you know you're in trouble when...

(also titled: There's a big fat difference between mommas and daddies)

....when your darling little ones goes down to the family room to play with her brothers and comes back up looking like this:

That, dear readers, would be glitter. And not the organic, all natural, co-op grown kiddies non-toxic glitter, either. That would be the industrial, hardcore, removal only by sandblaster and 53 hail-marys, eat your insides out glitter.

And it would be everywhere. I own neither a sandblaster or rosary beads. Shit.
You know you're really, really in trouble when you go upstairs to blog about it and see this on your computer's monitor:

That, dear readers, would be Gary the Snail. In bubble gum form. Stuck to the side of the monitor.

The difference is that while I was busy taking snapshots of it, daddy was busy completely losing his shit about it. Camera vs. paper towels? Camera wins, ever time.

Maybe you had to be there....

Not a very good picture, eh? Well, let me explain.

The Story:

Fresh off of some Nacho Libre, the boys decided to wrestle to the death to the pain for our heavenly father on the couch. The baby decided that she was going to get those goddamn shoes buckled or so help her god she'd never rest again. Also on the couch. As you can see, there's not a ton of space separating them. As you can also see, 3of3 was completely unfazed by the shenanigans to her right. She just kept right on with the buckling. And then the funniest thing that has ever happened ever, happened. One of those smelly, big brother feet came into her dance space. She didn't look up, she didn't budge an inch. She simply, with all her little ninja skills, grabbed the foot, shoved it back into it's allotted space, and said, "Please. Shoes."

A few minutes later, an arm came in her path. Again, no looks, no nothing. Just a shove and a "Please. Shoes."

Again, later. A butt this time. No reaction but a push and "Please. Shoes.

A few minutes later the better part of a brother came at her. This time she looked up. She took both arms, slammed them into the back of the brother, shoved as hard as she could and said, "DON'T. Please. Shoes!"

The girl likes shoes. What can I say?

Sometimes, nothing but daddy will do.

Last night, Josh and I were sitting out on the deck, bitching about Cheney or something, and 3of3 came toddling out to her daddy. He picked her up and was snuggling her when she saw something completely new and totally awesome. There were pretties. Pretties in the sky.

She pointed up and said, "Daddy, I want it."

Daddy looked up and said, "Stars? You want stars? Daddy will get you a star, baby."

That's when she started reaching towards the sky, trying to get them down. And that's when he started helping her. And that's when I took my leave and let them have their moment. Their moment that damn near made me cry.

trying not to throw rocks at glass houses and shit

I have been giggling thinking about this one for days...
ORANGE BEACH, Ala. (AP) — Police who chased a car for miles along a highway at
speeds up to 100 mph said the driver was drunk, hardly a rarity in this resort
town. But there was more: When they looked inside the flipped vehicle with guns
drawn, they found an 11-year-old girl at the wheel.

I heard it on the radio the other day while my 3 screaming children and I sat at the border for over an hour in a steaming hot car trying to cross into the states so I could make a bank deposit. That, I suppose, is a story for another day.

Anyway, my immediate reaction was something along the what horrible parents she must have line, but I thought about it and came to the conclusion that I'd better not judge too harshly.

My kid's totally going to do something like that. Soon.