Before entering my home, there are several signs posted outside that forewarn visitors what they might encounter inside.
Our Family is nuts:
We belong in the looney bin:
We take NO responsibility for unattended children:
If you are faint of heart, turn back now because this blog post is not for you. If you find the mentioning of certain bodily functions offensive, click out of my site now and find a nice blog post on DIY sofa covers or frilly lamp shades.
I have a teenager and 3 adult children. When we are all together under the same roof, things get interesting. If you were a fly on the wall in my house during this time, here are some snippets of conversation you would have heard:
"Dad is just a crusty old man who sunbathes with dinosaurs and eats bologna sandwiches."
"Stop singing Whitney Houston songs! My ears are bleeding!"
"Don't eat corn! That junk ricochets back at you in the toilet!"
"It's a sign of sisterly love that our toenails fell off on the same day. That's what I call true bonding."
"Why did you let me eat that much orzo? Now I need a stomach pump."
"I want a penguin. And a kangaroo."
"Yeah, well I wanted a yard gnome but I never got one."
"Don't you hate it when you burp and throw up in you mouth at the same time?"
"Can't be any worse than pushing out a fart and then end up peeing a little bit in your pants."
"Cut your damn Hobbit toenails!"
" I gotta pee so bad my bladder is gonna burst in my throat!"
"You let the dog lick your face? He just ate his own poop outside!"
"Stop hoarding all the peanut granola bars in your room. What are you, a squirrel?"
"Oh, she pooped in her diaper. That was a nice little surprise package."
"You need to get out of sloth mode and get busy doing your chores!"
"Don't cut your toenails next to me while I'm eating lunch. I don't want those flying missiles landing in my macaroni salad."
"I'm not putting my laundry in with his. I don't want our clothes rubbing together in the washing machine. I can't even dry my face off on those towels because they all smell like his dirty under ware."
"No, sweet potato casserole does not come from ear wax."
"Who the hell had a picnic in the bathroom?"
"What do you mean?"
"There's a meatloaf in the toilet and lemonade all over the seat."
And in the past week, I have been referred to by my children as a:
Don't get mad, people! These are terms of endearment in my home. Which is why I love my family so much.
Welcome to the nuthouse!
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