In all honesty, it probably was biss-gussing

I walk by the bathroom and can hear Tom and Tommy in the shower. The conversation goes something like this:
Tommy: Ewww, thas biss-gussing!
Tom: What?
Tommy: You peeing on me! Stop it.
Tom: I'm not peeing on you! I'm not peeing at all!
Tommy: I can see you weiner peeing on me. Make it stop!
Tom: That's water running off of me!
Me: Facebook!
Tom: Don't you dare!

Jessamit!

Danny runs up to Tom: Jessamit!
Tom: What?
Danny: Jessamit!
Tom: Listen, you're cute but I just can't understand you. (Nemo reference)
Danny: Jess.  A. Min. It.  Daddy.
Tom: Oh. 'Just a minute.' Got it.

An actual conversation with Tom

Tom: You know what I learned watching Craft Wars the other day?

Me: That you're a girl?

Boys are dumb

Tom buzzed his hair last night and he tells me today, "I never noticed it before but either my hands are really big or my head is small." Now, he has giant Shrek hands and I've told him that before (his pinky is the size of my thumb) but this time I just said "Your head's getting smaller. I didn't want to say anything but I've noticed." Now he's all paranoid that he's losing skull bone density or something. You'd think, since I didn't marry for looks, that he'd at least be smarter than this.

I like butterflies, he likes bones

Tom and I, trying to decide what to have for dinner.

Me: Well I know I'm making brussel sprouts.
Tom: Would you like pork chops or steak with them.
Me: Steak. I just, I don't like your pork chops. I don't understand them. You can either buy a butterfly pork chop, a full slab of meat, or you can buy one with a bone and connective tissue in the middle of it. Why would you get that kind?
Tom: Price. When you buy the butterfly chop, you're paying around $3.50 a pound.  When you get the regular pork chops you only pay $2.50 a pound.
Me: But you're paying for the bone!  And steak is my other option? Is steak cheaper than butterfly pork chops?
Tom: Well, no.
Me: Then I guess you just lost the "We can't afford butterfly pork chops" argument.

My husband's ass is a WMD!

My husband ate chilli today. He likes it; I hate it, but he did agree to take his Beano before eating it. Apparently his colon saw the Beano as a challenge, a challenge it won. My house not sounds like a frog-squashin and smells like somebody backed over the gas meter. (I know because I've done that before. You get to call 911. Weeeeeee!)  I think Tom is getting more Beano in his Xmas stocking this year, and maybe some Gas-X too.  Does Gas-X stop the farts? Something needs to stop them. We can't live like this! We'll all need respirator masks!

He gets all his information from the Disney Channel

This is a real conversation Tom and I just had.

Tom: Okay, this is gonna sound stupid...
Me: Possibly.  Go on.
Tom: A platypus is a mythical creature, right? I mean, they aren't real; they're extinct or made up or something.
Me: (google image search platypus) No, they're real.
Tom: (squinting at the computer screen.) They aren't green?

I mean, it's not the recipe, but it's a decent math analogy

Tom let the boys eat donuts, ice cream, and candy bars for supper tonight, and Danny puked in the basket of Hot Wheels five minutes after Tom went to bed. Then my mother's chihuahua ate a whole bowl of cat food and shit some sort of biological warfare all over my kitchen. And Tom, who won't be home tomorrow at all because he has to deliver in Missouri on Tuesday morning, told me on his way to bed that he not only ordered 2000 crickets by mail, but also 150 live meal worms. As a treat! 
Every day I swear, no beer tonight. And then every night I have just one more beer. Dog shit + toddler barf + live meal worms = beer.

So now he knows why.

There are days when after dealing with a toddler, an almost-toddler, and a sullen teenager, I need a beer.  I feel that this is okay. I put the baby down, I know I have hours until he'll want milk again, so I have a beer. Tom looks at me sideways but he doesn't say anything. And yet I know he disapproves (not because of the nursing but because he disapproves of drinking in general).
Yesterday I left at 2:00 pm and got home at 9:30 pm.  He got the boys up from their naps, made dinner, fed them dinner, cleaned up after, and then dealt with the pre-bedtime and bedtime routines. When I got home, he had a beer.
Life is funny.

In my next life, I'm a dyke all the way

I hate when we fight right before bed.  He goes to sleep, I stay up to make the point that I'm mad and not just going to trot off to share a bed with him, and then I'm the one tired but without a bed to sleep in.  Plus, he should be the one awake in the living room alone.  He's the one who refuses to confront or resolve anything.  He's the reason our fights never die, only hibernate. And now I'm yawning into a computer screen that gives me headaches and he's the one snoring into the baby monitor.  I hope I roll over in my sleep and hit him in the balls with my knee.

The debil's in the details.

Tom is sitting on the couch in his robe (hanging open) and a pair of boxers with little devil faces on them. Tommy walks up and pokes one of the devils.
Tommy: "Base."
Me: to answer Tom's questioning look, "Face."
Tom: "It's a devil."
Tommy: "Debil."
Tom: "Yes."
Tommy: poking devil faces as he speaks, "Debil. Debil. Debil."
Tom: "Yep."
Tommy: poking one last time at a particularly poorly placed devil face, "Debil weiner."
Me: "Yes it is."
Tom scowls at me.  I laugh.

And he wonders why I'm fat.

I know my husband love me. I know it intellectually and at times I know it in my gut too. Today was one of those days when Tom did so many absolutely sweet things for me that I wondered who he'd slept with. (just kidding)

First, he bought me oatmeal. But he bought me the good kind of oatmeal. I eat steel-cut oats every morning and McCann's Irish Oatmeal is supposed to be the best but I never bought it because it costs twice as much as the cheap stuff and really, how different could raw oats be? But last week the store was out of the cheap stuff so he bought the McCann's and let me tell you, raw oats can vary a lot. Oh these are good. And today, he bought me two big cans of the McCann's. Now I not only have the yummy oatmeal but I have the decorative cans as well. He loves me.

He also bought me Wafernusse, which is my favorite candy. It's only a dollar at Aldi but still, he thought of me. If you haven't had Wafernusse I highly suggest trying it. It's like a kit kat but not as hard, and with hazelnut flavor in it.

Then he went uptown tonight to buy chicken breasts, because he has a thing for chicken breasts, and when he came home he made supper and wouldn't let me in the kitchen. When supper was ready I was surprised because it was fish and rice, which is nothing special. I mean, I love Tom's fish and rice, but we have it fairly often and it's not really a secret-worthy meal. But there was a dish on the table with a paper towel on it so I went and peeked and . . . . he made me mussels! I didn't even know you could buy mussles in town here, and he made them. In garlic butter! And they are my favorite food and I love them so much and he made them for me and I ate them all. And in the fridge, for me to make possible tomorrow, is a brisket. I have wanted to make a brisket for a while now and apparently today was the day I get all the food related things I've ever wanted, is there it is atop the chicken breasts.

On a serious note, though, I really do wonder if he slept with somebody.

all the cool kids are doing it

Me: Why did you buy a tarp?

Tom: To put over the air conditioner.

Me: Does it require that?

Tom: I don't know but everyone else does it so I want to, too.

Me: Seriously?

Tom: (as he walks out the door with his new tarp) Yep.