Get the Soap...

Hello, everybody!

My kids are all at camp, and I miss them dearly. I was thinking how fast they've grown. And with that comes the responsibility of watching what you say. It was a sad day when we had to limit our listening to 50 Cent to times when the kids weren't in the car. But then again, hearing the "N bomb" or "mother effer" coming out of my beautiful baby girl's mouth just felt DIRTY.

I have washed my boys' mouth out with soap for them repeating the word "penis". Not because it's a bad word, but because they were standing on either side of their 7-year old sister, thrusting, and saying "penis" over and over until she cried. They've since changed the word to "weenis", as if I wouldn't know what they were referring to. And aside from the slam to my intelligence, all has been fine.

Then there was the time I was working in my office, on the computer. Harrison was laying on the floor at my side, coloring. He was 3 years old. I'm typing, he's coloring, and I hear out of his precious mouth "cluuuusssssterfuuuuck". Say what?! I ignored that one, thinking if I gave it energy it would sprout wings and fly.

I've had notes sent home from Dean's teacher complaining of potty mouth (the word he used that day was "butt-face"), Madeline asked a chaperon on a 5th grade field trip what a "condom" was (apparently there was a dispenser in the public bathroom they were using), Avery sang a song to me that had the word "ballsack" in it (I'm still traumatized by that one).

Now, here's the fun part...
tell me what's the FILTHIEST, WORST thing you've heard your kid say? C'mon, share! It's fun and therapeutic...

Secret Handshake

Here's the twins' Secret Handshake:

start facing each other, then...

shake twice with your right hand, shake twice with your left
low-five with your right hand, low-five with your left
high-five right, high-five left
then be the first to kick your brother in the 'nads.

Know Your Audience

To many, I am outgoing and funny. But in certain social settings, I can be very shy. I'm not that great at "small talk", and to overcompensate, I can put my foot in my mouth. One thing I constantly do is misjudge my crowd in terms of what is appropriate humor or a "comedy killer". Add a libation or two, and my humor is often met with the proverbial "crickets chirping".

1) When I first moved to Atlanta, I got a job at an EXTREMELY southern financial institution. It was employed by EXTREMELY southern young belles, ex-athletes, and good-Ole-boys. We would all sit in a communal room, separated by half-partitions. When it was a slow time, we would stand up to kid around and talk, like a bunch of whack-a-moles. During one such slow spot, an EXTREMELY southern young lady stands up and shares, "Y'all, when I was in sorority at Ole Miss, it was considered unladylike to stand and hold a beer while talking to a guy" and sits back down. So I popped up and added, "Yeah, I can really relate. Cuz when I was in college in New York, it was considered unladylike to actually MOUNT a guy while holding a beer." CRICKETS

2) Some dear friends of mine decided to throw me a "congratulations on my Black Belt" party, in conjunction with a mutual friends' Going Away party. There was an odd mix of my friends, their friends, and his friends at this party but hey - alcohol makes for strong glue. The host of the party was pouring a small group of us drinks, and holding court. He was telling some guys about a friend of theirs who ended up in jail. The host turns to me and explains that this guy was a part-time magician who got heavily into cocaine, and was eventually busted on possession charges. "Wow!!!" I giggled "That must have been some cavity search! What did they do - pull a rainbow scarf out of his ass?!" and actually MIMED said pulling of scarf out of said ass. CRICKETS

3) Later, at THE SAME PARTY, we all retired to the screened in porch. Polite conversation was being volleyed from one side of the room to the other, and all across. One buddy mentioned he went to a small private school called Choate. From across the porch another man commented "I didn't know you went to Choate. I heard Jamie Lee Curtis went to Choate." "Yeah", my buddy answered. "But it was a looong time ago". "Yeah!!" I chimed in. "It was SO long ago, Jamie Lee Curtis still had a PENIS!" CRICKETS

Both Sides of the Argument

As previously mentioned, I am a woman. I have all the "woman" parts, so technically, I know this to be true. I have conceived four children, birthed these four children, and even nursed these same four children. In fact, I have witnesses to all these events and whom can all corroborate my claim that yes, I am a Bona Fide female!

However, in the sake of fairness and good journalism, there are those who wish to refute this argument. Below are some of my nay sayers, and their statements.


Exhibit A) at a special-needs camp I volunteer for, I was having dinner with my all boy 12 year old campers. Their cabin had formed a Fraternity during the week, and one of these sweet boys asked me if I would be joining it. No, I gently replied. That's sort of "your thing", and besides, I said, a fraternity was technically for boys. "Yeaaaahhhh", he answered, "but you're not a 'real girl'". I cocked my head to question this, but instead was met with other 12 year old boys nodding in agreement.

Exhibit B) at the family dinner table, Dean poses: "Mom, were you always a girl? Or were you born a boy, but got "that operation"?

Exhibit C) when still teaching first grade, I asked a bunch of my kids if I was a boy a girl. NOOOooooo! They all giggled. Ok, ok. I corrected. I mean, am I a "man" or a "woman". NoooOOOOoooOOOO they all chanted again. Wait! I reminded them. I have to be one or the other. I have to be either a "man" or a "woman". One little girl raised her hand. "Noooo, Mrs.____. she laughed. You're not a "man" or a "woman". You're a MOM".

Exhibit D) leaving Epcot, my daughter Avery turns to me and asks, "mom, if you didn't shave, would you have a moustache?" I defensively told her I don't shave my face - only men do.

So there you have it. Decide for yourself. If you have pix of me, I dare you to zoom in real close and see if my parts are real. Well, most are, anyway ;)

What ALL Boys Want

For the most part, my twins are all boy, especially Dean, whom I consider a "boy's boy". He's silly, leaves skid marks in his underwear, dresses cool, you get the point.

So I was pretty surprised when he comes downstairs one afternoon and asks if he can play with Avery's dolls. "Sure", I tell him. "Just bring them down here, so I can keep half an eye on you." (And make sure you don't pull any of their heads off, as is his custom). Soon, from the living room drifted the adorable sounds of Dean in his imagination. I had a snack, flipped through a magazine, and still Dean was engrossed in play.

Eventually I was dying of curiosity and wanted to peak at the adorable scene of my son playing with his sister's Barbies. I spied him hunched over, with a Barbie and a Ken in each hand. As I got closer, I saw Barbie was naked, and Ken, also naked, was on top of her. "This is a great date!" I hear Dean squeak in his imagination voice.

Like Doggie Like Son

This short play is titled "Like Doggie Like Son"

Harrison: (sheepishly) "Mom, Mrs. Owens excused me from circle time today and sent me back to my seat."

Me: "Your teacher made you leave circle time? Why?"

Harrison: "Because I was scooting on the carpet."

Me: (confused) "Scooting"??"What d'ya mean? You were crawling around disturbing the other kids?"

Harrison: "NoooOOoooO." "Scooting!" and proceeds to demonstrate, by sitting on the floor hugging his knees to his chest. He then scoots his rear across the floor, exactly the way my (late) dog, Lucy, did.

Me: (a little testy) "Harrison! What you need to do if your butt itches is excuse yourself, go to the bathroom, WIPE PROPERLY, and wash your hands."

Dean: (matter-of-factly) "NoooOOOooo. Harrison, this is what you do when your butt itches" and proceeds to back his way to the corner of the living room. "You get to the corner of the room, and rub your butt on the corner like this!" And Dean proceeds to grind his ass up and down my living room wall.

Me: (exasperated and flailing my hands) "NOOOOOOOO! You EXCUSE yourself, go to the BATHROOM, WIPE properly, and WASH YOUR HANDS!!!!"

Both boys: look at me, blink.

The End

"X" Marks the Spot

Gals, remember Nair hair removal cream? Sure you do! Did it ever really work? Hells no, but we kept trying anyway, didn't we? Well...

Not too long ago my husband and I were getting ready to take a real vacation together, without kids. I was at the drug store picking up stuff, when I saw the classic icon of 1970s sexiness, NAIR. Only now, friends, it is "new and improved". Hmm, I thought. I'm game. And tossed it in my cart. It wasn't long before I was home and on the phone with my mother, telling her about my fabulous purchase. (Now to properly hear my mother's voice in your head, you need the right amount of OVER annunciation, a touch of Queens, and an undercurrent of negativity/doom/patron ism). "You know" she begins, "you should probably test that stuff at home FIRST, before trying it on vacation. You never know what the sun could do to that skin". I thought the woman had a point.

That night, once all my kids were sleeping soundly, I took out my Nair and started on my hairless-sexy-vacation-ready skin experiment. First, the bikini area, so off come the clothes. I shake up the Nair and puff some into my palm. Guess what? It's NEON PINK. "whatevs" I shrug to myself, and dab it on my bikini area. I think I should probably do my armpits, too, so again, neon pink mousse on each underarm. I look again at the "new and improved" directions. They clearly state that no extra skin (or clothes) should come in contact. So, I spread my arms wide, spread my legs wide, and stand in an "X". Step 2 of directions state I should remain in said "X" position for TWELVE minutes. Gulp. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. So I stand in my bathroom, covered in neon pink fluff, in an "X".

What's that I hear? Of course it is!!! In walks my oldest, Madeline. Thinking extremely quickly, my genius solution is to lock eyes with her, and perform some sort of mother-jedi-mind-trick that will hold her focus so she doesn't see her mother in this state. (neon pink mousse, X, etc., and now...flop sweat). She asks me some random question and I dismiss her, without so much as blinking. Holy shit!!! It worked!!! I think gleefully, as she turns on her heels and heads back to bed.

Half a second later, she turns back around. Squinting in disdain she says, "uh, mom. By-the-way...you have pink stuff all over your privates" before heading haughtily out of my room.

Hello and Welcome!

Hello and welcome to my blogsite!

My name is Tara, and I have four fantastic children. Madeline, my oldest, is 12. Followed by my second daughter, Avery, who is nearly 10. The twins, Dean anad Harrison, are 7. (Hence the title of my blog, "Two and Twins". OHHHHHHH!) I married my college sweetheart, Larry, when I was 25. He is often witness to the trainwrecks I somehow attract. He knew what he was getting himself into, though, so don't feel sorry for him. On our blessed wedding day, I managed to spill red wine down the front of my gown before the ceremony. And did things improve once the "I dos" were exchanged? Hellll no. When we exited the canopy as "husband and wife", my cathedral length veil got stuck underneath the canopy flooring. So my feet headed down the stairs, but my veil, head, and neck stayed behind. Naturally, all our loved ones laughed right AT ME. But I digress...

I'm not the mom with the most magnets on her car for every activity, vacation, school, etc., her family belongs to, who volunteers for the most causes, whose kids are the cleanest and cutest, who has a scrapbook full of precious moments. Fuck those moms. There is no fun in perfection. And frankly, if YOU are the mom with the most magnets, etc., on YOUR car, let me say "are you that desperate for attention? REALLY?"

Anyway, I started becoming the girlfriend other friends wanted to confess to, to confide in. They knew I wouldn't judge their mishaps, humiliations, or mistakes. We would laugh together and both feel ok. So this is the site for the shit you just can't make up. The cringe-worthy, hilarious, disgusting, and humiliating things that happen to me. My children are most definitely a source of blog-stuff. But I manage to attract plenty of calamity all on my own. The world has become a very small place indeed. Why not gather around, share some stories, and laugh our asses off at my expense?

ENJOY! AND SHARE WITH YOUR FRIENDS!