I have a confession.

I could totally write about how my little Cakes used the potty for the first time EVER today with his ABA therapist. It was awesome and exciting and many other adjectives of the positive nature. I could totally write about how husband being home for a mid-tour break from Asia kicked ass and magical memories were made and how badly it sucked when he left again. I could TOTALLY write about how I have consumed enough coca-cola for nine people in the last week, but I won't.

Today, friends... I have a confession.

When I was 13 or 14, I became obsessed (and I mean... stalker obsessed) with a band. I bought BOP magazines and I cut their pictures out and I hung them on my wall until two of my four bedroom walls were literally wallpapered with these people. I joined their fanclub. My entire pre-pubescent allowance was invested in listening to, looking at, reading about and watching this band. Not once, though, did they come in concert where I lived. My best friend bought their concert tape (YES, VHS, GET OFF ME!) and we watched it and screamed like we were there. We also laughed as we realized the lead singer had a dance that made it appear as though he had to pee whilst playing the keyboard standing upright. It was delightful. All of it.

So, two nights ago, I get a text message. My little sister, who was probably six at the time, tells me they're coming to town in concert. I contacted my BFF from the old days to tell her and we just bought tickets. That's right, friends.

WE'RE SEEING HANSON IN SEPTEMBER! 

This is where you stop judging me and just listen. I have waited fifteen years to see these people and I don't care that they look like girls or that they've since had 17 children each or that my husband shook his head at me during a FaceTime and said "Wow" when he really meant  "Yikes". You. Just. Stop. I don't care that I'm practically almost menopausal (if almost-30-year-olds are menopausal) or that I just spent $34 of my husband's hard earned money. This is happening and you can't stop it. I swear to everything holy, if they don't play MmmBop, I will kill myself.

Beanisms

I have to write down (i.e. copy and paste from my personal facebook) all the ridiculous stuff my six-year-old says before I forget and I have nothing to blackmail him with. Here we go... 

My sister's dog was just neutered last week. My eldest son, who is six, had some questions.
Him: Why is Aubie wearing that cone? 
Me: Because his boy part got cut off. 
Him: What?! I would die! 
Me: Well... he still has his wiener. They just had to cut off his balls. 
Him (totally serious, by the way): Are you sure his butt didn't swallow his balls? 

Me: (in traffic) Come on over, douche canoe! I'm surrounded by idiots! Oh... Don't say the naughty words mom says, kids!
Him: Then don't SAY them, MOM. 

Him: Mom... Don't speak Spanish.
Me: What? Why? 
Him: The new girl, Fernanda, doesn't know what the heck I'm saying. She takes her books out at the wrong time and I'm like hey! Wrong time, Fernanda! But she's like... Spanish. So, don't speak Spanish or you won't know what I'm saying. 
Me: BAHAHAHA!

Me: Do you like my new shoes, buddy? 
Him: Mom, you are so stylish. 

Him: Did you know there are people in this world that don't want kids?!
Me: Really? Why not?
Him: Because they buy cars with only two doors!

Him: Mom, you know what's really stupid? 
Me: No, what?
Him: People sleeping in [Asia] when they don't live there. 
Me: .....yes.

Him: Mom... it is not okay to poop in the bathtub. 
Me: .....????

Him: Guess what mom said I can say?
Sister: What's that?
Him: Oh my gosh!!
Sister: Oh my gosh?
Him: Yeah, like, OH MY GOSH WE'RE GOING TO DDDIIIEEE!!!!

Him: Look at this Halo (as in the video game) guy over here!
Me: Oh, that's cute!
Him: MOM. It is NOT cute. It's awesome... (Sigh)

Me: Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! Even though the sound of it...
Him: Stop!
Me: You don't think my singing is cool?
Him: It's beautiful, but it is NOT cool.

Me: It's time for bed, dude. Seriously. 
Him: I will sleep when my heart tells me it's tired!

PC Laptops Commercial: "... because we love you!"
Him: WHAT?! Fix 'puter guys don't love people! Uggggghhhhh!

Him: Were you little when you married dad?
Me: Little???
Him: Well, not little... medium sized? Were you?

Bean got a to-go style barf bag when we left the hospital after a minor surgery. He never used it, so I threw it away. Then this ensued...
Him: Can I eat the rest of my candy in bed? 
Me: No, I don't really feel like cleaning up your barf in the middle of the night. You can have a cheese stick or you can just go to bed. 
Him: Mooooommmm! I. HAVE. A. BARF. BAG. 
Me: I threw it away, you didn't use it!
Him: WHAT?! I never barfed in it! Seriously!?! I could have used that! 
Me: (blank stare)

Me: We aren't leaving your room until you've cleaned the whole thing. 
Him: Mom, you're annoying me.

Husband: Do you want some burrito? 
Him: Oh my gosh, I told you to stop speaking spanish!

I only scrolled back to December of last year, but I figured these were enough gems to get me through his first date. You're welcome.

Adorable. Freaking adorable.

This is Bean. He is five. Today I'm going to share with you the ridiculously adorable (but mostly ridiculous) things he says wrong, but I don't have the heart to correct. I know that someday he will be all big and smelly and teenagery, so I'm choosing to cherish this junk as long as possible.

I'm going to have to spell the incorrect words phonetically... both because they aren't real words and so you can get the idea of what it is he's saying. There are a few cute phrases as well. Here we go...

1. Brave-orite (Favorite): "Batman is my brave-orite!"
2. Moozed (Used): "I moozed the crayons at school."
3. Zizzors (Scissors): "I need to cut with the zizzors."
4. Nember (Remember): "I nember him from my old school."
5. Tah-got (Forgot): "I almost tah-got my coat."
6. Reg-yer (Regular): "I want some reg-yer milk." (as opposed to chocolate milk)
7. Mame (Name): "What's your mame?"
8. "I don't know idea."
9. "I don't want to listen to Christmas season right now!" (Christmas music)
10. Mare-cuh (America): "Look at this Captain mare-cuh!"

I know there are a couple more that he says that crack me up, but my brain stops working after 9 PM, of which it is. I will correct him soon... but let me enjoy this for a minute! Jeez.

My spazzy sleeping habits

I have always had a problem with sleep walking and talking in my sleep. My dad said that when I was little, you could walk into my room at 11:00 PM and on the DOT, I'd start talking. I don't really know why, but it's just one of those super awesome things I do.

After I had my three boys, I did another awesome thing in my sleep. I'd usually have them sleep in our bed for the first couple weeks after being born until we got them on a schedule. Every single time I'd finally move them out of our bed with all three of them, I'd "wake up" in the middle of the night (aka sleep walking) ripping the blankets and sheets off our bed looking for the babies. I'd be freaking the freak out, screaming "Where's the baby?!" all the while Husband was sleepily trying to get me to chill out. I usually would snap out of my sleep walking frenzy and lay back down.

Another time, I was really into a ridiculous facebook game called Cafe World. It was short lived, but when you're a stay at home mom and Husband is traveling 5+ days a week (at the time anyway), you do what you can to keep your mind busy. I'm not proud of it. Once while Husband was actually home, I arose amidst my slumber and ran to the top of the stairs screaming "They're here! They're here! They have guns, they're going to rob us!" which obviously shot Husband out of bed in a panic. He ran to where our gun was locked up and loaded it and eased his way quietly downstairs to check on what I'd be screaming about, all the while I'd laid back down and was fast asleep. When he came back after evaluating the lack of people with guns, he asked me what my problem was. Turns out I was dreaming my virtual Cafe was being robbed and I'd acted it out while totally passed out.

Last night, Bean woke up to bad dreams and came to sleep in my bed. He took Husband's empty spot next to me and we both went back to sleep. At some point I had a dream that there were TWO Beans. One was real and the other was an imposter of the spy persuasion. I'm not sure what exactly I'd done in my sleep, but I woke myself up holding the sides of Bean's sleeping face and had been yelling something at him, though I'm not sure what. I was startled awake by the sound of my own yelling. I have no idea how Bean slept through it, but I'm glad he did. I really need a reality show of just me sleeping. I'm pretty sure I'd be rich.

Beanisms

My five-year-old says some CRAZY junk. I had to document said junk for future blackmail as well as for your entertainment. So thus begins the Beanisms (at least the ones I can remember, anyway)...

Upon seeing a wiener dog: That thing is so cute, I might DIE. 

Me: You know you're awesome, right?
Bean: Yeah. I know you're beautiful, 'specially for dad. 

Bean: Mom, do you like helping kids? 
Me: Yes, sometimes, why?
Bean: Can you help one now? (Long pause and a sigh) It's me. 

My sister is watching my kids while I'm taking a night off. Bean rubs up against her unshaven leg...
Bean: I think you might be turning into a boy!
Sister: Why?!
Bean: Because you have hair on your legs!

Me: You're my favorite five-year-old.
Bean: Ugghh... I KNOW.

I was crying (happily) because some one anonymously paid to fix our car.
Bean: Did some one die? 

I got home from a party I did for the direct sales company I'm a consultant for. Bean shows me the above picture as he's cuddle up next to the cute, blonde teenage girl who babysat him and yells, "MOM! It's me and her! She told me she LIKES me! She's my lady!"

We pulled off the freeway to go to my parents for dinner. A homeless guy was standing next to the exit holding a sign asking for money. I said nothing, as this was a common occurrence at our last military base in Las Vegas. Bean: Looks like that guy needs a job. 

I'm certain I'll recall more or add more as he says more random stuff. So, this list will probably grow over time. For now, that's all I've got. He's so rad.

What happens on the freeway, stays on the freeway?

I was an obnoxious kid. I can't say that I've overcome this particular trait entirely, unfortunately. I was the kid who did weird stuff to embarrass my mom at the grocery store. I did a lot of weird stuff by myself at the grocery store, actually. Exhibits A & B...

This was me about 8 years ago. This character was lovingly named Regina Phalange. I'd wear a hoodie and stick my friend's dummy head used for practicing hair cuts in the hood on top of my own dome. I can't tell you how many times my friends and I got booted from stores for rocking Regina. I once walked through Wal-Mart (you know, since this kind of stuff seems normal there) as Regina yelling "I'M BEAUTIFUL!" while my friend held my hand and led me along because, despite popular belief, I can't see a damn thing in there. I'd imagine my friend should have felt more embarrassment than I did, but usually whoever was with me was cool with it.

This is a really long introduction to the really short story I have to tell. So, yeah... I'm pretty obnoxious from time to time. Not as much now that I'm 29 as when I was younger, but the trait hasn't completely dissipated.

Earlier today, I had to run an errand about fifteen minutes from my home with my sister's company. We got on the freeway and started our journey. We're chatting about nothing in particular when we pull beside a school bus. I glance over as I'm driving due to a lot of movement out of my periphery. I then see what I'd guess is a nine or ten year old girl waving hysterically as she smiled at me with crazed eyes. Most adults would shake their head and ignore the kid... not me.

I matched her expression as best as I could, but I'm pretty sure mine was more maddening. I waved as though my life depended on it and my eyes got wider and my smile got crazier. Soon, this little girl not only stopped, but she looked confused and, dare I say, a little bit scared. I'm not sure if I taught this little girl a lesson or scarred her for life today, but either way... mission accomplished.

Freaking Telemundo

The title of this post might seem way more off-putting than it's actually intended to be. When I shake my fist at Telemundo, it's not for the reason you'd think.

We subscribe to Comcast for our cable and internet needs at our current location with the good old Air Force. We have way too many channels for our needs, but it's nice on nights when I just need to stay up late by myself to regain some of the sanity I've lost throughout the day. Honestly, if I could only subscribe to 15 of the fuhfillion channels we have, I'd be happy... but that's not how cable works.

In the amazing age of technology, Comcast has an iPhone app that connects your cable box directly to your phone and essentially turns your iPhone into a remote control. This seemed ingenious initially; especially considering I lose my remote fairly regularly, whereas I have my phone attached to me at all times.

Husband has this app on his phone too, but he's in Asia where his phone is essentially now just an iPod until he comes back home. You'd think that this wouldn't make a difference, right? WRONG. Husband can, in fact, change the channels on my TV here in the good old United States all the freaking way from Asia via wifi. His channel of choice? Telemundo. He'll do it most times if I'm video chatting with him while the TV is on in the background. He has, however, done it at random when we're not talking and when I least expect it.

Husband has been known to do some weird stuff in his sleep (although not as weird as me, but that's another story for another day). Yesterday, I had turned Adventure Time on for the kids so I could get some work done, but only left it on for a moment before I popped one of Cakes' favorite movies in. After the movie ended, I switched the TV back to cable and the channel was on Telemundo. FREAKING TELEMUNDO!!!! The best part? Husband was in Asia, sleeping. He doesn't remember doing it, but I'm certain he sleep telemundo'd me. If I could hi-yah him through the interwebs like he invaded my TV, it'd have been done by now. Believe it. In the mean time, a fist shake will have to suffice.

The Jeep that kills dreams

This is Husband's Jeep. It is ginormous. The picture really doesn't do justice to the magnitude of giganticness it beholds. One of my best friends is on the small side (she comes to my shoulder and I'm 5'9"). She stood next to the Jeep after Husband purchased it and noticed that the bottom of the door was above her waist and said, "This thing is taller than my v****a!". So perhaps that can give you a visual. Maybe not the right one, though.

ANYWAY... This thing was made to rock crawl. It can climb rocky terrain with ease. I had my first experience as such just a few short days ago.

I have these kids that live across the street from me that, I've gotta be honest, I'm not a fan of. One of them is mean to Bean every single time they encounter, so I tend to avoid them at all costs and send Bean to other friends' houses when he's hankering to play. These kids also leave their crap everywhere. I've found random articles of clothes (socks and shirts being the most frequent), toys, a TV remote and their razor scooters in my yard more times than I can count. All I can say is that I'm thankful I'm only renting this joint until Husband returns from Asia, because if I had to endure this craziness any longer, I might spaz out.

Last Friday evening, I was due to meet a friend for dinner. We'd had plans for at least a month. My two little sisters were going to watch my dudes, but were also due at a family function elsewhere, so I let them take my Xterra where all the car seats are so that they could take the dudes with them. I don't drive the Jeep much. I start it every week so it won't die, but I think I've only driven it once to the gas station since husband deployed. So, this was going to be my first real drive in it since we left our last military base.

Back tracking, I go walking every weekday morning with one of my homies and our kids. After I put Cakes on his bus, I stuff Bean and The Wee into my old, crappy double stroller and we walk for an hour. This stroller sucks. It sucks bad. It squeaks and it always veers to the right even when you're trying to push it straight. I hate this stroller, but I couldn't afford to replace it, so meh... whatever. After each walk, I park this beast (fully assembled) behind the Jeep. This is where the story resumes.

In my hurry to get to dinner, I totally spaced that the stroller was behind the Jeep. I backed out with ease and I did feel as though I was running over something... but it only felt like something the size of a razor scooter. The very scooters that are left in my yard from time to time. As I recounted this story briefly on facebook, I mentioned that I was slightly happy with this because I am, from time to time, a horrible person. I should have gotten out and looked, but my smug attitude kept me rolling. It didn't feel like much at all.

As I leave my driveway and hit the stop sign at the end of my street, a neighbor stops me and points behind me saying, "Is that YOURS?!". I look behind me to see my still fully assembled, mangled double stroller dangling behind me. Yes, yes it is. I couldn't believe that I had not only run it over, but that I'd mistaken it for a freaking razor scooter! How is that even possible?! Well, I assure you, it is.

As you can see, it leans to the left now instead of the right. So much so, that the front right tire no longer touches the ground and it falls over whenever you try. I know it doesn't look as bad in pictures as it does when you try to actually PUSH this thing, but I assure you... it not longer works. Luckily for me, I was able to barter for a used double stroller that actually works even better than this one did before I ran it over.