Okay. Most of you know that I call my husband Sgt. GrumpyPants because, well, if you have ever met him you know......he scowls a lot and generally acts grumpy. Not really all that creative on my part. To tell the truth I find his scowl to be endearing, and it turns out, hereditary. Motormouth was born with a little scowl all his own, and it was the first thing I could see and be able to say "I know just who he got THAT from!" Monkey also scowled way before he ever learned to smile, which I find comforting. But things have been changing around here, and I am starting to realize that the nickname might not be so fitting anymore. Sgt. G has become much less crabby in the past several months......and the nickname doesn't quite fit (you know, like an old pair of Pants....okay so that was a little lame.....) Don't tell anyone, but he has actually had several days where he has been downright cheerful. And dare I say, happy. Not giddy with glee or anything, but not quite so gloomy either. So, it brings me back to my dilemma. The nickname. Should it be changed? And if so, to what? Any suggestions? I have gotten quite used to Sgt. G, so something starting with the same letter would be helpful because it is hard for me to keep up with too many changes. G himself had some suggestions that weren't really fit to print.....so we will ignore them. Just like I ignore his feelings about my blog in general- now that he knows I have one.

He came back for a second helping

While living in Germany I ran into an Army wife that made mashed potatoes with mayonnaise in them to make them creamier. Sounds gross, but is actually pretty good. She confided in me that her husband was horrified at the thought of eating potatoes that way and so she has snuck the offending ingredient into the recipe ever since. I thought that was good advise, and started quietly putting mayo into our potatoes. This has worked really well for us, since the boys can't eat any form of dairy, and we only ever have vanilla flavored soy milk in the house, I use the GF/CF mayo as a milk substitute. Sgt. G caught me the last time.

Sgt. G: Oh my God. What are you doing?

Me: um....cooking? you should go back into the living room now.

Sgt. G: you can't be putting that into the potatoes, it's disgusting!!

Me: would it make you feel better if I told you have eaten these potatoes several times already and you never noticed before?

Sgt. G: (fingers in his ears) LaLaLaLaLa!!

Me: oh yeah? I learned this from a wife in Germany, we moved back stateside 5 YEARS ago.

Sgt. G: you have seriously put that into my potatoes before.

Me: (looking slightly guilty) Not EVERY time.

I am almost postive that Sgt. G says ABSOLUTELY

This weekend we were camping in our parents yard (how redneck is that??? )

There are two very good reasons for this:
1. we want to get to use the new camper, but want to see family as much as possible this summer, and
2. the dog isn't allowed in the house

Monkey and I were heading in for bathroom and breakfast and we were having a disagreement on who should have to walk to the house. I felt that since it was morning, and we all have legs, that we should all use them. Monkey clearly disagreed. He jumps in front of me, scowls, bends over a little, and waves his arms (think umpire declaring the runner "safe") and says
"No!! Ab-so-mootly NOT!!!"

Do you have any idea how hard it is too keep a straight face when your six year old mimics your husband when he is angry? What is funnier is that G didn't realize that Monkey was doing a daddy impression.

well, now I can't give him crap about it.

Sgt G. was cleaning our bedroom, and he comes out folding some hunter orange pants. He is finally getting all his hunting stuff out of our bedroom and stored back out in the garage until fall.

Me: Wait, are those new pants? (tags still hanging on them....I am quite the detective). When did you get those?

G: These are those ones I bought on sale...we've had this discussion.

Me: Didn't you just buy pants last year? I swear with the money you spend on hunting stuff....

G: No I didn't just buy pants last year. The only orange pants I had were the first pair my dad got me about 15 years ago. I'm going to give them to Motormouth.

He holds them up and they do look like they would fit a nine year old easier than they would fit him.

G: I bought this shirt last year (he holds up another hunter orange object)

Me: (peering into the storage tub) huh. Wait, are these the camo pants I wore when we took the kids sledding? (I don't own a pair of snowpants....which is why you don't ever see pictures of me sledding with the kids....I look like Backwoods Barbie) Or are these new pants too?

G: No, those are not new, and those are not the ones you wore. Those have suspenders. You wore my camo coverall set.

Me: So, you have two pairs of camo pants for hunting?

G: (slowly) yeeeessss.

Me: Oh, wait. I get it. It's like shoes.

G: What?

Me: Your hunting stuff. It's your version of women's shoes. You know, you have all this stuff when just one or two things would do. I don't get why you spend money on this and everything in here looks pretty much the same to me.

G: You got me. These are my women's shoes.

I don't think I know any responsible adults.

There must be something in the air because there has been a lot of talk about sex lately. Maybe it is because it's Spring....I don't know. But, it has come to my attention that some responsible adult should be talking to Motormouth about s.e.x. After all, he is nine and they are going to start talking about it in school next year and it is freaking me out. So, in an effort to not have to freak out alone, I shared my thoughts with others. It went well.

Me: WE should be thinking about talking to Motormouth about sex. He's nine and I guess that is when THEY suggest you do that.

Sgt. G: By WE I assume you mean.....

Me: yeah. you.

Sgt. G: (groans) Can't we just show him a video or something?

Me: Don't they call that "corruption of a minor"? I think that sort of thing leads to jail time.

Sgt. G: I didn't mean that kind of video.....but now that you mention it......

Me: Yeah, that will give him a realistic idea of how things work.

Sgt. G: I'm still waiting for my busload of cheerleaders.

Me: keep waiting, it could happen.

Just leave the seat up. You win. I admit defeat and you win.

On the days I work in the morning, I usually try to squeeze in a nap while the kids are in school. The dog usually wakes me up by barking like crazy 2 feet from my face because Motormouth is coming through the door....so I am already a ray of sunshine while trying to deal with Motormouth's incessant chattering and questions. Motormouth came in clutching some Red Vines and asked to trade for some candy that he can actually eat (let me say right here how amazing I think this kid is that he will hold candy that he isn't supposed to eat all the way home on the bus while all the other kids are eating theirs because he knows he isn't supposed to eat it- how many 9 year olds would do that? He gets so much credit for that, but apparently, that credit does not transfer) He makes a trade, I eat the Red Vines and tell him to wash his hands before he eats his candy. He goes to the bathroom and washes his hands and wanders off. I then go in to use the bathroom after him.....and somehow manage to channel my mother. In my defense for the following exchange...this would be the third time in as many days that his father and I have talked to him about this.

Me: (from the toilet) ARGH!!! MOTORMOUTH!! DID YOU GO POTTY WITH THE SEAT DOWN?????

Motormouth: Whoops

Me: Do you realize that when you do that you get pee all over the seat and so then Mommy sits in it???

Motormouth:.....................heeheeSORRY!!

Me: (practically whispering) I'll give you a head start.

Motormouth: What?

Me: Go. Now. Run. Now. Away.

Your next wife will hate that.

Sgt. G: I have been thinking about what tattoo I want for my birthday.

Me: forget it. We can't afford, and I refuse to look at an entire sleeve of RealTree camouflage.

Sgt. G: Okay, well seriously then, I am thinking some sort of military tribute tat on my calf.

Me: mmm, I don't know. I think it is strange to have tattoos where you have hair, you can't really see the tattoo.

Sgt. G: Well, then I will just get your name.

Me: huh.....like over your heart?

Sgt. G: I was thinking more of on my back, since that would be more symbolic.

Me: I think you should take the advice your mom gave last summer, give it a few years, see if this whole marriage thing works out.