all images © Meghan Boyer Photography

Friday, February 22, 2013

Wanted. Big, Hairy Man.

We have monsters in our house. Three of them.  Self proclaimed.  They huddle up and cry out "Gooo little monsters."  After the huddle, they disperse. Set off for the hunt.  To find the biggest monster.  Bigfoot.  Bigfoot has been a part of our lives for a while now.  He lives in our home.  Apparently.  Somewhere.  Just one more monster to have around the house. I'm just glad I didn't have to give birth to him.

The huddle.


The march.
The hunt.

The tools. Walkie talkies.  And drumsticks.

I've made him peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and gotten him Chapstick.  Because he likes to have pink lips. According to Grady.   And really, what big, hairy man wouldn't?

Grady has an arrangement with Bigfoot.  He takes care of him.  Sets ups his supplies.  Right next to our bed. Thankfully, it's on Sean's side. Because I'm scared of big, hairy men.

We hear Grady at night, shuffling between rooms. Gathering Bigfoot's necessities.

Bigfoot had big needs.

  • A pen and paper.  In case he has complaints.  
  • A scale.  To weigh his big, hairy ass. 
  • A green Power Ranger.  They join forces.  Slaying any unused tampons.  Grady and Dempsey  taught him that.  
  • A Power Ranger's mask.  To go undercover.  
  • Books.  To outsmart the little monsters. 
  • Shirt, tie, pants, and a belt.  For his day job.  Flushing bananas down the toilet. 
  • Binoculars.  To spy on the neighbors.  Something he definitely didn't learn from me.   
  • Money jar.  To pay for his vacation.
  • Thomas backpack. For his vacation attire.
  • Pillow and blanket.  Just in case someone slips him some Benadryl when he's up too late.   Again, I certainly don't condone this.  
  • SpongeBob flashlight.  To whack Patrick in case he gets out of hand.
  • Dream light.  Because they're ugly.  He likes that. 
  • Boots.  For tromping through post bath floods.
  • Diapers. For his babies. What the hell was he thinking?  Hasn't he learned anything living here?
  • iPad charger.  For when he steals our Netflix. 
  • Firetruck.  For emergencies.  Like when the little monsters play with matches. 

Lillian?  She's not so nice.  She's focused on the capture.

Hole digger.

The obstacle course.  Bigfoot's demise. 


Fáilte.  Welcome.  She welcomes him.  To fall in the hole.  In Celtic style.  That little slip of paper?  Bigfoot's eulogy.

And me?  The hell with Bigfoot.  I'm just trying to trap the hairy beast who created these little monsters.  If you have any information on his whereabouts, please call 1.800.Scaryhairyman.  Please do not approach.  He is heavily armed.  See picture below.  

Wanted.  Man on top. 


Friday, February 8, 2013


Grady likes to play tricks. 

He dumps out all of the freshly washed clothes.  And mixes them with the dirty ones.

He visits each bathroom.  And uses everyone else's toothbrush.

He switches around the furniture in Lil's dollhouse while she's at school.  When she returns, she finds the toilet in the kitchen.

He puts Lil's old, pink, training potty on the floor of our closet.  Beneath Sean's hanging clothes.  And pees in it. 

He watches out the window for Sean to return from work.  He tattles on him.  "Daddy is talking on the phone.  And driving naked."

He finds Sean's deodorant.  Then rubs in on his face.  And asks for a big kiss.

He puts milk in the beer fridge.

When I peek in to see if he's asleep, he clenches his eyes shut and snorts.  Like a pig.  His version of pretend snoring.

Last night, Grady switched the nightstand lamp from my side of the bed, to Sean's side.  And switched Sean's phone charger from his side, to my side.  We laughed.  Then many hours later at 2am, we were jolted awake by the sound of the lamp base rattling by Sean's head. 

Grady was stealing the lamp.

But.  He got busted.

We sent him back to bed.

This morning when we woke up, he was passed out in our bedroom doorway.  He had been waiting for us to fall back asleep.  So he could attempt his thievery once more. Trickster.

He makes faces to divert attention from the stolen goods that he's sitting on.  He even convinces his brother to get in on the act.  Dempsey's eyes give it all away.

Grady's idea of a great outfit. 

He sleeps with this on so he can surprise Big Foot in the middle of the night.

Friday, February 1, 2013

Ruff. Ruff.

I thought we were in the clear.  My boys and I would win the Family of the Day award at Dempsey's two year old check up.  It really couldn't get any worse than what we walked in on as we entered the waiting room.  An eight year old  boy on all fours.  Wagging his butt and panting.  With his tongue hanging out.  A bark squeaked out.  He pawed at the doctor's legs.  "He's really come out of his shell hasn't he?"  Dog boy's mother commented.  She was wearing, what appeared to be, pajamas.  To my untrained eye of course.  The doctor looked down at the boy and calmly said "Well, I'm not up for petting a dog today but I sure could do a high five." 

Yup.  I'm good.  I'm doing great.

My first mistake was taking Dempsey and Grady into the closet sized bathroom with me. The one right next to the waiting room.  And the front desk.  And two exam rooms.  It's a very small office.  It's also very quiet.  Dempsey threw his penny into the sink's drain and started chanting "poop, poop, poop."  Just in case someone might be wondering what I was doing in there.  At least he wasn't barking.

It's all fun and games until your kid hits you.  In front of the nurse. Right after he hits his brother.  Who's flailing on the floor while said nurse listens to his heart.  Kids were running from exam rooms, jumping from exam tables, sticking their nasty feet into the sink, and begging for gum.  And they were all mine.  The kids.  The ones doing the naughty stuff. 

And next up is the Naughty Family.  Oh wait.  That's us. 

Grady had already lost television privileges for the day.  For some cockamamie family house rule like, Don't stab your mother with your breakfast fork.  He had also lost out on chocolate milk.  That was for screwing up family house rule #4.  Thou shall not poop more than three times before lunch.   

The last of my awesome mom credibility was lost when the doctor lifted up Dempsey's shirt.  He was spotted.  Red spots covered his belly.  And his back.  "Oh."  I stated lamely.  "That's the first time I've seen that."  Said the slack ass mom.  Because really, it was the first time I had seen it.   But how?  How could this be?  I had just changed the kid's clothes an hour earlier.   Maybe he was allergic to Dr. Stopjumpingoffmyexamtableandgetthehelloutofmyoffice.  Or.  Maybe.  I'm just a slacker. She assured me it was a viral rash.  Nothing to worry about.  She asked if he recently had a fever.  I remembered that someone recently had a fever.  Sure!  YES!  YES, he did just have a fever!  It was him!  I swear it was him!  The kid whose name starts with a D! 

I'm back in. 

The doctor left and we waited for the nurse to return.  It was time to get my game voice on.  I had to make a quick recovery.  As loudly as Dempsey had chanted 'poop', I shouted, "We mustn't use our feet for jumping in this jail exam cell.  Please use your inside voice.  Let's clean up this mess and take these borrowed toys back to the waiting room.  Just like cleaning up at home!"  I winked so hard that I got a headache.  They looked at me like I was barking.  I sure hope Dr. Stopjumpingoffmyexamtableandgetthehelloutofmyoffice heard me.

I still felt pretty good about myself when we got home.  Until I remembered last week.  When Dempsey licked the dog.  And used his toothbrush to clean out his belly button. 

Then I walked in on Grady combing his penis.

Ruff.  Ruff.

You licked Finn WHERE???