So Sad Comedy...

Dude... I totally need to up the ante on funny.  I told RyGar the other evening, in the midst of a deep self-evaluation (that took all of ten seconds and was then interrupted by a home-made carmel), "I'm so not funny lately."  

To which he replied, "I know, right?!"

And I immediately began to lash out with a "I'll have you know, I've just been too damned tired lately to be funny and it's just..."

And then I saw him busting a gut on the couch and I was immediately shushed into humility.

I hate it when reality hits you with a big old smack on the face.  Where is that Amber that would have sassed back in a freakin' funny way to the Hub's cajoling?  And why, pray tell, must there be so much cajoling?  :)

I am bringing it back ya'll.  "I'm bringing funny back..." and I would really love it if you sang that last line with me in true JT fashion.  Thanks.  Awesome.

Now, before I get all kicks and giggles on you, I must tell you a little, OK, a GINORMOUS, sad sad terribly sad first.  And fetch balls, it is sad, so brace yourself.

We'll begin with a picture or two. 

Ready?

Are you CRYING YOUR EYES OUT?  Don't, I've already done enough of that for the both of us, but seriously, I am so sad that our little baby love had to get his beginner owie in such a traumatic fashion.  I can't even tell you how guilty I feel. Yes I can, I will tell you the story as if I'm confessing my sins in one of those little "confess your sin boxes", oh yes, that would be a confessional.  And though I've never had the opportunity to experience a confessional, I think I'll do it one day because it might just help, you know?  Plus it seems kind of cool.  Anyway, perhaps pretending to be bearing my should in a confessional will make me feel less guilty and less sad.  Fingers crossed.

Me:  Forgive me, for I have sinned.  (Is this sacrilegious?  I seriously hope not.)

The Dude Behind the Screen:  Go on, my child.

Me:  I totally left the vacuum up in the playroom along with two of my three babies and I didn't even flinch when I heard it get started up.  Let's face it, my chilluns and I have an almost intimate relationship with the vacuum.

The Dude Behind the Screen:  Carry on.

Me:  And when I heard my baby crying I ran up to the toy room only skipping the occasional step to find him bawling as my younger two-year-old looked at me with vacuum in hand.  I did a quick once over and pulled the plug and scooped baby in my arms to console him while tsking at my little man and telling him to be nice to the baby.

The Dude Behind the Screen:  Mmm Hmmm.  (He doesn't have a big speaking part in this little play I've created)

Me:  And then when baby love wouldn't stop crying after several minutes I did a more thorough examination of his little bod and found that his poor little bear paw had been skinned by the brushes of my     vicious Dyson and I went totally ballistic.  The previously mentioned two-year-old got yelled at and sent to his room crying, the big two-year-old wisely volunteered to flee the scene and go play outside, the baby love get some poorly administered first aid and a lot of bouncing and rocking and the mama called the nurse hotline with tears streaming down her cheeks.  It was not my favorite day and I feel SO stinkin' bad.  

The Dude Behind the Screen:  I see.  You were right to come confess your sins, which are plentiful.  It is imperative that you UP YOUR GAME, Sista.  Geez.

Me:  (Meekly) I'm not done.

The Dude Behind the Screen:  Excuse me?

Me:  You heard me.  After I tylenoled and bandaged and rocked and fixed I went to apologize to my littlest two-year-old and then to check on my biggest two-year-old.  Turns out, biggest two-year-old felt left out of all the action and had taken it upon himself to dismantle my most recent DIY project.  I lost my cool for the second time in about ten minutes.  I was living in Sucksville and couldn't get out of that crazy town.

Silence.

Me:  Hello?  What do I do?  Like, fourteen hundred Hail Marys?  Lay it on me.

The Dude Behind the Screen:  You had better pray lady... long and hard.  And do better to not mangle your kids.  And be kind and gentle and sweet at all time.  

And be more funny while you're at it.

Ouch.  

I am so sorry, little Acers.  And I'm sorry to my entire little boy trifecta.  Bad day in the books.  Better days to come.  And WAY more FUNNY comin atcha.

XO.