Thursday, February 28, 2013

Heroes Coming out of the Woodwork

I have this awful habit of finding wee little injured critters.  It's a bit of a love/hate thing for me.  They are absolutely adorable, but the heartache involved is a bit exhausting.

As a kid I stumbled upon (literally, folks, I actually tripped over them) two injured opossums at two very different locations/times.  They were teenagers and had a fighting chance at survival.  We contacted the rescue folks, learned all about how to nurse them back to health, and had the pleasure of possum pets until they were big and strong enough to be released back into the wild.  After that my luck has been poor.  Multiple rescued birds that have lived less than an hour.  An opossum I found about a year ago at the school where I work that was so infested with fleas that it was terribly anemic, and it died the night I brought it home.  (Weird factoid...when a flea-infested animal dies, fleas bale big time.  It was something to behold.  So glad it happened outside as I held it when it took its last breath as I rocked on our porch swing.)

So, tonight when I found a baby squirrel I was both excited and filled with thoughts of "Why me?!?!"  First thing I did was make sure all of our animals were in.  Second thing I went out to look for a possible nest site.  Third thing I narrowly avoided being side-swiped by an adult squirrel.  I can only image it was a parent in the midst of freaking out.  Fourth thing I went in to do research.  Fifth thing I moved the baby to a spot where the parents could find it.  I waited about an hour with no results and the I moved on to the sixth thing, bringing it in to warm it up with my body heat whilst I did more research.  My little guy did a shift, too, as it's rather hard for me to do Google searches one-handed.  Seventh thing I called 311 to ask for help (wish this would've been my first thing because the Wildlife Rescue place was already closed by this time...but I'm not willing to feel guilty, I did my best, people).  Eighth thing I begged my facebook friends for help.  Man, that so rocked!  Helpful heroes left and right!!!  Ninth thing put the little fella in a high walled box with some rags for warmth and tied it up in the tree with the suspected squirrel nest.  Tenth thing made a plan to take it to a wonderful friend who had generously offered to take the little critter on and also offered some great info.  Totally a hero in this story.  Eleventh thing followed wonderful friend's great info by asking my wonderful (and very brave and quite good looking) husband to get to the tip-top of a tree, see if the nest I suspected was indeed a squirrel nest, and place the baby squirrel in the nest.  And he did!!!  Course there was that moment of confirmation when the adult squirrel jumped out of the nest and leaped to an adjacent tree.  That bit was scary, but it also filled us with great hope.  Dave delicately worked his hand into the nest, gently placed the baby in there, and came back down.  My hero!!

Now we will let Mother Nature take back her ownership of this situation.  I wish that little one the best of luck.  And you better bet I'll think that teenage squirrel I see in a few months is the one we rescued.  Darn tootin'!

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Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Who you callin' funny lookin'?

When I was about fifteen I went to a really lovely camp in California.  My mom, my brother, and I all went, in fact.  As I recall it was in Big Sur, but who knows...I didn't really pay much attention to things like that at the time...that, and I've always been geographically challenged.

Anyway, it was Satir Family Camp based on the work of Virginia Satir.  I think of it every once in a while and there is always one thing that pops into my head as my chief memory.  I was sitting with a group of kids in a tent and this little guy, who must have been about twelve, looked right at me and told me, "You're going to be a funny looking grown-up."

OK,!  When I close my eyes I can still totally see what he looked like.  He had shaggy blond hair, glasses with super thick lenses, teeth a little too big for his face, and a bit of a recessed chin.   Yes, he was absolutely adorable!  Seriously!  At least that's what I think of him now.  Back then I though he was a "little turd".

So, as I've aged, his words visit me from time to time, particularly on bad hair and got-too-little-sleep days.  As I'm pondering my own look I think of him.  I wonder if he ever thinks of the little girl cursed with looks that would go goofy over the years.  I wonder what he looks like now.  Somehow I imagine he still has thick lens glasses, shaggy hair, a recessed chin, teeth that finally match his head, and I bet he's absolutely adorable!

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Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Rainbow Connection

This afternoon I was talking to my kid about our heritage.  Really what prompted it was he was wondering about why he has blond hair.

Me:  "I figure that's or Norwegian genes."

Little guy:  "Do I have any Irish in me?"

Me:  "I dunno.  Let's ask dad later."

Little guy:  "I know I have Cherokee and English in me."

Me:  "Yup."

Little guy:  "Do I have any African American in me?"

Me:  "Not that I know of.  Wish we did, though.  Sure would be nice to have a little bit of everything in us."

Little guy:  "Yeah."

Yup...he gets it.

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Monday, February 25, 2013

The Early Bird Keeps on Getting the Blame

Some things I will never live down.  Even worse, I will never be forgiven for.  Did I break on of the Ten Commandments?  Uh...heavens no!

What I did was this...about eight years ago I got my son to a birthday party late.  Did he ream me out then with an outpouring of great disappointment?  Uh-huh.  Has he continued to ream me out at least once a year since then?  You betcha!

I never know when it's going to rear its ugly head...but the other night was the night.

Little guy:  "It's OK for us to be a little late, mom."  I was dropping him off at a band event.

Me:  "But I don't like to get you places late."

Little guy:  "Unless it's a birthday party!"

Me:  "You're still upset about that?"

Little guy:  "You got me there two hours late."

Me:  "I had the time wrong.  I thought I was getting you there early."

Little guy:  "It wasn't just me.  It was my friend, too."

Me:  "I didn't even remember that you had a friend with us."

Little guy:  "Well, you did!"

Me:  "Know what?  I don't even care about this any more.  I've gotten you places early or on time ever since then."

Little guy:  silence....

Me:  "OK...Alright.  We're here...early."

Little guy:  "Thanks, mom."

OK, I guess that's it...until the next time anyway.


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Sunday, February 24, 2013

Muscle Car Mama

I have to brag here just a bit.  We were on the highway today and I...yes, me...nailed it in a game of "What cool car is that?" from quite a long distance away.  What was said car?  Well, my friends, it was a 1969 Camaro Z28.  Yes, my kids were impressed with my mad skills once they verified it on Google images.  (Let me take a moment to thank my high school boyfriend for educating me about important things such as this.  Who knew it would ever come in so handy.)

The following conversation ensued...

Little guy:  "I want a muscle car?"

Big guy:  "Why would you want an old car?"

Me and the little guy:  "They're cool!"

Big guy:  "I just want a regular newish car."

Little guy:  "I want a car like the one Michael Weston drives."  He's referring to a show called "Burn Notice" and the amazing car Michael drives is a beautiful 1973 Dodge Charger.

Me:  "OK, here's the deal, kid.  If you get a muscle car you have to do two things."

Little guy:  "What?"

Me:  "First you have to promise not to drive it too fast...ever.  And, second, you have to let me drive it."

Little guy:  "Deal."

...thinking I'm a really bad mom for kind of hoping my almost fifteen-year-old gets a muscle car.

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Saturday, February 23, 2013

Sometimes a Car is not just a Car

I tend to let clutter get the best of me every once in a while.  Very mild, mind you, but piles do show up here and there and tend to stick around a lot longer than certain members of my family would prefer that they would.  Anyway, today I got in my car to go to the grocery store.  I was, frankly, grossed out.

"My car is possessed by the funk, I must exorcise the demon!!!"

So, groceries were shopped and put away, I was hydrated for the task ahead, out to the carport I went.  I took a few deep meditative breaths and opened the door.  As I scanned the vehicle I began noticing something.  This was not my clutter!

Car Clutter Inventory List

• orange karate belt
• half full water bottle
• three dirty athletic socks
• ace bandage
• karate duffel bag
• safety pins that used to hold the ace bandage together
• Nerf gun that my kid purchased at the thrift store last night
• Nerf bullets that were shot at me in the car last night
• blue athletic cup (IT IS NEVER OK TO LEAVE THIS IN YOUR MOM'S CAR!!!!)

So, essentially I drive around in a stinky gym locker.  Gag!

I know one kid who has a job tonight.

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Friday, February 22, 2013

I don't wanna, I don't hafta, and you can't make me.

I've come to the conclusion that I really, really, really, really, really don't like performing.  Now, mind you, this does not apply to my teaching.  I'll happily make a fool of myself all day long for my students...all in the name of learning, of course.  But, when it comes to being in front of a crowd I must absolutely, positively take a pass.

Now, I didn't decide this all of a sudden.  Nope.  It's been coming on stronger and stronger over the years.  And I've had my fair number of performances in my life...ballet and piano as a wee one, commercials and plays as a tween, band as a teenager, belly dancing in my 20s and it's not like I'm just a big chicken unwilling to even try it.

Well, today it came to a head.  I was at school in the cafeteria for an amazing dancing presentation.  During one part they asked the teachers in the room to volunteer to come up to be part of the performance.  I stayed seated.  I looked away.  And, you got it, one of the performers came right up to me, grabbed my hand and pulled me up...even though I was giving all kinds of excuses.  "My arm is injured."  "It really, really is."  (True, my arm is injured.)

But up I went, along with a bunch of other teachers.  I got in the line they had formed, realized that I was right by the door...and, by golly, I left.

I was so happy as I walked down the hall quietly saying, "I don't wanna, I don't hafta, and you can't make me."  So, forty-five...I feel liberated!  Yay, me!

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Thursday, February 21, 2013 never know where it'll come from....

I had the house to I thought, anyway.  I sat down at my computer to play around and my big guy comes out of his room, his door creaking an announcement.

Me:  "Hey, you're here."

Big guy:  "Yeah.  Let's brainstorm about something for me to eat."

Me:  "Let's brainstorm about something for me to blog about."

Big guy:  "You can blog about brainstorming about something for me to eat."

So there ya have it!

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Wednesday, February 20, 2013


For many years now I've loved telling a story about Dave.  We were out on his motorcycle, he hocked up a loogie, and gave a good spit.  Well, as you may have guessed, said loogie went "SPLAT!!" on the shield on his helmet and oozed its way south.  Seriously, I've gotten many a laugh out of this story!

Well, today I got to eat a bit of humble pie.  You see, I was driving my kid home from his bus stop (it was raining AND I was having a moment of good mom-ness).  I coughed, and OOPS!

Me:  "Aaaaah, I have a loogie!"  I said, as best I could with my mouth propped open.

Little guy:  "Awesome!"

Me:  "Give me a tissue!"

Little guy:  "Spit it out the window!"

Me:  "Oh, man...I stink at that."

I lowered my window anyway, rolled my tongue to make a cannon, and blew with all my might.  The happy ending would be that it arced through the air, got caught in the wind, and blew out of sight...way beyond the car.  What happened was that it went more down than up, landed more near than far..."SPLAT!!"...yup, right on the door of my car...the inside side of my door.

Little guy:  "Fail, mom."

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Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Cookie Momster

I have this ongoing problem.  I make chocolate chip cookies...a lot.  Now I knew that they were a big hit with my kids' friends, but really, I had no idea just how big.  Until last weekend, that is.

You see, turns out that the cookies have actually overtaken me, become my essence, my being, my mind, body and spirit.  There is no identifiable place where the cookies end and I begin.  How do I know?  Well, you just take one look at my kids' friends cell phones, dig through the directories for my name (you know, just in case they have to call me when my kids aren't answering their own phones), and right there beside it where a photo of me should be guessed it...a plate of my chocolate chip cookies.


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Monday, February 18, 2013

The Kid's Gonna be in Lights

What do I hear from the other end of the house last night?

Little guy:  "Hey mom, this is the suit I want to wear to my wedding!"

Me:  "Wha?!?!"

So, I walk over to him, of course.  How could I not?  I look at the image on his phone.  It was the most awesome white tuxedo with little lights ALL over it.

What can I say?  Little dude's got taste AND he's gonna get married someday.

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Sunday, February 17, 2013

Feeding my Inner Rebel

Kind of a slow day here at the Parsons abode, so I thought I'd spice it up with a couple of personal challenges.  First, when I went to Costco this morning I, get ready for it, went through the store in the opposite direction than I always go in.  So, what happened?  Nothing, absolutely nothing.  Except for me feeling a little wonky about it all.  I was at least hoping for some oncoming shopping cart stink eye or something, but no.  Then when I got home, I loaded a new roll of toilet paper the wrong direction.  OK, actually I didn't intend to have this happen, I just accidentally did it, but I did leave it that way on purpose.  Feeding my inner rebel today, I swear!  So, what happened?  Well, nothing again.  Perhaps no one noticed or cared, or perhaps, being that I'm the only female human in the house, no one besides me has had to use said wackbirds T.P.  Maybe I'll get some feedback tomorrow.

Hope your day was equally exciting!

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Saturday, February 16, 2013

Fancy? Nope.

We're not fancy folk and our dogs aren't fancy pooches.  On the rare occasion that our dogs get a trim (by us...seriously NOT fancy) and their attitude shifts to the "I am SO fancy" persuasion and they look at us with an "I could sure use some bows and nail polish" gaze in their eyes, we slap an old tie dyed T-shirt on 'em and wrap up the loose bit with a hair tie.

Then they look at us with gratitude.

"That was close, mom...I don't know what came over me."

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Friday, February 15, 2013

Sewing Machine Love

I'm utterly and completely madly in love with my sewing machine!!!

I'm totally not a talented seamstress...not by any stretch of the imagination...but I long ago dubbed myself the "Queen of the Straight Stitch".  If it requires little or no planning and there are no turn-abouts and such, I'm your girl.

Just in the last few weeks...

I repaired three pairs of boy/man underwear...not a blow out on the back side, nope, it was elastic that had separated from the cotton part.

I patched one of my dad's shirts where the elbow had ripped through adjacent to one of my previous patch repairs.

I patched two of Dave's jeans...seriously, you should check out his pants.  The man is not afraid of looking like a patchwork quilt!

I hemmed three of our king size pillow cases so they'd be standard size.

And just now I repaired a hole in one of my jeans.  Yes, it was a blow out on the back side (no, I do not put undue pressure on them).  I patched this one from the inside so I can still wear them to work.

Feelin' mighty handy-dandy and uber thrifty!

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Thursday, February 14, 2013

Family Pleasin' Grub

How do meals typically go in my house?  I'll tell ya.  Well, at least I'll tell ya about the "family" type meals that I muster up the gumption to make every now and again.  Usually I'll put together some sort of chicken/fish/rice/pasta/veggie thing.  Mind you, pretty much none of that is on my personal eat list these days.

As the family is sitting around eating (them eating, me watching) we talk about our days and then move on to thoughts on the meal itself.  And while they generally like what I cook, they always have some pointers for me.

"The potatoes could have been a little crispier."

"The broccoli was just a tad over-cooked."

"The fish could've come out just a minute earlier."

You get the idea...well, tonight I managed to hit it out of the ballpark.  All praise and absolutely no improvement commentary.  Hooray!!!!

"What was it?" you ask.

It comes down to southern home cookin' with a lazy edge on the side, turns out.


• chicken thigh meat dipped in egg, then in flour with seasonings, then utterly and completely fried up in butter

• instant seasoned rice bag...I put it in a glass bowl to make it look fancy

• canned corn...also put in a glass bowl to be all fancy

•  ketchup

• ice water

Yup, take it from me, this was one family-pleasin' meal.

Now I'm off to make a veggie juice for my dinner.

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Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Puppy Love goes Both Ways

I took both of the dogs out walking today...all by myself.  It's become a bit of a routine for me.  First I stalk my little guy with the Find Friends app (no, this doesn't make me creepy, it makes me a responsible, vigilant parent, got it?!?!), then when he's gotten off his bus I head out the door with the pooches.  They love it, I love it, the kid loves it, it's awesome.  Here's how it usually goes.  I walk down the street with the dogs.  I only give them about eight inches of leash wiggle room.  They gotta know who's boss, right?  Now, while I'm walking down the hill, my kid is walking up the hill (this sentence is giving me flashbacks of middle school math word problems...let's don't go there).  Scout's blind in one eye and not terribly observant in the other, but she's always the first to notice the approaching kid.  Hazel, who is likely ADD, is focused on freaking out on a random blown leaf or some such thing and she doesn't notice him at all...until...

Me:  "Hey, kid."

Little guy:  "Hi, mom."

Then Hazel commences flipping, jumping, and all other sorts of too-excited-to-remain-in-her-skin moves.  This would be cute in a ten pound dog, seventy pounds not so much.

So, what do I do?  Well, of course I hand that totally-in-love puppy over to her object of devotion.  I tell ya, the heart bubbles that float in the air between those two melts my heart.

Sigh...puppy/boy bliss....

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Tuesday, February 12, 2013

I was hijacked!

It all started out so innocently.  My little guy texted me a photo of himself this afternoon.  You see, he's got this goofy face thing he likes to do...a lot...and that's what he sent me.  I opened it, thought, "He's SO much cuter than this," and turned my phone off.  Well, next thing I knew, he asked to borrow my phone "because mine is dead."  Of course I let him because I'm a super nice mom and all.  He giggled a bit and put my phone down.  This is when I should have known something had gone awry.  But, no.  I didn't think anything of it at all.

Little guy:  "Mom, can I look something up on your computer?"

Me:  "Sure!  Wash your hands first."  Yes, I'm a germaphobe. 

He went about his business all quickly-like.

Little guy:  "I need to check something on Dad's computer."

Me:  "OK, whatever."

Again, he was there for only a minute or so.  Then he ran off to the bedroom and came back with the iPad.  He played with it a bit, kept saying, "It's so beautiful," over and over, and then proceeded to make many, many, maaaaaaany fart sounds with it.

So, what was it that my kid was up to?  I found out soon after.  You see, that little toot had put the goofy face picture on my phone and computer as the background, had loaded it onto my facebook page with the caption, "My son set this as my phone background and my computer background.  isn't he so handsome?"  (Really kid, they all know I wouldn't have a lower case "i" starting a sentence...yeesh!)  He'd loaded it onto Dave's computer and the iPad.  I guess I should be proud that he's so darn good at computers and such, eh?

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Monday, February 11, 2013

The Remix is God's gift to my Coolness

As you know, I listen to a lot of hip hop and such when I'm in the car with my kids.  And, as you also likely know, I'm apt to sing along and dance as best I can in my seat.  You see, I do it because I love it.  My kids, however, think I'm a big dork who does it just because I'm trying to look like the "cool mom" to their friends.  To this I say...

"Hey, kid, I am a cool mom, there's no 'try' about it!"..."You got told!"  
(OK, sometimes I try a little.)

The other day as I was driving out to my parents' neighborhood a song came on.  I knew the beat.  I knew the melody.  Hey!  I knew the lyrics.  So, of course I started singing along and dancing in my seat...little enough to be safe, and big enough to have fun.

Little guy:  "Mom, stop.  You're a dork."

Me:  "No.  See how hip I am? I know the words."

Little guy:  "That's from, like, 20 years ago."

Me:  "That must be why I know it...I mean, that must be why I, like, know it."

Little guy:  "Are we there yet?"

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Sunday, February 10, 2013

The Wisdom of Dogs and Babies

Dave and I sat at a coffee shop yesterday morning with our dogs.  I tell you what...they're conversation magnets.  People who would never stop to say "Hi" or even glance in our direction will do so when there's a pooch to love on.

While this is super fun and all, I was really awed by just how wise dogs are and how willing they are to receive and give love to anyone.  They didn't care what color people were, how much money they had, if they were homeless, a child or an adult.  It was an equal love trade opportunity.

It made me think of a time when my big guy was just a very little guy, barely walking.  We were at the doctor's office for some reason.  All I remember is that he wasn't ill.  This particular doctor's office was known for accepting patients diagnosed with HIV/AIDS...frankly, the main reason why I wanted to support the place.  Anyway, my little big guy was in the waiting room with me.  There was a fella sitting across from us.  He was thin, so very, very thin, and had marks on his face I recognized as Kaposi's sarcoma from my work with AIDS fundraising and hospice.  And you know what my little big guy did?  He walked right over to that fella and handed him a toy.  They had a lovely nonverbal, full-of-smiles exchange.

We should all strive to be as wise as dogs and babies...and share and receive love a bit more readily.

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Saturday, February 9, 2013

Balls to Fries

I'm continually stunned by, and I swear I will never get used to, scenes such as these in my house.

Little guy:  "Oooowwww!  You got me in my balls!!!!"

Big guy:  "You deserved it.  You started it."

Me:  "Stop it now!"

And, one minute later.

Big guy:  "We're going to go out and get french fries, mom."

Little guy:  "See ya in a little bit, mom."

Me:  (still reeling from the ball busting episode)  "Um, er, OK.  Drive carefully.  Love you."

Brotherly love is something else for sure!

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Friday, February 8, 2013

Matchy, Matchy

Matchy, matchy.  I thought that was reserved for what I used to consider to be "old folks".  You know, like when an older couple just starts dressing alike over time.  Or when dog owners start looking like their dogs.  Well, you know what I'm getting at.

Once, about five years ago, my big guy and I went grocery shopping together.  About half way through our trip I realized, and mistakenly commented upon, that we were dressed alike.  We both had on khaki shorts and pink tops.  Yes, my big guy was wearing the new pink T-shirt I'd gotten him.  He looked great in it...but, unfortunately, it was to be the first and last time he'd wear it.  Dang it.  Looking like mom was such an awful realization that he left the store and waited for me outside.

Well, tonight Dave and I went out to eat.  As we were walking to the car I said, "Hey, look!  We're all matchy, matchy!"  Blue jeans and the same color blue shirts.  And, since we didn't immediately have a debate about which of us would go back inside and change, I think we've officially entered the ranks of the "old people".

So, did our matchy, matchy outfits enhance our good times?

Decide for yourselves.

Me:  "That was so much fun...I love hanging out with you."

Dave:  "Yeah, I'm good company."

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Thursday, February 7, 2013

Bird Food and Other Unmentionables

So I get made fun of.  A lot.  And it's from the people who are supposed to love me the most.  Yes, it's my dear family.  Now, they're not making fun of me because my hair looks odd...course it does, I have long since given up on trying to control the beast that my hair is.  They're not making fun of the way I dress...course there's room for a joke or two ten there.  Where do they find such fodder for fun making?  Well, of all places, it's the grub I put in my mouth.  You see, I change my diet.  Way more often than the average bear.  I'm on this eternal quest to find something that works for me, makes me feel good ("nutrified" is what we call it 'round these parts), causes minimal gas (yes, I said it), and meets all my ethical requirements (really I'd prefer if no animal had to die just so I could eat). 

Anyway, since Christmas I've been eating almost solely raw foods.  Yup, raw fruits, veggies, raw nuts, soaked grains, and some dehydrated stuff that has scored particularly low amongst my housemates (ya...the infamous kale).

So, this all rose to a bit of a head with my little guy tonight.  I made the grave error of using his school water bottle last night to have one of my green smoothies in.  Now, I must say that I washed this bottle in our sterilizing dishwasher, so I assumed all was cool.  But....

Little guy:  "Mom, I couldn't drink my water today.  There was green stuff floating all at the top."

Me:  "Oh, no!  I'm sorry!  Did you pour it out and refill it?"

Little guy:  "No way.  I didn't trust the bottle after that."

He sat down at the table beside me and watched me pour a bowl of chia, buckwheat, and hemp cereal.

Little guy:  "Can I try it?"

Me:  "Sure!"  Yes, I was getting way more excited than was warranted, but this kid is reluctant to try much of anything these days.

He pinched just a bit and put it in his mouth.

Little guy:  "It's bird food, mom."

Me:  "You're supposed to let it soak for five minutes before you eat it."

Little guy:  "You know what your diet is?  It's green baby diarrhea and bird food.  You're disgusting, mom."

And then he farted.

Me:  "That little bit of bird food did not cause that!"

Hmmmmm...I'm "disgusting"?

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Wednesday, February 6, 2013

The Monster at the Foot of the Bed

We've all had this happen, right?  You hear something in the middle of the night that wakes you up.  You stay snuggled under your sheets, ears on active duty, listening for any repeat of the sound.  You hear what must be, has to be, shuffling feet.  Your hair stands on end as you realize that the sound is now in your bedroom.  You slowly, very bravely stupidly turn your head and raise up ever so slightly.  You see, inspite of your poor no-glasses-on vision, a huge human-like figure at the foot of your bed.  The figure leans forward and you hear a scratching sound on the covers.

Me:  "What are you doing?"

Big guy:  "I'm getting the cat."

Me:  "Not cool, dude...not cool."

Freakin' catnapper!

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Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Caught on Tape

I watched the video from my wedding (twenty-one-and-a-half-years ago) tonight.  I haven't watched it since right after the ceremony.  And, you know what?  I have pretty much no memories from that day.  It was like watching someone else getting married except it was me, of course.  Anyway, super nice to see.

Here are my favorite things about it:

We looked so young!

I used the word "y'all" A LOT!

So many precious people came!  Who knew?!?!

I cried during the sweet is that?

I grabbed my chi-chis and said, "My dad looked at these earlier and said, 'Where'd those come from?'"  I had had to stuff my bra to fill out the dress.

My dress made me look like I was a HUGE wedding cake.  I had a 100% cotton dress I'd gotten at a thrift store.  It was apparently too long for me and wouldn't have been easy to hem.  I hated the idea of heels, so to fill out the dress so it would fit I wore a hoop slip and a petticoat so I could wear flats.

After the ceremony I walked around holding the entirety of the skirt/hoop/petticoat in a ball in front of me making me look quite pregnant.  Hey, it was July in Texas and I was HOT!

My grand finale?  I mooned a group of my friends...there are bribe-worthy shots somewhere out there in the universe!

I was a sassy, strong-willed bride, without a doubt.

And, getting married?  Best decision I ever made!

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Monday, February 4, 2013

My "Aha" Moment

It's a bit of a running family's daily attempts to scare the living tar out of me and all.  Well, two awesome things happened yesterday.  Things so awesome that my family will have to rethink their scare tactics.  Hmmmm...suppose that could be bad news ultimately, but for now I shall celebrate!

Thing #1:  Dave came into the bedroom, all sneaky snake like, got right behind me and lingered.  Me?  I was sitting on the bed, peacefully minding my own darn business, holding a bowl of cut up bell pepper, and watching something on Netflix as I munched.  After he lingered a bit, totally unbeknownst to me, of course, he came around the side.

Dave:  "I could've scared you really bad just now."

Me:  "I'm glad you didn't.  What stopped you?"

Dave:  "You were holding a bowl of bell pepper...I didn't want you to end up throwing it all over the room."

Thing #2:  I was walking into my room from the kitchen.  Little guy was following close behind...very, very close...not that I noticed.  When I got to my bedroom I turned the corner and headed straight toward a mirror.  And, what did I see?  Well, by golly, I saw my huge kid behind me towering over me, of course.

Little guy:  "Dang it!  I used to be able to hide behind you."

Me:  "That's what you get for growing."

Little guy:  "You're too short."

Now, not to go all Oprah on you or anything, but I had a serious "Aha" moment.  Bell pepper is officially better than garlic, wooden stakes, and silver bullets when you're avoiding being scared, and being short absolutely has its benefits!

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Sunday, February 3, 2013

Hug Currency

Every day when I get home from work I dump my load (backpack, sweater, etc.) on the kitchen table...making Dave a little scowly...and then I go to my big guy's room.  I knock first, then enter.  And what does that guy do?  Well, pretty much each and every day he gets up, walks over to me, picks me up, and gives me a huge bear hug.  You'll need to picture this.  He weighs way over twice what I do and towers over me.  I feel like a little kid!  So, what do I do?  I close my eyes and embrace the embrace, of course.  Funny thing, though.  When I get around to opening my eyes, somehow I've always been transported to the kitchen.

Big guy:  "I'm hungry mom.  I haven't eaten all day."

The kid has about a 50/50 success rate with that request, all depending on my mood and energy level.  The kid's smart, though.  He knows that big ol' hug is working enough to justify itself.

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Saturday, February 2, 2013

Torque, Twerp, Twerk

The little guy was in the kitchen with me the other night.  I was whooping up something fabulous, I'm sure.  He started playing some music and I started to shake my groove thang.  Usually a sure way to get him to turn said music off.  But this time I must've caught his interest from the slanted, sceptical look he was giving me.

Little guy:  "Are you trying to twerk?"

Me:  "'Torque?'  What's that?"

Little guy:  "No, twerk!"

Me:  "'Twerp?'"

Little guy:  "TWERK!!"

Me:  "I don't know what that is, but was I doing a great job of it?"

Little guy:  "No, that's why I said 'trying'."

And then he and his iPod left.  I am so going to google "Twerk" and get those moves down!

P.S.  OK, never mind.  I just looked it up.  There's no way I could ever come close to mastering that.  And, the way I was dancing so did not resemble twerking.

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Friday, February 1, 2013

Puppy Love

How much does my husband love our dogs?  Well, he loves them so much that he actually writes poetry for them and then sets it to music.  Close your eyes now and just imagine this much love coming your way...

Poopy doopy do, I love youuuuuuu!

Poopy doopy do, you are a schnukums.

Poopy doopy do, you stole my shoe.

Poopy doopy do, I love youuuuuuuu!

 And this, my friends, is one of the millions of reasons why I love my husband so!

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