Kill Me Now

And mail my body to the beach. Or sprinkle my ashes over the Atlantic Ocean.

And the next time I volunteer to organize and lead up 4th Grade Fun Day...

Somebody better shoot me.

I really do love helping out at the boy's school. I enjoy assisting the teacher and donating my time or energy when the need is there.

But. Oh. My. Word.
I am getting fifty 4th Graders (AND their reluctant parents) together for organized chaos in the broiling sun when school should have been out 2 weeks ago.

What was I smoking? I know what it was. I volunteered to do this back in the Fall... the beautiful blessed Fall. The air was crisp, the end of the year was a long way off, and the smell of new school supplies was fresh in my nose.

Truthfully, it's not all that bad.
I am just ready for the school year to be over and the summer to officially start.

I also have Mickey Mouse on the brain. Because as soon as I finish with 4th Grade Fun Day... I have to start packing. And fast.

Do we have enough socks and shorts and underwear for a week? (I don't know how Michele Duggar and Kate Gosslin do it.)
What about snacks? (Because my people can EAT, and I AM NOT buying a $12 Mickey Mouse shaped hot dog every 15 minutes.)
Are we gonna need rain jackets? (Because a Mickey Mouse poncho requires a down payment and a credit check.)
Can my neighbor take care of Cat#2? (And can I not feel guilty about leaving her alone or worry about her using my new furniture as a giant scratching post?)
Is Cat #1 gonna go meet Jesus while my mom is keeping her? (Because this is a serious reality at this point in her life.)

I already need a vacation from my vacation.

Memorial Day Every Day

I can't think of anything to say that hasn't been said a thousand times before. And in a much more poetic way.

As a child, "Memorial Day" was always like "Veteran's Day" to me. I was taught what (or who) the day honored, but I suppose the real meaning was beyond me then.

Now, it's a daily reality.

We made a choice to be a military family. We consider it an honor.
So many people have made that same choice and it changed their lives forever.
The people we live near and go to school with and meet at the grocery store make that choice every day.
And some of their lives have been changed forever, too.
Memorial Day means something very different to them.

I consider it an honor to know them.

I'm not ashamed to say I didn't fully understand the meaning behind the holiday as a child. Part of me is glad I didn't know.
But at the same time, I am grateful that my son will know the meaning of the day.
The frailty of life and the courage of brave men and women is something he's seen firsthand.

May those who have sacrificed so much be on our hearts and in our minds always.

Inappropriate Squirrel Pictures

That's your warning.

A few months ago, the boy and I decided to buy a bird feeder to hang near the kitchen window.
We've had the most fun watching (up close) all the sweet little birdies come and go and eat.
And these birds can EAT.
No one warned me I'd have to take out a loan to keep these feathered hogs happy.
I fill it up on Monday morning, and by Wednesday morning... it's empty.

We've seen some cute tiny brown and orangish red birds. (Note to self: Google them.)
We've seen the fat babies of these guys.
We've seen an occasional Blue Jay.
We have a dove family or two that eat from the ground underneath. And one dove that attempts to hang on and eat from the feeder.
The coolest by far was a beautiful red-headed woodpecker. Isn't he supposed to peck bugs from a tree? Why was he eating at our bird feeder?

But the latest amusement has been 2 persistent squirrels.
They wait (and play!) on the play fort in the yard, then they climb the wall.
From there, they hang onto the window screen and lean out to the feeder.

Here he(?) is in all his squirrel immodesty. And Cat#2 checking him out.


Apparently, Cat#2 thinks she can swat him from inside the window.


And here's Mr. Squirrel eating up my birds' birdseed. It's coming out of his allowance next week.


And here he is right after I told him exactly WHAT part of him I took a picture of.

Tuesday's 10

Ahhh. It seems like this week's questions were nice and simple. I like simple.
Life here at our house has been nutso lately. What with surgeries and all the end-of-school-year festivities. Phew.
This time of the year is busier than the holidays to me.

Thanks Roots and Rings, for a nice and simple set of questions today.
I needed it.

1. What is your favorite piece of furniture in your house?
Oooo. This is easy... cause I just got new furniture! I have been saving forever and we have desperately needed it forever. (One of our 2 cats had burrowed into the hole in the sofa cushion. Not joking.) I just couldn't bring myself to actually spend the money. But Dan/Daddy has no trouble doing that. So... I finally have a new sofa and 2 new chairs. The chairs are my favorite. Especially the one I can curl up in and see the TV.

2. If it was raining so hard on a Saturday that you couldn’t leave your house, what would you spend the day doing?
Reading and napping. There's nothing better.

3. What was your favorite candy as a child?
Probably some sugary "kid" candy... like Pop Rocks or Nerds. I've also always been loyal to the beautiful Snickers and his classic friend, the Hershey Bar.

4. Did you get an allowance? What was it based on? What did you do with it?
I am pretty sure I did. I really don't remember if it was based on doing chores or something like that. I spent it on junk... jelly shoes, tiny purses, cheap and gaudy jewelry, and snacks.

5. Do you have a favorite Etsy store?
I do... dustbunnyhostage.etsy.com
Jen is my Blogland friend, and she donates her proceeds to the fight against cancer. You go girl.

6. Do you prefer time with family or time with friends?
Hmmm. I think I'd have to say family, because I don't see them often enough or live close enough. But we have friends that are like family, and I enjoy being with them because of that. So... both!

7. Looney Tunes, Tiny Toons, or Animaniacs?
Loony Tunes, please. I am almost 40 years old. What the heck is an Animaniac? Are Tiny Tunes the baby Loony Tunes? I'm confused.

8. Best daytime talk show: Oprah, Ellen, The Doctors, Tyra (ha!), Dr. Oz, or Dr. Phil?
Ellen. No contest. I was an Oprah fan a million years ago, and then I was a Dr. Phil fan... but they both got weird. Tyra? Nope. Dr. Oz is okay, but Ellen is the BEST. So funny!!

9. Would you rather have the power of invisibility or the ability to fly?
This is the boy's favorite question to ask me, even though my answer never changes! I want to FLY!

10. Name 1 thing you love about being an adult.
The tiny bit of control that being an adult gives you. Like choosing your own bedtime, eating what you want, watching stupid TV. Well, maybe I should go back to being a child... I need to go to bed earlier, eat more vegetables, and watch less trashy TV.
I still like the illusion of control.

Have a blessed Tuesday...

Got Drugs? Or Maybe Taquitos?

Well thanks to a little "incident" that shall remain un-named...

Dan/Daddy had knee surgery last week. Good times.

He actually had his little "incident" before he left for his beautiful all-expense paid trip to Afghanistan. So this surgery is one whole year overdue.
Why walk or run through a hostile foreign country when you can hobble?

On Thursday of last week, I dropped his crippled self off at the hospital, dropped the boy off at school, and then went back to the hospital to wait.

And wait.
And wait.
It wasn't that long of a procedure, and I was able to watch some old Gwyneth Paltro movie... where her mother-in-law is trying to kill her I think. The sound on the TV was turned way down in the waiting area.

So the doctor comes out, calls my name, and shows me some really interesting photographs of the inside of Dan/Daddy's knee.
And then I waited some more.

The Recovery Room is probably my least favorite part of surgery. I hate it. Other people may not like the part where their loved one is in surgery, or in Pre-op... where the waiting for the surgery takes place.
Me? I hate Recovery. It's where the throwing up and the incoherent babbling takes place.
Now Dan/Daddy was a brave soul and kept all his stomach contents to himself. Thank God.
We (unfortunately) have had WAY too much experience with the boy and WAY too many surgeries and WAY too many Recovery Rooms and WAY too much puking. Sorry. I know that's gross.

Dan/Daddy may not have thrown up, but he made up for it with his drug induced jabbering.
You see, Dan/Daddy is CHATTY when he's clean and sober. He can out-talk anybody.
Give the man some narcotics... and let the good times begin.

I heard him telling the nurse some story before I even rounded the corner.
He told me about 12 times that I looked pretty. (In my capris and tshirt.)
He asked me the same 5 questions about 65 times EACH.
He told the nurse she was nice.
And then he told her about going to the bathroom.
He told the next nurse she was pretty. (She was.)
He told me the doctor was nice. (He was.)
He told me the doctor looked 12. (He didn't.)
Then he asked me if he'd even had the surgery yet.
I lost count of the times I said, "Be quiet."
And then they told me I could take him home. Yippee.

In the car on the way home, he noticed that the gas light was on. He told me to go get gas, and then he asked me if I ever got gas at a certain gas station. I told him "no" and that the gas station he was referring to was always way too crowded.

He says, "It's because the people go there for the delicious TAQUITOS!!"

I sped up.

Once we got home, I thought he would drag his behind off to bed and sleep for the next 3 days. No such luck. He stayed awake. And chatted.

I made him promise that he'd never do drugs, because I would kill him just to get him to shut up.

I don't mind helping him with his crutches, helping him up and down the stairs, or bringing his food or drinks to him.

As long as he is quiet.
We're on Day 4 post-surgery. He's not taking the "good stuff" as of this morning.
Ahhh... the blessed golden silence.

Accidental Child Abuse

It seems as if I was unable to shake off the weekend stupor long enough to write a Monday post.

I think I was still brushing sand out of my luggage and off my feet when Ten on Tuesday rolled around.

Ahhh, yes. Sand.

We were at the beach this past weekend. Dan/Daddy took a group of soldiers and spouses and kids for a weekend retreat... And we tagged along, of course.

The waves were gorgeous, the wind was blowing, the shrimp was yummy, and the weather could NOT have been more beautiful. This beach bum was happy.

And then we came home, and I socked my child in the face.

Yep. Full on. Punched him. With my fist.

Of course it was unintentional. I cried harder than he did.

I was doing sit-ups (that's where the whole day started going downhill), and my personal trainer was holding my feet. That's Dan/Daddy.
I do not enjoy sit-ups, and sit-ups are not a walk in the park for me.
So I was holding my breath, straining, and probably saying not very nice things.

And the kicker? My eyes were closed.

In the middle of one of these sit-ups, I moved my hands from behind my head and clenched them into fists in front of me.

In the middle of the next one, I PUSHED those fists out to the front and side. In a punching motion. With a LOT of force.

What I didn't know (eyes closed, remember?) was that while I was dying there on the floor in my sit-up induced rage, the boy had scooted up real close to me. And LEANED in to make a face at me. A mocking, jeering, "look at my outta shape momma" face.

He leaned in at the exact moment I punched into the air. Except it wasn't air I hit. It was a little face. Actually, it was a little lip.

POW!

He rolled on the floor, I rushed him into the bathroom, and we surveyed the bloody damage. Yes, blood. One split fat lip (his) and one split fat knuckle (mine).

I really thought about taking pictures, but I didn't want Child Protective Services to have anything they could use against me.
This is just one more reason exercise should be banned. It's downright dangerous... even to "innocent" bystanders.

Hair Idol

Now this is some American Idol I can watch.
All the folks I was feeling a bit "half-hearted" about... They are gone.
Leaving my "fav" 4.

Lee... and his sweet little crooked-y smile.
Big Mike... and the way he looks like he's about to pop out of whatever he is wearing.
Casey... and his hair. The dude can work the curls OR the ponytail.
Crystal... and all her talent.
Can you tell I've chosen my winner? And she comes in first place for me because hair can't win American Idol.

So tonight, for the first time this season, I'll be sad when someone gets sent home.

But there is a ray of hope and sunshine.

When Ryan announced Wednesday night's musical guests, I squealed. Squealed.
Bon Jovi (the pioneer of good hair) and Daughtry (who OWNS the bald look).

Have Mercy.