Thursday, January 29, 2015

Cement or Not to Cement

A McMansion is going in next door to me. I am not happy. Yesterday they poured the foundation. I had to go to work before the workers finished. I left Prince #3 a note:
Dear Christopher,
Whatever you do, don't play in the wet cement next door.
Either way, that's a win-win.

Thursday, January 22, 2015

New Neighbors

A couple moved on to our street this week. I saw them in their front yard and I went to introduce myself.
"Hi, I'm Linda. I live in the house over there with the huge pirate flag."
"Oh," they murmured. "That house. Hmmm, yeah, we were wondering about that."

Thursday, December 18, 2014

The 12 Days of Christmas For My Fellow Queens aka Moms of Boys

In the spirit of the holidays I have composed a little ditty for you, sung to the tune of The 12 Days of Christmas.  We will just start at the twelfth day; by the time you repeat the 'eight maids a-milking' part five times you want to stick a sharp candy cane in your eye.
On the twelfth day of Christmas, 
My sweet kid gave to me
 Twelve gummy bears, 
Eleven dead batteries, 
Ten asks for weapons, 
Nine coughs in my face, 
Eight screaming tantrums, 
Seven dripping mittens, 
Six fights with his brother, 
Five - water - balloons, (NOT IN THE HOUSE!!)
Four half-eaten cookies, 
Three evil grins, 
Two sugar highs,
 And a hug and kiss on Christmas morn!

Enjoy your friends and family. And remember what the Grinch learned, “Christmas Day will always be just as long as we have we.”

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Obligatory 1st Day of School Photo

I sent Prince #3's photo to College Boy and this is what I got back

Monday, May 12, 2014

Queen Linda's Mother's Day Address

How many times have you received that e-mail “For Those of You Who Have Sons & Those of You Who Are Happy That You Don’t?” (Such an offensive title) Or the other e-mail titled “Why Boys Need Mothers?” 
If I see that picture of the red headed boy with the frog in his mouth one more time... 
Being the Queen of all moms of boys that I am, I have decided to stop the madness and create a gem that is based on fellow Queen's boy stories. 
So go forth, forward away and multiply the Queendom.
Reign On!
Queen Linda

Moms of boys know that their sons will:

Insist on wearing their super hero costume for weeks, never change socks and practice the sniff-and-wear approach to dressing.

Never know where their other shoe is.

Whip off their pull up, throw it to the ceiling and dance in a shower of diaper gel pellets.

Be able to tell which brother farted by the smell alone.

Wipe boogers on the wall, paint with poo during their artistic brown period and extend their budding magic marker tattoo talents to the dog.

Make your car insurance go sky high after “That curb came out of nowhere!”

Play a game consisting of setting mouse traps on a chair and then sitting on them.  Whoever remains the most stoic wins.

Light their farts not realizing they are in the beginning throws of puberty resulting in an unfortunate hair scorching incident. They will then wear their bathrobe to the ER.

Start phone calls with, “Hey Mom. I’m okay but...”

Peddle off the roof and into the swimming pool on their BMX bikes. 

Have a contest to see how accurate their aim is by peeing into a cereal box set up in the driveway.

Leave crayons, army men, trading cards, coins, bugs and the occasional snotty kleenex in their pockets so you can find them in the dryer lint trap.

Have phone calls with their friends using only monosyllables and grunts.

Lock their babysitter in the bathroom, duct tape their brother and then raid the pantry.

Poop in the display potty at Home Depot.

Decorate the kitchen floor with peanut butter, BBQ sauce and honey.

Cut their own hair with safety scissors.

Put playdoh in their diapers.

Pee anytime, anywhere; on the doctor in the delivery room, in front of church, on the baseball field, in the bathroom trash can, in potted plants...

Proclaim it loudly when they notice that someone has a big butt, is a dwarf or an amputee.

Never learn how to put clothes away, replace a roll of toilet paper or throw out empty boxes of snacks.

Text you when you’re in the same room.

Wad up lengths of toilet paper into a loose cannonball, place them in an upended hand dryer nozzle and hit the button.

Place beenie babies on the blades of the ceiling fan and then turn it on high.

Love you forever.
Text Copyright © 2008 by Linda Marie Ford

Monday, February 24, 2014

Yes, That Is What You Think It Is

A circular saw on my new couch and no one around to claim it.

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

It is STING Pong, Not Ping Pong

The boys got a ping pong net for Christmas. It clamps on any table and viola! instant fun. Who knows when we will eat in the dining room again. 
Sting pong is played shirtless. For every point you win you get to hit the ball as hard as you can at your friend's chest, preferably with a running start. They all have ping pong ball sized welts on their chests. Posting pictures of battle wounds on Facebook is inevitable. 
I'm putting my foot down. They can't bring any girls over to play.