In a house of boys

Who's missing the funny me?  I totally am. 

So, to go along with my up and down posts I'm going to throw in a funny one because you all are probably bored to tears with all the running, workout, and emotional talk. 

I live my life with 4 boys.  Life has GOT to be funny, right?  No matter what is going on I find myself laughing at one point or another.  Yes, I called Dale a boy because sometimes he acts like one.  Thank goodness!

If you are eating lunch or dinner consider this a warning of words to come.

In a house of men there isn't a lot of pressure to look my best 24/7, BUT every once in a while I like to throw on a dress and look smokin hot mainly to feel better about myself and keep Dale's interest, of course.  Getting to that point requires a shower and some time in front of the mirror during hot summer days.  Sometimes I don't get all of my clothes on before one of the mamma's boys comes struttin through the door. 

Comments like "I'll hit your boobies" are mixed in with awkward stares and comments about me not having a pee pee.  I try to be as dressed as possible if I know they will be coming in the door, but it is hot so I basically stay in my underwear while I'm drying my hair.   For the youngest terror it doesn't matter if I have clothes on or not, he still tries to figure out where my pee pee has gone squatting down to look up, hands on his knees and all.  I know he will do this so lately I will head to my closet as soon as he comes in to throw some shorts on.  Recently I have discovered that doesn't even stop him. 

Just the other day I headed in there because I heard his pitter patters coming down the hall.  I threw my shorts on and was standing in the closet getting a shirt.  Before I knew it a cold hand was goosing me several times as I about jumped out of my skin.  He grabs for the nonexistent wienis as if it will magically appear in his hand by doing so.  Perverts at such a young age! 

The same day I recently got all hussied up to head to a baby shower, twisting my ankles on the country ass driveway, trying to avoid the grease covered Semi, and dodging the huge mirrors on Dale's work truck just to head to my car, things reached a new level.  I went to the baby shower, had fabulous girl time, and rushed home to my boys to take the oldest school supply shopping.  As I pulled back into the driveway there was a stick stuck in the chat pile of our country ass driveway with something white hanging from it.  My initial thoughts, the boys must have made some kind of flag.  The realization hit me as soon as I opened the door and the smell of toddler poo found my nose quickly. 

That's the turd laying there.  The boys ended up burying it before we left to go shopping.

"Who's underwear are these?" I barked at my grease covered husband. 

"Waylon's!"  He said with a "get this story I'm about to tell you" grin on his face. 

Waylon has an issue telling anyone else but me he's had an accident.  He will wait until I get home to tell me he's had an accident at the babysitter's.  I'm thinking, oh, that's ok, honey.  Try harder tomorrow, ok?  Until he leads me into the bathroom to get his 8 hour crusted poo off his back side.  He doesn't have many accidents, but they have all been notable!  This time his daddy insisted that he continued to smell shit and checked his pants after an hour of repeated denials. 

When I asked Waylon about it later I was expecting a little embarrassment NOT the huge grin he got on his face and the giggle that followed.   "Did you see my underwear?"  His older brother went on to tell me that daddy cleaned him up by taking him outside to the water hose and spraying him clean.  Apparently he laughed hysterically through the whole thing.  Aaaand daddy hit his "...penis, and it hurt so bad."  Bad enough to continue laughing about it.  Dale didn't want to touch the turd covered undies so he got a stick from the garage and picked them up taking them to the chat pile to fly them high so I would see them AS SOON as I got home.  Lovely of him, right.  Such a thoughtful husband.  I wonder what he ended up doing with those.  I guess I better ask him about it when I get home. 

I'm surprised Waylon didn't explain his accident in terms he learned just the week previous over dinner.  We don't talk about the normal "how was your day" kind of stuff everyday.  Sometimes Dale likes to throw in some good ole life lessons.  Things like what a turtle head is, an undie stamp, and a skid mark.  And as if just using descriptive words isn't enough hand gestures had to be used to really drive the lesson in good.  They know about constipation, hemorrhoids, and the sign language for fart.  Even Weston can tell you that one.  I have to admit that was kind of cute. 

As I showed disgust on my face Dale says to me, "You don't want them learning this from anyone else." And followed that by looking back at the boys letting them know they could go to school and teach the other kids all about it. 

So, we're having a dinner party soon.  Who wants to come over?!