Another “just because” photo…

… showing a classic example of brotherly love:

Nate seems content. Matt can’t decide if he should keep watching TV, go pee, or deck his big brother… (Note all the bruises & scabs on their legs. Pretty sure they gave those to each other and left blood splotches on the couch.)


It’s all Greek to me

Reflective Thoughts by Amy #2216: Cost of driving both kids all the way downtown through Fort Wayne traffic for fine food at the Greek festival, so that they may both order the “Child’s Hot Dog” with Greek French Fries: $25. The cost of watching them both attempt to dance like Greeks in the infamous “summer rain of Ft Wayne ’12”: Priceless.

Wallpaper Bordering on Hell, Take 2

I will try to make this brief, as this is most certainly a parenting humor blog and not a decorating one. (Ah… hell… who am I kidding. I make nothing brief, except trips to the grocery when my kids are in tow. But when it comes to words, I usually have quite a lot to say.)

Speaking of kids, they have a place in this post, which I should have more appropriately titled:

The Top 10 Things I Learned When Trying to Put Up a Wallpaper Border.

10. The kids will offer to help. By help this means sitting on the top of the bunk beds, picking their toes, and asking “Mom, are you done yet? We want to play with you!” Once I asked for assistance moving the water and brush closer to the ladder (You remember the rickety thing I discussed in the first post?). Nate informed me he was too short to assist and Matt yawned and said he was too tired.

9. If you swear while trying to put up a wallpaper border, your kids will run next door to the neighbors on the pretext of playing legos, but they’ll really just want to tell the neighbor’s kids what you just said. They may even use the same voice inflection.

8. Inform someone older than 7 of what you are doing, in case you fall and break something and can’t get to a phone. Unless you’re really old. Then you can just press the panic button on your “help I’ve fallen and can’t get up” necklace. Oh and by the way there are better ways to get your insurance to pay for a hip replacement.

7. Wallpaper border glue is sticky. It burns your eyes. It smells bad. It tastes bad. It’s B-A-D. Take frequent breaks for some fresh air. Don’t be a dim-wit and huff off the wallpaper glue. My sources say whip-its are better and I think you can buy them on E-Bay now…

6. Liquid nourishment is absolutely necessary when attempting to put up a wallpaper border. I chose a Diet Sunkist. A Diet Coke or Pepsi would have been a wiser choice. With rum in it. Poured over my head. So it would stick in the glue.

5. The amount of wallpaper border that falls down is inversely proportional to the amount of border you attempted to hang. Let me make this more clear. The border I chose was kind of divided into squares, see:

So, for example, if I attempted to hang 3 squares at once, 6 squares would fall down when I was finished. If you remember basic Algebra, then folks you know that results in a negative number. That’s why Wallpaper Bordering on Hell took all day instead of a few hours, by the end of which I was drinking wallpaper water and using Diet Sunkist as a paste.


4. Move your kids s**t, errr, toys, to the center of the room before beginning. Not in the middle of the project when your hands and the Percy Pillow Pet are covered in glue. I am still sleeping with Percy. It’s the most action I’ve had in weeks.

3. Take down the window treatment hardware before it’s in your way. Not while balancing on the “f**k I just fell and broke my arm” ladder from the 1970s, with a screwdriver in one hand, Percy glued to the other, and a bowl of congealed wallpaper water on the paint tray.

2. Don’t use Pandora for your background musical inspiration. When the music stops and you get the annoying “Are you still listening” button that you have to push, you will still be at the top of the ladder. Perhaps dry-humping Percy. Or stabbing him with the screwdriver.

And finally, the number one thing I learned while attempting to hang a wallpaper border
1. If your husband suggests something might be a little difficult, take this one moment in your marriage to agree with him. Then bat your eyes at him, put a cold Sam Adams in his hands, and follow up the “You’re right” comment with the “You ARE the (gullible) man. Would you please show me how it’s done?” suggestion (demand).

In conclusion, the wallpaper border is up. Matt does like it. It did not fall down during the night. No kids or pugs were harmed during the making of this project. At least not permanently…

~The end~

Parents are required to be there and you have it on a day most parents are working? Not entirely my fault…

Real-Life Murphy’s Law #2166: (Also known as “Mommy’s Brain on Merlot”): The unforgiving looks from your son upon showing up at the Fort Wayne Country Club for the first grade pool party the day after the pool party. The subsequent knowledge that he will be berating you for this on your death-bed.

Wallpaper Bordering on Hell

My summer project is converting my 4-year-old’s bedroom from the nursery it still is to a young boy’s room. It’s already been quite an adventure, and that’s before I began today’s project. Let me get you up to speed:

Not too shabby, huh?

Step One: Finally ordering the bunk beds I have been eyeballing since 2011. Yes, Matt, in some less-than-understood desire to feel like he is, in fact, big, requested bunk beds so he could sleep on the top. Thus began a quest to find bunk beds he liked that were both 1) affordable and 2) made-in-America (meeting a requirement of the hubs). Thanks Linda Lou’s for fulfilling this need. Delivery and installation were reasonable, too. Unfortunately, the workers either had dirty shoes, or the bottom pieces of the bunk were less than scrupulously clean, so my long list of renovating the bedroom projects includes replacing the cream carpets, at some point. On the plus side, Nate hasn’t slept one night in his room since. We are now entertained by their nightly tirade of screaming “You’re stupid!” “No you’re stupid!” “Well, you’re stupider!” at the top of their lungs from their bunks. Brotherly love. Brotherly love.


Step Two: Selling off baby stuff. I began by taking down the baby bib holder that my mom’s been pestering me about for  2 1/2 years. It is cute and homemade by a former co-worker, but it needed to go. I’d get rid of the bibs, too, if they weren’t all covered with a fine yellow coating of baby puke. Matt was a spitter-upper. The new bunk beds came with an attached dresser, so the old white one needed to go, too. I did make the obligatory call to family members, but I wasn’t holding my breath. When it was time to get rid of my childhood four poster canopy bed that I loved, my SIL took it, never put it together, changed her mind and tried to give the monstrous thing back, and then gave it away to an absolute stranger. So much for a family legacy for my niece. Nope, this time I sold our super nice Bassett made-in-America dresser to a good friend for a measly $30. I’m sure it’s worth probably 6 or 7 times that. Oh well: It’s being converted to a dollhouse a la Pinterest and loved on in another SAHM mommy’s attempt at a summer project. Luckily for me and my poor sales skills the toddler car bed stays for when family and friends come to visit.

Step Three: Flooding E-Bay with transportation-themed purchases. I began with a new twin-sized quilt, made some minor purchases of stickers that will become part of summer project #2156, and finally, the dreaded wallpaper border. Now, when I first told Denny I was going to put up a wall border in Matt’s  room, he made a funny little snorting laugh, gave me an “Are you serious?” low-five, and walked off without offering to help. Surprising, coming from a man who is Mr. DIY and thinks he can do all things home improvement. Now I know why.

H – Hire someone else to Hang it

This kind of brings you to the current days events. First day of the summer we’ve had nothing really promising on the agenda, so I thought it might be a good day to tackle the infamous wall border. I must say this job is turning out to be ten times harder than I remember it being when I did this 10+ years ago as a newlywed. Looking back, perhaps it was because, hey, I was ten years younger and surely the stuff I used last time was that adhesive-like self-sticking wall border,  not the “just apply water” sticky real-deal that I’m currently **entangled** in. Also, I am pretty sure my balance was much better ten years ago. I dragged this rickety old ladder that I found in the garage into Matt’s bedroom. If it were a horse it’s racing name wouldn’t be “old faithful the wooden savior” but rather “f**k I fell and broke my arm again.” Thank God putting up a wall border is not a race.

Needless to say, I am currently typing with a fury on the tail-end of my lunch break. In two hours I have managed to hang 1 out of the 4 borders I purchased. I have also managed to 1) cover my arms, hair, and Matt’s carpet that already needs replacing in wallpaper glue, 2) bang my head on the ceiling two times, 3) knock the whole border completely down to the ground three times and 4) drop the F-bomb in front of the boys four times. Thankfully, they just finished eating lunch and headed across the street to play legos with the neighbors. No more stall-blogging. Wallpaper bordering from hell beckons.

~To be continued~

Amy’s Potty Words of the Week (PwOW)

Brickhouse – (noun)  The weight of a toddler or small child, prior to elimination, who has consumed nothing but oatmeal for at least 3 days

Pissgusting – (adjective) Descriptive of a toilet that requires a minimum of 3 rags to clean and remove all dirt and “remnants”

Toys ‘R’ Us

I must preface this whole post by saying how much I hate going there. Ugggh.  Uncle Jeff got Nate this really cool remote off-roader for his birthday; but unfortunately, it did not work. Also quite unfortunate, it was from Toys ‘R’ Us. In the trio of “unfortunates”, we went today to “make the exchange.”

Toys ‘R’ Us is the most overwhelming store in the universe. You walk in and there’s an immediate assault on your eyes with all the bright colors, glowing florescents and light-up toys. 
There’s an immediate assault on your ears with all the noisy, talking crap (not to mention whiny children). There’s an immediate assault on your nose with the smelly combo of toddler farts and pre-pubescent boy BO. Finally, there’s an immediate assault on your brain: sticker shock. When did they start charging $40 for a stuffed Papa Smurf? Who’s idea was it to make a Smurf come-back anyway? Smurf-smurf-smurfety-smurf!

Our first stop was the Lego-aisle, where Nate was bound and determined to spend every last bit of his $50 return on Ninjago products. Not $35. Not $40. Fifty dollars, and not a penny less… Too bad the kid has no concept of sales tax. Yeah, mom’s credit card ate that part. At least he bought nothing that neither lit up, talked, smelled or really peed. But all told I believe we are now the proud owner of close to a thousand more lego pieces. Joy.

Our next stop was the train aisle. Naturally, there’s no way we could leave the store with Nate saddled down with toys and nothing for Matt. So Matt brought his own money to buy something. But first we naturally seized on the train table that’s not even as cool as the one we have at home. So we played. And played. And played. Meanwhile Nate persisted in testing out his salesmanship by showing Matt tons of train toys he could not afford. Too much to chose from: Thomas, Chuggington, Brio. We finally settled on an Imaginarium set of four trains. Of course that make sound effects. And light up.

I will say this: We had an extremely helpful sales person. Quite unheard of in Toys ‘R’ Us. From handling our return, to making sure we could find what we needed in legoland, to helping me locate a Wii game as an overdue birthday gift for the cousins: She was good. She needs to quit her minimum-wage sales job and find something with a commission. Either that our peddle Encyclopedia Brittanicas door-to-door. Better yet she could push ViSalus shakes on her unsuspecting friends in a sordid Ponzi-like attempt to score a vacation or a BMW.

And what, you may ask, did mom get as a souvenir from her adventures in toy-land? A headache, a strong desire to hide or break Matt’s new choo-choo, and a son who keeps screaming “darn it” at the top of his lungs every time he puts a lego on wrong. Toys ‘R’ Us: Where a kid can be a kid and a mom could use a margarita…

Time to make a run for the border…