The Day I Accidentally Bought My Child A Porno

Okay, so it’s not like I went out to an adult store and picked out a porno for my kid.  It was completely and utterly an accident.  Here is what happened….

So on Saturday, Chase, Ry and I went to Goodwill shopping, in an attempt to stay out of the house when Cory was working on some home-improvement projects.  So into Goodwill we walk.  Chase is a sucker for a good thrift store- mainly because he can get a ton of crap with his $2 he manages to find searching through my purse on the way to the store and claims he “earns” it.  And frankly, I'm also too excited to shop for good deals and give in. Every. Single. Time.

Anyways, we get to the DVD aisle.  Chase browses through a few cartoons and quickly passes them up.  He is more of an animal documentary kind of kid these days.  I am watching him as he sees a movie with a giant fish on it that peeks his interest.  He looks at me and asks what the title is.  I respond, “Mega Piranha.” I skim the cover and it looks similar to “Sharknado” but for piranhas and I non-reluctantly agree to this purchase.

Fast-forward to Sunday morning (you know, the day dedicated to God) at 8am.  Chase asks to watch the movie while I am getting Ryder ready for the day.  Not more than 3 minutes into the movie and I hear Cory yell to me in a surprised tone, “What the hell kind of movie did you buy him?” And sure enough, the first scene is a boat full of well endowed, topless women.  I hear Chase mumble to himself, “I like this movie.”  Cory gets up, not to quickly, and turns it off. 

Fast forward to a one year old’s birthday party we were at a few hours later.  Cory and I were discussing our stellar parenting skills and the Mega Piranha movie and without skipping a beat, Chase walks into the room and nonchalantly says, “Boobs.”

Parenting.  Nailed it. 

3 Chickens, 1 Dog and a Whole Lot of Dysfunction

Wowza; has life gotten away from me this summer.  This has been a season of change for my family between moving, unpacking, work and a new school- we have hit our all-time high on the busy meter. And we all know how well I do with change.  (Little fun fact about me- when I was little, my parents bought a new couch.  I was so upset about getting rid of said couch that my parents had to move it out of the house in stages.  I shit you not, first from the living room to the dining room, then to the porch and then to the yard.  And at each station, I would sit on it and cry.  Wow- attachment much?  Looking back- this should have been an indicator to sign me up for therapy.  I guess we missed the early boat on that one.)

Any who- we have some introductions to do from this summer:

We now have three chickens named Prime, Delta and Other Chicken. (Two were named after dinosaurs in a Jurassic Park movie and the other one was named out of Chase’s pure laziness. That chicken must be the middle child.)

               Ya know, now that we live in the semi-country we can welcome farm animals into our family (luckily for Cory, I am allergic to most farm animals so I think the chickens will be the extent of our farm).  Every day we get fresh eggs.  Usually blue/greenish eggs and some brown.  The boys love to snatch them from the coop and bring them to the house to get washed and then to sit in our fridge until we run out of Doritos and corn dogs and have no other choice than to eat Revermann farm-fresh eggs.

Our first night with the chickens was a little traumatic- Prime (that asshole) got out of the box we brought it home in.  We spent the next hour chasing a frantic chicken around a yard full of pine trees with a snow fence and a fishing net.  I’m not going to give myself props by letting you know that I’m the one who ended up catching the chicken, but if you are wondering- Cory wasn’t the one who caught it.  So anyways, our new neighbors think we are straight up hillbillies who should be medicated- heavily medicated.  

Lastly, Trixie.

               Trixie is our geriatric dog that we are fostering (to adopt) from the Tri-County Humane Society.  She is 10.  I’m a wiz with math so I did the numbers for you; she is 70 in dog years.  Why didn’t we get a new puppy, you ask?  Because nothing is sweeter than a grandma dog who already loves children (even toddlers who ride her), “snores” even when she is awake (try explaining an old, wheezing dog to your 6 year old) and is semi-house broken. (Cory, I threw in the semi-house broken part for you because you know I like to give her the benefit of the doubt and insist that our toddler peed on the carpet and not my sweet grandma dog- who probably needs Depends.)  On a side note- Chase will not let me refer to Trixie as a “grandma dog” but instead likes to call her a “teenage dog.”  Whatever dude, when she turns grey next week and starts knitting you socks, I will force you to call her a grandma dog.

On a side note: One day Trixie decided to break into the chicken coop and attacked our chickens.  Delta and Other Chicken ended up missing a few feathers, but I think it was Chase that was traumatized from the situation.  He ran into the house yelling to Cory that, “Trixie is killing our chickens.”  Cory ended up saving the chickens and no one sustained any serious injuries, but Chase spent the next week randomly telling Trixie, “We don’t kill our family.”  I hope he keeps this in mind when he is having urges to skin me.

So here we sit, at the end of our first summer in the country, with 4 new family members.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.