The Clothing Wars Begin

      

   The Clothing Wars Begin

     I remember fighting with my sister about clothes from the time she finally hit middle school and I could fit into her clothes and, likewise, she could fit into mine. This was the starting point for epic wars in our household. I am not sure we ever fought about anything, as much as we fought about clothes. If only we had worked out and abided by some sort of treaty, i.e. asking before you wear or you can wear everything except for this section. Then I think our whole family could have been spared the destruction that followed after someone was discovered wearing another someone's favorite shirt. 
       I mean think of the benefits for all, including the money strapped parents, when you had not one wardrobe to choose from but two or further down the road in our house 3 wardrobes (unless this munchkin comes out with something swinging between its legs;)
      Because I was blessed with a sister, and I do consider it a blessing now because there is nothing like the relationship that I have with her, I understand the clothing wars. I just thought we had a little more time before they were declared in our household. I mean really who ever heard of a 3 year old and 6 year old fighting over clothes. You don't even wear the same size people!!!
      So this morning when my youngest brought in a sweater that was accidentally hung in the wrong closet by my dear sweet hubby who does all the laundry I drew from my past experience and sensed a storm brewing. She wanted to know why she didn't have a "boootifull" sweater like that. We told her that she would one day and to please go hang it in her sisters closet. And so the drama ensued...
      She stomped her cute little self down the hallway and was quiet for sometime, which as any good mother knows is not always a good thing. Soon we began to hear some sort of singing coming from the back. At first, it wasn't loud enough or significant enough for us to pay attention to. But as it went on, we realized, with a laugh, that it wasn't singing but chanting. Chanting that was coming from inside the oldest munchkin's closet. Chanting of the same line over and over again. The line that we did not think we would hear for at least another 10 years:
                    Aubeee's got more bootiful clothes.
                    Aubeee's got more bootiful clothes.
                    Aubeee's got more bootiful clothes.
And so the clothing wars begin at the Hill house!

Dirty, Dirty Mind

Dirty, Dirty Mind

Okay, I am the first to admit that my mind can quickly tumble into that dirty, dirty gutter. If you know me, I can hear you saying "Nooooo!" with that sarcastic tone. But have no fear, if someone says something that could remotely be taken with a dirty innuendo I am totally going to get it and probably be snickering in the corner. I can't help it. It is a gift, if you will. I know it is immature. I know it is silly. I know it is juvenile, but I don't care. I would rather have a dirty mind and find the humor in life than be a mean, old, humorless bitty!

So begins story time at our house tonight. The title of the book my 6 year old is reading to the family is "The Owl and The Pussy Cat". As she reads it, I smile slightly and notice that my husband perks up from behind his computer. Then she, and her sweet innocence, asks if we know what a pussy cat is. My husband pipes in, "I sure do!" And I quickly cover with, "A kitty cat." 


And so the story commences. I must admit, I did not listen to most of it. Though every so often I would hear "Pussy-cat" and would see my husband's mouth turn up. (I know! We are horrible!) 


The next thing I know she turns the page and begins reading:

  The Owl looked up to the stars above,

    And sang to a small guitar,

'O lovely Pussy! O Pussy my love,

      What a beautiful Pussy you are,

          You are,

          You are!

What a beautiful Pussy you are!'

Now you know that however offensive you find this particular blog, you are now giggling right along with us. You know you couldn't help it. I mean seriously who writes these things. I know good and well there was offensive language back in the day. Maybe not that particular word but still. I'm just sayin'.

Needless to say, we were unable to contain ourselves and had a great laugh all the whilst trying to cover by acting like we were laughing at how cute she was  singing the song! I know, I know! I have a dirty. dirty mind. But you know what they say, the couple that laughs together, stays together. At least I think they say something like that;)

Pure Stupidity

Pure Stupidity

So our night has been interrupted by the playoffs. I don't know why I am surprised. Our nights, days, and lives, for that matter, have been interrupted by football since July. It is our livelihood after all (I am married to a football coach). However, upon proper reflection, I have decided that there are some things about football, the sport that I love the most, that are purely stupid. 


First of all, it is ridiculous how much professional football players make. I realize they are providing entertainment for millions of people but does that indicate the need to pay them millions upon millions? I agree that there are a lot of overpaid people and professions in this world. People who do a whole lot less than just entertain, but the fact remains that they are being paid to play a game. A GAME!!! I am educating the future of our country and will not make half of what they make in a year in my lifetime. Certainly there is something better that all of this money can go to. Wouldn't it be amazing to see them donate half of their salary to something worthy. I mean Peyton Manning, who is not the highest paid, takes home an average of 14.2 million dollars a year. Certainly, he could live on 7.1 million for one year. Imagine what that money could do for education or the homeless or the hungry or the Freaking Hill Family;)

The major thing that really causes me to question the intelligence of those involved with the sport is the fact that it is presently 13 degrees in Pittsburgh with a wind chill factor of 4 degrees and no one, I repeat NO ONE,  on the whole entire field has on sleeves. Are you kidding me? I get it ! You are a man! You are tough! I also get that you are STUPID! I mean I know that moving around warms up your body, but ain't nobody out there moving around enough to warm up FOUR DEGREES! And I seriously doubt that they have those handy dandy toe and hand warmers on. That would at least keep some;) of their extremities from contracting frost bite and falling off. My husband did inform me that some coaches don't allow their players to wear sleeves. SERIOUSLY?!?!?! Well I hope they are enjoying themselves in their super warm down coat with their thick gloves and lovely long underwear while their overpaid players freeze to death. 


Oh I get it! That is why they are paid so much. They have to make up for all of the fingers and toes they might lose while playing in these types of games. Not to mention, all of the concussions and blown out knees. Either way I think there are parts of football that equal PURE STUPIDITY!