My life has been full of children who talk non-stop for some time now (and what a change that is from a few Holdenism/Parkerism blogs ago)- but lately, it’s taken a turn. Chestnuts should be roasting on an open flame during this time of year, but instead, if I lit a match in this bitch it would torch the house in seconds. THAT is how much farting is going on around here. Don’t believe me? Here is this edition of Holdenisms & Parkerisms, and it’s so full of bowel movements you’ll feel like your colon is cleansed once you’re done reading!
Happy Holidays, and Merry Fartmas!
Parker just walked up to me one afternoon and said “I just farted so hard it made my tummy hungry!” and I could have sat around and wondered how in the world that is even possible or if it even makes sense or what in the hell I fed the child for breakfast that would cause such a tremendous ass tremor, but the only thing I could think was… I don’t EVER want to fart that hard!
We were in the middle of dinner and Holden paused and said “Wait… I’m not allowed to fart at the table, right?” and me, feeling like the good mom because my child remembers the table manners I taught him, pat myself on the back while answering him “that’s right” and just as I’m feeling my Super-Mom cape blowing in the wind, he stands up in his chair, leans his ass over the back of it so that he’s pointed away from the table, and squeezes out a giant HRRRNNKKKK, sits back down, and says “What? I didn’t fart AT the table. I farted AWAY from it!”
I just….. I couldn’t even be mad. He wins.
Holden: 5,000, Mommy: 0
Parker: Uhh, Mommy, what was that?
Me: *sheepishly* ….. I farted.
Parker: No you didn’t! Girls don’t fart! Only Daddies do, and they smell like rotten eggs and death!
Me: You would make such a good husband!
Parker: *looks confused*
Me: *farts again*
OKAY, I didn’t fart again! But I should have now that I can get away with it! Muahahahaha!
Parker, while eating lunch: *takes two pieces of cheese* Look! I have a cheese sword and it’s cutting this other cheese, how did it do that??
Me: *mindlessly* I don’t know. I did not cut the cheese….. Oh…. I see what you did there.
I actually don’t even know if he knows what he did, but I’m still giving him the points.
Parker: 5, Mommy: 0
My batting average sucks.
On a Thursday:
Parker (to the Husband as he’s leaving for work): Is today Friday?
Husband: No, it’s..
Me: *interrupts* TURDSDAY, AND IT’S NAMED AFTER YOU! BUURRRRNNNNNN!!!
Parker: *grumbles angrily and walks away*
He didn’t talk to me for an hour. Victory!
The kids went upstairs to play together. This never EVER ends well. Usually there’s a loud crash and then screaming, or someone comes wailing down the stairs tattling on the other one. One day, instead of screaming, I heard this little tune being sung by a little voice and it went a little something like
“My big brother is the biggest butthole that ever buttholes and he does stuff I don’t like all the time because he’s a butthole and I wish he wouldn’t, the buttholiest butthole brother!”
A little simple, but still better than half the shit they call music on the radio right now!
Parker thinks he’s a comedian.
“Mommy, how long ago did you get married with Daddy?” and before I could answer, “Like, a thousand?”
Now, here’s where I could have gotten mad, but instead, I responded with “Sure as hell feels like it” and he was either so confused or so displeased with my answer that he just walked away. MOM WIN!!!
The kids offered to help the Husband cook breakfast this morning. This was their exchange over making eggs:
Husband: First you crack the eggs into the bowl
Kids: *crack eggs*
Husband: And now you take your thumb
Kids: *hold out thumbs*
Husband: And insert it directly up your butt!
Husband: *laughing hysterically*
And people blame ME for their weirdness! Psh!
Parker sat down for dinner one night, pouting and feeling sorry for himself because he got his ass in trouble for being a smart-mouthed turd. When we put down his plate in front of him, he folded his arms, looked at his food, and said “I bet that tastes like sadness.”
That kid is gonna be the end of me, I swear.
Every day at school, there’s a mom that lets Parker play on her phone. Today we were late due to the Little’s tummy having some issues so she told him he only had a few minutes and he very cheerfully says “yeah we were late because I had to poopy-poop!” and he laughs and everyone laughs because they think he’s just being cute and then his face drops and he interrupts the laughter and says “No. But seriously. I had to poop.” and I fucking DIED! DEAD! DONE!
While I was in the bathroom one day, I overheard the kids having a conversation about solar systems and stars, and Parker claimed his stuffed bear came from a SUPER star, so I came flying out of the bathroom like this:
They just looked at me like I was on crack.
Holden: *playing a game on the tablet* AW, MAN!
Holden: I lost my balls!
Me: Best get used to that. It’ll happen when you get married, too.
Husband: Stop it.
Me: *dies laughing*
Holden: *totally oblivious*
Parker: *hands the Husband a pretend container of peppermint cookies, which he has been pretend making for two days* Have one of my cookies, Daddy!
Husband: *straight mean face*
Me: *whispers* Just friggin’ eat it, man.
Husband: *eats pretend cookie* That tastes nothing like peppermint.
Parker: *turns around and farts directly at the Husband* THAT tastes like peppermint!
Husband: *straight mean face*
Me: *dies laughing*
I was watching an episode of Supernatural while Parker played on my tablet and in the episode some little kid got all possessed-like and nearly killed his mom. I didn’t realize the Little was watching until I was making lunch and this conversation occurred:
Little: Mommy, that kid almost KILLED his Mom!
Me: Yeaahh…. Don’t ever do that, okay?
Parker: I would never do that! ….. you’re paying for Disney World and Daddy isn’t!
Me: …. how about because you love me and don’t want to hurt me?
Parker: *shrugs* I guess that, too.
And THAT tells you everything you need to know about children. A-holes.
My kids won’t stop farting at the dinner table (or at all, really). Here’s an explanation of why, by Parker:
“Sorry! When my butt wants dessert, it won’t stop talking!”
Seriously. More farting:
Watching TV with the boys and a couple was getting a little steamy for their eyes so me and the Husband yelled “INAPPROPRIATE!” and fast forwarded through it. In an act of utter brilliance, Parker then crawled on top of the Husband and said “Now THIS is inappropriate” and farted directly in the man’s face.
I laughed so hard I hurt myself.
The gas continues:
Parker once asked me if I wanted to see his Darth Vader, and when I said yes, he turned around and farted on me.
The Force is definitely strong with that one.
And one more, just because I like when my kids harass their father instead of me!
Parker: *to Husband* Do not call me a four year old and do not treat me like one either!
Husband: So stop acting like one.
Entire table: SUPER BURRRRRRRNNNNNNNNNNN!!!
Parker: *whacks Husband in the face with a tortilla chip*
We are a mature and loving family, obviously.
I'm either "I HAVE 3 FRIES LEFT DON'T TOUCH MY PLATE!" or "Please take this so I can't eat any more of it!" There is no in-between.
Dear people writing articles on ways to get siblings to get along, I'll save you the time. The answer is "Don't let them play together"
Please stop Complimenting my kids’ “Good” Behavior goo.gl/fb/rwfojS
Hard pass from me pic.twitter.com/VayvW1eopK
I've gotten to the point where I'd let my kids summon a demon with a Ouija board before I'd let them play Monopoly together again.