You Know You Beat The Average 2.06 Kids Born/Woman (CIA estimate for U.S) When

You're waiting with one of your bairn for her checkup and you overhear the pediatrician ask the nurse "So, how many Lairds do we have today?  Just one?  Oh, okay."

So sorry to disappoint, Dr. Dave. Next time I'll bring all five and we'll really have some fun.

I Imagined This Would Happen. I Had Simply Hoped It Wouldn't.

The kids are in bunk beds.  Occasionally their conversations steer towards the "what happens when the person on the top bunk throws up all over the place?".

Tonight it happened and it happened big.  If you've ever wondered how far and wide vomit can go from a five-foot perch, you're welcome to stop by.  It was stunning how much carpet the arc of yak covered.  Gross, and stunning.

The best (?) part is, it's only 10:30 pm and only 1 child has come down with the case of the honks. 

Four more kidlets to go.  I probably need to cover the interior of the house with tarps.

Just A Little Obsessed

Even though the show is so scripted, I love to watch House Hunters.  I hate to make John suffer through it with me, so I don't watch it very often, but I did catch an episode a couple weeks ago that sent me to my thinking seat.  The short of it: the couple ended up buying an old fire station (!) and I now believe such a building would be nearly perfect for the Laird 7.  What sold me?  Two things:

1. The bay.  One stinkin', enormous, high-ceiling'd room.  It takes the "great room" and "open concept" ideas to a new level. 

2. The lovely, oh-so-lovely, dorm-like bathroom.  5 sinks (yay!), three stalls, three showers, and a urinal.  Now, some people think a urinal is either gross or not that neat.  I don't deny the potential for gross, but I would still love to have one for my boy. 

So now I daydream about how fun it would be to convert a firehouse. 

Silly, I know. But cool.

Did Lizzy Lose Her Eye?

It was 34 minutes past bedtime last night when Gracie tippy-toed downstairs to ask the question above.  Seeing as how a two-eyed Lizzy had just tippy-toed herself down the stairs 29 minutes past bedtime, John and I were confused.  Lizzy has a bit of a cold, so had she sneezed so hard she said her eye popped out? That is 100% something she would say to be funny.  Had she really sneezed so hard with her eyes open and popped her eye out? I hadn't heard any crying, so I think we can eliminate the second idea.  That left us with no choice but to start a conversation:

"Gracie, what are you talking about with Lizzy losing her eye?  Did she say that?"

Gracie: "Yes. She said her eye was missing and I was wondering what happened to it."

"I don't get it.  What are you talking about? What do you mean she lost her eye?  Really? She said she lost her eye?"

Gracie: "YES!  She said she lost her eye!  Is she going to lose both eyes?"  At this point, it should be noted that Gracie has not demonstrated much concern about her sister losing an eye.  It was a question born purely out of curiosity.  I mean, maybe she was a little worried.  She did come downstairs to inquire, which is loads better than just ignoring what Lizzy said (which is what most kids would do if they heard an oddball statement like that).

[what in the world...]

Blank staring from all parties.

And then...Light bulb!

"Gracie. I think she means the 'i' is missing from her step stool.  You know, the letter 'i'?"

Gracie: BWAAHAHAHAHAHHAA!  That's so funny!!! I thought she meant she lost her eyeball!!  You know, her eyeball! That's so hilarious! Oh man! Hee hee!"

"Go to bed, Gracie."

Thankfully, thankfully, I had noticed earlier in the evening that the "i" was missing from her step stool. We would have had to wait till morning to figure it out, because a full inquisition is rarely done around here after lights-out.

Our Mudroom Smells Like Stinky Feet

Just so you know, yes we are fully cognizant of the odor that assaults your senses when you walk in our back door.  Or our front door. A summer of Crocs, flip flops, and sweaty tennis shoes = that stale locker room stench I had to endure every day for my job way back in my days of teaching PE and coaching.

Yuck.

Sorry.

So Everyone Is Aware

I was working on a post last week and John asked if I was writing about how awesome he is.  "Yes. Of course I am." was my reply, which was not true.  Yes, he is awesome. No, I was not actively making a public declaration.

I am making one now.  John Laird is awesome.

If it's possible (and I'm not sure it is), he would be even MORE awesome if he would wear this shirt I saw on the playground today:

 

 He said he would not.

We'll see.

Don't Quit The Day Job, Lady.

The Trips filled out one of those super-cute questionnaires about me at school a while back, in what was supposed to be a "Kids say the darnedest things" exercise.  I ended up nearly devastated.  Not because they all listed me as being in my 80's (really, who cares).  No, it's that none of them thought I was funny.  I know I'm not hilarious, not even close.  That title belongs to my sister and a couple other people I've met along the way in my years of existence.

So apparently I am some sort of ogre.  Not funny and certainly not cute, at least in the eyes of three of my children.  Okay, okay, I look nice when I go to weddings and birthday parties, which was three times last year. 

John tried to be The Hero and pulled each kid aside and told them to LIE and tell me I was funny.  Here's how it went down:

I overhear John whispering to Johnny "Go tell Mommy she's funny".

Johnny: "Hey Mommy."

Me: "Yes, Johnny?"

Johnny: "She's funny."

Me: "Who's funny?"

Johnny:  {Shoulder shrug}  "I don't know."  Walks away.

Cue Gracie, who does the Gracie swagger to the kitchen.

Gracie:  "Hey Mommy. You're funny."  Then, over her shoulder as she walks away: "But you're really not."

Me: "Thanks, Gracie."

NEXT!

Lizzy: "Hey  Mommy.  Daddy told me to tell you you're funny."  Walks away.

Me: "Thanks, Lizzy."

It's fairly obvious I have some work to do on my stand-up.

An example of the offensive opinions from the peanut gallery.

By the way, they are RARELY told to eat all their dinner.