Sorry for the delay in a dating update, y’all, I was busy because sister got married!!! While we can all agree that she was the most flawless bride, and had a perfect weekend, married an awesome family (“you two go in the corner to cry!”) that the highlight of the night, that clearly everyone is still talking about, was my sick dance moves. Obvi. Anyway, back to me.
Spending so much time with family, I got asked a question many, many, fucking so many times this weekend. How in the world are you still single? And imma like “I dunno, maybe because I don’t use that one filter with fox ears and whiskers as my profile picture? I use one of a lasagna.
So, I did what any mature, well educated, total hot catch would do…. I passed my phone around so that people could view some of the people I am stalking and they find that creepy my potential suitors on their own.
Gentleman #1. This guy is in court? I’m not kidding, zoom in, THERE IS SOMEONE IN A PRISON UNI!!!!!!! Like, as in “Please take the stand you criminal?” court???? Also, I love the warm and fuzzies I get from him… You know, he works at “None of your fucking business.” Immma like, “P.T. let me take you home and introduce you to my family!”
Can you even imagine me with Gentleman #2? He wants to live in a forest and make fires with sticks and shoelaces? Then he wants to do the splits? And eat pie? Oh, shit. I do love pie.
There was this guy, but I told him my mom said no.
Here is the thing, I would love to say that these are anomalies (is that the right word? Or are those a sea creature?), but this is LEGIT what is out there. And believe me, I am not saying I am a catch, and I have super low fucking standards, but I do sort of draw the line at prison eh, maybe I shouldn’t commit to “no prison” . And I TOTALLY draw the line at Teva’s.
Here’s the thing about me. I am kind of a dick. Wait, I don’t mean it that way. Actually, yea I do. Maybe I mean skeptical? Is that being a dick? Idunno. At any rate. I figured that after posting about some of my potential suitors, it only made sense to follow up with some of the completely fucked up conversations that happen, so that you can really understand how why I am dedicating myself to the betterment of cats and therefore will be adopting 12 online dating works.
Now, I should preface this by saying, I just swipe right. I am not going to read profiles ahead of time, I just swipe until I can’t swipe anymore. And then I “match” with people like this:
Look, in real life, if I was actually paying attention and not sedated blindly swiping, I would NEVER EVER swipe on a guy who has better boobs than me in four out of five of his pictures, forgot to put a shirt on. Because honestly, that is really fucking forgetful! But, alas, I do, and I end up with Jeff, the karate kid. Guarantee we have zero in common. Including I don’t forget to wear shirts nearly as often as he does.
So anyway, the point being, now you know, I have no method in my “swipe” other than “Meh, go for it until you have carpel tunnel or run out of candidates.”
Which leads me to the messages I get. Honest to fucking god, I do this to myself, because, (above) I am an asshole.
There was Andy. The guy who totally didn’t use stock photos for his profile pictures, except, yes, yes he did. He also said he went to Stanford, (Man, I am so dumb sometimes, I should have asked him “Real quick, Andy, tell me! What is the Mascot?” because no one would guess it is the flying rabid pine trees.) but his grammar says otherwise. Then, he wrote me a small biography on what he is doing now, INCLUDING, living in Africa, but not to worry, he has figured out the distance. Only thing he needs is my SS#, DOB and bank routing # and we will be ret.to.go.
So, as you can imagine, based off of shirtless Jeff and Africa Andy, I am feeling pretty fucking confident about my candidates! And letmetellyou, my ego was a boosted by this guy. Who in ONE HOUR messaged me FOUR times AND told me I have a nice chin.
lemmetellyou, nothing boosts the confidence the way that “Great chin btw” does. Nothing.
But here is an example of one of the messages I had, that makes me think to myself “Yolanda Squatpump (you don’t think I really refer to myself as “Nara” when I am talking to myself, how fucking lame would that be? I can be any name in the world when I am talking to myself, today I pick Yolanda Squatpump) you can’t rip on online dating and then do the below. It is not indicative of a princess, which you clearly are not are.
So, there you have it. 24 hours in, and I am feeling pretty confident that Mr. Nara 2.0 is not anywhere close to the fucking interwebs and likely doesn’t have a computer in his prison cell due to spring up any time!
Well, well, well….. Lookie what trash the old blog dragged in….. I figured it would be best for me to say my peace here, since, it clearly originated here….. So, dear readers who find it necessary to reach out to the old “wazband” about my blog, a few notes to you….
It’s called humor, fucking learn it
It’s all true, he is annoyed because he was, in fact, caught
Step back, breathe, close your eyes, and realize what a god damn fucking troll you are for “reporting to him” he knows it all, he fucking created it. If you think you know more about my marriage than I do (which, hey, you might) please feel free to email me, I am always looking for new material
Question my BLOG all you want, forward it to him, read it to him because he is a questionable at best reader, but know one thing…. There is only ONE parent involved here. There is one parent making my boys do homework, making sure they have dinner, showers, shoes, that they learn how to ride a bike. There is one parent taking them to Disney, to Maine, teaching them how to waterski. There is one parent laying in bed with them at night when they have a sore throat or a nightmare. There is one parent praying with them and reminding them to be thankful for what they have, though it might not be much. There is one parent who gets them to school, picks them up from school, meets with teachers and works through the night to make up for the time they missed at work. There is one parent who sits at the counter night after night googling “third grade math” and going over the sound that “F” makes, who cries with pride when the youngest mini writes his name. There is one parent helping to perfect the dunk shot, or the trick shot from the stairs. There is one parent who sacrifices everything, there are no fancy dinners, no manicures, no nights on the town, so that they can play basketball or have swim lessons, so that they don’t see how hard it really is. There is one parent, who lays awake every night, scared that she will never be enough, because she is only one person. One parent. There is only one parent. There has always only been one parent. So if I WRITE about it, as an outlet, as humor, know, that I am the ONE parent.
Keep reading my blog, forward it to him, send it to him, I am paid by the click. It went viral last week. Who’s winning now?
So any yolla, I had to take a break from the old book of face…. Why, you ask? Well, because when that gorilla, Harambe, got shot, I had NO idea that I had so many friends on book of face that were gorilla experts….. It actually made me feel like a total idiot that I, for one, didn’t know as much about gorillas as all of my friends (some would say, that I know what I am an expert in and that “gorillas” are not one of those things, but ya know, that’s cool)…… Ironically enough, I also had quite a few friends who I didn’t realize were doctors of fucking perfect parenting, and they had quite a bit to say too…. If you can believe this shit, I am ALSO not a perfect parent. Not a gorilla expert, not a perfect parent. #lifefail
The timing was somewhat ironic, because I had also been debating taking a blog break….. It’s odd, when you blog, often times, people think they “know” you… But the thing is, you are really just writing a story…. YES – all of this shit happens to me, it literally ALL does, but, that doesn’t make us BFF (so if that one creepster could stop emailing me, that would be roarsome, or at least be a “good” stalker and bring wine)…. I had been contacted by a small online company that may have been porn based publishing company to write a series of blogs, and while at first I loved the idea, then it felt forced….. listen, if it were up to me, and I could do it all over, and I wouldn’t fail, I would either be a writer, or a professional eater. It is a total toss up. But imma do it on my own time.
It also seems as though my life has been SUPER laid back as of late…. But then I realized, “Nope, you are just sedated enough that this shit just roooollllsss off.” So, I did what I do because I am almost always blacked out and I went back through my photos to try and remember things that had happened.
I suppose I will just work backwards (forward? Backwards? Like if I start from now and go in the other direction?)…… So Sunday was Father’s day, the mini’s and I decided to pack up the ole family wagon and head to papa and yaya’s, it’s sort of our lil bliss place.
You need to understand, it is a 3 minute drive. THREE FUCKING MINUTES…… It was so strange though, because we are driving along West Shore Drive (AKA, “main drag #2 of 01945”) and there were the LOUDEST gunshots….. So in my perfect state of sedation, I was like “Bigs, dude, you hear all those gunshots.” And he was like “I do.” And we kept driving. And the gunshots kept following us. And then I was like “Wait, maybe they WEREN’T gun shots?” (I mean, it would be weird if they weren’t, because that is so fucking common in 01945, but go with me)…. I all of the sudden realize, that the gunshots are coming from my car…… So rather than freak out when I SHOULD have, I now freak out about something I can ACTUALLY deal with…… Imma like “Bigs, the gunshots are coming from my car! Something is wrong with it, you’re 8, fix it!” However, because I am a totally rational pretty princess, I am clearly not stopping to identify the noise, I actually just drive faster. At this point, Bigs is like “Mom, I will pray for our safety.” And imma like “Fuck yea god.” We make it to papa and yayas house, and obvi I celebrate my three mile drive with wine. Then today, this falls off of my car. I sort of flash back to the gunshots, and all of that shit, and then am like “Well, I mean, it doesn’t seem like it is a super important car piece?”
So then, I go backwards another day, to what we will refer to as “boat day.” You need to understand that even though I grew up on the water, I get fucking boat sick like a mother fucker. I am talking green just looking at a dock…. I didn’t even watch pee wee get swamped last summer because I knew I would puke. But, it was my birthday, and gosh darn it, when you turn 27 for the 12th time, you throw on a bikini and pee over the side of a boat I AM SORRY WHAT??? YOU WHAT?????? For those of you who didn’t know, there are two choices, this
Pick your poison.
Reverse some more (not like drive in reverse, because I am NOT a good backwards driver, like reverse in time a wee bit more)……. To this…. Biggie’s “Author’s Breakfast” So cute, right, so fucking cute. Here’s the thing… .When these guys (well, at least Bigs) started the old second grade (right, second? They are in second?) they were not WRITING novels, and now, well, now they aren’t either…. But we are going to celebrate all 22 of them writing about how a squirrel got his bushy tail (sidebar, they are so fucking cute). Listen, I am a BIG believer that you celebrate successes big and small. Our mini trio has had more than our fair share of heart break, so together, we celebrate the wins….. I honest to god need a lobotomy sometimes. Because I ACTUALLY thought it would be a good idea to take brother to the Author’s Breakfast. That he would be REALLY good. Nope. By like kid #1 he was ready to go…. Don’t panic brother, because Quinn is DEAD LAST. He legit read about his squirrel and I was pitting so much from trying to tame brother that I was like “Nice job learning how to write a book, peace.”
So, last but not least, everyone always wants an update on my very lame dating life…. Well friends, I will have you know, that a friend of mine talked me into trying online dating…… And this happened.
So the minis and I took off for our first solo adventure via aero-plane together. Wait, I think? There may have been more that I blacked out forgot. This is embarrassing. I actually have no idea if we have done this before. All I can remember right now is that one flight I took with the former Mr. Nara, when I was like 85 months pregnant with peewee and had a 2 year old Quinn, and got upgraded to first class and HE TOOK MY FUCKING UPGRADE. We got off the plane in Phoenix and he was HAMMERED, and I legit was like “Yea, peace.” I still find it strange sometimes things didn’t work out with us.
Anywoot, I am up and at em at like 4am….. Thank goodness brother had a solid nights sleep like a so
(I texted Pie at like 5am like “Listen, super into you, but if you do this, straight to the trundle, pick your poison.”) That makes exactly one of us (no joke, when I woke up bigs, he was like “no, 5 more minutes”)…. DUDE, I AM TAKING YOU ON VACATION!?!???! Anyholla. Off we go to the airport.
Right now, you are like “wha-wha-wait, Pie?” No pausing people, this is about me. And there are some things I don’t share. Not saying Pie is one of them, just saying. Wait, I don’t share Pie…. Or share about. This is all coming out wrong, what I am saying is I won’t share Pie or share details about Pie. #inphoneaspie
It is standard April vacation crowded, however, interesting fact, when you travel as a legit frazzled single mom of two mini boys, people feel so bad for you they let you cut them and are all like “GET THE FUCK THROUGH THE LINE AND AWAY FROM ME” are generally a bit more understanding. Case in point…. Getting through security was like this:
Security: Are you traveling alone with those two animals? Are you being held hostage? Exactly how sedated are you
Security: (Literally, as they take down those rope barriers) “Oh, I am so sorry, you can go right through the center of the line to the front” (there was honest to god another person waving me down, like “OVER HERE, WE WILL SAVE YOU”)
Me: OK. I would almost like rent a child if I was traveling alone just to get to the front of 9000 people.
Things were going oddly smoothly until I got the token full search (every time, every fucking time, and this time it was not even a full size bottle of shampoo or drugs that did it). Even when I travel solo with like a laptop and a chapstick, for the day, they are like “Stop right there lady.”
Once we make it through my strip search, the minis are hangry. Fair enough. Oh, and this is happening…
Honest to god, NOTHING can interfere with this child when he is in the zone. I get it dude, I do…… So, we hop into the 45 minute dunkin donuts line to get them bagels, and obvi, they don’t have them…… Brother is now crying because apparently that is the only food he will eat and if he doesn’t have it now is likely going to starve (listen, I get this too, he is my mini and must be fed every 4-5 minutes). Make it to the gate, and honest to god, I am in shock that things are sort of going ok, when both minis give the standard “I have to poop.” You know how some people will only poop at home, I swear, the minis will only poop in public….. I am all like “welp, gunna have to learn how to hold it because we are boarding in 14 seconds.” They tell me they can’t so I am all like “welp, go in your Spidy undies” because I KNOW there is not a shot they will shit in those (Paw Patrol, sure, Spiderman, fuck nope).
We line up to load onto the plane, and I am all like “Oh, who is going to sit next to the window” (Sidebar, I am HONESTLY so fuckin dumb sometimes that it actually hurts me, why can’t I just keep my mouth shut?)…. And at the same time they are like “MEEEE!!!! And mommy, I need to be next to you.” Both of them. Samsies. Literally samsies. This wouldn’t normally be a problem, because they generally can’t wait to get away from me, but this time, the guy behind us, was like “Oh, you know that this plane is 2 and 2 seats.” HA. I already see where this is going…. I am leaving one child with a stranger, that is where. This is also the time that I find out that this bird doesn’t have wi-fi, and I am like “So, ah, littles, want to go to Mobile, Alabama, I mean, I have no idea what is there, but they have wifi.”
I bribe the big guy to go sit withanother family across from me, (honestly, he is such a teenager now, that I think he wanted the chicks on the plane to think he was traveling alone, at age 8. Yup.). Brother is emptying the ENTIRE contents of his “Fyida” bag out and Bigs is watching ESPN (come on) and I’m like “So, what time does the bar on this thing open?”. The stranger woman I dropped bigs off with is like “They are BOTH yours, wow you are so brave to travel alone.” Like as if I could be like “Little one, you didn’t make the cut, back to 01945, I am sure you will be fine fending for yourself.”
So, upon landing, we hit go on a search and rescue to find the car, nap
(them, notta me) hit up the pool and then the local “Publix.” OK, for those of you peasants like me, at this place, they walk you out to your car (amirite?) and the guy walking us was like “You got three kids” (because ya know, one is invisible except to Publix guy)…. And Imma like “nope, just dos” To which he says “THEY MUST DRIVE YOU FUCKING CRAZY.” Honestly, can’t make this up. Cuz everything is bigger in the south.
Here’s the gig. I legit 100% slammed the brakes on online dating. Why? I already have enough fucking crazy in my life, I don’t need to be swiping to find the next Mr. Nara, when I could be at the shelter looking for cats. I dunno. It just isn’t me…. I don’t want to go to a random bar, and meet some random guy, and assume shit is just going to work out. Do you know who I am? I still can’t figure out how to make the lights on my car go back to “auto” you HONESTLY think a Tinder date is going to work out for me? Solid nope. I am holding out for meeting in the produce aisle and someone being all like “Wow, you ALSO like cucumber, we are a 10 match.” Oh shit. I grocery shop online. Ha. So much for a produce match. Anyhoo.
However, the hilarity of online dating lives through some of my BFF’s. For example, can we talk about one of my GF’s who was “talking” to this guy, and all of the sudden, there is a question of height. AND HE IS FIVE FOOT FUCKING 2 INCHES. Listen people, that is how tall I am, and I am a very short person. I was all like “Oh, so he wears those shoes that make you look taller, no, those are super cool. I mean, looka how well they work for Tom Cruise.
Seems like a match. Go for it, if, ya know, you are into little people”
I am sorry, what the actual fuck. There is a reason he is online dating. BECAUSE HE IS HOPING HE DOESN”T GET ASKED HOW SHORT TALL HE IS. I bet he does get asked “So, how short are you?” like, slip of the tongue. Womp.
Moving on to online date #2. GF shows me pictures of this guy, and it went something like a so…..
Me: Yea, I don’t like him at all. (I at the very least admit that I am judgy).
Me (judger): He is super fucking boring.
Friend: But that is just his picture, and he is nice.
Me (bitch): No, no he isn’t, he is boring. He makes me want to take a nap right now (ok, to be fair, I was so gassed after having a crayyy week, that anything made me want to nap, but this guys profile picture was like a “Contacts out, NAP.”)
Well, dontcha know, they go on a date…. So, the next morning, we are all laying making sure we do nothing productive…. chatting… When immma like “OMG, how was your date with the most boring person in the entire universe?” And then we went like a so:
Friend: Um, it was good. He’s nice.
Me: Uh-huh, did he look like his pictures (listen, “nice” means the same thing for men or women… Like, yea, he’s “nice” so boring I stabbed myself and jumped into the pizza wood burning fire for fun.”)
Friend: He, um. No. No, he didn’t. He was…
Me: Oh, like the old “The pictures are from 5 years ago.”
Apparently the worlds most boring person forgot to mention this.
See, see people, there are just TWO reasons that I want a million cats won’t online it.
Now, I did have a few superhot dates this weekend……. Areyouret?
One was for family taco night. Here’s how that date went. Within 8 seconds I had locked my keys in my car (Legit, I should never be unsupervised). Good news, I left the sunroof open and we tossed a few lil people (not midgets, and not date #1 from above, but I guess that would have worked too, actual young people) through the sunroof. Yup. All class, all the time.
Next date, was with one of my BFF. I took her to the dump…… Yup. She is running Boston (right now, holla #30581) and such as it is, she had a bit of pre-run nerves (like how I say that as if I know?….. Clearly I don’t. We were all actually discussing today how I would not run the .2 miles for anything less than genuine street tacos. And even then, .2 seems far). Anyhoo, I had to hit up the dump, so off we go…. Right, lemme tell you people, this place is a HOT SPOT, because the line was down the street (I’m actually not kidding about that part)…. I’m not sure if it was the shot out, taped up windows (also not kidding) or the clientele of said dump, but the place was popping. Lots of people from 01945 still had to dump their Christmas trees. Truth. I was disappointed to only get hit on yelled at once, by the guy I hit with a rather large branch. Apparently you shouldn’t throw those. I’ve never really been a “rules” person.
The last hot date of the weekend, was one that actually should have been video taped by E for my upcoming reality show censored. You know, when you have that one friend who when you are together, basically everything is funny and someone pees their pants? Right, well, that is my
(did I forget that I also identify people with emojis. Yea, true)…..
So, uni and I decide to go shopping for our kiddos panties. I mean, why not? First things first, this weekend, likely because I did not have my own cherubs, screaming, crying children followed me. Those fuckers had my number. Let’s not act like this was any different. There were many exchanges of “If that asshole follows me, I am taking out my flask leaving.” Well, dontcha know those dinks follow us to the skivvies. So, in such, imma like “Unicorn, do you like this thong, or this thong.” CPS frowned upon that one.
So, as you can see, I am really crushing it in the world of dating. Hold on to your seats for more deets about my friends who are ok with super short people where that goes.
I thought that for today’s blog, I would do a recap of the weekend. Then I was like “dear fuck, did I black the ENTIRE thing out?” wow. What did I do anyway? So, I did what I do, and went through my pictures, and was like “Wow, my friends spend a LOT of time with me in either pajamas or Lulu.” That’s. Embarrassing. So, a recap of the weekend.
Friday, peewee had his art show. If you have never been to one before, this is when the parents have to pay $50 for a piece of “art” that they would normally pay zero for to throw out the minis get to display their art. The show is held in a hallway, and it is so claustrophobic that I want to be like “HERE IS MY FUCKING CHECKBOOK, IM OUT.” There is music and the kids really like it.
Anyway, the mini one has been BEGGING for me to “give him swimming lessons.” Which is actually hysterical because I honest to god can’t swim. I don’t think I took a swimming lesson, I think I took a (literally, single) drowning prevention class. It retrospect, it is weird, because I grew up on the water and spent summers on a lake. Anyhoo. Seemed like post art show was as good a time as ever.
So, off we go for me to give him “swimming lessons.” Now, you need to understand that there was not a fucking shot I was going in that pubic (public?) pool? Because yup. Pubic. Oh, and it opens to a mezzanine, that 100 people are sitting at and you think I am going to waddle around in my bathing suit. Nope. That is what I pay for.
Well, I needed to get the minis changed into their suits. This always presents one of those “single mom” problems, because I don’t have a penis. Oh, I mean, that should not be a shock to most of you, but what that means, is that I can’t go in the boys changing room. OK, this is all coming out wrong. What it means is that we need to use the family changing room. Well, as is par for the course, they were all full….. So, I sort of stand outside one, and brother starts to strip in front of the art show, because that’s how we roll. When this single woman came out of the “family room.” It takes everything I have when that shit happens to not be like “Honestly asshole?” And I would have, but I was immediately taken over by whatever just came out of her body. She clearly eats from a dumpster really needed to go. So minis are changing, brother is like “Mom, she did a stinky, PEE YEW, MOMMY IT STINKS.” And I’m like “What brother, say it louder so everyone knows we didn’t do it.”
Off we go to the pool. Peewee is so excited because he is like a dog in a car, and they just get so happy all the time this is his big swimming lesson. Bigs, on the other hand, has his period and was like “Whatever, swimming is not cool.”
Off peep goes to swim while bigs scopes for chicks at the pool. No shit, the kid can SWIM. There was Friday night after that. I stopped taking pictures so I am not super clear on what happened.
Saturday. Now, this was the day that Peep has been waiting for his entire life. He had a play date with TWIN GIRLS. Can you even. Legit though they are BFF and it was the cutest thing ever. Of course, as this happened, Bigs wanted to go outside (cool) and I was like “Dude, I didn’t go see if pickles pooped out there yet, so just do a look around.” Four seconds later “Mom, Pickles pooped and I stepped in it.” Like, did he not understand why I wanted him to look around? And that it was not actually to step in it? The kid is honestly a shit magnet.
Moving on. My unicorn and I now decide it is a good idea to take ALL of our boys bowling. Let me re-phrase that. I wanted to nap, she came and got me and was like “no, its cool to go out in pajamas, no one will know, people are totally fine with you not wearing pants” The only reason I went is because they serve beer and the old guy who works there is one of those people that when he is like “Yousobeautiful” you think he actually really means it, and LBH, I need every little bit of help.
So, we have the tres amigos at bowling….. Fast forward that my children think you throw the ball OVERHAND….. Right, so every time they pulled that arm back, I was like “JESUS CHRIST WHO FUCKING TAUGHT YOU TO BOWL.” And they were all like “Um, you.” OK So at the time, it SEEMED like a good idea to let them all drink gigantic lemonades. Then this happened.
They thought it would be funny to open the windows and yell to the people on the road. Ok, TBH, it was actually funny for the first 3 minutes, the next 32 were. Fucking. Torture. If I had pants on I would have walked home. So then this happened.
We slowed down and kicked them out of the car and drove off with the doors open dropped them off at a friend’s house and left. I mean, there are times it is you or the kids, and this was one of those times I was going to be like “open your mouth and take the Benadryl” “I am mom, I am in charge.”
So from there (and I received a gentle reminder of this today)…… We all have family dinner, time to go home, etc, etc….. Quick stop for one of our epic sunsets…..
Then this. I challenge all those fuckers to a lip synch battle. Never done that? Oh, I am a professional, partly because I honestly know every word to every song, and partly because, duh, I am awesome I make the rules so that I win.
So, those of you from 01945, as I was crushing them in the battle, we were jamming, it happened…… We decided all of those minis needed to go have a neck run. Yup…. Windows down, singing, Saturday night. It was a little weird when we turned around at the light house and there were all the 13 year olds getting hanky panky cuz, ya know.
Then, well, then there was Champagne Sunday. Lately, my weekend starts on Tuesday, and this week has been no exception. I just have so freaking much going on and 2 days isn’t enough and starting four days early was the only logical solution. So getting drunk on Sunday rather than being productive champagne Sunday is always a nice way to wind down. Oh, and, because I had to take the minis to Target, which, if you remember, I hardly let them out of the house so this was fucking TORTURE…. The story is so much longer than that, but I think I have PTSD from it. Not STD, the one that you are traumatized. Yes. That is me. Post Target. I think my text to the girls said “I am going to drink champagne so I don’t murder someone.” I mean, paraphrasing, but pretty close. It might have actually been exactly that. Plus, I needed my girls to analyze something from me, because, duh, that is how I roll.
So, I know from here, it seems like the weekend is going pretty swell, right? Right? Well, Sunday night = everyone has to get clean…. So, I gently remind my minis of that (read previous blog about why this is a problem here https://wordpress.com/post/naramitchell.wordpress.com/69
I somehow bribe Bigs into taking a shower with Mini (I really wish I could remember what my bribe was…. I bet I was like “Front row seats to a Warriors game.” I mean, I really would say something like that….)
So, they agree to the shower, and I hear mini “Kin, kinny, where are your boobies? Kin, kinny, you have a ding dong and balls too.” (Honestly, I have NO idea where he gets “Balls” from. Ding dong is me, and there are tons of variations, but “balls” is something I can HONESTLY say never comes from my mouth. I’m not all like “Bros, how are your balls?”)
And that is it, the weekend in review. I think. I am sure I am forgetting something else though.