Here I was thinking water

I really, really debated posting this. Drew and I can have some awful potty mouths sometimes, and occasionally our conversations are so hilarious that I feel I must post them here. However, since I do like keeping this blog mostly PG, I don't.

I'm sorry, y'all, I just can't keep this one to myself. Can't do it. So kiddies, stop reading.

As we all know, Drew talks in his sleep if disturbed in the middle of a dream. Occasionally very, very funny, occasionally completely nonsensical, always entertaining. Friday night, he struck again.

Ace had fried catfish and french fries for supper (I forgot to tell my natural parenting friends to look away, sorry) and woke up thirsty several times before everyone went to bed. At about 1am, he woke me up with a little yell, and I turned over and waited hopefully for him to go back to sleep. Drew made the sniffing sound he always makes when his sleep has been disturbed, then said "Buttplugs!"

"What??"

"Buttplugs. Buttplugs will help him."

I was more annoyed than anything because I was so tired, so I basically ignored him to go take care of Ace. Sans buttplugs. The next morning, however, the whole conversation came flooding back to me and I related it to Drew and Jennifer (my sister), and we all had a hearty laugh about the whole thing.

Later, my mom came over. We were all talking around the kitchen table when Drew said "Hey honey, tell your mom what I said last night." Now my mom and I have a cool relationship and I can in general discuss anything with her, but dang, I have boundaries. There are just some things I don't WANT to say in front of my mom. Period. I floated Drew an evil glare for a second, then told my mom the story because at that point, there was no turning back.

My mom has been an alcohol and drug counselor for something like 8 years and has been involved with helping people get sober for much longer than that, and I thought she'd heard everything, so of course I was shocked when she said "What's a buttplug?" I couldn't really think of anything else, so I said "it's a... marital aid... for... people who... enjoy... things..." I saw that my mom had gotten the point so I stopped, but my sister kept explaining. An uproariously hilarious conversation ensued, but I'm stopping there because a) I'm pretty sure my mom would be annoyed about me bringing up this conversation and b) the next 5 minutes have been obscured in my memory by a haze of abject mortification.

It gets worse.

My stepdad is an awesome, awesome guy, but not the kind of guy you EVER want to have an anything-but-PG discussion with. Remember those Herbal Essences commercials where the women get their moan on because of their shampoo? Yeah, he changed those whenever they came on. So on Easter Sunday when my mom was talking about car repairs to my 80-something grandmother and my stepdad and she said "And then there's the spark PLUG" and looked pointedly at me, I broke out in an incurable case of the giggles with Jennifer and Drew soon to follow.

My stepdad kept asking what was going on, as did my little brother, but I would really rather barbecue my own still-attached foot than explain to my stepfather anything that I'd talked to my mother about the day before. I excused myself from the conversation, not that the point got across to my little brother who handed me his phone and told me to type in what we were giggling about. My beautiful, hard-of-hearing grandmother just sat there and smiled.

Why can't my husband have the normal naked in school dreams, or dreams about being chased by a dog? Why does he have to have dreams that get me in trouble?