A Lot of Screaming

I refuse to add photos of snakes.

Yesterday morning I awoke around 8 o'clock. I went to the bathroom to get ready for the day. I grabbed my toothbrush and walked out, brushing my teeth, to find my clothes. I went back into the bathroom and began picking up dirty towels to take downstairs to wash. I picked up one towel. And there it was. There it was! There it was!! Just looking at me.

 A SNAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

People, there was a snake in my second floor bathroom (in my bedroom). I freaked the (expletive deleted) out! I screamed bloody murder. I am sure the whole neighborhood heard me. I screamed and covered my ears and closed my eyes and shook my head and screamed some more. Poor Doug jumped out of the bed. "What's the matter?!" THERE IS A SNAKE IN THE BATHROOM!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! THERE IS A SNAKE IN THE BATHROOM!!!!!! Mass hysteria ensued. I cried, I screamed, I cried some more. I felt something crawling on my stomach from within my shirt and clawed at my skin (it was nothing but my crazed brain at work). I saw something crawling out from under the bed (again, nothing but delirious imaginations). I screamed when Doug looked at me and asked for the hamper bag to transport the snake in downstairs. I screamed when he walked by me with the snake bag. I cried some more, and I screamed a few more times. I declared that we were selling the house. "We can't sell? Fine. It has to go up in flames! How can I live like this? What if it had slithered into the boys' room and eaten my children? We have got to move.  We need to move now."

After about 20 minutes of intense manic fits, and Doug continually saying, "Allison, you need to

calm down," I finally calmed down enough to go get the boys out of their beds and take them downstairs.

I was greeted downstairs by my jerk of a cousin, Codar, who laughed and mocked me. When I

"A bat, a snake, what's next? A possum?" Why would
you ask such things, Omie?

asked Doug what he had done with that evil serpent, he said, "I gave it to Cody." I knew then and there that Mr. Nature let that stupid thing live.Why did he not kill it? "Oh, Allison. It was just a little garter snake. It's harmless." (By the way, I just had to google "garter snake" because to me, it always sounds like people are saying, "gardener snake," and I had to confirm the name before I posted. Anyway, I had to see the image of that spawn of satan on my computer screen and it just about sent me into fits again.)

Carol came over a bit later. She also laughed. "You're not very in tune with nature."

Carol is 100% correct. To quote the great philosopher, Kurt Cobain, "Nature is a whore." Nature sucks and so does her evil creatures. I didn't think snakes got in your house when you lived in the city. Criminently! 

People, I hate snakes (more than Indiana Jones hates snakes). I hate them the most when they are in my house. I hate them the mostest when they are in my house, in my bedroom, in my second floor bathroom. How in sam hill did that creature get in there? I am going to stop right there, folks. We are not going to analyze it anymore. It happened and it is over. We must move on and never discuss this topic again. I am going to be ill!

The wild day didn't end there!!!!!!

No, sir. Let me tell you what else happened. I was downstairs watching my beautiful, innocent babies playing on their iPads. Yes, it is true, I hate the iPads, but I am t-minus 5 weeks away from giving birth and do not have as much energy as I usually have, thus, iPad usage has increased over this past week. Anyway, the boys have some very nifty games on those suckers, and you would be amazed at how skillful they already are. Little tech geniuses like their Dad. 

So, they're on the couch playing Endless Alphabet (one of their favorite games) having a good ole time. Then I hear a song/muttering that I do not recognize. I go over and snatch the iPad from Jonas. Guess what he's watching. Two chicks in the shower together. X-rated business, folks. My son's mind is already corrupt. He had used his little precious toddler finger to navigate over to the Netflix app, open up Orange is the New Black, and watch himself some naked ladies. Lord have mercy! Parental controls commence! 

Growing Up Too Fast

They used to be so little!

I've been wanting to write a post lately about what all my boys are up to now that they're 2. This is not that post. Someday, it'll get written. Hopefully, before they're 3. You all know I still haven't started their baby books.

For this post, I want to share 2 stories from my Tuesday at home with the boys. Two stories that show they are growing up way too fast for my liking. 

Jonas (aka Jonasty aka Joe Bear)

This morning Jonas picked out what he

The Bear.

wanted to wear. I was in the living room putting shoes on Julian when he came in carrying a shirt. He handed the shirt to me and said, "Mmmmon!!" Which in Jonas and Julian language translates to Monster Truck. Sure enough he had brought me a Monster Truck tshirt. I took it from him and set it aside, thinking he'd just go on about his business. Nope. He grouched at me and grabbed his shirt, "Mmmmon!!" Then he started tugging at his little pajamas shirt trying to get it off. So, I took off his pajamas and put his Monster Truck tshirt on; he was all smiles.

Julian (aka Cruelian aka Jules)

We went to the park today. The boys always have such a great time being outside and romping around on slides and such. Julian's favorite activity at this particular park (and let's be honest, at every park) is the tube slide. He goes up and down a hundred times. Never gets tired of it. Today, at his slide, their was a cute little girl playing. She was running around and screaming. Whenever the dudes see kids running and screaming, they join right in the hooplah. So, when this little girl popped out at the bottom of the slide and screamed with glee, Julian did the same. She took off to slide again, and he followed. He turned around, looked at me smiling, waved, and said, "Bye. See you." People, I am not kidding. He almost broke my heart.

Julian super coolian.

Prayer Request

People, tonight when you crawl into bed and say your nighttime prayers, think of me and Doug. The terrible 2s (times 2 plus 1 infant on the way) are upon us. Yesterday, I got a sneak peak of what may be in store for our future.

The boys' room is upstairs, so when they wake up, I get them out of their cribs, and they walk downstairs. Used to, I'd carry them, but they've turned into little hoss cats (a biggun, for those of you who do not speak hillbilly) and I can no longer do that. Not to mention, my ever growing belly and my ever lack of grace, are also impediments.

So anyhow, the boys now walk down the stairs by themselves (or more accurately, scoot on their butts). Well, yesterday morning Jonas (as his alter ego JoNASTY) decided that he wanted to be carried. Ladies and gentlemen, a darkness then inhabited my child and the demon cut a shine (translation: threw a fit) the likes of which I had never seen. You should've heard the noises coming out of this kid. I swear it was straight up Regan MacNeil. I wouldn't have been surprised if he would've flipped upside down and spider walked down the stairs. 

He sounded like Lucifer was using him as his vessel, and he looked like he was doing some weird break dancing maneuver on the landing.

He woke up his dad. 

I gave up and went on downstairs with Julian, left that mess with Doug. 

Jules and I were sitting on the floor, playing with cars, drinking milk and eating muffins, watching

The Bear after he had calmed down. Look at that face!

GEORGE! (Curious George), and having a good ole time. In the background, we could hear Jonasty still protesting having to come downstairs on his own; however, he had made it to the second landing. Progress. The ole hateful thing finally made it to the living room where us happy folks were already enjoying our morning. He sniffled a bit, and then crawled into my lap (this is where he tries to make you forget what he just did), looked up at me, and smiled. Rotten kid.

But honestly, what the hell are you supposed to do to stop such outbursts? I don't know other than to pray they stop! 

It's a Girl!

Yeah, yeah, I realize this is old news to most everyone on the planet who knows me, but maybe someone out there in blog world doesn't know that I am having a little girl! She's going to make things interesting around here (cause you know, they're so incredibly dull as is).

Three important things we've already discussed:

• She will come into the world a proud owner of a vintage (circa 1986) University of Kentucky Wildcats cheerleading outfit, once worn by yours truly.
• Doug told me that I had to be the one to give her the talk about her menstrual cycle. Why on earth he thought I would let him deliver that speech, I will never know. "Uh, you see, daughter, once a month some stuff will happen with your girl stuff. I don't want to talk about it, but it happens. I just thought I'd let you know. It's not a big deal, but women act like it is. You know how they are."
• Dacian already feels sorry for future boys who Baby Girl will bring home to meet Dad. The poor boy will first have to be vetted by 2 older brothers. If he is strong enough to withstand that, he will meet Daddy Doug. This classic quote from Cher's Dad in Clueless comes to mind: Anything happens to my daughter, I've got a .45 and a shovel. I doubt anybody will miss you.

I love that I am 22 weeks pregnant and she's already a teenager.

A Morbid Topic

I hate these a-holes.

I've always believed that I would die at the hands of a vehicle. Maybe I crash, maybe some moron crashes into me, either way, the ending will not be good. Or, even worse, and those of you who know me, saw this one coming: I am murdered by some piece of junk some redneck has loaded into the back of his Jed Clampett truck and secured with a shoestring. The shoestring snaps and his scrap-metal flies through my windshield and rips my head off. Immediate death.

And now you see why I hate to drive.

The death car.

Today, I thought I was going to die at the hands of a vehicle. It wasn't being driven by anyone. It was on the steps going down to my bathroom. Yes, this pointy Matchbox Land Rover was sitting on the second step of five just waiting to destroy me. My children must've set this death trap. Here I go, running down the stairs (which is never a good idea), barefoot (also not a good idea), and feel the pierce of doom. I scream a profanity (sorry, children, but you brought it on yourselves) and hold on to the railing for dear life. Luckily, by the grace of God (because we all know I have no grace), I was able to recover and not bust my rump or head. I live! I live!

Target Trip

Because we like to get out and ramble, the boys and I usually take a Target trip once a week. This is probably not good for the bank account, but we always have a fun time. The boys can really put away some popcorn. Anyway, thought I'd share a few fun pictures from today's adventure.

This is how excited and happy they get when you say, "Hey, boys, want to go bye-bye? Come on, we'll get some popcorn and a hotwheels."

Julian in blue, Jonas in green.

The boys will be two on July 19. They are getting big! So big that it is finally time to turn their carseats around to front-facing position. Today was their first ride facing forward. I think they liked it.

Wow! The van has a TV!

Target, I discovered over the weekend (yes, we were just there on Sunday, don't judge), has these nifty buggies that can haul 2 babies at once. Sweet!

Had to get 'em a pack of cars. They don't have any at home, you see.

They are good little travelers.

Waiting until they get home to open their cars, cause they're good dudes.

Tuesdays and Thursdays rule.

210 Days til Christmas

June is just 3 days away and today has been the first time since December that I have listened to Christmas music. I know what you are thinking--WHAT?! I can hardly believe it myself, but it is true. Winter and I did not have a good relationship this year. Winter was a brutal, horrid thing that lingered on for far too long. In protest of Winter the Jerk, I (read: Doug) took down my Christmas tree, snowmen, and all holiday decor uncharacteristically early this year. I thought by leaving them up I was somehow egging Winter on, and it really needed to leave. I mean, do you remember that mess? The 20 below 0 days! Ugh, unbelievable. Anyway, now that it's 70 degrees in the mornings, and I am fairly confident that Winter is actually over, when Old Blue Eyes started crooning, "I'll Be Home for Christmas" this morning, I let that tune run, baby. It was nice. Got my yuletide cheer brewing. I mean, there are only 210 days til Christmas. Plus, this Christmas I'll, ahem, Santa, will have another little one to spoil.

Speaking of my spoiled children, I just want you to know what happens to your purse when you have 2

rotten boys you haul around. Remember when your purse used to hold lipstick (okay, so chapstick is basically the same thing, right?), tampons (eeek, men can't read the T word), breath mints, and your wallet? Well, move over useful junk, make way for the new contents of Mama's purse: hot wheels and chocolate chip mini muffins. Who needs that wallet anyway? With two babies, you never have any money!

I'll leave you with a Dwarf story.

I saw a friend's facebook status this morning and was reminded of this little memory Beetle shared with me a couple weekends ago:
When your uncle was a little boy, he told me, "Mother, when I get older, I am going to marry you." I told him, "Honey, we don't marry our mothers." And he snapped back, "Well, I'll marry Mommaw then. I'm getting me a woman who can cook!"