If you are easily offended don't read this post...actually you are probably better not reading anything on this blog

This weekend was filled with the usual psychotic episodes that make my life the one I enjoy living. This is a long one so hold on tight.

First up a round of politically incorrect with Grandma Nieman. While my sisters were spouting off comments like "I don't have to do anything because the teacher is sexist" and "GIVE ME SOME BUTTA!" (I will let you guess which sister said which comment.) I sat there, I laughed, I enjoyed the fact that I have crazy family members. Then in the middle of what were probably 3 conversations my grandma feels the need to share a very important question and loudly says "Have you seen that show with the miniatures?" to which we all stop and look at her assuming she is talking about thimbles, or porcelain knick knacks that exist only for grandmas and strange children. Seeing our quizzical brows she explains by saying "you know dwarfs, little people, you know Miniatures." Right grandma, miniatures. She goes on to explain the show. I couldn't tell you anything about it because my ears were in shock mode and my brain had to catch up, but I am sure if you google miniatures on tv you would come up with something very entertaining.

Round Two: I babysat three of my favorite children on Saturday night. In a matter of 3 hours we played soccer and basketball, painted nails, made/ate dinner, played house, watched portions of a movie about horses, and learned never to bring a bag of sour worms into a house with kids. It was really fun with the exception of the end of the night when they had been "in bed" for half an hour, but strangely I heard footsteps upstairs. I suspected potential takeover by hostile Russians but as I made my way up the stairs I found one of the girls with 2 different pajamas on at the same time, a tiara, and sparkly flip flops, when I say "this is not dress up time" she says "I was cold." Well, praise the Lord you got that tiara on child. You may have frozen to death in this 60 degree weather without a sparkly piece of metal gracing your head. The second kid was stapling about 30 sheets of paper together and when I said "time for bed, put down the stapler." She screamed as if I told her I was taking them all hostage and they would never see anything with sugar in it again. I put her in bed and she screamed. I told her she couldn't staple anymore, but she could stop screaming and go to sleep. She screamed. I hugged her, put her in bed, and left the room. She stopped screaming. All of that pales in comparison to the comment made earlier in the evening. I should probably mention these kids ask questions about everything. The youngest always finds a way to pull out my bra strap and ask what it is. She is not satisfied with the answer a strap. Anyway. We played house. Apparently house has changed since I was little. There were charts involved. I had to state my real name and age, my fake name and age, and what role I would be playing in the house. I was 35 with 3 kids under the age of 3. All of them managed to break limbs and required medical attention and crutches within the first 10 minutes. When deciding my fake age, one of the kids said 20. I said absolutely no way am I 20 with 3 kids. The oldest then asks me "How old are you for real?" I say "24." She says "are you married?" I say "No." She says "Do you have any kids?" I again say "No." She then replies "well, I DON'T WANT YOU TO END UP AN OLD MAID." I laughed for about a minute and then said "Well I don't want to either. Thanks for the encouragement."