Does The Crazy Ever Stop???

I’ve always said that if someone were to observe some of what happens around here, they would not believe it.

For instance, this happened last week: 


Yes, that is indeed a mouse/rat floating on our pool cleaner, trying not to drown. In our pool. How does that happen? I mean, did the dogs chase it and it blindly ran into the pool, then managed to pull itself up onto the pool cleaner one tiny paw at a time?  Does it think it’s safe now???  Or did it just meander out onto the thing and realize too late that it was a BAD IDEA.  

Because I hate to be the one to say it, but there isn’t going to be a happily ever after for this creature.  In fact, shortly after I took this picture, Brad came out with the pool net and disposed of it.

And that’s all I’m going to say about that.




An Ode To The Fourth Day Of School

An Ode To The Fourth Day Of School

This post was originally written and posted on my personal blog on August 27, 2009.  When I came across it today, it made me laugh so I thought I would repost it here.

I wish I were a poet because I have such random thoughts rolling around in my head and if I could fit them all together, they might make me rich and famous. But since they might make me a candidate for the funny farm instead, I will use someone else’s creativity.

I have seen this many times before, but for some reason, it just fits today perfectly: 

In case your kids are not school-aged yet (God bless you, the poopy diapers WILL END, I promise!) or are long past it, here’s a quick reminder of life in the school zone:

6:45 am – wake kids up, deal with the clothing drama (“Why can’t I wear my airplane sweater to school today? Just because it’s going to be 105 today? I’m ALWAYS cold!!!”). Deal with Nintendo drama (WHY can’t I play for 2 minutes? WHY is there a rule that we can’t play Nintendo before school?). Deal with hair drama. Deal with brushing your teeth drama. So on and so forth. Pack lunches. Remember backpacks. Drive carpool. Try not to be late on your first week of school. There will be plenty of time for that later.

8 am – drop kids off and come home to begin sorting through the MOUNDS of paperwork that has already come home from school, much of which requires my signature and sundry other information.

Spend the free time I have dealing with the four-year-old drama while constantly reminding myself of how sad I will be when he starts school.

During naptime, sit down and reply to some emails. But then remember that everyone is running out of clean clothes and so end up spending naptime dealing with the – I kid you not – 10 plus loads of laundry per week.

After school is a plethora of lessons, practices, and sibling drama. Everyone is tired and cranky, and so it becomes a survival of the fittest scene until bedtime, at which time the kitchen must be tackled.

Not that I’m bitter or anything. Just exhausted. And badly in need of a maid. And possibly an intervention from that gal from Super Nanny. 

May I just add that the little four-year-old in the picture is now a 17-year-old, 6′ tall, Junior in High School with feet that look like canoes?  The other two are in college and believe it or not, I really miss those days when they were little.  Maybe the next post I write will be about stopping to appreciate your particular stage of life because you will never be there again! 

My Kids Are Real Comedians

My Kids Are Real Comedians

 Now that marching band season is over, Samuel and Matthew will be riding to school together.  

Every. Single. Morning.

Oh, Joy.

This morning, as I sat in the car waiting for Matthew with Samuel already enjoying his turn in the front seat, all I could think about was how badly my teeth are hurting.  It’s a long story, but suffice it to say I am doing Invisalign and that makes my teeth move, which hurts.

But that’s not the point.  The point is that as we made our way to school, I mentioned my teeth to the boys.  Matthew immediately responded with, “I’m really sorry to hear that.  I’m always happy to give you a hug if you want one.”

Samuel said, “And how do you plan on getting my permission to do that?”  (Samuel was in the front seat and Matthew was seated directly behind him.)

“I don’t need your permission,” was Matthew’s response.

“Well, to get to Mommy, you would have to lean over me and unless you want to start a major fight, you would need my permission to do that,” said Samuel.

I tried to interject by saying, “Come one, guys.  Why does this matter?” 

But I was too late.  Matthew’s response was to tell Samuel that an elbow to the face would take care of the problem.

(Here we go, thought I.)

“I’d like to see you try,” said Samuel.

“Okay, then let’s do it after school today.”

I looked at Samuel and said, “I’m sorry but your face is no match for Matthew’s elbow.”

To which Samuel replied, “You don’t know how strong my face is.”

(Come on!  Seriously?  Are we having this discussion for real?)

Trying to put a stop to the almost-argument, I replied, “What do you mean?”

To which Samuel replied, “I’ve been playing my horn a LOT.  I’ve got serious muscles in my face!”

This led to more bantering about his face muscles versus Matthew’s elbow, but in the end, Matthew was baiting Samuel by escalating it and again offering to test Samuel’s theory after school.

Samuel’s response was to point out the band director would kill him if he went to school unable to play his instrument with a football game on Friday!

To which Matthew responded by calling Samuel a coward.

I knew Matthew was really trying to bait Samuel now, so I interjected with “Matthew!  Why would you say that!”  I’ll admit, it was obvious and overdone, but I was working to just make it to the school without a fistfight in the car.

Samuel looked at me and said, “You’re the one doing this, you know.”

That stopped me in my tracks.  “What?  You’re blaming me now?”

“If you would stop reacting, he would stop saying stuff like that.  You’re egging him on.”

I sat without saying anything for several seconds, then as we pulled up in front of the school, I said to Samuel, “I thought it was funny.  I was just making fun of him.”  Samuel said, “Sometimes it’s hard to tell when you’re joking.”

Being the mature adult that I am, I shot back, “Sometimes it’s hard to tell when you’re trying to hurt me on purpose.”

“There is no world in which I would intentionally hurt you unless I was extremely mad at you, and then you would know it.”

Again, I just sat stunned.  Then I said, “Well, saying that I’m the one causing Matthew to say those things is hurtful.”

“Sometimes my words are too blatant but that’s not because I’m trying to hurt you.”

Matthew was getting out of the car by now, and his parting shot at Samuel was to say, “Better put down the shovel, Samuel.  You’re just digging your hole deeper.”  Samuel said to me, “Just run over him.” then got out of the car.  The two walked their separate ways while I started laughing hysterically at the wit and comedy I experienced during my 5 minutes drive to school.

We’re a regular comedy act around here.  At least I forgot about my teeth hurting for a minute!

The Rest of the Story

Yesterday, I wrote about a Totally Blogworthy Event.  Today, I will tell you “The rest [dramatic pause] of the story”.

This morning, hubs took oldest child to school which meant the minivan sat in the garage most of the day.  Late this morning, I had a reason to walk into the garage and immediately, I noticed some things out of place.  Strange.  I had this weird feeling that something wasn’t right when [insert loud, scary scream] I see the animal, now known as the brownish-grayish cat, staring at me from atop the shelves off to my right.  Yes, you read that right – that darn cat spent the night in our garage!

The good news?  We probably don’t have a mouse problem anymore.

The bad news?  Now we have a cat problem.

I (once again) opened the garage door so the cat could escape then darted inside to figure out what to do.  I tried looking up the phone number for our new neighbors but alas, they only listed an email address.  What’s a frantic person to do? Email her of course.  But then, it dawns on me – not everybody lives and breathes by that “ding!” on the computer that says “You’ve got mail!”  That MAY just be me.  Maybe.

Next on my list of things to try – pick up the cat and carry it over to the new neighbor’s home.  I figured, what better way to meet the new neighbor than to show up with her missing cat? All I had to do was catch it, which shouldn’t be a problem since it seemed to like us, or at least our garage.

The cat had now sauntered out of the garage and was wandering around toward the yard.  I got as close as I dared than spoke to the cat.  I did, after all, grow up on a farm.  I like to think I am something of a cat whisperer.  Yeah right.  That ugly mass of gray fur hissed at me and then headed straight for me.  I couldn’t tell what it’s intentions were, exactly – UNTIL IT TRIED TO BITE ME!!!  Then I was pretty sure it was hostile.

At this point, I may or may not have stood straight up and tried to kick the ungrateful thing, yelling “GO HOME” and pointing toward the alley.  It was undaunted.  It wanted back into my garage.

There was only one thing to do – I had to go tell the neighbors.  So with a barefooted 3 year old on my hip and middle child in tow, I headed across the field to meet the neighbors.  Neighbor, along with their dog (NAMED BEVO), answered the door.  She was worried sick about the cat.  She was up all night worrying about her.  The cat had never been outside before.  (I assured her the cat spent the night inside our warm and comfy garage.)  She wanted to go after the cat, but the new baby was asleep upstairs, and her little girl was watching TV.  I offered to stay with the kids while she went, and she was very happy to go.  So she locked BEVO in the bedroom and took off across the field.

I wasn’t there long enough to take pictures with my cellphone, but I totally wish I had.  Her house was BEAUTIFUL!!!  Stunning.  And – here’s the shocker – clean.  I mean, they just moved in like a month or so ago – and then HAD A BABY – and there was no clutter anywhere.  There were not even any dirty dishes present on the kitchen counter.  What kind of crazy mixed up place is this? I wondered.  That’s about how long I had to contemplate, since immediately after arriving at this stranger’s home, my 3 year old declared he needed to go potty.  I figured he just wanted to snoop around her house but I also figured that between that and wetting all over her brand new couches, a little snooping was in order.

While youngest child was in the bathroom, the baby woke up.  Funny thing was that I could hear him on the baby monitor but had no earthly idea where he was.

I tried asking the little girl but all she knew was “Baby crying.  Baby crying.”  Yeah, kid, I got that.

I tried to imagine which would be worse – the neighbor coming home to find me wandering aimlessly around her house or coming home to me sitting on the couch, listening to the baby on the monitor.  I decided to at least try to appear attentive.  I went up the stairs and there he was, the most beautiful baby I have ever laid eyes on, lying in the most beautiful crib I have ever seen.  In a fabulous house.  With no clutter.  Yeah, I’m not jealous or anything.

So down I came with the baby in my arms when I saw my youngest, pants and underwear down around his ankles, waddling back from the bathroom.  Having faced this scenario before, I was actually able to lean over and help him pull up his pants without ever putting the baby down.  We were just snapping up when new neighbor got home, kitty in arms.  She was ever so grateful and as I wanted to leave her with those warm fuzzy feelings about us, I exited quickly, yelling back over my shoulder something about how beautiful their house was blah blah blah.

She actually wrote me a really nice email tonight.  I believe we made a new friend today.

That is, assuming her cat didn’t eat any of that rat poison in our garage.