Boys will be boys . . .

Looks like Captain Insano has a future with the World Wrestling Federation.

Question: How do you put a Mansell man in a bad mood?

Answer: Say, "Honey, I've got a project for you."


Question: How do you make his mood even worse?

Answer: Allow a 2-year-old in the room where said project is being done.

So the case of the missing DVDs has now been solved.

Although Dr. Phil and the Super Nanny would disagree (not that I listen anyway), Tommy has a TV in his bedroom (left over from the former daycare days). About a month ago some of Tommy's favorite DVDs starting disappearing. I assumed when we painted his bedroom and moved everything, we'd come across his stash. However, no DVDs were ever found.

Well today when Tommy wanted to watch "All About Trains," it too had disappeared. I scoured his entire room--under the bed, in the dresser, in both toy boxes, in the closet, etc. I finally asked Tom if maybe they were stuck inside the TV. He was skeptical that it would still work if DVDs were floating around inside, but he looked anyway. After I disconnected the cable, he picked up the TV and shook it. Yes, indeed, there was a whole lot of rattling going on.

So, thanks to Daddy (aka Tom), were back in business.

So the past week-and-a-half has flown by--lots and lots of company from out of state to occupy our time while Tom's gone. Tom's parents came from Utah, Lorena and family from Spokane, and Karyn and crew came in from Dallas, Tex-ass (as Bob would say). While they mostly stayed with Shari, we all met up each day to hang out and play. We had a blast--too bad I didn't keep a camera with me! We'd have pictures of swimming in October, or playing football with cousins, or learning new card games like "CASH." (Or Ty beating up his cousins, or Tommy beating up his cousins.)

Tom is on his way back home tomorrow--this trip was less than two weeks--whoo-hoo! (Just not quite as "whoo-hoo" for the paycheck!) And this time my "honey-do" list includes getting the master bedroom and bathroom two-toned. Then I'll leave him alone (until I think of something else to be done).

Hmm, wonder what he'll bring me from his trip? Maybe a Coach purse, or Australian chocolates, or diamonds . . . I can dream, can't I?

Tommy woke up this morning and asked to see cousin Grant (gwa-gwoo, short for Granti-grew). Poor little Tinker--Grant's already on a plane headed back to the snow of Spokane (sorry Lorena!).

Don't worry though, Tommy, and I'm sure you and Ty-Ty can find plenty of trouble together.

My sister forwarded this to me this morning (most things she sends me are not appropriate for blogging!), but I thought this was so sweet.

Real Mothers don't eat quiche;
they don't have time to make it.

Real Mothers know that their kitchen utensils
are probably in the sandbox.

Real Mothers often have sticky floors,
filthy ovens and happy kids.

Real Mothers know that dried playdough
doesn't come out of carpets.

Real Mothers don't want to know what
the vacuum just sucked up.

Real Mothers sometimes ask "Why me?"
and get their answer when a little voice
says, "Because I love you best."

Real Mothers know that a child's growth
is not measured by height or years or grade...
It is marked by the progression of Mommy
to Mom to Mother...

Guess that means Sam and I are getting older . . . she quit calling me "Mommy" long ago, usually calls me "Mom," and now is often heard to say "MO-THER!!!!"

Not that I'm envious or anything, but I think Tom's office always has a better view than mine.

All I can see from my office window is my neighbor's roof and swimming pool (and occasionally the neighbor in the pool, cradling a can of beer). Whoopity-doo! Now there's a sight for sore eyes! Cough, cough, choke, choke.



Some day you'd better take me with you, or else . . .