The Bearded Iris

A Recalcitrant Wife and Mother Tells All

Tag: funny (page 1 of 3)

Fifty Shades of Slap-Yo-Mama Hilarity

I have not read Fifty Shades of Grey.

I realize this probably qualifies me as someone who is living under that proverbial rock, but so be it.

Because I am never going to read Fifty Shades of Grey.

And that’s final.

My reasons are two fold: Continue reading

Cereal killer.

Oh my GAWD… it’s like lookin’ in a mirror.

Only in my house, I’m the nasty morning person and my husband is the bright-eyed conversationalist. Most days I take my coffee and hide out in a different room until I’m caffeinated enough to function.

This is one of those days.

But I have to tell you real quick that I’m taking a few days off. Mini-Me and I are going on our first ever Girls’ Weekend! Really looking forward to blowing this sweltering popsicle stand for a few days and catching up with some hometown family and friends. I predict pedicures in our near future!

Come on back next week and we’ll catch up!

xoxo,

-Iris

I love the 80s. My labia doesn’t.

Howdy pardners! It’s week 18 over at Org Junkie‘s 52 Weeks of Organizing challenge! This week Laura’s topic is Functional vs. Fabulous.

Last week I successfully conquered my floordrobe (the ginormous pile of clothes on my bedroom floor) and sent tons of goodies to the local thrift store. This week I thought I’d take advantage of that momentum and scoot on over to my bedroom closet for a little hand-to-hand combat.

It’s a bigger project than I thought it would be.

In fact, I’m no where near being able to do “the big reveal.” So instead, I think I’ll just show you the linen closet that I reorganized back in January.

But first, just a sneak peak of why it is taking me so long to clean out my closet:

I’ve been trying on EVERY…SINGLE…ITEM.

Why, yes, these jeans ARE from the late 1980s.
How did you know? The acid wash or the 9 inch zipper?

If you think THAT is bad, you should see the legs…
they’re tapered and end right at the ankle.

And yes, those are cows painted on the jeans. As in “mooooo.”
I know. It wasn’t cool in the 80s either.

And as for the overall fit? Not okay. Downright painful, truth be told.
In fact… if you look a little closer:

Yowza. The things I do for you people. {You’re welcome.}

So yes, it is taking me longer than I anticipated to go through my wardrobe. Turns out I’m a bit of a pack rat! Who knew? But don’t worry, this camel-toe coozy is already at the thrift store. I probably should have attached a shoe horn to the belt loop for the next owner. Sorry, next owner.

Listen, ladies, if you own any jeans that showcase the precise outline of your labia majora, you need to get rid of those suckers. Nobody wants to see that. Well, nobody except the folks over at Monistat. To them, your denim-encased camel toe is like money in the bank.

So anyhooo….

Way back in January, I reorganized my linen closet in preparation for a visit from my mother. Knowing her the way I do, I did NOT want her to see my towels in such disarray:

I knew that if she opened this little closet to grab a towel for her shower, one of the following scenarios would certainly unfold:

a.) she would inadvertently grab the NASTIEST rag I own to use for her bath towel. I’m talking about the rag I reach for when a toilet overflows or one of my kids projectile vomits all over the ceiling. Not cool. I love my Mom. She deserves the nicest towel in the hizzy… not the toilet towel.

b.) she would attempt to organize the messy closet on her own, not knowing what is what. She would then either toss something important or not toss anything for fear that it was important. Long story short, waste of her time and it would undoubtedly piss me off.

c.) she would grab me by the earlobe, drag me to the closet, and force me to clean it out on my hands and knees while she stood over me with an axe, which would be extremely unpleasant for both of us. Wait, is that my mom or just a movie I saw once. Oh who cares… it’s a great visual. I’m keeping it.

Yep, you guessed it: I decided to avoid all of these situations and just clean it out before she arrived. It wasn’t rocket science. I got rid of a bunch of junk and neatly folded the rest.

And here’s what it looked like when I was done:

One thing I figured out a long time ago was to NOT keep all our sheets in the one centrally located linen closet. I think I came up with that when we moved into this house because the linen closet is so tiny.

Every bed in my house has two sets of sheets. Those sheets get washed, folded, and stored as a little bundle inside its matching pillowcase, in the room where the sheets get used. This is brilliantly easy for weekly (let’s just pretend) sheet changes. No hunting about or trying to figure out which sheets go with which bed!

Added bonus: I have more room in my linen closet. And now that I got rid of a lot of the other junk that was in there, there is even room for my vacuum. That was by far the biggest improvement. Before the closet reorganization, my vacuum was always just out in the hallway because there was nowhere else to stash it. Now it has a dedicated home. Everyone in the family always knows where it is and where to return it when they’re done with it. Love that!

One other quick tip – I added two extra large cup hooks to the inside of the linen closet door:

The one on the left is for a pair of scissors. No more biting the tags off of new clothes!

The hook on the right is for a bunch of feathers on a stick. I have no idea what that thing is for but the kids enjoy playing with it once in a while.

Alrighty, friends. That’s all I have this week. I hope your organizational projects have been as fun as mine have been, but with significantly less vaginal irritation.

very truly yours,

-Iris

© Copyright 2011, The Bearded Iris.

Pootorial

Make your own DIY fake poop out of upcycled cardboard! Funny and practical, kids and fun parents LOVE this easy, green, hilarious craft. Great for pranks!

Greetings! For today’s Just the Tip Tuesday post, I’d like to share with you a simple pleasure that has brought my family much joy over the years. It is the art of making a fake turd.

This is a simple, green, and no-cost craft that is fabulous for children of all ages. It is important to note that I don’t typically enjoy crafting with children, particularly my own. However, this is so incredibly easy and the results are so entertaining that I just can’t resist.

For this craft, you will need only three things:

1. A bowl of water.

2. A cardboard toilet paper or paper towel tube. The bigger the tube, the bigger the turd. I haven’t tried it yet, but I’m thinking a wrapping paper tube would be super fun.

3. Two hands. If you are differently abled, one hand would probably suffice. I don’t think this craft would work though if you have hooks instead of hands.

The pretty girl is optional.

My lovely assistant will now demonstrate the steps needed to transform the cardboard into a turd:

1. Using your hand(s), rip the cardboard tube open lengthwise.

2. Submerge the cardboard into the bowl of water and move it around so it gets nice and soggy.

3. Now remove the cardboard from the water and start to form the fake turd with your hand(s). Squeeze the wet cardboard so that it will bunch up into a long, compact, moist, brown, wrinkly cylinder.

4. Be patient. It can take a minute or two of good hard squeezing to form the perfect turd. Here’s one that’s almost ready…


5. A few more squeezes and…

Need a cheap, easy, green, and FUNNY craft to do with your kids? Check out my POOTORIAL on making fake turds using recycled materials and just two other ingredients. HILARIOUS and practical. Kids (and fun parents) LOVE this.

Voilà! Pretty awesome, no?

Wait, here’s a close up so you can really appreciate the details:

Need a cheap, easy, green, and FUNNY craft to do with your kids? Check out my POOTORIAL on making fake turds using recycled materials and just two other ingredients. HILARIOUS and practical. Kids (and fun parents) LOVE this.

The best part? My eight year old daughter is able to complete this craft completely on her own. That’s what those in the Montessori community call “mastery.” Just look at the pride emanating from her masterful little face as she lovingly cradles her new fake turd:

Once you have a fake turd or two in your arsenal, it’s time to play. The choices are endless. Here’s one possible vignette:

A little obvious for my taste, but the kids sure like that one. Personally, I like the element of surprise. For me, turd in the shoe equals F-U-N.

Some other ideas for using your fake turds include dramatic play such as puppet shows and story telling reenactments of momentous bathroom events.

You can also craft with your fake turds. I’m thinking googly eyes and little outfits and hats would be a hoot!

Or how about mixing in torn colored construction paper during the turd making process to simulate dietary changes. What a safe and and fun way to explore what happens when we eat corn or beets or cupcakes with blue frosting!

And of course, there’s always good old classic family games like Turd Toss, Find the Turd, and Turd Tag. Let your imagination be your guide.

I hope this earth-friendly craft brings you and yours as much joy and satisfaction as it brings my family!

fondly

-Iris

© Copyright 2011, The Bearded Iris.

If you enjoyed this piece, I have an entire Pinterest board called “Poop is Funny.” Join me there and let’s giggle together!

Follow Leslie’s board Poop is Funny on Pinterest.

Hair in my freezer?

I was a very busy girl two weeks ago getting ready for my Pampered Chef party! (Which was very nice, thank you for asking!) In addition to cleaning out my car (like a dumb ass) and my freezer (because what’s a successful kitchen show without a squeaky clean deep freeze?), I also beat my kitchen drawers into submission. Amazing how much you can get done when your dog’s in the hoosegow and you’re in a flat-out panic about having people over!

So since I did three projects in one week (take THAT To-Do List!), I took a break from organizing this week and spent as much time as possible getting Ike readjusted to life on the outside. We had his invisible fence relocated so that he can’t be in the front yard anymore (without me). He’s having a hard time getting used to the change and doesn’t want to be anywhere but by my side, which is just fine by me. Sure did miss him. Did not, however, miss having to use the Dome of Doggie Despair everytime I turn my back. Some things never change.

Okay, enough chit chat. I know you want to see some nasty before pics and shiny after pics, don’t you?

Let’s start with the freezer.

Before:

…a friggin’ mess. Every time I opened it I was sure something would fall out and break a toe. Want to know a dirty little secret? We’ve lived here 8 years, and I don’t think I’ve ever really cleaned this puppy out even one time in all those years. Oh, the shame!

So I unloaded that bad boy…

And wiped that sucker down. Naturally I used my new Shaklee Basic H2 All-Purpose Spray… it’s organic and safe and not smelly. Here’s some more info about it. It rocks. Get some.

So the two most disturbing/entertaining things I found in my freezer are this:

… some nasty old freezer-burned broccoli stems. Seriously? Did I really think I would make soup or something with those? Why do I save things like this? I mean really. Here’s an idea… buy less food, have less waste.

And this…

… that’s a snowball. Aren’t my kids brilliant? Nothing more surprising than a snowball attack in the middle of summer. Bless their hearts. It really did snow here in Georgia, a lot, this winter. In fact, we were snowed in for a whole week in January. Not pleasant.

Hmmm, what an atypical scene... Mini-Me giving Frosty a lap dance and the Light of the World shining down on, oh I don't know... who could it be... is the chosen one... my Bucket Head?

But back to the freezer. I tossed a bunch of old stuff and put everything else back in a neat and orderly fashion. Not rocket science. And it didn’t take me very long either. I should do this more often! Maybe then I wouldn’t find dog hair in the bottom of my freezer. Oh Lord, at least I hope that was dog hair. You never know in this house. Did I tell you my husband is Italian? (Very hairy… fine lookin’ as all get out, but the curtains do not match the the rug, if you get my drift.)

"the curtains"

"the rug"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Back off, Cheryl. He’s mine. (Isn’t he a gorgeous hunk of man meat though?)

But again, I digress.

So now my freezer is sparkling clean and not the least bit hairy. Look how I’ve neatly arranged my freezer packs for the kids’ lunch boxes! Obviously, I need to group all the green ones together. My word, what is wrong with me?!

Got meat? I do! And it’s neatly stacked. Look at how my Tilapia is clearly labeled with the date. I’m fabulous.

My favorite part of my newly cleaned freezer? The “V” shelf.

“V” is for veggies and vodka.

Well, look at the time. I guess I’ll have to show you my clean kitchen drawers another day. But thanks for visiting and please stop back again!

As always, I’m linking up to Organizing Junkie. Also for the first time, linking to Organize with Sandy.

your friend,

-Iris

© Copyright 2011, The Bearded Iris.

The Space in Between

So yeah, I totally agree with you. The way I anal-retentively carve and lovingly salt-water-bathe apple slices for my children every day is borderline insanity at its finest. But lest you think I’m that conscientious about all my mothering tasks, you should really take a look at this…

"Peek-a-boo!!!" {Eewwww!}

That’s a public restroom, folks. And those are two of my three beautiful children, joyfully exploring the space in between the stalls: that magic box that exists only in public Ladies’ Rooms.

The very box where we deposit our used feminine hygiene products so they won’t clog the toilet. The box that millions of women touch with hands that have been just handling their dirty pads and tampons.

"Mom! My head totally fits in this hole!"

I can’t think of a more pathogen-laden germ hole in a public restroom than this magic box that is sooooo appealing to children of all ages.

So yeah… about these pictures. Before you call D-FACS, let me explain. Two things are happening here.

One, I have three kids. The first kid is the “practice kid.” You’d wrap that child in a plastic bubble if you could. You make him wear a helmet… everywhere. As a baby, when his pacifier would fall to the ground, you would boil it. You probably also had a number of back up binkies sterilized in your high-end diaper bag just in case this happened when you were out and about at a “Mommy and Me” infant swim class or story time at the library.

By the time the second kid comes along, you are a little more laid back. You know the drill and you’re not as freaked out by every little thing. If that pacifier falls to the ground, you quickly rinse it in the sink. You have a back up binkie, but you can’t find it. And P.U., how long has this dirty diaper been in my diaper bag?

Third child? Fuhgetaboudit. You are so tired and overwhelmed all the time that your previously high standards are out the window. When that pacifier hits the floor, you pick it up and dip it in your 32 ounce Diet Coke to wash it off, then you lick it. Good as new. Diaper bag? What diaper bag? You have one diaper, a stack of Chick-Fil-A napkins, and a juice box in the bottom of your purse. It will have to do.

So yes, I’m tired, I’m jaded, and my hygiene standards are low.

And if you’ve ever taken a 4 year old boy into a public restroom, you know how revolting and exhausting it is. They crawl on the floor. They touch EVERYTHING. They put their heads dangerously close to the toilet bowl to see what’s in there.

Like George Costanza, my 4 year old son must completely disrobe to drop the kids at the pool. And where do those clothes go when he starts ripping them from his body before I can free my hands to catch them? The floor. My apologies to this nice man who is likely to have a seizure if he reads this.

Your gentle pleas of “Honey, that’s gross, don’t touch that please,” quickly morph into verbal assaults of “STOP IT!” and “NO NO NO NO NO” and “OH MY GOD, GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF THAT TOILET!” You fear that if you utter any version of “No” one more time, you will snap. You will. And it won’t be pretty. So you accept the things you cannot change and vow to give the kid the scrubbing of his life when you get home.

The second force at work here is the fact that I am a writer, a blogger, a digital expositionist. Bloggers see the world through a different lens. Suddenly everything in your life has an angle and a story to go with it. If you can capture an image of it somehow, even better. My friend Kate sums it up best in her brilliant post, A Beginner’s Guide to Blogging:

Get used to disapproving looks from other mothers when your child falls in the street and you scramble for the camera instead of picking her up.

Guilty as charged. Who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth like this:

"I see you! Wait...what's that smell?"

Hey, at least the box was empty, right? I like to believe that even I would have put the kibosh on this rousing game of Peek-a-Boo if it was happening above the rising fumes of a freshly deposited maxi pad.

There is a very wide space in between the mother I was 11 years ago and the mother I am today. Just like the wide space between my over-the-top apple prepping standards and my apparently lacking maternal instinct to shield my children from blood-borne pathogens. And frankly, I enjoy that space. There is a lot of wiggle room there. Room to breathe and to make mistakes. It’s a good thing.

So please, know that the mom who buys a special cleaner to wash potential poo off the kids’ apples, also lets her kids stick their FACES in the dirty tampon receptacle… and photographs it. Awesome.

The space in between… clearly enormous and inconsistent, but also somewhat  entertaining in a trainwrecky sort of way, no? Next time you are beating yourself up for a parenting sin, come on over. I’ll wrap you up, {deposit you in a metal bin}, and make you feel better.

© Copyright 2011, The Bearded Iris.

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