Selective Stupidity

I think that something needs to be brought to the light here.  And in advance, allow me to apologize to those who might become offended - nah, never mind.  You might not get it anyway.  You ladies know what I'm talking about.  That one question that all of us women ponder, but none of us have the answer to....in regards to men. 

Why are they so stupid? 

Now before all you men out there get your boxers in a bunch, please let me clarify.  Do I mean stupid as in lacking intelligence? No. Not entirely.  Let's call it a bit of selective stupidity, shall we?  Let me start off with just a couple of the cliche issues we see in men pretty regularly:

• When you see your woman or a woman you care about and/or love is upset, and you ask if something is wrong, and she answers with "No" or "Nothing", and you buy that, you're a fricken idiot.  However, do not, and I REPEAT, DO NOT push the issue until she is ready to talk to you about whatever it is that is upsetting her.  Yes, this is catch 22.  Just go with it.  You could be saving your own life.

• Video games.  Let's be real.  Nothing is more ridiculous than a grown-ass man sitting down and playing video games for HOURS and HOURS on end.  Your attention span is not big enough to handle household duties, kids AND video games.  And you wonder why when your woman comes home she's about to blow a gasket.  Simple solution:  Take care of your responsibilities first, THEN you can play.  And if you're responsible for children while your wife is away, do not even bother picking up that paddle.  We know that those lotion hand prints and crayon marks on the wall did not get there in the '2 seconds' you took your eyes off the kid(s).

• You might not believe this, but your appetite CAN be satisfied with a normal single-serving meal.  In order for this to happen though, you must chew your food when you eat.  Your woman does not like going broke at a drive-thru because you believe you will literally die from starvation if you don't order a number 5, a number 10, two sides and a pie.  And by the way, an entire pizza is NOT a meal for one.

That's just a few of many things I could go on about.  But now let's talk about tomorrow and how said stupidity of one man on this planet could cost him his very existence.  Tomorrow is April Fool's Day.  As previously mentioned on Facebook, my husband asked if I would be really mad if he pulled an April Fool's joke on me. He insisted that it would be a great one.

To this inquiry I responded, "If you have to ask me that, it's probably in your best interest to NOT do whatever it is you're going to do."

He sat quietly for a moment and pondered, then said, "Yeah. I'm going to do it. You already have my balls in your purse, so there isn't much more damage you can do...and it's totally going to be worth it." 

And again, as mentioned, there are a few points to note about that conversation:

A. He's a dead man.
B. It's true. His balls are in my purse...on a key chain.
C. If you're going to pull an April Fools joke one someone, you DON'T prepare them to expect something.
D. He's a dead man.

So, with that being said, honey, I would strongly suggest you re-evaluate your April Fools idea(s) because this could very well turn out to be the stupidest move of your 32.11 years.  If you want to make it to 33, reconsider your M.O.

It could be the smartest thing you've ever done.

Butterflies, Butts, and Boobs.

Hello to all my potential readers out there.  This is the first of what I am certain will be MANY blogs.  I have no shortage of material to write about considering I am married with two young daughters, and life is certainly never dull.  I am starting this at the suggestion of a very dear friend who seems to believe that my life at home is great sitcom material.  Reflecting on it, I suppose she's right.  I guess I don't pay much attention to the hilairity of some of the things that happen at home because I am so used to my surroundings.  But, here goes. 

So where is my starting point? 

Well, let's begin with a conversation my 7 year old daughter, Amaya, and I had this morning.  She is entering the age where she is extremely fascinated by the adult female body and also eager to get her own self to this stage way before she is ready.  Normal, right?  Sure.  The conversation started off with her coming up to me and leaning her head upon my chest. 

"Look how tall I am, Mom", she said as she placed her hand on top of her head and pressed her fingers against me showing me exactly how tall she was.  "I'm up to your boobs!"

"I see that," I answered, not trying to make a big deal out of her word usage, hoping she would just let it go.

"I drew boobs by accident yesterday at school," she then said.

By accident?  I waited for the explanation.

"I was drawing a butterfly and the wings looked like boobs and butts," continued Amaya as a smirk slid across her face.

She's testing me.  Don't play into it.

I decided to change the subject and began to question how she wanted to do her hair for the day as I fiddled in the bathroom drawer for a brush.

"I can't wait to get boobs, Mom!"  Amaya tugged on the front of her shirt as she said this, proudly staring in the mirror - as if to make a set magically appear.  Then she peered up at me in the reflection of the mirror and waited for me to say something.

Just let it go....Just let it go...Just let it....

I spun her around so she was facing me, and got down to her eye level and said, "Look, Amaya.  You are seven years old.  You have all the time in the world to grow up and become a woman.  You really need to concentrate on being a kid and worrying about kid things.  Boobs are not a kid's concern, okay?  Just let it go."  Amaya nodded and I stood back up and turned her around so I could proceed with doing her hair.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"When can I buy my first bra?"

FRICK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!