Help Wanted: Family Seeks Live-In Orthodontist. Must Love Cats, Dogs, Turtles, Fish, Birds, Ear Mites, and Jooooo-vee-nile Fart Jokes.

Check out the Grill., originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

We have been having orthodontal issues at our house.

First: Bumpus went to the dentist for a cleaning and checkup. After inspecting Bumpus's mouth, the dentist inquired as to how long Bumpus had been living with half of his front tooth missing. Bumpus did not know his front tooth was missing. A little spackle and some insurance took care of that issue for a while...until we have to deal with veneers or crowns.

Second: Brain Cell, the inhaler of all things food and barbituate, is a dental-issue-en-per-pee-tooooooooo-eaty.

Third: Rufus's top two front teeth were loose and loose and loose and this went on for weeks and weeks and weeks of wiggling and worrying and my recommendation on what foods to eat to get those suckers to finally break free. This got to the awful point where the top two teeth were sticking out frontwards, at odd angles, out of Rufus's mouth, from the pressure of his tongue pushing against them. The whole thing makes my skin crawl: teeth and clipped finger/toenails, two things with which I cannot deal. Just thinking of it makes me want to have a rigor.

Finally! One of Rufus's teeth fell out. The fairy came as expected. Then, the other tooth shifted, as it no longer had to share space with the other front tooth. Like me in the bed on a Saturday morning, that other tooth just shimmied right on over to the middle of the space. This then went on for two days, until the second tooth at last fell out. The new tooth was already very visible underneath it.

So these things are supposed to happen in three's...I should be paid up for a while.

The Wotan Clan

Toe Follies, originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

I can't just leave well enough alone. This was my contribution to Rufus's 100th Day Toe Jamboree photo collection. That's permanent marker, and it is still on my toes. Yes, Mama, I am bathing. If I could sing, then I would re-enact a little Wagnerian Valhalla, these two, of course, being Brunhilde Toe and Siegmund Toe. They are known for their dancing.

Check Out the Goozer

RUMBA PANTS!, originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

We'd been sinnin' too much and decided to go to church, just in case...And besides, we needed a reason to dress the Goozie in her first ruffly tights and patent leather shoes. Yes, I know she is wearing white before Easter! We are very nuevo Euro psycho that way.

All we needed was a huge fluffy bow-bow on top of her head. She almost has enough hair to pin one in. Somehow Boudreaux is especially excited about this, which may be a worry all unto its own.

Fatty Has An Issue: The Martini Moms Debate

Earlier this week, some goofy news show did a segment on "Martini Moms." A new story about it is here. A few days later, the same GNS followed up about how they had gotten all these emails from people in support of or disagreeing with the whole have-a-little-special-sippy-in-yer-cup thing. I noticed that the people who disagreed tended to be plum smugglers! What business is it of theirs, whilst (<--fancy word Bumpus taught me, pronounced "whill-st" if you don't live in East Texus and "whail-stUH" if you do) they're off hanging out at Bodacious Tata Land or working until 9 PM every night or sittin' on the couch watching westerns with their hand in their britches? How many times did the smugglers get barfed on that day? How many two-year-old's poopy dipes did they change? These people who are so quick to judge better be careful because I might put on a wig and a Depends Undergarment and come after them.

My only issue is that I prefer to consider myself a MARGARITA MOM. Or a cheap-ass-box-o'-wine Mom.

I don't have my soap box, or I woulda gotten up on it.

Check Out the Pecks, Ladies:Wisdom of Rufus #1228

Super Ruf, originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

No, we are not going in kron-o-lodge-cal order...we're going in the order that they spew forth from my brain. Now we're back in the end of December some time. As I just mentioned--rememeber to read the posts bottom to top!--Santa brought board games. One of these is Deal or No Deal, the card game (no more electronics are allowed in this house).

So one evening, the boys and I decide we need a little high stakes gambling fix and we decide to get it out. Unpacking the box for the first time, Rufus removed the plastic-y stuff, opened the silver case, carefully took the decks of cards and set them on the table, and proceeded to stand silently pondering the packing remnants that were still in the case.

R: "We can't play this game."

F: "Why not?"

R: "We can't play it. It's not all here."

F: "Well, I'm sure it's all here. What's the problem?"

R: "WHERE ARE THE WOMEN?"

F: "Women? Who needs women? You've got me. I'm a woman."

R: "No, it's just not the same."

Bottom's Up, Girlfriend!

Tipsy, originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

I think she bears a startling resemblence to the St. Paulie's girl.

From Boudreaux, who is on the road to RU:

"Girls have boobs, and boys have titties!"

Thank you, third grade.

It's YOUR FAULT, AUNT HOLLY!

Oh, No No, originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

We finally took that holy-cow-this-is-a-lot gift card to the Wally World and came home with a Leap Frog Musical Playground! And what did the girl child do when I sat her down in front of it? Why, she pulled herself up and started playing.

This was before she started crawling.

We're not quite cruising yet, but that could come any day.

Scrabbled and Our Next Wisdom Entry

One of my problems as a parent--and I am sure that the therapists will get an earful about this one day from both boys--is that I probably treat them too much like "grown ups." Once they get past the toddler phase, I am not good with talking down to kids. I guess that I live in fear of underestimating them, so I probably overestimate them sometimes, instead. When they are tired or have been patient for a reasonable amount of time and I still find myself getting impatient, I still try to remind myself that we aren't even to double digits yet.

This all brings me to one of our latest ventures, playing Scrabble. Rufus, Boudreaux, and I love to play board games together, a love I believe that I inhereted from Yo Mama and from the G-Woman. Santa brought us Upwords, Life, Deal or No Deal (more on that later), and Scrabble.

Does it matter that Rufus is only 6 and in kindergarten? Hell, no! Sit that boy down and learn him some Scrabblin'! First, we started with an easier version of the game and I would help him. Now, he can almost play according to all the strict rules, he keeps his own hand, plans his own words, and does the math for his own score. As he slapped down a five-letter word the other day and as I went to write down his score (something like 18 points), I had a moment of "Holy cow--this kid is only six!" So see? I do remember sometimes. No go mow the lawn and chop some wood, you short little ingrates!

Thus, this long rambling pre-amble serves to introduce the next...

Wisdom of Rufus #203

(While playing Scrabble...)

Rufus, pondering his hand before making a play: "It's a good thing I don't have an R."

Clueless Fatty: "Why?"

Rufus: "Because if I did, then I'd have DIARRHEA!"

Yes, he was spelling it foe-net-er-lee, because he didn't realize that he needed TWO R's to have diarrhea. Who knows how to spell that anyway? I had to use the spell check.

She Chews Us Up and Spits Us Out

Toofer's Comin'!, originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

First We Had Christmas, then We Had Wisdom...

The few days after Christmas or New Year or sometime in the past month...uh, six weeks...I hastily wrote these on a deposit slip, which has since been floating around in my purse. Minor miracle that it hasn't been used as a gum-thrower-awayer yet.

Wisdom of Rufus #102

"You've got to party down 'til the cows come home. Wait, we don't have any cows. That should be 'Party down 'til the soda runs dry'."

Boudreaux on the Road to Rice University #102

(In response to Rufus, who was pestering Boudreaux as Boudreaux had his face buried in a plate of good ol' steaming, greasy cheese enchiladas:)

"Don't bug me. I'm in my happy place."

It Occurs to Me...

...that the reason I cannot even remember my own name is that my five extra brain cells have all been occupied remembering all the stuff I want to write down here on the blog. Time for a purge.

Here She Goes

Yes, the time has come. Holy cow.

Calling All Foot Fetishers!

RufuToe
Originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

Rufus has his 100th day kindergarten project due next week. The only guidelines are the you have to have 100 of an item, they have to be glued to a posterboard, and no obscenities allowed. DAMN IT!

Most nice childrens choose to glue things like 100 grains of rice or 100 pennies. What does our Rufus want to? Pictures of 100 toes. Well, we are about 50 toes short.

So I am putting out an open call to all you digital foot fetishers out there. Please email me a picture of your toes no later than Tuesday, January 23, to rasta.hazel@gmail.com. The winning entries, announced here next week, will take their place in the Rufus 100th Day Toe Jamboree.

Nothing nasty. This is a family affair.

This Speaks for Itself

Mean, mean Daddy.

The Unspoken Epidemic: Christmas Crack

Starting around October 24, when the Halloween parties start and the candy starts getting passed out, my children lose their minds. This lasts until after Valentine's day, when the last of the candy gets scarfed or thrown away, we all take a cleansing enema and a shot of tequila, and get back on track for the middle of the year. This October-February phase of each year is what I called the season of Christmas Crack.

Running around with no purpose, dancing in circles without music, contortions of the body that would give me a crick in my neck, and all sorts of behavior that make mothers and fathers want to get out the duct tape: these are all symptoms of the Christmas Crack disease.

One of my girl friends called me last week, and when she asked how we were, I replied, "Well, you know. The grownups are surviving, and the kids are fully overdosed on Christmas Crack." She did not think this was funny and actually sort of scolded me for not just recognizing that our precious little offspring are just full of the glory of God and the wild anticipation of our savior's birth, honey. I beg to differ. Only speaking for my own...my precious offspring are stoned on the sight of presents with their names on them and an endless stream of chocolates, cookies, and trips to see Santa.

Now, I have proof.

Below: Rufus exhibiting type-A Christmas Crack addiction behavior.

Dear Santa...

Santa Goozie
Originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

Here is what Rufus's letter to Santa, which appeared in the local paper said:

"Dear Santa: I have been a good boy exept I got in a bar fite. You should have seen the other guy. I want a Star Scream Soopreme for Christmas. Thank you very much."

We Have To. It's Tradition.

Goozie Gone Skiing
Originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

What does a dysFUNctional family do when they have their first child? Head to the snow covered mountains and sub-zero temperatures. What about when the second child arrives and gets asthma? Pack up that nebulizer and head for the snow covered mountains! How about when the Queen Mother gets her eyes laser zapped so she can see? Ask the doctor, "Do you think high altitudes will affect the healing? Cause we're leaving for the mountains tomorrow." Make note of confused, concerned look, pack up and head for the mountains. So, of course, what else could we do on two-day's notice, but tell our bosses that we had "serious family issues to address," pack up, and head for the mountains?

The hoodlums stayed here, which meant that we got to spoil, spoil, spoil the Goozie girl.

Very fine escape.

And Lo, Her Opinion Was Known

Goozie has all kinds of ways of expressing herself. In this family, he or she who screams the loudest gets ignored but he who cannot stop talking gets called Rufus. So you've got to have a wide range of talents for making yourself heard. Goozie's first foray into the "I am woman hear me roar" involves our old standby, the raspberry. When she gets mad, she spits.

Behold...

Weekly Photo for YM: PRUNES!

Here today, here again tomorrow.
Originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

Our newly ack-wired skill: impressionistic art in the finger painting medium.

Added bonus: lovely facial.

Second added bonus: prevents constern-I-pay-shun.

Have a Sucky Christmas!

Bumpus to Fatty: Why are you taking a photo of the vaccuum cleaner?
Fatty: Because I love it.
Originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

Happy holidays from Boudreaux, Goozie, Rufus, and MY BABY THE DYSON!