Honestly, I Didn't Really Mean To Use So Many Words Referring To Male Genitalia

In the past week a few things have happened, but somehow I cannot seem to cobble them together to form one streaming, composed thought.

So as much as I'm not a giant fan of the bullet points, I'm going to go ahead and shoot a few at you:

• When your accountant husband sends you an email at the end of the day, that happens to come at the beginning of the month, and in that email he says, "I'm pissy". Do not, under any circumstances reply with, "Oh good, my favorite!" It doesn't go over well.
  

• After I railed on what a complete dick my kid has been, and by after I mean literally like two hours later, he transformed himself into the most charming child in the world. Leaving me to look like the dick. Well that and the "my favorite" comment pretty much sealed the deal.

• On top of being charming, last night I managed to give him a bath that did not resemble a concentration camp "shower". Seriously, you'd think I was tattooing numbers on his arm and shaving his head instead of merely taking off his clothes and diaper. Granted, I had to drag him in there kicking and screaming but once I was done washing him, I walked just outside the door where he couldn't see me and he played sweetly. Until he saw me again and then his mouth opened up and locusts flew out and the skies caved in, and his head spun on it's own little toddler axis, but I call that a success.
  

• As you know, Sunday was Mother's Day. We all got together at my Mom and Dad's house for a bbq. Both of my grandmothers were there. You should know, one of my Grandma's was raised as a Quaker. The other, was not. Getting them together is just a little like placing a urine caked, foul mouthed hobo in the library. Someone is going to be shushed and someone is going to piss on the magazines. Once my brother-in-law shouted "boner" and we recapped my neighbor kid's dog with the "bleeding cookie", oh and Grandma Betsey talked about woody's, I thought "other grandma" was going to have a coronary.
  

• And finally, someone in my husband's office powders his balls. Every day Jason goes into the bathroom and every day there is baby powder on the seat. Which makes me wonder how sweaty your balls have to be that powdering them at home is not enough. You have to repowder at work? Does he just blatantly walk in there with a bottle of powder or his he discreet? And, is it really baby powder or is there some sort of musty ball powder? So now thanks to him and Twitter, I'm walking around his office looking for suspect trails of baby powder and sniffing in the general direction of all their balls.

Which I swear, really is different than the norm.