What Brings You Here?

Every once and a while I look at all the information and statistics Blogger keeps regarding the BoyMommy blog.  It makes absolutely NO sense to me, but I have learned a few things. 

First, if someone links to my blog (by “sharing” it on your Facebook page, for example,) the blog gets A LOT more traffic than it does when I post it on my page or the BoyMommy Facebook page . . . because I can only reach so many people, but if you tell your friends, and they tell their friends, and they tell their friends, well, that’s a lot of people who I otherwise might not reach.  (Is everyone picking up on my subtle attempt to get you to share my blog on your page?  Huh?  Are ya?)

Second, if you type in certain search words on Google, you will be directed to my BoyMommy blog.  One would think that’s a wonderful opportunity, and it is, but I must say I am a little disturbed at the searches that are directing people to my blog.  Further, I am sure the searchers are equally as disturbed when they are directed to a blog that essentially chronicles my shortcomings as a parent, a dieter, and a general wearer of clothes.

 

You can’t make this sh*t up.  The following are ACTUAL searches that people Googled and that eventually led them to my blog.  I’m not sure if I should be more concerned with the peculiar searches or the fact that the world wide internets thinks, hmmm . . . you know what THIS person needs?  A little glimpse into BoyMommy’s life, that’s what! 

There are plenty of searches for boy mom, mom and boy, etc., and some pretty innocuous searches for various craft ideas or preppy clothing ideas.  But then there are the others . . . the searches that make me fear for the future of society. 

These are my faves:

• "Kid pooping" - whatdyawant?  a picture?
• "Midget shooting a bird" - yeah, I'd pay to see that.  I'd look it up myself if I didn't think it would direct me right back to my own blog.
• "Audrey Hepburn Leggings" - this, for some reason, is the most popular search that links people to me.
• "Dinosaur Train Sex" - um, you're a sicko, you freak.
• "Announcement for the funeral of my . . ." - of my WHAT?  You can't leave me hangin' like that!
• "Little boys pooping" - I've seen enough of this in my lifetime that I need not look it up on the world wide internets.
• "Spider trim" - like, how to give a spider a haircut?
• "How to lose 50 lbs. in 2 weeks" - if I knew the answer to this one, I wouldn't be sitting at my kitchen counter writing a blog about "Dinosaur Train Sex."
• "Didn’t even send a card" - Dude.  Sorry.  I didn't know.
• "Why do I have to do everything?" - I can pretty much guarantee that you did not find the answer you were seeking.
• "Love poem packers" - I love poems so I pack them?  I love Green Bay, so I write poems?
• "Big girl bloated beer" - okay, I kinda understand this one.
• "Boy getting bikini wax" - um, eeeeewwwwww.

Okay, so if you like this blog, please share a post (this one, or choose another favorite) on your Facebook page.  I will love you forever.

Since You've Been Gone

I have decided that I am bipolar.  This is not a professional opinion, mind you; it’s a self-diagnosis based on past behaviors.

I spend the majority of my time on an even plane, but THEN I GET ANTS IN MY PANTS (or as Hubby affectionately calls it, “a bug up my @ss,”) AND I START CLEANING LIKEMARTHA STEWARTONSPEED!!!

Hubby loves it when this happens because, well, I gets sh*t done.  He once came home from work to find me standing on the counter organizing the top shelf of dishes.  (Granted, I was 9 months pregnant at the time and I was clearly nesting, and probably should not have been standing on the counter since I’m clumsy/dizzy/awkward even when I’m NOT pregnant.)  I hate it when he sees me doing housework.  I like to keep the magic behind the scenes . . . kinda like Disney World in Smalltown, Virginia.  That, and I like to keep his expectations low so that when I actually do some housekeeping I get all kinds of high-fives and chest bumps.  (Although the latter may be more for his enjoyment than any desire to give me accolades.)

Hubby’s been out of town for 9 days and will be returning tomorrow.  He has a lot to be proud of – I’ve, um, been busy.  I am NOT one of those moms who skwooshes her own baby food or concocts her own laundry detergent, so TRUST ME, this behavior is an anomaly.  I plan to return to my normal sloth-like behavior next week.

Things I’ve accomplished since Hubby’s been gone:

1.  Had the guy from Sears come out and repair our dishwasher, which had about an inch of schmat (you know that stuff you think of when you see the floor in a fraternity house?) and dishes that needed to be rewashed even after their spin through the dishwasher.

2.  Noticed a leak in the ceiling, called the home warranty company, and arranged for a plumber to come inspect the Master Bath.

3.  Scheduled appointments for contractors to come next week to give me estimates for how much of my children’s college tuition they will need in order to fix the tile in my shower.

4.  Put the fear o’ God in the lawn guy, who has been dilly-dallying instead of installing the trees that were supposed to planted in June.  (Seriously, our neighbors already hate us; we don't need to give them more fodder, and we agreed we would install these trees MONTHS ago.)  His excuse?  He has a lot of customers.  My response?  I don’t want to be last on your list.  Git ‘er done by Friday or we’re finding another lawn guy. 

5.  Built two book shelves.  Chopped the wood, sawed it, smoothed it, painted it.  Just kidding.  Opened the box from Target and read the instructions.  You know what I did NOT do?  Feed the fish in the tanks on top of the bookshelves.  Gee, I hope they don’t die.

I'm not sure why Small looks like he's
done something bad.  Maybe I should
take a look around while he's napping . . . 

6.  Repurposed the old bookshelf from Medium’s room.  Applied Contact paper to the back and dressed it up a little and voila!  Another flat surface on which we will place items that belong elsewhere.

7.  Painted the door from the laundry room to the garage with chalkboard paint.  We can write fun little messages to each other, and as an added bonus, muddy fingerprints won’t show as much.  That's the plan anyway.

8.  Changed the knobs and drawer pulls in the kitchen.  I painted the knobs a darker color so that they’d match the new drawer pulls that have been waiting patiently to fulfill their drawer-pulling destiny.

Not a particularly flattering photo
of Small.  But you know what?
You refuse to get outta Mommy's
picture?   Mommy posts your
weird little face on the
world wide internets.  

9.  Had the roof cleaned and the siding and deck power washed.  Well, Hubby made all the arrangements, but I wrote the check and left it taped to the front door, so clearly I deserve SOME of the credit for getting this accomplished.

10.  Had the house sprayed for ants, because with three boys and a dog, guess what?  We have ants.  Although why they were in the bathroom is beyond me.

Oh, and also?

Helped Large with his reading project poster, helped Large with his Spanish project powerpoint, got flu shots for all 3 boys, took Medium to art class, took Large to the batting cages, went to choir practice, went to two Boy Scout Den meetings and one Pack meeting, got a bikini wax, arranged for transportation to and from two baseball practices, drank wine with my girlfriends in my kitchen, made sure all the school library books were returned on time, bought shoes to match the dress I’m wearing to Hubby’s work function next weekend, got my toes done, remembered to call my Mother-in-Law on her birthday, took Medium to tutoring, and took the boys out for frozen yogurt.

If you need me, I’ll be taking a nap and gearing up for my next Manic episode, which will probably not arrive for another decade or so.

Dinosaur S-E-X

We expected to have some follow-up questions regarding the whole Birds and Bees discussion, but I got a question I GUARANTEE none of you, dear readers, have had to face.

Medium is only six years old, but it just didn’t make any sense to explain, um, stuff to Large but not to Medium.  At least we know if WE explain to Medium, he’s getting all the correct information, as opposed to hearing it second hand from his big brother.  Given that his maturity level is at least two years behind his brother's, it’s not really surprising that he may have already forgotten some of what he’s been told.  Furthermore, his little six-year-old logic isn’t necessarily registering all the facts he has received.

Last weekend, he was busy making a mess craft out of paper, scissors, and yarn.  (This is the child who got his very own tape dispenser for his birthday last year, and was excited about it.)  He was making a dinosaur necklace.  Everyone should have one; it’s the fashion accessory of the season.  It was all perfectly innocuous, until . . .

Medium:  Mom, how did dinosaurs have babies?

Me:  Uhhhh . . . (insert nervous laughter here, a la Beavis and Butthead.)

Medium:  Did they go to the doctor to have their babies out?

Me:  Remember what Daddy told you?  They laid eggs from their vaginas.

At least I’m assuming that’s how it happened.  Last time I watched Dinosaur Train, there was no Tiny Visits the Gynecologistosaurus episode.

Medium:  How did the eggs get in their bellies?

Me:  The same way human babies get in their mommies’ bellies.

Medium:  (whispering, with a startled look on his face)  You mean they put their vaginas and wieners together?

Me:  Um.  I guess. I wasn’t there.

Seriously?  Now we’re fielding questions about Dinosaur S-E-X?  I just know he’s going to ask me how they put their naughty parts together, and I’m going to have to show him barnyard porn on the world wide internets.