Not Me! Monday

Today, my doctor did NOT proclaim that my recent TWENTY pound weight gain was NOT the result of overeating, NOR did he say it was most likely the result of water retention and/or hormonal issues (NO, I am NOT getting old), and/or steroids (because I do NOT have a secret love of back acne and Freda-like unabrows and mustaches, NOR do I have a secret desire to run a 3.55 40).

To celebrate this WONDERFUL news, as well as the back acne, I did NOT, oh NO I did NOT, consume one entire pumpkin pie covered in REGULAR cool whip.

Oh No I did NOT!

HA.

Oh YES I did!

~

ARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH

~

Jake's Father, AHEM, has allowed Jake to stay home from school today.

Hence the title of this post.

I had lots I wanted to get done today, thinking I would have a house filled with NOTHINGNESS).

AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Somebody will be walking the plank by the end of the day today.

And it very well could be Hurricane Rojo!

It's a Pirate's life for Me.

~

Turkey Boycott - CONTINUED

~
So.

I thought we were through with the Turkey Costume nonsense.

We talked it to death.

Two Swords bribed the Captain into wearing the Hat.

The Captain wrote the apology note to his teacher, the Infamous Dot Giver, on Wednesday, and she loved it, and she cried, and she framed it on the wall of her classroom.

Done.

HA!

You must have been reading someone ELSE's blog.

Someone who has constant peace and calmness and serenity in their lives.

Someone who probably took their kids to Disney World on leashes.

Yeah, that someone is definitely NOT Hurricane Rojo.

And The Turkey Boycott story was definitely NOT over.

Let's see.....where did I leave off?

(Why do I feel like Peter Falk reading The Princess Bride to his grandson Fred Savage)?

I digress..........

So yes, the Captain goes to school on WEDNESDAY, gives the apology note to his teacher, the Infamous Dot Giver, proceeds to practice the Thanksgiving songs with his mateys, makes his Turkey hat, and goes on about his day.

Rojo and Two Swords make plans to attend said feast on Thursday afternoon.

It was an uneventful evening (NICE!) and we all were nestled in our bed linens, I in my kerchief, he in his cap, when suddenly.................

3:10 A.M.

A BAWLING Captain Jake Sparrow approaches my side of the bed.

(For the record, we are anti-co-sleeping parents. The children have not slept in our bed. Our children do not sleep in our bed, except on the rarest of occasion where it is necessary for one of us to be with them so that we can help them get to the toilet quicker than they could on their own, or because little ones just need and want their mama when they are ailing. That being said, it was highly unusual for the Captain to approach my bed in the middle of the night, crying.)

"Jake? Honey? What's wrong?"

He climbs into bed with me, crying and crying and crying.

I can't get him to talk to me.

I assess him in the dark.

No fever.

No runny nose.

No wet pants.

No distended tummy.

Nothing is physically wrong.

Still bawling.

Now that he has a 'big' bed, I opt to go with him to his room, rather than disturb Two Swords peaceful slumber.

I pick him up and carry him to his bedroom.

I turn his little man lamp on.

He's still crying pretty hard, but somewhat quietly, in a respectful sort of way. Not bad for four, if you ask me.

I go to the kitchen, to get him some water and a straw.

I come back to his room, shut the door, keep the little lamp on, and just hold him for awhile, rubbing his back, and "shhhhhhhh"ing him.

A few minutes later, I asked the Captain, "Did you have a bad dream?"

Sniff Sniff and a very pathetic, "No."

I stroke his back some more.

"Are you hurting any where?"

Sniff Sniff and a very pathetic, "No."

I stroke his back some more.

"Jake? Are you feeling bad? Are you sick?"

Sniff Sniff and a very pathetic, "No."

Okay, I'm done. Totally perplexed. No injuries. No nightmares. No need for a CT Scan that I can discern. I'm not a nurse so that rules out bloodwork. Hmmmm.

I stop stroking his back, and make him "look me in the eye".

"Jake?"

In the mousiest, whiniest voice one has ever heard, "yes, Mama?"

"What's wrong?"

"I don't want them to eat me."

Humm-in-a?

Say What?

Did you just say - I don't want them to eat me, when you previously said you had NOT had any bad dreams?

"Um, Jake, who do you think is going to eat you?"

"The Cowboys and the Indians."

Not to be sacrilegious to any and all religious sects but I believe that my revelation at this point is up there with the seven signs, the Angel Moroni, the Ten commandments, the Jamestown kool-aid festival, you name it, the plot had been REVEALED to me, friends.

Let me clarify something here.

Captain Jake Sparrow thinks that Pilgrims are in fact Cowboys. Not sure why.

What I CAN tell you is that last year for the Thanksgiving feast, when it was his turn to be a PILGRIM, he wore his cowboy boots, his wrangler jeans, a white shirt, his authentically Texan hat purchased in Dallas, Texas, and his Gi-Tar.

Yessirree, Bob.

So Jake actually thinks the COWBOYS AND THE INDIANS are going to eat him.

And so the revelation continues.

Now, for the first time, do I FULLY GRASP why he refused to be a turkey.

Because he didn't want to be roasted, grilled, deep fried, sliced, diced, scalped, skin peeled off, you name it, by the 400 guests who would be delectably eating him, after the little song-and-dance about cowboys, indians, and turkeys who we are going to chow down on with our mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, corn casserole, and cranberry sauce before we get our grimy hands on that delectable pumpkin pie sitting over there............

This child of mine is NOT dumb!

He is merely horribly confused!

NOW I was able to work it out.

Oh, thank you God for gifting me with discernment.

In oh, so very many ways You have shown me again and again the truth as You want me to see it. And I praise YOU for it each and every day!

"Jake, honey. No one is going to eat you."

"Yes they are Mommy! We sing it in our songs. After the Cowboys and the Indians become friends and share corn and bullets, they sit down together and eat ALL the turkeys."

"Jake?"

"Yes, Mama?"

"Is this why you didn't want to be a turkey?"

"Well, yeah Mama, cuz I don't want them to EAT me!"

"Okay, Jake, okay."

"Jake, I promise you, you will not be eaten."

"But, Mom! How can you be sure?"

Ladies and gentlemen, by now, it is about oh, approximately 5:03 a.m.

"Jake, what would you think if I called Mrs. Butterworth in the morning (in an hour when she gets there, ugh), and tell her that you will not be attending school today, and that I will write a note and you will be excused from the feast. What do you think about that?"

"Are you sure mama? Can you do that?" (Jake NEVER misses school. He LOVES school)

"Yeah, buddy, I can do that. Do you think it will make you feel better?"

He grabs me around the neck and starts to hug me and rub MY back! and says, "Yeah, Mama, I promise it will make me feel better, cuz I don't wanna be no stinkin turkey cuz I don't want nobody eatin' me."

Rather than attempt to re-educate him on the first Thanksgiving feast and preschool Thanksgiving feasts in general, mostly because I can barely keep my eyes open, I tell Jake, "Okay Jake, you can stay home tomorrow. Will you please go back to sleep now, because it is still nighttime."

He hugged me and kissed me, and peeps, I am telling you he was sound asleep in less than a minute.

Scared because I think they're going to EAT ME?!?!?!?!?!!??

FRICK A FRACK A FRICK A FRACK A FRICK A FRACK!

~

Turkey Boycott

~

I received an email from Captain Jake Sparrow's teacher, the Infamous Dot Giver, in the middle of the day yesterday:

The title of the invoice was: NEED YOUR HELP!

You can only imagine what was going through my head.

Did he eat all the fruit snacks from the snack pantry?

Did he poke his teacher in the eye with a stick?

Was he trying to negotiate his way out of a timeout?

Did he smear poop all over himself, the toilet, the bathroom walls, the.....

Ohhhhh.....nooooooooooooooo.

It is soooooo much more unimaginable than any of those things.

This is the email she sent me, word for word:


i presented to the class today our costume for the thanksgiving feast. jake was very disappointed to find out that we are the turkeys. he really wanted to be a pilgrim or an indian... what is your suggestion for convincing jake to be a turkey. i am usually pretty good at this, but he is not giving and even cried! HELP!

Upon receiving this email, my immediate response was:

Whack that kid on the head with a 2x4, tell him he's going to be the biggest 'effin butterball turkey there ever was, and send him to the damn principal's office.

Doesn't want to be a turkey.

Who the HELL does this TURKEY think he is?????

UGH!

Might I casually mention that at the same time, I was dealing with another of our two children who had to be taken home early from school with a one hundred degree fever and swollen tonsils, as well as attempt to get this stable of a house ready for a party of about 40 adults and children for a 'young family' party on Saturday?

Apparently, she either didn't get my email telling her to march him to the principal's office (I politely removed all the other angry mom stuff), or she chose not to use that method of punishment, because when Billy Two Swords arrived at school to retrieve the anti-Turkey Costume Wearer, the Infamous Dot Giver begged Two Swords for help on the matter.

Two Swords was able to bribe the Captain with, of all things, the privilege of helping him to grill steaks for dinner.

FRICK A FRACK A FRICK A FRACK.

That's how the Captain thinks he's swearing.

So that's how I'm going to swear right now.

FRICK A FRACK A FRICK A FRACK.

So the Captain says, "Yeah, I guess I'll be a Turkey."

OH NO! OH NO! OH NO!

You are NOT getting off THAT easy, my little ANTI-TURKEY COSTUME WEARING friend!

So I forced him to write an apology note to the Infamous Dot Giver.

Please note, the Sparrow only knows how to write about, um, three letters.

And shall I casually remind you that his name contains FOUR letters?

And the three letters that the Sparrow knows are not three of four letters in his name.

By the way.

AHEM.

I just counted the lines on this note - TWENTY.

He and I wrote the note, AHEM, together.

I squeezed his hand so hard as we were writing it, he kept begging for me to stop.

And he was complaining that his hand was too hot.

And he was complaining that it was taking too long, that we were going to miss GI Joe.

And I was hurting his pen. (Hurting his PEN? ARE YOU Frick A Frack A Frick A Frack KIDDING ME? Hurting his PEN?)

FRICK A FRACK A FRICK A FRACK.

We wrote the following DAMN apology note, painful as it was for the Turkey Costume Boycotter:


Dear Mrs. Infamous Dot Giver:

I am sorry that I was whining about my Turkey costume on Thanksgiving.
I was disobedient.
I was disrespectful.
I was disruptive to the class and I am sorry.
After talking to my parents, we have decided that it is absolutely in my best interest to gladfully accept your invitation to wear a turkey costume and participate with the class in the joyful celebration of Thanksgiving.
Please forgive me for my behavior and for my Jake-ness.

Jake

FRICK A FRACK A FRICK A FRACK

~

Not Me! Monday

This weekend, Reilly the Red and I were NOT graciously invited to attend a world famous bell concert by the Raleigh Ringers.

We were NOT.

Reilly the Red was NOT the youngest person in attendance at said concert.

Billy Two Swords and Captain Jake Sparrow did NOT have huge 'guy' plans for a Sunday afternoon withOUT the girls.

When asked what his mom and sister would NOT be doing on Sunday afternoon, Captain Jake Sparrow

absolutely,

positively,

did

NOT

respond

with

"going to some STINKIN' bell concert with a bunch of old people."

No.

He did NOT.

NOT.

NOT I say.

NOT.

NO way.

Did NOT happen.

NOT my son.

NOT!

~

Me and God Had a Talk

~

I haven't been feeling well the past few days, so I've been pretty much bed-ridden.

The kids know this, and respect it.

I have not been a part of supper time, or homework time, or tv time or any time, really, which is highly unusual, but happens from time to time when your Mama has Crohn's Disease.

It totally sucks, because I really like being a 100% part of my children's lives, not just because I'm their Mom, but because they are pretty interesting kids, and often have very neat and colorful stories for me to steal and put on the blog!

Anyway.

Last night, before Captain Jake Sparrow went to bed, he came in to my room to say goodnight.

He said, "Mama?"

I said, "Yes, Jake?"

He was shifting his weight from leg to leg, and you could tell he was either scared about what he had to say, humbled by what he was about to say, or he had to pee really bad.

Before we went any further, I said, "Jake, do you have to pee?"

He said, "No, I just went."

The uncomfortable shifting continued.

"Mama?"

"Yes, Jake?"

"I have to tell you something."

Okay, here we go. He broke the dishwasher by standing on top of the open door. I knew it. It was inevitable. Calm down, Rojo, he's fessing up, prepare.....

"What's up Jake?"

"Mama, ummmmmm, last night.........ummmmmmmmmm, when I was saying my prayers with God.......ummmmmmmmmmm........we were talking about my new sport sheets.............ummmmmmmmm......and Me and God Had a Talk about them.........ummmmmmmm............and God wants me to keep them...............and after God was done talking to me..............ummmmmmmmm.......I decided I really like them too....................................................................
...............so.........ummmmmmmmmmmmmm.........you.........ummmmm.........you don't have to take them back.

Is that okay, Mama?"

Is that OKAY?

Is that OKAY?

Of course it's OKAY!

It's OKAY because my little man is praying to God about sheets!

Hello!

Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord!

Which means...............my little man is also talking to the BIG MAN about BIG stuff, not just the little stuff like sports-themed sheets and comforters!

Woohoo!

We have gotten through!

One of our children has an amazing, heartfelt, honest, outspoken, relationship with God!

Woohoo!

And he's only FOUR!

Woohoo!

We don't completely suck as parents!

Woohoo!

And I don't have to take the sheets back!

Woohoo!

But mostly -----

We don't COMPLETELY suck as parents!

WOOHOO!

WOOHOO!

WOOHOO!

Take 'em Back

~

Captain Jake Sparrow has a new bed.

A REAL bed.

A REAL big boy bed.

It is a full size bed, actually.

He had a Crib for Life, and was in the 'toddler' stage of the crib.

Since he only weighs 32 pounds (even though he is nearly FIVE), there was no sense of urgency to move him into another bed.

But we came upon a pregnant single mom in need of a crib.

So we decided it was time.

We gave her the crib, and at the same time, Dirty Diana and Tide Water Ted gave us a full sized bed.

Everybody is happy, right?

HA!

Captain Jake Sparrow has done very well in his new bed, for the most part.

He likes being able to go to bed at night, with his little lamp on, on top of his little man end table, with a REAL alarm clock, and all sorts of little man things stashed into his little man end table, with books, and the permission to read books until he gets tired and then he has to turn his lamp off and go to bed.

With the exception of one night, he has done amazingly well.

So I don't have any full size sheets or comforters or anything, as all the other beds in our home are Queen sized.

Yesterday, Reilly the Red and I went shopping for sheets for Jake, as it was Veterans' Day, and she was out of school, and there were big sales.

We went to EVERY SINGLE store in CLERMONT, FLORIDA that sells sheets, comforters, blankets, etc.

And EVERY SINGLE store in CLERMONT, FLORIDA had amazing sales on bed items.

The Captain's request, nope, DEMAND was for camouflage sheets.

Brown and green.

Not blue.

Brown and green camo.

That was it.

I didn't think it would be that hard to fulfill his request, because we live in the redneck capital of the world.

Oh, how wrong was I.

Even Reilly the Red was shocked at our failure.

Finally, at the very last store available to us, I found what I thought would be a most suitable runner-up.

A sports-themed bed set.

A complete set, with two sets of sheets, and all the shams, and a navy blue comforter with all types of BALLS on them.

And it wasn't a 'baby' boy kind of set.

A teenager who loves sports might put this on their bed.

And the Sparrow loves Navy Blue.

And we know we are going to have to repaint his room, and this will be super easy to match colors to, as there are all sorts of blues in the sheets, and some reds and even a spot of orange.

How could he NOT love it?

Mother's instinct is so unbelievably powerful.

They should find a way to bottle it, market it, and sell it.

It is ALWAYS on the money.

Dammit.

I knew he wouldn't like it.

The Sparrow wanted Camo.

Period.

End of story.

But I freaking bought it anyway.

It was a great deal.

It was on sale.

And the store even GAVE me ten dollars to buy it.

Super score, for someone who is a super bargain hunter and NEVER pays full price for ANYTHING.

We come home.

I leave it in the car, but take everything else out.

Billy Two Swords likes it.

Reilly the Red likes it.

Hurrican Rojo LOVES it.

But Rojo knows.

So I told Two Swords - leave the sheets in the car, and let me go break it to him.

Two Swords thinks I'm nuts.

He says, "He's FOUR YEARS OLD! He doesn't get to dictate these sorts of decisions!"

Yes, but that kid can be sold, if you sell it the right way.

So I go to talk to him.

I explain the WHOLE story, about ALL the store, and NO camo anywhere, and I found something I REALLY like, and I think you will REALLY like it too, will you give it a CHANCE?

"No."

He hasn't even seen it!

"Jake, come on, come with me.."

"No. I'm not going to like it. Get me the camo."

I try to explain AGAIN that not only did I search Clermont, I searched the internet the whole week before, and I CANNOT find what he wants.

"No. Get me the camo."

Finally, I don't know how, but I am able to coerce him to come outside and look at the sheets.

I think I carried him, if I remember correctly.

I put him on the swing outside, and I got the package out of the car.

I walk it over to him and say, "Whaddaya think?"

He shakes his head violently, sticks out his tongue and makes that face like a nine year old eating beets for the first time, and says (and I swear),

"Take 'em Back."

And he walks his very decisive butt into the house and shuts the door.

And there I stand, in the middle of the driveway, with a large package of gorgeous little man sports sheets and comforter, and I just look up to the sky and sigh.

"Take 'em Back."

Who does this freaking kid think he is?

"Take 'em Back."

As I write this, the large package of unopened gorgeous little man sports sheets and comforter sits right next to me.

Do I or don't I?

Do I wash them and put them on his bed before he gets home?

Or do I......

"Take 'em Back."

Ugh.


~

Bucket

~

The Captain was cleaning his room.

I heard some strange words.

Actually, I heard a strange WORD.

Actually, it wasn't strange.

I have heard this word many times in my life.

And as ashamed as I am to say it, I have uttered the word more than I have heard it.

You know the word.

Anyhoo.

I thought I heard the Captain saying "F--- It", "F--- It", "F--- It",

Over and over and over again.

But as he was saying it, I heard cars being thrown into his toyboxes.

And I heard drawers being slammed shut.

And he wasn't mad.

So I wondered if perhaps I was hearing things?

So I went into the Sparrow's room.

He was cleaning. Scary, but true.

I asked him, "Jake, are you saying a bad word?"

He looked sincerely surprised.

"No, Mom! I'm not saying ANY bad words."

"Jake, are you sure?"

"Yeah Mom!"

"Well, Jake, what was that word you just kept saying over and over?"

"I was saying BUCKET Mom!"

"BUCKET? Are you SURE you were saying BUCKET, BUCKET, BUCKET, and not some OTHER word?"

"Yeah Mom! I wouldn't say that OTHER word! I wouldn't."

"Okay, Jake."

"But sometimes I say Damn and Shit and other words like that."

Of course you do, Son.

Of course you do.

~

Eloise

~






Reilly the Red had the opportunity to morph yet again into character.

This time it was for school.

She had to read a book, and 'morph' into the central character of the book.

Her book report had to contain the similarities and differences between her and the main character of the book.

And she got to dress up as the main character, but she also had to use their voice!

Luckily, we had the opportunity to obtain videos of this particular character.

To some of you, Eloise will need no introduction.

To the other three of you, Eloise is a little girl who lives at the Plaza Hotel in New York City, with a Nanny, and a host of servants at her command, as her mother is an attorney working in Paris.

She is allegedly based on Liza Minelli, who allegedly lived at the Plaza Hotel in New York City as a child also.

Here is MY Eloise:










Yes.

Those are MY snakeskin boots.

That I wear a lot.

And yes, that makes me SUPER AWESOME MOM to allow my daughter to wear MY boots to school because they just 'made' the outfit.

And to the very nosey third grade teacher who commented, "Please tell me her mother packed her another pair of shoes for the day.", the answer is:

DUH.

Yes.

Of course I did.

That's part of being SUPER AWESOME MOM.

Oh buoy.












Could she BE any more beautiful?

Seriously?

She is so gorgeous. Perfect skin, hair, eyes.......

We love our Eloise.

But we love our Reilly the Red even more.

Just the way she is.

Perfect skin, hair, eyes............

~

Not Me! Monday!

~

This past weekend was NOT Dirty Diana's birthday.







NOPE.

We did NOT have lasagna.

We did NOT watch Grandma Dirty Diana open her dollar store presents.






We did NOT have a fabulous 14 different flavored cheesecake for all to sample and enjoy.


We did NOT have a huge dirt pile to play in.


Birthday Girl Grandma Dirty Diana did NOT engage in a Silly String fight with two of her pirate grandchildren, Captain Jake Two Swords and Reilly the Red.





Dirty Diana did NOT throw out the silly string and then she did NOT grab a hose and did NOT try to attack her sweet little grandson and then did NOT soak him to the bone!


Dirty Diana did NOT have any fun.

NOT Dirty Diana.

NOT MY Mother!

NO Way!

It was NOT tons of fun for everyone.

It was NOT.

And Dirty Diana is NOT going to kill me for posting the following picture all over the internet for all the world to see.





Nope.

NOT me.

~

Unbelievable

~


The pictures you are about to see may hurt your eyes.

A lot.

They are not ugly pictures, by any means, just not images captured very often.

Especially in THIS house.

Be

Very

Careful

As

You

Look

At

The

Following

Pictures......

You

May

Need

To

Seek

Medical

Attention.....

They

Are

So

Unbelievable.......










That MY two little Pirates could sit together so quietly, and nicely, on a Saturday morning, looking at a magazine instead of the television, dreaming about all the presents that Santa may or may not bring them.

Unbelievable!


PS - YES....That is in fact COFFEE that Captain Jake Sparrow has in his cup. About one teaspoon of coffee equal parts one cup of International Delight's Hershey's Chocolate and Caramel Creamer.

Not sure which is worse for him, the sugar or the caffeine...........but The Captain loves his coffee..........

Uranus

~
As most of you know, I suffer, no, I deal daily with having Crohn's Disease.

One of the sidebar notes to Crohn's Disease is that I have to take lots of different meds, for lots of different reasons.

But that's a story for another blog.

The real story is that for some reason, (the reason being the combination of really happy sleepy pills I take at night), I wake up every single morning with the most vivid of dreams.

And some of these dreams actually seem like they could come true. Or at least seem like a story someone might tell. Like a certain little Captain Jake Sparrow?

So here's the dream, as best as I can remember it, and you decide for yourself.


URANUS

So, we, as a family, are once again vacationing in West Virginia.

Captain Jake Sparrow, Billy Two Swords, and the old dudes, (Uncle Chuck, Mr. Gay, and Grandpa) are out working in Grandpa's shed, making a rocket ship. (Again, please keep in mind this is a dream).

So once they get the rocket ship built, which didn't seem like a very long time at all, Uncle Chuck and Grandpa take the first experimental trip.

And they made it to Uranus. And they called the house and said, "We made it. We're on our way home."

So they got home safely from Uranus.

They decided to make some minor adjustments here and there to the rocket ship, to see if maybe they could make it even further or faster, or something, while all the womenfolk (oh yes, including myself, just shook our heads at them).

All the while, Captain Jake Sparrow is his almost 5 year old self, watching everything, listening, never leaving his Daddy's or his Grandpa's side.

So the next trip, Billy Two Swords and Uncle Chuck decide to take the Captain, if that's okay with me, since the first trip was easey-peasey.

Me, being the non-inhibiting wife and mother that I am, who firmly believes in math and science, and that one shouldn't be denied opportunities of a lifetime, because they might crash and burn, hugs my baby and my baby, and tells them to call me on their way home.

So off they go. Destination unknown.

They got to Uranus. For whatever reason, they just didn't have enough power to get any further. They called the house, said they'd be home by supper, and sure enough, there they were! Safe and sound!

More working, more tweaking, more desperate to see how far they can go with this rocketship of theirs.

Well, one day, Billy Two Swords and Grandpa had to head to town early in the morning for more rocketship parts. They got up and out of the house before anyone else had woken up.

They returned, and everybody sat down to Grandpa's world famous biscuits and sausage gravy.

It seemed eerily quiet.

Suddenly, Two Swords and I realize that the Captain is not at the breakfast table.

So we go to his bedroom and see if he is still sleeping.

Nope.

We all start looking for him.

Nowhere to be found.

Grandpa goes out side, comes back inside, takes his hat off, rubs his forehead, and says, "Awww, hell!"

And Two Swords said, "No, he didn't."

And Grandpa says, "The heck he didn't! It's gone!"

Sure enough, the rocketship was gone.

And so was The Captain to end all Captains.

We waited and waited and waited and waited.

Couldn't really call the police, since they were breaking like 10 zillion laws.

At 330pm the phone rang.

I grabbed it.

"Jake?"

"Hi Mom! I'll be home by supper time. Did Grandpa make a pie?"

"Jake! Where are you?"

"Well, Mama, I'm in Uranus!"

"WHAT?"

"Just like Daddy was in Uranus, and Grandpa was in Uranus, and Uncle Chuck was in Uranus, and Mr. Gay was in Uranus."

"I was in Uranus just like everybody else was in Uranus!"


_

Benfits of Volunteering as a SAHM

~

So, I've been volunteering at Reilly the Red's school about four hours per week.

I don't interact with the children too much, by choice, thank GOD!

I mostly grade and sort paperwork, and hang up the A and B papers every week.

It's actually kinda of fun, and something I didn't ever have an opportunity to do when I had an away from home career.

Yesterday, I got to witness a humorous moment, and I honestly don't think it was for my benefit.

From some of the papers I see, she draws our family as having THREE members in it, and Captain either disappeared, or ran away from home, or as she probably wishes, he had never even been born in the first place.

So her teacher was verbally quizzing the students on word meanings.

Like, "give me a sentence with the word 'bigger' in it'"

And then he gets to Reilly the Red.

Teacher: "Reilly, give me a sentence with the word 'quite' in it".

And a very prepared as if she had been studying for years for this one chance to say this once sentence, Reilly the Red flung out the following:

"My brother is QUITE the noisemaker."

Swear.

And there are 17 other 7 year old witnesses, as well as a chuckling 30+ year old teacher.

These moments make all the 'bad' volunteering moments, so very much worthwhile!

Not Me Monday

A certain individual in our home was NOT in the bathroom recently.

He was NOT screaming and screaming and screaming:

"Hello!

I AM NOT GOING POOP!

Who opened the door?

CAN'T ANYONE GET SOME FREAKIN' PRIVACY AROUND HERE?"



You got it.

The same kid who, at EIGHTEEN MONTHS OF AGE, did NOT spend the afternoon at my company's FAMILY picnic playing with the beer tap.

NOT my son.

NO way.

Could NOT happen.

NOT the Sparrow.

NOT HIM!

~

Halloween 2009

Oh Yeah?

The Very Lovely Green and Black Witch,


two unmatched shoes and greasepaint for eyeshadow and lipstick.

We were blessed to be joined by our cousin, Kobe, the Grimest Reaper, EVER!

And not to be outdone,
Captain Jake Sparrow!
Who not only gave up after 3 houses,

he had some issues in the shower,
because his green paint would not come off his feet, hands, or neck.
We tried everything we could think of:
Nail polish remover,
this grease remover stuff Two Swords had in the garage,
makeup remover,
soap and water,
and nothing was working very well until we resorted to:

SEA BREEZE!

And voila!
The greenness had disappeared, and the Hulk turned back into Bruce Banner.
Imagine explaining that one to the Captain.
Ha. Very funny.

But alas, we saved the most sinful of all for last:

ME!



Bless me Father, for I have sinned.

BIG TIME!

Especially since my kids had no idea what my costume was.