and I ended up watching Celtic Thunder infomercials last night (him for tips, me for enjoyment.) So many levels of embarrassing right there that you will only comprehend if you have seen Celtic Thunder yourself. I guarantee that no matter what you watched yesterday, it was less embarrassing than that.

Anyway. Fast forward hours later and we were getting ready for bed when out of the blue Chet bursts into song and sings, "Damn Birdie Show!"

If you are wondering, What's a birdie show and what is so awful about it? then you are thinking the same thing I was.

Turns out he was actually singing, "Down by the shore." Apparently that's a line from a Celtic Thunder song.

Somehow he is convinced that my miscomprehension of what he said means that his accent is good.

Fur pillows are hard to actually sleep on

If you haven't seen this, (originally found here) you should. Josh Groban mocks quite effortlessly, but let's be honest. Kanye was kinda asking for it.

For the record, I would be totally ok with Josh (first name basis, why not?) singing my facebook statuses. I'd particularly like to hear his rendition of: "Still puzzled over how Deeds actually managed to swallow a foot-and-a-half of dental floss..."

Yes. That really did happen. Yes, (sigh) I really did give him dental floss. Now that I think about it, it doesn't seem all that intelligent. But at the time...

I really did not think he would EAT it. That never even crossed my mind. He came to me all proud and said,

MOMMY! I ate it!

You ate what?

The floss!

No, really. (dumbfounded. completely.) Where did you put the floss?

In here! (opens mouth. points inside.)

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That's going to be a treat on the flip side, ifyouknowwhatimean.

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I was going to try to wiggle that fur pillows comment into something on this post, but all that jumps out at me is the (bad) grammar.

Split infinitive, ending with a preposition (apparently Winston Churchill disagrees and I like Churchill so I may have to rethink my position on this). I realize that it was a tweet, but something about hearing it Josh Groban-style raises expectations, you know?

However, fur pillows now sound quite intriguing.

Deedo's Birthday! (last July)

Nope. We don't have three birthdays in a row.

I simply forgot to post about my middle son. Apparently I forgot last year when he turned one too. Poor little guy. At least we didn't forget to celebrate, so that's something.

We were actually visiting Chet's family, so his mom took over the cake decorating and it turned out GREAT! (I actually took her idea and ran with it and made Sharks a basketball cake this year...right now, simple=perfect.)

Shark Attack!!

Today, this little buddy turns four!

Way back before we started law school, a friend said, "When Chet gets finished with school, Sharks is going to be 4!" At the time, looking at my 18 month old baby, I couldn't picture him as a real boy (as opposed to a baby).

But he is. Both a real boy AND a four-year old one at that. With a brand new (to him) shiny red bike to show for it.

We started a tradition this year of Chet taking the birthday boy out to breakfast. So off they went to Steak N Shake for pancakes and milkshakes (Sharks' choice.) Now if that's not the best way to start a birthday, I don't know what is.

I will always have a special place in my heart for this fellow, who ushered me into motherhood.

To In-Finn-ity And Beyond

This fellow is ONE! And we can't believe it.

Remember when we thought we were going to call him Samuel? How confusing of us. (Sorry.)

Happy Birthday, little one! You truly are Finntastic!

I think now is when I am supposed to write down all of the awesome stuff he can do.

So,

The List Of Stuff You Can Do, Darling Finlay:
-Laugh
-Throw your own diapers away in the trash (as well as a bunch of other things we actually need)
-Eat like a champ (In fact, tonight your father said that he thinks you eat more than he does. That might be true, but to be honest I think it says more about your father's eating habits than yours. Carrots and celery do not count as a meal.)
-Dabble in ye olde sign language (please, more, and all done)
-Unravel and eat our last roll of toilet paper. Now that was a bummer.
-Follow your brothers around the house, showing them your love by knocking down everything they build. And they love you for it. Kind of.
-A bunch of other stuff that most 1-year olds can do.

Finn-tin-tin. What a guy.