Mom Tips and Notes from the Zoo

The ????

2010-08-11T11:47:00.000-04:00

Grandkeeper and Silverback are on vacation at the ZIT's house this week. That said, I didn't really expect to hear from them much this week even with the new additions. However...apparently last night there was great discussion of this little blog of mine.

ZIT gave them all a rundown of all the alter egos that everyone has. Zookeeper, Lion, Orangutan, Rhino, Marmoset, ZIT, Grandkeeper and Silverback. I'm pretty sure she covered the security team too.

Then her hubster piped up and the text messages started flying. "Why don't I have a nickname yet?!"

So I asked if he had one in mind or had any ideas about a name to which there was no real reply or idea. Guess what you get to do now? You get to help us create Uncle N's alter ego. Some facts you should now. If he sticks out his tongue his shadow looks like a zipper. Yes, he's that thin. And he's a paratrooper/master carpenter/engineer/drill instructor.

See why he doesn't have a nickname?!

Now we kicked a few around last night.
The Badger (a nod to the DI in him).
The Wombat (a nod to...well, I'm not really sure).
And then (his current preference - we think) The Flying Wonder Weasel.

But here it is Zoo Visitors! Time to name the...well, Gonzo for lack of a better temporary idea.

Crabs and Flying Zookeepers!

2010-08-10T09:24:00.000-04:00

You know how there are just some days? The days when it really didn't pay to get out of bed?

That was yesterday.

The day started way too early and there was just one hiccup after another but the exhibits got to visit a neighboring Zoo for a while and they were happy with that idea. Mid afternoon our neighboring exhibits came to visit so that they could meet Rookie Walter.

We all decided to visit on the driveway where the wee ones could play with sidewalk chalk while Walter got some fresh air. He still hasn't gotten used to staying in the yard yet so he has to be on his leash for these little adventures. I was chatting with my Neighbor and not really paying very much attention to Walter's leash until I stood up and realized that I had one leg tangled.

You see where this is going right?

Now in his defense, he didn't pull or lunge or anything to that effect. He just tried to walk to see Rhino's art work. Behind me. Did I mention it's a retractable leash? I don't know why I didn't release it. I just know that before I could even blink my legs went out from under me and flipped up over my head. The following dialogue played out in my brain.

You're airborne you know.
Yeah that occurred to me.
Try not to land on your head.
Ok but I can't let go of the dog either.
You're coming down now. And pretty fast.
This is going to hurt.
I wonder which body part I'm going to land on.
Who cares? I still have a grip on the dog.
I probably shouldn't land on the Rhino.

CRASH!! and Rollllll right on down the driveway. The next thing I heard was my Neighbor telling me to let go of the leash; she had the dog. Then the dog licked me and I opened my eyes. Assessment. I landed on my elbow which was surprisingly free of blood. I apparently had my feet slightly tucked under me because I bruised a heel and a little toe. I didn't notice until about an hour later that my tailbone was throbbing so I guess I made fifth point contact too.

Then Orangutan walked up to me and said, "I took this stick out of your pocket Mama." I dissolved into laughter. I just crashed and rolled 10 feet down the driveway and she thought to make sure I was presentable. She didn't brush the blue chalk off my butt but I was twig free.

Obviously we called an end to the playdate. I rounded up my exhibits and took them inside for showers. I sent a quick message to Lion letting him know that I resembled something totalled in a car wreck and he immediately called back. He checked on me and let me know that he was running an errand on his way home and then he dropped a little bomb.

"Hey I'm bringing home a little surprise for the family." I'm sorry?! Wasn't Walter a big enough surprise for this year?!

"What exactly are you bringing home?"
"A pair of hermit crabs." Apparently word has gotten out that we are adopters.

I dropped to the floor (gently of course) and laughed myself silly. He actually hung up on me.

Marmie has adopted them as her own since O and Rhino have aquariums already (which are in need of restocking by the way). Their names are Luz and Annie and she is in love with them - as in, they ate breakfast with her.

I made Lion make me a promise before he left for work today. That he come home empty handed. All that's left is a turtle, hamster, guinea pig or bird. And heaven knows I'm out of space!

The Chief, The Sarge, and The Rookie

2010-08-08T13:21:00.000-04:00

**There are some great pictures that are supposed to go with this post. Unfortunately DinoComp won't let Blogger have them and I don't have the patience to force the issue right now. When the Speed Demon gets back I'll put the pics in. Until then...use your imagination, please.**

In case you missed it over at The Bowl, we were looking at adopting a new dog to add to the Zoo security force. Then the owners decided that they didn't need to give it up after all. And then Lion's phone chirped at 9:45 Thursday night.

"Hey, were you still thinking about the dog?"
"Absolutely!" I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head. And I thought I was going to barf.
"I'll know for certain in the morning but we'll talk."

9:45 Friday morning. I was paying Zoo invoices and getting my brain together for OAT, RAT shopping when my phone rang. "He's OURS!!" Yay...Don't get me wrong. I love dogs. Security Chief Max has been with me for 10 years. We've seen some good days and some rough days together. He knew I was in labor before I did. He's faithful, sweet, and adores the children. But he's a small dog. And this is, and always has been, HIS house.

Then you have The Sarge, Bentley. He's the neighbor's 80 pound chocolate lab who spends a lot of time at our house when Neighbor has to work till all hours of the morning. He thinks he's mine. He will attack his own owner if he tries to yell or mess with me. And he'll growl at me if he thinks I'm being too rough with the kids when we wrestle.

(You HAVE noticed that they are both males, right?)

And now (as of 9:45 Friday night) we have The Rookie. And when I say Rookie I mean, puppy brain. This dog is house broken and that's about it. His (yes, a third male dog!) name was Max too but we are trying to change it to Walter. Walter is not terribly bright. And he's a black standard poodle. With a mohawk. And a paw and crossbones collar. And a barking habit. He's a sweet dog and very cuddly.

But he barks a menacing bark at every sound and to tell you he wants to play. He wants to play with The Chief a lot. He wanted to play with The Chief at 1 AM. The Chief wanted nothing to do with him so he barked back which The Rookie took to mean that we were going to talk about playing all night. Like two kids having a sleepover planning the next day.

At 1 AM.

I do believe my time today will be spent researching some new acadamies that Walter the Rookie and I can attend together this fall. Or buying several bedtime muzzles.

I'm Not Feeding my Children Anymore.

2010-08-04T10:24:00.000-04:00

All right Zoo fans. Name one hobby that I truly love. Writing - yes, but that's not the one I'm talking about.

Cooking. How many bajillions of Wordless Wednesday's have been dedicated to food creations? How many times have I blogged about baking or cooking or creating new meals? I really do love to cook. And of corse I'll continue to cook. I'm just not feeding my family any more.

See there's a difference between cooking and feeding my family. Cooking involves chopping, dicing, fileting, sauteeing, broasting, marinading, grilling, and searing. Cooking means savoring aromas of fresh herbs, breathing in the sharpness of onions and garlics, and tuning in to the sizzle of the butter in a hot skillet. Cooking can be done slowly while sipping a glass of wine and nibbling on the scraps of hard cheese that fall by the wayside of the cutting board. The Three Tenors can keep you company in the kitchen and coax smoothness out of the sharpest combinations. Cooking is relaxing and comforting.

Then I remove my lovingly prepared meal and I place it on the dining room table amidst the bouquets and neat place settings. I call the family to the table. This is where it goes from cooking a lovely meal to feeding my brood.

"But I don't like peppers."

"These aren't the kind of noodles I like."
"You know I don't eat squash."

"Can I have a drink to wash this down?"

"I'm going to pretend to be a race car at the table now."
"Yeah, well, I'm going to scream all through dinner."
"Is it time for dessert yet?"
"Mom! He's looking at me!"

I've decided that I'm not feeding them any more. I will cook and they can come and get it. But I will not be present. I'm going to be out on the deck with Pavoratti. Who cares if it's still 96 degrees at 9 PM? At least I'll be able to dine.

How to Spell Drama!

2010-08-02T13:43:00.000-04:00

M-A-R-M-O-S-E-T.

45 minutes and still going strong. And now she's poked herself in the eye. Great day in the mornin'!

It started right after lunch. She and Orangutan were playing dog catcher while Lady and the Tramp played in the background (just so you know it wasn't a TOTALLY random game). Apparently the Dog Catcher (aka Orangutan) caught the dog (aka Marmie) and proceeded to drag her across the living room floor. Her dress of course slid right on up over that bare belly and we were presented with the perfect form for righteous rug burn.

Four quarter to half dollar sized rug burns are glowing on her belly right now. Well, they would be if she would let me take off the cool compress. But we can't move the washcloth and we had to put a Dora band aid on her belly (nowhere close to the burns mind you) but we are still miserable. So miserable in fact that we have to rub our eyes OUT of our head apparently.

Never mind the fact that a nap is in desperate need right now. And we missed the movie because we were dealing with the "belly on fire." So very pitiful. She even had to call the Grand Keeper (Grammy) and ask her to come to our house to kiss her belly "'cause it weeeelllly huurts!" It was left as a message of course because Grand Keeper is getting ready for vacation but that will only add to the drama because now the message can be saved and replayed for the Great Silverback who will of course call and moon over his precious little Marmie.

Did we mention that she's headed for Hollywood?

And The Z.I.T. Presses On.

2010-07-30T13:18:00.000-04:00

If you are new to the Zoo, let me explain Z.I.T. Zookeeper In Training. That would be my beloved sister. Her Zoo consists of a boxer, a cat, and a drill sergeant. Yeah, it's definitely a mobile Zoo.

I was scrolling along checking out my Facebook pals when I came across her status posting. "For the record...spray olive oil will remove fly paper glue from a cat."

It was all I could do not to pick up the phone and speed dial immediately! I mean seriously! That had to be the most awesome story EVER!! Especially if you know the cat in question. She's the ultimate cat. I mean attitude and all and her name is Cleopatra (or Fatra as I like to call her). The suspense was killing me.

Then I got the phone call that explained it all and I cried in hysteria before I was able to choke out, "You have to write this down so I can blog it!" My sister is so sweetly accommodating. The following is her account (in italics) and of course, my commentary.

So it started off like a normal day. (Like those EVER happen!) The alarm goes off at 5:30am; mommy stumbles out of bed; lets Baxter (also known as Eating Machine) outside to do his potty thing; and down the steps we go to feed Cleo. I open up the can of cat food, and dump breakfast into the bowl. The kitty is happy so mom goes to let the boy back in for his breakfast. Normal start....then it all goes wonky.

There is a strange sound followed by a cat like screech, and here comes Cleo streaking out into the laundry room with a fly strip zig zagged down her back and up her tail. (People, this cat doesn't "streak" anywhere - she might roll quickly but "streaking" is not her normal MO.) There is nothing else to do but remove the extra sticky fly covered mess from her back. So I pull, and tug and come away with a fly strip and half a cat worth of hair (anybody else picturing a backwards mohawk?) but I leave behind a sticky hairy mess (a backwards mohawk with spiked edges?!). So I grab a washcloth and a bar of soap - Irish spring to be precise (top o the marnin' Cleo!) - and try to clean the sticky off the cat. Cleo at this point is quite happy to go back to eating breakfast (did I mention I call her Fatra?). I however am concerned about the sticky poison laced glue that is still matting her fur and that Cleo will try to lick off later.

The soapy wash cloth did not do the trick. After breakfast is finished and Cleo reappears upstairs, we try the brush to remove the sticky (because a glue wadded cat brush is just what every house needs!). While this method removes a good bit of the loose hair that the original removal of the fly strip didn't accomplish (tidied up the mohawk), it does not get rid of the dreaded "sticky." We snag another wash cloth, and a different soap - dish washing soap this time (I'm sure this was a Joy. Get it?) - and now the cat is damp, soapy, AND sticky (But she smells great!). There is nothing I can do for it; I have to get to work, and the cat will have to stay sticky until I get home. Hopefully the two different soaps will at least rid the glue of most of its poisonous quality (and what cat wants to lick glue AND soap off her fur?).

After a tedious day I get home and the cat is still sticky. While making dinner I discuss the problem with the hubster. Thinking out loud, I suggest that since peanut butter is used to get gum out of hair, perhaps it would work to remove fly strip glue from a cat (Peanut butter hairball anyone?). Hubster thinks it would be a bad idea because it would leave the cat messy and greasy(and that's any worse than soapy and sticky how, exactly?!) . I remember that the dog loves peanut butter better than steak (loves it? He's obsessed with it! Ate a whole jar if I remember correctly!), and realize that having a peanut butter flavored cat running around the house is probably not a good idea (but they would both get their exercise!).

Enough pondering. Time to solve the problem. I turn to the all powerful GOOGLE. After a quick search, I run across a post from a gentleman asking how to remove fly paper glue from his wife's hair. They had also unsuccessfully tried the same soapy remedies that I had, but there were many posts that suggested oily substances like baby oil, or mineral oil to remove the glue. Brainstorm! I have spray olive oil in the kitchen. Non-toxic and it just might get the sticky off the cat (how that doesn't attract the dog too I'll never know. Olive oil - steak?).

A few sprays is all she will tolerate after a day full of indignities (ya think?!), and she goes hiding behind the couch. When she reappears, we try a quick couple passes with the brush (good thing it didn't work the first time!) and we have an oily, but not sticky, cat. I think that she is trying to pass it off as hot oil treatment.

The moral of the story....spray olive oil removes fly paper glue from a cat.

No my darling sister. The moral of the story is that, Google is a mom's best friend when dealing with child induced disasters. Oh and humor tolerates a multitude of disasters.

Come on out Camera Man!

2010-07-28T13:23:00.000-04:00

I have learned so much about my children this summer.

Orangutan knows no strangers and has no idea what "family business only" means. She will talk to anyone about anything all day long. Whether they want to hear or know it. Yes, it IS embarrassing. And if you don't know all about our vacation to PA then you don't live within a 15 mile radius.

Rhino is all boy. From naked happy dances to non stop eating to just general grossness, he couldn't be more boy if you pumped him full of 'roids. And no, that's not an invite. Heaven knows, he's already moody enough.

But the focus of today is Marmoset. I believe I have shared in the past that the fellows at Lion's old office used to call her "Hollywood" because she never showed up without her shades. Well, she is definitely headed for "Last Comic Standing."

She insists that someone go to the bathroom with her every time she has to go. The whole time she is in there she is making faces and talking in weird voices and telling me stories that would make me roll on the floor if it wasn't the bathroom. Yesterday she felt the need to inform me that her behind had exploded and she really didn't want it put back together. "'Cause I like it like this! And I won't need unders!"

I really looked up to see where the hidden camera was. I mean someone has to coach a kid to say these things, don't they? And to say it in a 65 year old smoking bartender's voice at the same time? I mean really. Lion had to have signed some reality TV contract behind my back.

I wonder what I will have to do to get voted off the island.

Oh, the Posts of Days Gone By...

2009-09-24T12:26:00.002-04:00

I was suffering from some writer's block this morning so I went back to some of my older posts and read for a while to try to spark something. I actually laughed at myself in a few of those. Which makes me wonder what happened but that's another day. Everyone get out your Wayne's World fingers because we are going back in time.

Doodle lee Doot. Doodle lee Doot. Doodle lee Doot.

Mom Tip #18 - Just Laugh!

Mom Tip #29 - You May Call me Elvis. This is Lion's favorite post

Mom Tip #41 - Never Clean During PMS Weak Stomach Warning!

Mom Tip #54 - Motherhood is Gross! Another WSW.

How to Tell you're a Grown Up!

Someday I'll get back to that kind of writing. Thanks for hanging with me until I do. Zoo fans Rock!

Help.

2009-09-23T17:07:00.004-04:00

There I said it. I asked for help. Not that it will do anything but I did it. Mainly because I just need to have a "mom needs help" moment.

I should have known first thing this morning. I woke up feeling like dog poo run over and topped in hot garbage juice but I told myself a pot or two of coffee would make it all better.

And then everyone dawdled. I don't have patience for dawdling. I want people to move when I tell them to, if not on the first try, at least on the second. If I have to tell you more than three times to stop talking and start brushing your teeth, I will lose my cool. Want to venture a little guess on how many times I had to ask? On #6 the toothpaste had still not been disturbed on the toothbrush that had been loaded for a good 10 minutes. Not a good way to start a dog poo garbage juice day.

The high point of my day was Marmie giving me my medical exam.

"Open yo mouf Mom! Now open yo eyes. You sick Momma. Close yo eyes. I listen you. You heart say 'boing boing'. You sick. You eat cackers now."

Two year olds don't understand that saltines are not a miracle pill. So I ate crackers. Then she tucked me in and sat on top of me to make sure I napped. Such a helpful child.

I had enough meds and saltines pumping through my system to make it through car rider without committing homicide but then I was faced with O's homework. And it is at this point that I am faced with the worst part of my day. I understand homework. I'm glad my children have it. I want my child to do well and I need to reinforce what she is learning in school.

The problem for me is that my child is showing signs of intense dyslexia. She is in an early intervention program at school where she gets intensive instruction but she still has to keep up with everyone else. That means that my kindergarten child takes an hour to do what most kids do in 20 minutes. I have to be there with her while she does it. I have to help her correct mistakes and repeat myself a dozen times for every letter that is formed backwards.

I don't like to repeat myself.

I didn't struggle with school. I don't get it that my daughter who is imaginative and creative and artistic can't form her letters in the right direction. It does not compute for me. Big Mom Fail - even though I know it's not my fault. But I can't "fix" it so I feel like Mom Fail.

And what in the world possessed me to go to the playroom (aka disaster central) today? The DC should be avoided at all costs on Dog Poo Garbage Juice days. It made me cry! No really. Made. Me. Cry.

My kitchen floor needs to be mopped. The bathrooms are crying out to be saved from themselves. Dinner time is fast approaching and we still have one more homework assignment to get caught up on (after the flood day).

It's one of those days when I just want to scream "HELP!!" at the top of my lungs. But I don't. Because I'm a mom and Mom's should be able to tough it out. Mom's should be able to roll with this kind of stuff and persevere. We shouldn't need help. I have actually told Lion several times today that I'm fine. I'll be ok. I'll just take some more meds and keep going. Why? Why is it so hard for moms to admit that we aren't armor all people and that we need help?

I know this isn't the fun and fluffy that I usually put up but I need to know that other moms are the same as me. Tell me about your most recent Dog Poo and Garbage Juice day. Let me know that I'm normal.

Monday I'm Driving a Bulldozer.

2009-09-18T17:21:00.003-04:00

I mean it. I am going out this weekend and buying a small bulldozer (they make those, right?) and I am driving it through carpool on Monday.

It's not rocket science people! You put your number in your front window. You show it to the teacher calling the children out. They come out and get in the car. You pull away. People pull up behind you and repeat the process.

Your child can't buckle their own seat belt? Pull out of the way by the dumpsters so people can go around you.

Your child has lead in their butt and won't sit in their seat so you can move the car? Well, I put that on you. You need to encourage a sense of urgency in your child.

I don't understand. It's a pretty simple system but every day I end up sitting several minutes while someone farts around. The child doesn't come out when they are called. The parent insists on making sure the child is secured before even driving 10 feet out of the way. I think some of these people insist on hearing the full details of their child's day before they will put the car in gear.

So that's it. I'm getting my bulldozer and everyone has 20 seconds to get their child in and seated before I move them. I get two in and seated in that time and I know most of these folks only have one - I look for that stuff - so they are getting extra time. And if your child doesn't come out the first time they are called, you go to the end of the line. Maybe both of you will learn a lesson.

Maybe I won't BUY the bulldozer. I think a week long rental should be just long enough for people to get the hang of it. If I rent I won't get that depreciation hit when I trade it in for my Batmobile.

Zoo Talk and the Lesson of the Week

2009-09-16T23:17:00.007-04:00

I absolutely promise you that all of these conversations/scenarios have happened within the last 24 hours. And now you will understand why I refer to it as a Zoo!

ZK (That's me): Son, did you ever get a tissue and take care of that thing earlier?
Rhino: Yup!
ZK: So the one I'm looking at now is new?

R: You betcha!

From the dungeon (aka playroom)
O: Why won't you let me play with you? You are the meanest brother EVER!!
R: Oh Ho! You think so?

(I think he took it as a challenge!)

M: Help! Help! Help! Help! Help! (running up and down the hall waving her hands above her head wide eyed and crazy like)

ZK: What are you doing?

M: He's gonna get me!!
ZK: Who?!

M: (looking around all 360 degrees) Well, now. Where did he go?

O: Hey Momma, you know the cartoon when Pebbles and Bam Bam got married?
ZK: No. Did Pebbles and Bam Bam REALLY get married? I did not know that!
O: (all seriousness!) Mom. You really HAVE to watch more cartoons!

And finally, the lesson of the week from The Zoo:
I know you don't like how he's playing the game, but you can't make people play the way you want them to all the time. Sometimes you have to just go play a different game.

I know some adults who could use that lesson too, but we'll save that for another day, shall we?

******

And on a completely different note: Book count for our bedtime reading Project? 20 since Saturday night. None have been chapter books since we are at the beginning of The Project and a few of those have been repeats (Marmie thinks we should read Skeleton Hiccups every night) but so far the kids are loving the project. Our bedtime routine has gone much smoother since they know at the end of it they get to pile on the big bed and read. Yay!! We will probably try to start adding some more chapter books and classics this weekend and into next week.

While we're talking about it, The Project still has no name. A few that have been rattling around in my head for your consideration? The Bunkbed Project (since the girls just got bunk beds). Or Project Goodnight Zoo (a little nod to Good Night Gorilla). Feel free to toss your name suggestions our way. We will probably poll next week.

The Epilogue

2009-09-16T09:17:00.000-04:00

**Because I've always wanted to write one. New to the saga? Catch up!

Horsefeathers (Part 1)
The Drip (Part 2)
The European Faucet (Part 3)

Now many of you are probably wondering what my plumbing adventure has to do with our theme here at The Zoo. It didn't involve my children. It didn't involve a letter of any kind. Well here it is.

Mom Tip #68: Regardless of gender, teach your child basic mechanics.

Girls or boys all need to know basic mechanics. How to change a tire. How to check their oil. How to change a filter in a HVAC unit. Definitely the importance of water shut off valves and breaker boxes.

Imagine, fathers in my midst, that you are able to send your daughter out into the world without worrying that she will be "taken" by some shady plumber or electrician. Imagine the pride mothers, of knowing that your son was able to help the young lady down the hall with a faulty electrical outlet thus saving her from the tragedy of flat hair.

Silverback called Monday night to see how my plumbing had turned out. He is not one to whoop and holler over our accomplishments. After all he taught us what to do. We should be able to just do it - nothing out of the ordinary. But I think I heard just a tinge of pride in his voice when I announced that the problem had been resolved and he would be able to review my handiwork when he comes to visit at Thanksgiving.

I wonder if I can replace the tank on the toilet before he gets here. I'll probably need some tools...

European Faucets, Floods and Lasagna

2009-09-15T15:35:00.000-04:00

**Feel like you're missing something?

Horsefeathers (Part 1)
The Drip (Part 2)

I had settled from my hysterical laughter and assumed my position under the sink to give the water supply line one more crack and this time, it took. Now to see if I had any leaks.

Tenatively I turned the water back on at the valves under the sink. No faceful of spray so that is encouraging. Then I turned on the faucet. Only a minor leak there so I snagged one of the Wrenches of Doom and started adjusting and tightening. Still leaking. Then I saw those darling little black rings that had eluded me earlier. After quickly disassembling the sprayer one more time I inserted the proper rubber washer, tightened it back down and voila! No more leak at the sprayer end.

What I had failed to check was whether there was a leak at the supply end. I had been "up top" turning the water on and off for a good fifteen minutes before I got it settled. In the meantime there had been a fountain bubbling merrily away under the sink and out of the cabinet and across the floor and right under the oven. If only I had left a dog food dam there to slow things down.

Three large bath towels later I could finally get back under the sink to turn the water off and try to reconnect the supply line. And this is when Lion came home. Excellent timing because now I don't have to try the Wrenches of Doom set up again; he can just untwist me from the top. It took a few tries for us to figure out which way he needed to turn his end so that my end stayed untangled but we finally got it. I asked him to gently turn the water on. I wasn't really in the mood to wash the lump on my forehead at this point. And after one small twist we were leak free.

And then he put the sprayer back into the faucet housing. And it didn't go all the way in. It hung out by half an inch. It wasn't flush. He looked at me. I stared at the faucet. One thing to know about Lion. If it isn't right, it can't stay. Half an inch. I stared at the faucet. I pushed on it. I pulled on the hose from the bottom side. Maybe it was hung up on something in the housing. Lion looked at me. I stared at the faucet.

Lion said, "I need to run up to the corner store. I'll be right back."

I think I mumbled something like, "Yeah, whatever."

I cooked dinner in the bathroom Sunday night. Well not completely cooked it but washed all the vegetables. I had disassembled the whole thing and returned it to Home Depot. There was no merry tripping this time. It took all my strength not to scream "Horsefeathers!" at every orange apron that passed me. Faucet guts and appendages were strewn all over my counter while I tried to cook. The gaping whole in my sink kept winking at me like it was delighting in having the night off.

I got up Monday morning with a new attitude. All I needed to do was try Ace Hardware. Surely "the Helpful Hardware Place" would have what I needed. I hate red aprons too. They had exactly the same universal kit that I had just returned only they were willing to admit that it was the wrong thing before I even told them I had already tried it. And they get a bonus point for referring me to a plumbing specialty store 9 miles away. At least they tried to offer me a solution.

I called my sister and asked her to look up the address up for me (thank you internet for allowing a person in Missouri to find an address in Georgia) and I plugged it into my navigation system. Now please keep in mind that Marmie was with me while I attacked this problem and with the help of a chocolate creme filled doughnut, she was being charming and delightful. I'm pretty sure I would have Horsefeathered someone if she had even shown a shadow of nuttiness.

At the plumbing specialty store, The Ball Cap twins took one look at my hose (yes, I had plumbing in my purse) and started shaking their heads. It turns out that my faucet was made by a German stainless steel company and therefore has no parts in the US. We were now edging up on the 24 hour mark and I had just learned that I wasn't replacing a hose - I was replacing a whole faucet.

I won't say it. I won't say it. I'll just go get the faucet and fix the problem.

So back to Home Depot I went. I stomped back to the kitchen faucets. I growled at the ladder that was in front of the display. I found a faucet that looked very similar to our old faucet and I brought it home. By now I was looking at my sink like it was Mount Everest in January. There was no way I was going to be able to get this done and I had planned out lasagna for dinner. Lasagna is messy. I had to have water. I didn't have anything else even remotely ready to fill in if lasagna was out of the question.

Marmie went down for her nap and I gathered my tools. Disconnect the main lines. Pull the old fixture completely out. Drop the new fixture in. Tighten it into place. Figure out that there were more adapters on the main water supply lines to make them fit that stupid European faucet (no offense to my European readers - our stuff just doesn't mix well with yours) and take them off with the Pipe Wrenches of Death. Did I mention that I don't have precisely the right tools for plumbing? Attach the sprayer line. Attach the two main water lines. Attach the sprayer nozzle. Hold your breath. Turn the water on.

No leaks.

One hour. From plumbing disaster to stylish functioning faucet in one hour. No horsefeathers.

I sent my husband a text message. "You have THE most AWESOME wife on the planet!" He called me and asked "Why?"

Hey Lion! HORSEFEATHERS!

And then the Sink Sprung a Leak

2009-09-15T11:26:00.000-04:00

**For a definition of Horsefeathers and the beginning of the tale go here.**

Lion will be one of the first to admit that he is not mechanically inclined. Therefore it is a true blessing that Silverback taught me some basic home maintenance skills. I have successfully rewired a faulty grounded outlet and I can plunge a toilet with the best of them. But everyone knows, the true test of a person's skills comes when the dreaded drip occurs.

You know The Drip. Suddenly there is a puddle where puddles really shouldn't be and the source is unknown or worse, in a place that can't be reached without years of yoga instruction and pre-plumbing stretches and warm ups. We had The Drip. In the kitchen. Creating a puddle amongst the cleaning supplies and dog food. And it was rapidly growing.

Careful observation revealed that the drip was actually a leak in the line of our retractable faucet and it was at the pull out end. Well, that should be easy enough to fix, right? Just get the new line and replace it! How tough could that be?

I tripped lightly through Home Depot with Marmie in tow and wound my way leisurely down the plumbing aisle. Politely I asked the gentleman in the orange apron if he could direct me to the replacement line in question and I willingly handed over my $20.

Two weeks later the bottom fell out of the dog food bag and I pleaded with Lion to replace the line - TODAY!! "Oh, no! I don't know anything about that. You'll need to do that." Well, if I had known it was going to be my job maybe we could have avoided the whole dog food under the oven fiasco.

So Sunday afternoon, I did my grocery shopping and put it all away. Then I cleaned out the cabinet under the sink and assembled all my tools. Lion and Rhino ran for the hills (aka the park with their golf clubs) while Marmie and Orangutan settled down for an afternoon movie. It's simple I said to myself. I just have to disconnect the sprayer and the supply line from the hose, pull it out and reattach the new one. I called the Silverback for one last pep talk and then settled in to work.

Disassembly went rather well in spite of the fact that I didn't have "precisely" the right tools. But then it was time to put it all back together. Note: Universal kits usually come with about 400 adapter pieces to interchange to make said kit fit your personal scenario. You will find that it is almost impossible to find the proper configuration unless you try every...single...combination. Then you will find that one of those adapters is actually two pieces and you only need half of it. You will be tempted to swear at this point but you will take a deep breath and continue.

When I finally got the top half of the hose to fit the sprayer, I had to feed it through the faucet and back under the sink. This involved a wire hanger, a steak knife and holding a flashlight in my teeth. Twenty five minutes later (after gagging on the flashlight at least half a dozen times) I had it fed through. Now to climb back under the sink.

Another little note for you. When working with flexible metal tubing it is best to have someone helping you. Especially if you have to twist that tubing at all because they will need to twist the other end to keep the tubing straight. Please keep in mind that I didn't have this second person. I began to reconnect the hose to the supply line only to have the nasty thing get wound up tighter than a slinky on crack and completely untwist itself as soon as I let go. But I am a patient woman.

Time to employ the Wrenches of Doom. One adjustable wrench (because remember I didn't have precisely the right tools - 1/2 in versus 9/16 and yes it made a difference!) was attached to the hose on the topside and dangled over the side of the sink so that I could untwist myself. The other wrench was attached to the nut connecting the two lines.

Twist. Twist. Twist.

Slip. Thunk. Right between the eyes. I mean dead in the middle of my own forehead. Of course my body jerked upward, my hand instinctively trying to get to the swelling lump in the middle of my noggin. Except. My arm got tangled up in loose water lines and my hand slammed into the side of the garbage disposal while my head (still rapidly traveling north) smashed into the PVC trap with a resounding THWACK!

There's only one word a person can say at a moment like that. Especially when they are mindful that their darling daughters could step into the kitchen at any moment and they do not want to be the one to teach those daughters to be unladylike.

HORSEFEATHERS!!!

When my vision cleared and the room stopped spinning I thought it was best to get out from under the sink and survey the damage I had just done to my head. I took one look in the mirror at my previously tidy bun which was now a mass of flyaways, tangles, a dead spider and a million cobwebs and I started to giggle. Then I started to chuckle and finally was laughing so hard at the whole situation that I had tears rolling down my face.

I had grown into my legacy. I had used "Horsefeathers!" in context, by instinct, and at completely the right moment. When I recounted this part of the story to Silverback later that evening he assured me that it was definitely a "Horsefeathers!" moment.

But for all of my chuckling, I still didn't have water in my kitchen.

Horsefeathers! A Father's Legacy

2009-09-14T13:47:00.005-04:00

My father (The Great Silverback) would be distraught to think that "Horsefeathers!" is his legacy to me but it is so much more than just "Horsefeathers!"

If The Grand Keeper gifted my sister and I with "The Mother's Curse" then The Great Silverback gifted us with "Horsefeathers!" and the ability to use it well. What is "Horsefeathers!" you ask?

Silverback is the handiest of handy men. He can sharpen the mower blades; change the alternator in a tractor; re plumb a bathroom; pull wire to a whole new floor; and tune up the bushings on Grand Keeper's over lock (sewing) machine all in one day. Ok, well the wiring may take a couple days but you get my point. He is the handiest of handy men.

His gift to my sister and I was to let us observe him doing all of the above and more on more than one occasion. We know the difference between a box wrench and crescent wrench. We can pick a ball hammer out of a line up. And we never forget to turn off the water or breaker when doing the appropriate home repair or maintenance.

If you have ever done or been involved in home maintenance, then you are probably aware that inevitably in every do it yourself project there comes a moment when you want to flip out, lose it, or cuss like a sailor. The handiest of men was not immune to these moments. A nail would fall between the 1/4 inch gap into the abyss. A piece of plywood wouldn't stay square to where it was going to end up. The wrench slipped off the nut at maximum torque and projected his knuckles into the immovable force removing several layers of flesh upon contact.

It was at these moments that my sister and I were gifted with "Horsefeathers!" Silverback was very mindful of his influence in our lives and the last thing he wanted to do was introduce us to the art of colorful phraseology. The Grand Keeper, in her infinite wisdom, learned that "Horsefeathers!" was a good indicator that our observation time was up and that we should probably leave the area.

Over time we learned to laugh about Horsefeathers and even considered adding it to our lexicon of DIY vocabulary. But were we worthy? Had we survived enough skinned knuckles to warrant a Horsefeathers moment?

Only time would tell. (aka To Be Continued...)

The Project Heads to the Zoo!

2009-09-12T10:03:00.005-04:00

I'm sure by now most of you know that I have a second blog that is for all my non-family stuff. Oh, you didn't? Well hit up The Bowl sometime. It's good fun (or not). Anyway, I digress (imagine that!).

Last week I decided to take on a project of sorts. I am reading. A lot. Now I know that doesn't sound like a project to most but when you are a mom who keeps house, runs carpool, bakes, supervises homework, referees full time aggravation wars, writes, and makes feeble attempts at potty training, squeezing in some time for reading before one passes out from exhaustion is nothing short of a miracle.

So far I am two books into the fifty I am hoping to read in the next year and all is going well. Granted they have been pretty easy reads but I take my victories where I can get them. But I was feeling a bit selfish. I'm getting some pretty decent quality alone time in but I can't help but think that my children could become jealous of the books eventually. Which of course started my brain on a tangent (surprised? I didn't think so.).

Could there be a way to include the children? Maybe not in the books that are on my list of reading material but maybe with a list of their own?

So here it is. The challenge: one book per child per day. That shouldn't be too hard considering the nature of children's literature. And maybe, if I get bold and adventurous, it will be one chapter of a classic story. I have three children and per the bloggy counter over there 315 days before the blogoversary. That means 945 books. That doesn't seem too daunting.

I think the hard part for me will be finding the classic children's stories. And getting my children to read a new book every day - they tend to stick to their faves A LOT! We already have the Beatrix Potter collection so I have Peter Cottontail in my arsenal. I also have a collection of Grimm's Fairy Tales to pull from. (B, who has the copy of Grandfather Tales?) But what are some other classics that you remember from your childhood?

And while you're brainstorming, I'm looking for a name for both Projects. Pop over to The Bowl and weigh in if you have a stroke of genius. Perhaps I'll assemble a collection of children's favorites and run some simultaneous contests for the naming of The Project.

But more importantly, who is ready to mount up with me and give their children the gift of time and literacy? Come on! You know you want to! I'll even let you make up your own rules of participation. Just as long as you are reading every day.

Rhino's Piece of the Curse

2009-09-11T12:30:00.004-04:00

If Orangutan got the verbal diarrhea as her part of the curse, then Rhino got his fair helping of the stubborness and sneaky. (Although he got a scoop of the verbal and she got a scoop of the sneaky too.)

I think this boy is on a mission to either force me to send him to military school or just break me so that he can watch me sit in a corner and rock. Last night I was so exasperated with him that I actually said to my husband, "I have had it! He is yours."

So what exactly is he doing? Nothing in particular and everything in general. He will randomly walk up to one of his sisters and thump them on the head for no particular reason. Not hard enough to hurt them but just enough to aggravate them and get the whining started. He will almost immediately follow that up with messing with the TV in one form or fashion. Again, nothing malicious but enough to escalate the whining to a new octave and decible level. If he's really in a mood, he'll start messing with their stuff; snatching a blanket here, knocking over dominoes there, or (my personal favorite) just flopping down on top of someone like there is absolutely no where else in the house for him to plant his carcass.

And his ears don't work when he's in one of these moods. They simply do not work. Rhino get off of her. Off! Off I said! Are you broken?!

Son, would you please just move away? Further. Two inches is no better than 2 centimeters. Two feet would be even better. To which I usually get, "But Mom! I'm not allowed to use your tape measure!"

And if he has done something wrong, you might as well chop his ears off and pack the holes with concrete. He simply will not respond.

He's stubborn!

And emotional. I have never in my life seen a child fall to pieces over nothing like this one can. His golf clubs are in the back of Lion's car at the dealership. He fell into a melty heap on the stairs last night because Lion couldn't produce them on the spot. It didn't matter that we all made promises that the golf clubs would come home today. It didn't matter that Lion tried to bribe him with the promise of brand new big boy golf clubs. He wanted (sniff, sniff) his (gasping for air) golf clubs (sobbing and wailing) NOOOOOOOOOOWWW!

I think this is when I threw up my hands and packed my face with chicken wings. I'm pretty sure I was a bit melodramatic growing up. I know I was stubborn. It was a genetic thing; my grandfather was famous in our community for it; our father had his moments of fortitude; I had a tradition to carry on. Rhino, I'm letting you off the hook. Be as complacent as you want (within reason, I guess. I'd hate for you to end up in juvy). Be kind. Be mellow.

Because if you don't I'm about one meltdown away from "Someday...."

Things that Would have Been Good to Know

2009-09-09T14:17:00.000-04:00

Now I have pondered my life the last few days and I understand that there is a very good chance that I got double whammied on the Mother's Curse.

You see, while Grand Keeper was dropping her "Someday..." on me, I suspect that Lion was getting the same dose - maybe his was heavier. What ever happened, the exhibits have enough curse on them right now to bring our house to its trembling, quivering, gelatinous knees.

Orangutan and Rhino seem to think that there is absolutely no reason they should ever stop talking. I kid you not when I say that Monday night I heard something coming from Rhino's exhibit and went in to find him dreaming the night away and having a conversation with Orangutan in his sleep. It never stops. Ever.

And Orangutan. She is as random about her topics as she is persistent. I think in a ten minute period yesterday I heard "Momma" (or some variation thereof) and at least 38 different topics. Why did Alvin say... How do you spell... What was that show where... Do chickens come in different colors? Today at school we ate Popsicles for snack. Do you remember that time...

And she does that too. She just drifts off in mid thought. And then when she realizes she got distracted she backs up to the very beginning and starts all over. "Momma..." And I promise if she lost it once, she will lose her train of thought at least three more times.

Rhino just wants to help and offer play by play the whole time. "Mom are you going to put that cup there? That's a good spot in the dishwasher because the dishwasher has dirty dishes in it right now. I think I saw a spoon in the sink too. Did you get it? It goes in the basket right up here. Moooooom!! Not in that pocket! That pocket has forks; it needs to go in this pocket over here. No I can't move it because it's dirty and I don't want to get germs. You know, Mom, we wash our dishes because if we didn't they would get germs and make us sick 'cause germs make us sick Mom."

Lion took the three children by himself to the grocery store on Sunday. I laughed as he pulled out of the driveway because I could only picture what was going to come back. I laughed harder as they pulled in when I realized that they had been gone for almost a full hour and were coming back with one bag of food for dinner that night. As my darling Lion trudged up the stairs I looked at him and as innocently as I could muster asked, "Well? How was your trip?"

"They are nuts!! Orangutan didn't stop talking the entire time! Rhino thought he had to have one of everything. And I lost Marmie at least twice! I mean it! They never stopped making noise!"

Then he followed it up with, "No wonder my dad always called me Questions when I was growing up."

And there it is. Proof that I got whammied on the curse. I know I was a talker but now I know that Lion was too and that adds up to one heck of a chatter box curse.

Anybody know where I can get some earplugs for the next 16 years?

The Mother's Curse

2009-09-09T09:09:00.000-04:00

I know that I have mentioned "The Mother's Curse" several times in past posts. Remember "Reincarnation?" Or how about "Parenting Fatigue?" I'm sure I mentioned it.

Part of me assumed that everyone knew what "The Mother's Curse" was. The other half of me thought I had already written this post. But now that I look back I realize that while I have mentioned it in passing, I have never actually clarified what "The Mother's Curse" is.

The Mother's Curse - the moment a mother utters out loud, under her breath, in the back of her mind, or in a dream "Someday you will have a child and when you do that child will be just. like. you."

It is important going into the next few days that you understand The Curse. You should also understand that The Grand Keeper never hid from us the fact that she used it and used it often. At one point in our lives we knew two phrases. "Remember Rule #1" (I'll explain that later) and "Someday..." She got to the point that she didn't even finish it. She would just let out "Someday..." and we knew another layer had been added to our curse.

From time to time I will call The Grand Keeper and no sooner does she pick up her end, then chaos is all it's glory erupts at my house. The dog will start barking at nothing; Marmie will have issues getting to the potty in time; Orangutan will show up with another tragedy of some cataclysmic proportion; and Rhino will deny that he had anything to do with any of it while he scrambles to hide the evidence. About that time the washer will go off balance; the toilet will overflow and the dishwasher will go psycho and start beeping for no apparent reason. Smoke will roll from the stove and the condiment shelf will inevitably fall off the refrigerator door as soon as I open it dumping all the contents of the ketchup bottle on the floor that I finally had a chance to mop.

Grand Keeper in all her wisdom will undoubtedly say something witty like, "I see my plan is working. I'll talk to you later. Tell them I love them. And Someday..."

Now perhaps Grand Keeper was just that good at applying her curse. Perhaps I really was the loony bin in sneakers. Perhaps I am getting double whammied (another idea we will explore later). In any case, it's time. It is time for me to start dishing out my own helping.

Someday my little exhibits. Someday...

Up Down Side

2009-09-03T10:57:00.003-04:00

Since the Orangutan and Rhino have gone back to school, I've had a lot more time to lavish on Marmoset and she is loving life!

It has it's goods and bads. Now she thinks she HAS to be with me 24/7 and has started to meltdown anytime I have to go somewhere without her. It lasts for about 45 seconds but those 45 seconds are stinkin' loud!! I mean hear it in the car at the bottom of the drive way with all doors and windows closed and the radio on loud.

On the good side of the equation is the fact that I laugh. A lot! Take today for example. For a full hour we played "Up Down Side." Very simply put she has to be upside down (so now you get it, right?) and tickled. I can prop her up against the back of the couch, stand her on her head or just hold her by her ankles. She doesn't care - as long as she is "up down side." Her laugh is infectious and as soon as you put her down to catch her breath and get the blood circulating again she is begging for more.

It's awesome to be entertained by things so simple. I guess that's one of the gifts of parenting. May all grown ups revisit the laughter and enjoyment of Up Down Side on a regular basis.

Either I Missed Something...

2009-09-01T23:36:00.003-04:00

Or Rhino's teachers are little truth stretchers.

How in the world did a child who could barely sit much less pay attention in class suddenly become a star pupil?

I mean it! What happened to my child?

Two weeks ago, I was crying myself to sleep because I just knew he was going to get himself kicked out of school - and he's not even in Kindergarten yet! Lion and I were walking him in so that we could have conferences with the teacher daily. I was headed to the school at 11 AM because they would need me to pick him up for behavior issues.

We put him on a behavior chart last Monday and he did fabulous. He had two weeks to get it together so we put the chart back in this week.

I went to Curriculum Night tonight and his teachers just raved about his complete turnaround and his great willingness to participate and cooperate.

Please don't get me wrong. I'm thrilled, delighted, ecstatic and about to just pop with glee.

I'm also praying that what has been done will not one morning wake up undone just because the switch flipped back again.

I should take consolation though, right? I mean if he's getting all this lunacy out of the way now, I won't have to deal with it when he's a teenage boy sandwiched between two teenage girls, right?

If the Reincarnation Thing Works Out...

2009-08-29T09:10:00.004-04:00

My children are in for a world of trouble.

Now I don't believe in reincarnation. I think you get one shot at life and you had better make the most of it and make the biggest impact while you are here because you aren't coming back around. But let's just pretend for a minute that I DO get to come back around.

Orangutan should probably hope that I come back as a fish. Then I will be limited to water and won't be able to invade her personal space every minute of every day. When I come back as her child (because I would totally do that to her) I will beg for food constantly from about .26 nanometers away. I will hang on every body part every chance I get. I will repeat myself 12 times for every request and I will only have one volume setting - EXTREMELY LOUD!!

Rhino is in for an even better life when I come back as his child. He's praying I come back as something inanimate like a rock. When I get back to him I am going to throw myself on the floor and scream constantly. I will only speak in whine and I will dissolve into a puddle of misery if the dog even looks at me funny. I will also be prone to random fits of aggravation like pinching, kicking, swatting, hair pulling, and name calling, all of which will be conducted on the run. Sprint by annoyance, if you will.

But I'm saving my best for Marmie I think. She hopes I come back as royalty because then I will have to mind my manners and use perpetual decorum. No way, baby girl! I will burp at all the inoportune times. I will randomly run squealing through the grocery store. I will just stop and spin in circles in the middle of every parking lot. I will have limitless curiosity. Oh, and I definitely plan to be devoid of all notions of cleanliness. I will not put away any toys; I will color on everything (including any pets and myself) except the coloring books and construction paper. And I will be insane!

Wait. Now that I think about it, I might not have to come back after all. I can just keep plotting until I'm about 82 and then move in with them for 4 months at a time! I'll rotate homes and work my magic!

Forget the Mother's Curse! I'm going for the Mother's Revenge!!

I Blame the Fever!

2009-08-26T23:29:00.005-04:00

I actually had a brief moment today when I almost called Lion and said, "If our house was one room bigger I would consider having another baby."

I told you I had The Crud!!

I was driving with Marmie and her pal who hangs out with us every month, to snag the big exhibits from O/R.A.T. and something about driving past the golf course made me think that I wasn't insane enough. It was a good morning and the girls had taken a two hour nap so maybe it was a set up.

Then we got the touring exhibits in the livestock trailer and my fever broke. Orangutan was talking a mile a minute. Rhino was pouting about something. Marmie was scolding Spare and Spare was reminding me for the 9,427,836th time that her handler was coming to get her and was bringing chocolate milk when he did. It was chaos on a stick.

Then we got home and Orangutan had homework. The two little ones had to make potty rounds. Rhino had a temper tantrum because he wanted to play with playdough and couldn't until O finished homework and I was trying to put dinner together. Did I mention that Security decided he needed to go outside and bark at every squirrel, hickory nut, and bothersome leaf for 45 minutes?

I was in mid chop on a pepper when I started to laugh uncontrollably. For a brief little moment I actually thought a fourth child would be a nice addition. How soon we mothers forget spit up, midnight feedings, teething, blow outs, projectile peas, and baby proofing for a crawler. And that's even after the hearburn, feet in the ribs, pogo jumping on the bladder and tree trunk cankles of pregnancy.

So my fever has broken. I am still resolutely set against adding a fourth. Until the drugs wear off anyway...

And School is Back in Session.

2009-08-25T23:34:00.005-04:00

Duh, ZK. You've only been talking about it for two weeks. But now I know it for sure. Want to know why?

Because Lion is huddled under half the blankets in the house shaking like a leaf and I am sitting at the computer in full congested mode while our little angels sleep the wee hours away blissfully unaware that they are killing their parents in their sleep.

Ok, so maybe that last part was a little dramatic but you get my point. My little exhibits have gone out into the wide open world and brought back - The Crud. And since I have been in the Lysol haven I call my home all summer and Lion has been in his nice and tidy office all summer, we have no immunities built up to this.

Why aren't Orangutan and Rhino sick you ask? Well, Rhino is having a minor flare up with his asthma but it's nothing some well placed steroids can't fix. Yeah, Mrs. F is loving me right now. Take a kid who isn't off to the best behavior start of the school year and juice him up on roids so that he becomes a ricocheting eating machine and you are sure to win your teacher's heart.

I definitely need to take a second mortgage for her Christmas present this year.

And Orangutan. This child has the immune system of steel. I swear you could have put her in a public restaurant in Cancun over spring break and she would have come home two weeks later perfectly healthy and ready to rock. I attribute it to the three years of day care. She was exposed to everything and her little body sucked it all up, mutated the fool out of it and added it to the immunity arsenal.

But that leaves a shiny little question mark known as Marmie. She isn't showing the first sign of sniffling, restlessness, grouchies, or even a hint of a cough. How? She has had no exposure to community living like daycare. She sleeps in the same room as O. She usually forgets whether it's her cup or Rhino's. So how has she escaped The Crud? This is a wild mystery.

I guess it just means that it's time to renew our stock options in Tylenol and Kleenex, shoot up the saline drops and start the OJ IV's. It's going to be a long fall because next month ragweed season starts and it's party on for ye olde allergies.

One more thing before I go make some scalding tea for my Saharan throat. Do you know what the one constant will be in all the snotting and coughing? Mom will go on. Because we all know, once you become a mother "You Will Never be Sick Again!"

Sing with me!

Wash, wash, wash your hands.
Wash the germs away.
Rinse them neatly down the drain
And wash your cares away!

I think you're supposed to do that three times for optimal clean. Happy cold and flu season gang!

Parenting Fatigue.

2009-08-24T22:31:00.004-04:00

I have it. And an extreme case at that.

It's that disease that strikes most parents (unless they are bona fide saints). The days when your children's fights, whines, screams, questions, behavior, and general nonsense seem to pile up and no matter how hard you try to keep smiling and being patient and laughing and wearing a positive attitude, you just can't pull it off.

You see the clock creeping ever closer to bedtime and you giggle a little more with each passing minute. And you honestly feel bad about it.

That's me. Only I stopped giggling yesterday (right about the time Rhino barfed) and am now gleefully skipping about the house namby pamby with every passing minute. It's the spirit of honesty; it took me away for a minute.

Rhino has had a hard start to school and we are trying desperately to make it work for him. But when I say we, I mean me. It's not Lion's fault. He has a new position at work and is taking on a slew of new responsibilities and as a result is working horribly long hours. Thank you Lion! You rock! Even so, the dealings with school are on my shoulders.

And his teachers (now THERE'S a pair of saints!), Mrs. F and Mrs. A, have been trying everything they can think of and some tricks from other teachers to get him settled in and on the right path. So I have support.

But it's wearying just the same. Don't forget that I have Orangutan and Marmoset still here too. I didn't auction them off (but bidding is still open). They are into all manner of nonsense too. O has homework this year! We are practicing sight words, writing, letters of the week and doing art projects for classroom decor. Marmie is trying to potty train and is getting into all her siblings things while they are at school.

On top of that you have the security dog, who can't leave the stuffing in anything in the house; all the normal housework (which is amplified by discarded stuffing); lunch packing; therapy baking (which has been desperately needed); and the carpool line. And that's on the days when I skip a workout.

I am beat.

But then I think of my pals who do all that plus a full time job, soccer, baseball, football, band, dance, gymnastics, and/or karate, and I am in awe.

Here's a Mom Tip for you. Parenting Fatigue is normal and ok. Eventually they will grow up, move away and have children of their own.

Lay on the Mother's Curse well and often! My mom did; I blame her for my fatigue.

Call out HazMat!

2009-08-24T08:35:00.000-04:00

The Zoo is going out for dinner!

(Fer, you should feel better about Z's dining experience in about two minutes.)

God, please bless Ms. A and the whole team at Longhorn tonight. Really! Bless them and keep them and send Ms. A some serious tips. Oh, and the people who were sitting beside us. Bless them and let them never be in a restaurant at the same time as us ever again.

Let's back up to 9 PM last evening. The Grand Keeper and Great Silverback were headed home from vacay and had a 3 hour layover here in The Big Peach so I packed up the livestock trailer and took the exhibits on tour to the airplane port (per Rhino) to visit for an hour or two. After a delightful dinner of Wendy's kids meals and a follow up frosty and lightening of Silverback's change pocket, we put them back on their plane and headed back to the Zoo. (BTW, yes, that dinosaur is actually in our airport.)

We were about halfway home when Orangutan said, "Momma! My tummy hurts really bad!" The livestock trailer broke the sound barrier and a few suggested speed limits and we got home just in time for her to make it to the bathroom and lose her dinner. (You're welcome!) I got everyone into jammies and into bed - for a few hours.

3 AM - Lion up and wide awake for no apparent reason.
5 AM - O up and repeating her 9 o'clock exercise.
6 AM - Rhino up and coughing so hard he couldn't catch his breath.
7:30 AM - Marmoset up and craving some serious breakfast. "But I hungy NOW Momma!"
10 AM - L.M. Lion sets out for a golf outing with some friends. Note - he is supposed to be home "around 3." Apparently that was 3 in "man time."

All day was checking fevers and listening to Rhino bark. O finally broke around noon and was good to go. Rhino is still barking. L.M. Lion finally got home at 5:30. I snagged Marmie and Rhino and sprinted to the grocery store. I think I set a record for getting through the grocery store with children in tow.

Now we were off to meet Lion and Orangutan for dinner at Longhorn. We sat down and ordered and had some witty banter with Ms. A our waitress. It looked like the day was going to be saved. Ms. A brought our seafood au gratin appetizer and everyone was munching away on some chips when I hear "The Bark."

Some of you may know The Bark. It's that cough that tells every mother on the planet that we are no longer just coughing. I couldn't get out of my seat fast enough. Suddenly Mount Rhino erupted right into Lion's hands. And not just once but several times. I tried to shield the table of people who were in our section. Lion even looked at one of the people at the table and said, "Please don't look!"

The manager, two waitresses and a bus boy were launching rib towels, hot napkins, not so hot napkins, paper napkins and sanitizing cloths at us like we were on Omaha Beach. And the carnage deserved it. It was hideous. And I was mortified. Of course right in the middle of all the chaos, Orangutan and Marmie (who we are trying to potty train right now) pipe up with "We need to go potty!"

I get back from the bathroom with the girls just in time for our food to show up - not that I was in any mood to eat. And so we calmly (as if nothing had happened) ate our dinner. Even Ms. A acted like nothing had happened. It was surreal!

Lion decided that he wanted to have an after dinner coffee. Marmie was getting restless so she hopped up in my lap and was cuddling with me while he had his coffee. Suddenly she started to freak out on me. "Oh No Momma! I go pee!" It's ok baby. You have a pull up on. Except this time it leaked. On who?

I burst into hysterical laughter. The people behind us took two looks at my dripping leg and started to giggle. Ms. A came to the table to hand Lion the check and she offered to go get me an apron from the kitchen. Lion just waved her off and said something to the effect of "If it isn't on her now, it will be before we get home."

Something tells me that future meals from Longhorn's will be carry out. If they don't ban us from the restaurant, they will certainly offer us a discount to eat somewhere - anywhere! - else. That said I really must commend the staff. They had every reason to bring our food and run for the hills. But they didn't. The went out of their way to salvage our dining experience and the experience of the other folks on our section.

So thank you Mr. B, Ms. A and all the crew at Longhorn's. Next time we'll bring drop cloths, raincoats, and a fire hose to clean up after ourselves.

Talk me Down People!

2009-08-20T09:44:00.006-04:00

I mean it! Send the intervention team because I am teetering here!

Yesterday the Rhino had a less than stellar day at R.A.T. And when I say "less than stellar" I'm really saying he lost his ever lovin' mind. We won't get into the nitty gritty details but the bottom line is that military school is looking like a real possibility. When I referred to his punishment as "solitary confinement" yesterday I was being kind.

Once I calmed down (close to midnight last night) I worked with his teacher to devise a behavior chart and reward system which we launched today. This week there are cool underpants and ice cream hanging in the balance. Don't think about that too much; it's gross. But now I have to devise some rewards for going forward.

Lion put some time at the driving range on the block since Rhino seems to have an affinity for golf. And we always have good ole Monkey Joe's and Chucky Cheeze that we can put up for bids (although I would rather have bamboo shoved under my fingernails). But even that is only 4 weeks' worth of rewards.

I was commiserating with a friend this morning about the whole deal. In the process of conversation we started talking about our attempts to get some speech therapy for the little guy. Yeah, he's a mess; but he's ours. My pal suggested that maybe if we can get the speech going he'll feel like he's in control of something else and his behavior will start to settle down.

My brain said "hmmm, give him something else to control." And this is where the intervention comes in because the next thing that went through my brain was, "What if I get him a small pet that is his responsibility? His thing to control!"

In an ideal situation, the security dog doesn't eat the new small pet. In an ideal situation Rhino feels a responsibility for his new pal and he feeds it and helps clean the cage and takes care of it. In an ideal situation the girls don't get jealous and demand their own "responsibilities" which (knowing my luck) could lead to more "little responsibilities."

This Zoo is not conducive to "ideal situations."

This is a bad idea, right? I really shouldn't do this. I should just stick to ice cream and M&M's and Happy Meals. Talk me down friends because in my desperation not to be known at the mother of the school lunatic, the idea of a George and Gladys is appealing to me right now.

I should probably go eat. It has to be the low blood sugar talking.

Free to a Good Home

2009-08-19T17:48:00.003-04:00

One boy.

Gently used.

Very good with younger children and animals.
Enjoys trains, trucks, and dirt.

Merely needs room to run, perpetual feeding and an owner with no sense of smell as his idea of good hygiene is limited to wiping his hands in his hair.

Will consider a trade for a large lazy dog.

This, my dear Rhino, is the ad that will run in Sunday's paper if you put me through another day like today.

And then My Sister Called - Again.

2009-08-15T11:01:00.002-04:00

My grown up life was, in a word, heinous yesterday. But just when the grown up world is miserable, my little exhibits pull out all the stops to make me laugh at how absolutely absurd life can be.

As usual, I got the two big exhibits out on Academic Tour (thank you Lion for taking morning carpool), checked my e-mail and then asked Marmie what she thought we should do with our day. "Let's make Nana Bread, Mama!" A quick glance toward the fruit fly cloud emanating from the top of the fridge and I knew she had a brilliant idea.

Side note: With the two big exhibits out of the house, we have been boot camping the potty training. This translates to minimal clothes because let's face it they just get in the way. Please note that I said, "minimal clothes;" not "clothing optional." This will become important later.

Back to the banana bread. I dudded her out with a child's apron (over her underpants - minimal clothing people) and set her up on one of the bistro chairs so she could reach the counter. All was clicking right along in our cooking adventure; she was peeling bananas, dumping sugar, and waiting patiently for the eggs.

Perhaps it was a moment of insanity. Maybe I hadn't gotten that first cup of coffee all the way down. But something made me think that maybe she could handle cracking the egg. And she did. Right onto the newly mopped floor.

Moving on.

The livestock trailer has been looking a little rough lately so I thought since I had time and distractions would be minimal I would clean it out and shampoo the carpets. Marmie was watching some cartoons and playing in the playroom so it was all going smoothly. I checked on her every few minutes and was clicking right along. Suddenly there was a banging on the door. I opened the door to see her poochie little lip. "I sawy Mama." She was trying to get upstairs to go potty and didn't make it. I assured her that all was well and sent her upstairs for a new pair of unders. Cleaned up the mess and went back to work on the van.

Banging on the door. "I sawy Mama." No puddle. No scribbling on the wall. But still no unders either. What happened kiddo? "I poop in your kitchen." Right beside where she had cracked the egg. Day two of mopping the floor.

Moving on.

We safely made it out the door to the carpoool line. Everyone made it home in one piece and then Orangutan decided that we "needed to talk." Grand Keeper had gotten her some new sneaks for school and she finally got to wear them yesterday. Apparently during PE she had to take them off for one reason or another. Well when it was time to put them back on apparently I had knotted them all wrong for her and her teacher and she missed recess time because I messed up. "Thanks for tying them Mom. But on Monday could you be a little more careful? I need to be able to keep up." I stand corrected, O. Please forgive me for inconveniencing your Kindergarten life so terribly.

And then my sister called. Now if you missed the first call from my sister you really should take some time to go back and review it. It's a gem. But it seems that my darling sibling brings out the nutty in my exhibits. I don't think we were two minutes into the conversation when the following happened.

Me: So any news other than...WHY ARE YOU NAKED?!?!?!
Marmie: Tee Hee Hee Hee
B: hysterical laughter
Me: No seriously! Where are your clothes?
Marmie: Tee Hee Hee
B: breathless hysterical laughter
Me: (sigh) Please go find your underpants and pajamas. AND PUT THEM ON!
Marmie: exit stage right - supposedly to go find her clothing
B: (catching her breath) That was awesome! I could actually hear her "Tee Hee Hee!"
Me: I should quit writing this stuff on the blog and start a comedy tour. As Heard at the Zoo or some other catchy title.
B: Tee Hee Hee (dissolves in hysterical laughter again)
Me: Oh stuff it! You're not funny. AAAUUUGGGHHH!!! You're still naked!!
Marmie: Tee Hee Hee
B: I think you should call the tour "Clothing Optional."
Me: Like I don't see enough butts every day of my life! I gotta go.
B: Tee Hee Hee (and more...you guessed it hysterical laughter.)

Lessons Learned at R.A.T.

2009-08-11T22:04:00.003-04:00

(Reminder that's Rhino Academic Training.)

Lesson #1. Tighty Whities aren't cool.
If you want to keep the neato baseball and basketball underpants you wore to school on your body, you HAVE to take full advantage of every bathroom opportunity afforded you by your oh, so gracious teacher.

Lesson #2. It's the one with the boy on the door.
If you don't want to be known as the nutball kid in school, you have to use the right bathroom at the afforded bathroom times. It went something like this:

ZK (that's me): So what else did you do today?
R: Wellllll, I used the bathroom at lunch!
ZK: All by yourself?! Good job pal!
R: Yeah, but it was the girls' bathroom by accident.
ZK: Oh NOOOO! What happened?
R: Ummmmm....
ZK: Rhino, were there girls in the bathroom at the time?
R: Yeah. Too many
ZK: Did you leave and go to the boy bathroom?
R: No! I had to go REALLY bad so I just closed the door and went.
ZK: Let's go over this one more time buddy. Mommy can't go in the boys' bathroom so you have to come in the girls bathroom ONLY when you are with me. At school, you have to use the boy bathroom.

R: You shoulda aminded me about that this morning!

Lesson #3. If all else fails, blame Mom!

Happy Mother's Day!!

2009-08-10T12:27:00.006-04:00

What? You didn't get a card? So sorry. I didn't get one either but I'll tell you what I DID get. Two children off to school!

Woo Hoo!!

Don't get me wrong. I got a little twinge when my boy went to class and hung up his backpack like a big kid. And I was incredibly proud when my girl found her name tag and sat at her table sweetly.

But let me tell you about walking into my house and hearing......

It brought a tear to my eye. Nothing. Yes, Marmie is still home with me but she was revelling too. She stretched out as big as she could get on the couch while she watched whatever cartoons SHE wanted to watch. Then she just walked in a big circle all around the livingroom. When Lion asked her why, she said it was "because I can." She got to have both beaters and the spoon and the bowl when the cookies were baking. She got to pick a movie and watch it from start to finish. She choose her own lunch. And she got to decide when she wanted to go for a nap.

I am cleaning the house and it's staying clean. I get to work out without anyone hanging off my leg in Warrior 3. I can eat an entire lunch without anyone calling me to break up a fight.

And now you understand why THIS is my Mother's Day! I'm so gleeful I rewrote "Leavin' on a Jet Plane." I won't subject you to my singing but I think you know the tune enough to sing it for yourself and truly appreciate it.

So here's to you my Back to School mom-pals. Enjoy your day!!

"They're Leavin on the School Bus."

All their bags are packed.
They're ready to go.
I will not throw them out the door.
Can't wait to wake them up to say "Good-Bye!"

Now the clothes are pressed.
The shoes are shined.
The alarms are set.
And ready to chime.
Already I'm so giddy I could fly!

So kiss me and smile for me.
Quick say "Cheese!" before I flee.
God bless ya, teach but I really gotta go.

They're leavin' on the school bus.

The quiet's setting in.
Finally the warring's at an end.
The summer has been real fun.
Sorry kids but now it's done.

It's back to school - the truest Mother's Day!

The truest Mother's Day!

Dear Fellow Homeowners,

2009-08-08T14:42:00.002-04:00

When you are preparing your home for the market (because you probably won't die in the house you're in) you will probably do some painting. Take a moment as you complete each room and label the leftover paint according to the room it belongs to. Please also note the color and store where the paint was purchased and leave it behind. The future homeowners will kiss the ground you walk on.

"Why" you ask? Because when their 4 year old takes a black wide tip Sharpie and creates a mural of blood curdling proportions on two walls they will be able to locate the necessary paint to repair the damage quickly and easily. This will not only spare your homeowner the pain of snatching themselves bald, but may also save the life of the 4 year old in question.

This has been your public service announcement for today. Thank you and happy home ownership!

And the Crown Goes to...

2009-08-06T19:58:00.004-04:00

Princess Badditude!

I thought I had at least 7 more years. I thought I could make it until she was at least 12. I don't think I could have been more incorrect.

In the last week, Orangutan has taken on the nastiest attitude ever. A friend of mine warned me that it's a five year old thing but I'm wondering. Ugly!

Please make your bed.

"But you know I can't make it by myself." And then she'll wait until I turn to do something else and slip out of her room altogether leaving the bed unmade. When I call her out on it, I get argument, excuses, eye rolls, stomping feet and heaving sighs. OVER HER BED!!

Please clean up the playroom.

"I didn't play with any of this stuff. I'm not cleaning it." This is the part of the story where I find the attitude adjuster and apply it liberally to sensitive areas.

Dinner's ready!

"Mom, you know I don't do peas." Well you do if you don't have teeth, sister. They mush!

What IS this?! The last two weeks have been perpetual arguments, wails, crying, tears, gnashing of teeth, and hair pulling. And that's just me trying to get her to do anything that isn't her idea.

I hate that I have become that mother that is counting down the days til school starts but that's me. All me. And I say it's because she's bored with me and if she can go to school she'll be able to interact again and she'll have a better attitude in general.

We all know it's because I won't have to hear it all day, every day. I'll be limited to a few hours every evening. I'm not terribly worried about her pulling this at school. She knows better. Be ugly to Mom and that's one thing. Sass anyone outside of the family and I will light you up little girl!

My hope is that the rumor I heard about 7-10 being good years is true. I think I can refrain from sending her to the convent for a couple more years.

Mother Mortification 101

2009-08-05T17:47:00.004-04:00

Brought to you by the experts at Zoo Suburbia.

Where do I even start? We had orientation for school today. Did I mention that they go back to school in 4 days? (Insert giggles of glee here. But more on that later.) Orientation meant taking two bags of supplies and three children through a maze of PTA booths, car rider assignments, and two different classrooms while filling out form upon form and trying very hard not to lose anyone. Is it any wonder I popped some preemtive Excedrine on my way out the door?

We got to school just fine and parked in BFE of course because even though it was only for kindergarten and pre-k, there were still cars out the wazoo parked on every available parking surface and some grassy surfaces. This meant that the exhibits had to try to hang on to one another while I lugged the two supply bags across a crowded parking lot dodging cars still pulling in and not losing any shoes (don't ask - the girls have issues).

I made a judgement call as soon as we got in the building. Everyone was streaming to the right to go do the PTA/cafeteria thing in the cafeteria. Ahh, but I know where Rhino's class is because he's in the same class O was in last year. So we stopped there first. Dropped off our supplies, did our paperwork thing, signed up for all the volunteer stuff, wrote the e-mail down about 17 times and gave Mrs. F our hugs. We'll be back when we get the car rider number. And off we went.

Then it was time to face the cafeteria which I just knew was going to be the first place I lost a child. Paid up my PTA dues (which I have never attended mind you!), passed by the cafeteria ladies becasue we pack our lunches and then hit the classroom assignments for Orangutan. Really?! Of four teachers with names like Smith and Brown and Jones, O ends up in the class with the teacher whose name has 11 letters and which I cannot (even know having shaken her delightful little hand) pronounce. She's Mrs. M to me. I'll try but I make no promises.

So it's off to Mrs. M's class. We pass our supplies off to Mrs. K (the assistant teacher) and start making the paperwork rounds - again! More volunteering (Lion this time - he's going to love me!), more e-mail, more, more, more. Meet Mrs. M and then we are off!

One more stop on our way out the door to get this year's spirit wear (school T-shirts). I have, in all this forming and moving and shuffling, yet to lose a child. I stopped at the spirit wear table and lost all three in 15 seconds. I kid you not! Oh good! There's O. Where's your brother? Perfect he's right there. So where is Marmie? No Marmie. Don't panic. It's a crowded school. No one is going to let her get away. Don't panic. WHERE'S MY MARMIE!!!!

Oh look! There she is. In the arms of the new principal nursing a fat lip and smelling like a garbage truck. Fantastic. Just fantastic. She made a break for it and in the process tripped over someone and did a face plant right in front of the new principal. Her lip was split and she had thrown a stinky shoe all while making a mess in her diaper. Did I say "fantastic?" So I retrieved her from the principal and made my introduction and tried not to look like a totally inept parent. And by now I had lost the other two again. The preemtive Excedrine didn't stand a chance.

I felt like I couldn't get out of the school fast enough. I made it within 15 yards of the livestock trailer before we ran into parents we knew from last year. So I made of VERY quick small talk and by now had lost Rhino yet again.

It took all my focus, energy and determination to put the car in reverse instead of drive. The tree didn't deserve to be punished for my blossoming migraine.

Is it Monday yet?

The Marmoset has hit the Radar!

2009-08-03T11:06:00.003-04:00

And with a giant SPLAT at that!

See she used to be "the good one." Orangutan and Rhino could be having a knock down drag out war and she would be sitting quietly with a toy or her blanket. The two big ones would trash the playroom and she would be sitting in a corner with some blocks.

That all changed this weekend.

I accidentally took a nap on Friday for the first time all summer. She took the opportunity to find a ball point pen (probably the only one that worked in our house) and pull a Picasso on the back of our taupe microfiber armchair. And we're not talking about a small smiley face. Nope. Full on mural stuff!

Saturday was mostly without incident. Or I haven't found any evidence yet.

Then yesterday she pulled out all the stops. Lion and I were watching some golf from the couch and she was downstairs playing with Oranugtan and Rhino. Lion got up for a drink and walked through the dining room. A certain Marmoset had slipped up the stairs with a teal marker and "repainted" the yellow dining room wall. At least the bottom four feet. Thankfully it was washable marker and we caught it as soon as it happened.

Surely she was done, right? We got through the rest of the evening without incident and I put everyone to bed. Marmie wasn't having it so she got up and was hanging out with Lion playing with dolls. I came to the office to return some e-mail and was about to call it a night when I heard, "What have you done?!?!?!?!" This was quickly followed with "Honey! Come up here!!"

I walked up the stairs looking for yet another mural but none was to be found. I worked my way down the hall until I came to our bedroom and then our bathroom. Marmie was standing in the doorway looking down. Lion was standing in the middle of the room looking down with his mouth hanging open.

A tube of open and now half empty apricot face wash. A tube of open hair gel only a quarter empty. The face wash was everywhere from the counter to the cabinet and scrubbed into the carpet. The hair gel was limited to the edge of the counter and some in the carpet. Apparently she had been busted before she could really get styling.

I have to say she has been apologetic after every event - not that that helps that much. I have managed to restore everything except the chair. But it is clear that Marmie is on the radar as Princess Destructo. This will thrill her fellow exhibits to no end. Maybe they will be able to get away with some stuff again if I'm distracted.

In the meantime, my bathroom is showing significantly reduced pores and full bodied carpet!

A Letter from the Marmoset - Clothing Optional!

2009-07-31T14:45:00.000-04:00

Dear Zookeeper,

I think we should both call an end to the silliness we have been playing at lately.

There is absolutely no reason for me to have clothes on. I mean, you want me to start using the civilized facilities, right? Pants and undergarments just slow me down. Let's leave those off shall we?

And that whole shirt concept? I'm just going to spill refreshments and dietary supplements on them anyway and I know how you feel about laundry. We'll just say that I'm providing a water conservation opportunity and doing my part for the environment.

Allow me my accessories of hats and shoes and all will be well.

In my next letter I plan to share with you how my use of my appendages as art canvases is actually another move on my part to conserve and be environmentally responsible. You should be proud of your work in teaching me civic responsibility at such a young age!

Your socially conscious exhibit,
Marmoset

Orangutan - The Toothless Wonder!

2009-07-31T01:52:00.005-04:00

That day has come. The miraculous first tooth to fall out at Zoo Suburbia. What an event! Ok, so it was two weeks ago while I was still on bloggy vacay but no one said blog fodder had an expiration date.

For starters she was delighted to find out it was loose right before her dental appointment. She made a point to ask Dr. K how loose was it and when could she expect it to fall out. When he assured her that it would be "VERY soon," she began to interrogate Lion and I about Tooth Fairy procedures.

Since this was the Tooth Fairy's first tooth at our house we turned to wiser and more experienced parents around us to find out what the Fairy's going rate was. Thank you Facebook for being a limitless source of wisdom! It seemed that the going rate was one dollar. However, the Zookeeper heard rumblings in other arenas of five, ten and even twenty dollar rewards being given for the first extraction.

This is when the Tooth Fairy's name was changed to Recession Fairy. Responses soon evened out to the dollar. But how could any really GOOD tooth fairy just fold up a one dollar bill and tuck it under a pillow? To my Orangutan, a dollar bill is one step above paper and her sister eats paper so what good is that?

And that's when it dawned on me. At this age, it's not the actual monetary value that counts. It's the quantity! I could slug a bag full of nickels and she would be giddy! I had a plan!

The tooth hung on. And hung on. And waved to me every time she smiled. I begged, pleaded, cajoled and even sterilized my needle nose pliers in hopes of getting in there while she was alseep. Please just pull that thing so it will stop flopping around!! And then one evening she went to Lion and said, "Hey Daddy. Do you think this is ready to come out?"

"I don't know. Why don't you go get me a tissue and I'll check?"

Now why didn't I think of that? But wait, I DID!! Seven times in three days!! But her daddy suggested it soooo...

And then it was done! One little flick and the tooth was out. And promptly dropped on the floor and lost under the couch where the wild things are. I kid you not! All that prep and anticipation and now we didn't even have a tooth to show for it. Fifteen minutes later we found the flashlight with batteries (a whole different post!) just as Lion found the tooth. O was careful to tuck it tenderly in a ziplock bag and make sure it was well sealed. It was the only night all summer I haven't had to argue with her to go to bed.

The alarm went off the next morning and Lion and I rolled over and hit the snooze button. Yawn. Stretch. Mumble something incoherent. Snuggle back into the pillows for nine more minutes. Sit bolt upright in bed and gasp, "We forgot to Tooth Fairy!!"

Thump, bump, bang, bounce. Stub toe on garage door on the way out to the change tray in the van. Speak an unplesant foreign language for a few minutes while I try to unblear my contacts to count out change. Slide through the kitchen to the paper drawer and extract a ziplock bag to drop the change in. Try to open the bedroom door without waking Marmie because she WILL rat me out. Tiptoe across squeaky floorboards and make the switch very carefully. Back out of the room and stash the evidence for posterity (why I have yet to figure out). And wait.

And wait.

Two hours later she woke up. Five minutes later she stopped talking to herself in her bed and remembered that she was supposed to be checking on something. Squeals of glee finally erupted just as Lion pulled out of the driveway to go to work.

Two quarters, three dimes, and four nickels are the going rate for the Tooth Fairy. Apparently though that might have still been too much. She tipped the Marmoset a nickel for being a lookout.

This evening I was sitting here goofing off and she came to me with, "I'm sure of it Mom! This tooth is loose too!"

Marmie, don't count on a tip this time. The Recession Fairy is back.

She's Gone Suburban!

2009-07-28T15:04:00.003-04:00

I have prided myself in being off the beated suburban path. I don't do tennis lessons or tennis league. I don't like to shop. I don't do the Gap for my children and they are not in all manner of extracurricular activities (yet).

I DO drive a minivan but only because I have to for spacial reasons. And yes I do the carpool lane but that only started last year. I thought I had avoided becoming the stereotypical suburban housewife.

Then this summer happened. I've gone suburban!

Almost every day this summer we have donned our swimsuits and gone to the pool. I have been "that" mom sitting on the side of the pool lounging and reading a book while her children frolicked in the water. I have actually gone shopping for clothes and shoes for myself this summer and spent more than $50! Gasp!!

And now the final nail in the coffin. I have been invited to participate in a Bunco group! It's suburban housewife Yahtzee and only the suburban-est of them all are invited to play.

They say when a house pet goes wild and adapts they have gone ferile. I've gone suburban!!

Poor Rhino.

2009-07-28T10:29:00.004-04:00

Middle children, consider this a tribute to your childhood.

This time last year I was gearing up for Orangutan to join O.A.T. (Orangutan Academic Training for those who forgot) and I was all sentimental about my baby growing up. I got teary several times before the first day of O.A.T. even got here. I went out and rounded up school supplies well in advance, made lists of things that needed to be done, assembled multiple outfits for her to choose from for her first day and even walked her through the routine several times.

It's that time again. In two weeks not only will we be back in O.A.T. but this time we have R.A.T. (Rhino Academic Training) too! And how am I handling this? I'm counting down the days, minutes and seconds. I haven't even tried to do any supply shopping yet. The tears of sentiment have been replaced with nervous giggles of glee and his clothes have been laid out for two weeks with no options or room for deviation.

If they are lucky I might hit the brakes and slow down in the carpool lane before I scream "TUCK AND ROLL!" and shove them out the van door wise guy style. Maybe the new principal can catch their backpacks.

But let's get back to Rhino. If I was a good mother I would be just as sentimental about his first day of school as I was for O's. And you know I'll be all teary and weepy for Marmie's first day because she really IS the baby. When she goes to school I go back to work though so the tears could be multipurpose. But poor Rhino.

He's the middle guy. He can't beat anyone up or retaliate if something happens to him because the other two are girls. He isn't the biggest one in the family so he doesn't get all the cool new firsts. He isn't the little one so he still doesn't get away with murder like she does. And in all honesty he probably gets blamed for a lot of things that he had nothing to do with.

So this is me pledging to try harder in the next two weeks to keep the giggles to a minimum and muster up some sentiment for my boy. After all he is my ONLY boy and it IS his first day of school too.

Maybe I'll get him some knee and elbow pads to break his toss from the van.

Two Weeks Notice!

2009-07-27T14:49:00.005-04:00

That's it! I'm turning in my two weeks notice! I can't take it anymore!

Good thing they are going back to school in two weeks right? Well, Orangutan and Rhino are going to school anyway. Marmoset will still be here with me but that's a whole different world from what we've had this summer.

Holy Crap!

For the first half of the summer I was on it. I would go for a walk first thing; do housework in the early morning while the kids did chores; then we would do some school style stuff so that the two big ones could learn letters and Marmie could do art projects. Then we would hit the pool (yes, every day!) and play all afternoon. The theory was that they would be so worn out by the end of the day that they would pass out without issue! I am rewriting that theory. Mom was so worn out that she couldn't even fight back when they insisted that 12:30 was a perfectly respectable bed time.

I got derailed on the school stuff at the end of June but the kids have forgiven me and according to the review we did this morning they DID actually retain some of the letters and sounds we did earlier. Orangutan is now swimming like a fish and Rhino doesnt' freak out about getting his head wet anymore so that was successful too.

So why am I turning in my notice? Let's see. Orangutan lost her first tooth last week which was gross. She let it go until it was hanging by a string and felt the need to show me just how wiggly it was all the time. Gross! And then last night Rhino decided that he should take a few teeth out too. Ok so he didn't do it on purpose and they didn't come all the way out but taking a header face first into a maple coffee table creates quite a bloody mess. Daddy actually "popped" the teeth back into place when he fell asleep. Yeah, I gagged a little too.

And for the love of Pete! Will these children ever stop eating? I swear my grocery bill has been $100 higher all summer long because they eat nonstop! They've all gained at least 3 inches. Then you have the $700 dollars we spent on dental work. It's a good thing summer is coming to an end because we would be broke if it kept going.

But I am very grateful for the time this summer. We have had a good summer and I think the kids had fun. There has been minimal bloodshed (well, until last night) and a little education going on so I guess it's been a productive summer.

Even so, I'm looking forward to my two weeks being up. And as for that 12:30 bedtime? I'll have my revenge on Monday morning in two weeks!

86 Degrees and Sunny at Zoo Suburbia!

2009-06-05T16:50:00.003-04:00

I will never get over the wonderment of raising a boy. I only have my one sister and never had the experience of living with a boy until I was about to marry him. This is a trip!

Our neighbors finally got to close the sale on their house this week (very sad day for me) so they had moving trucks and storage pods coming and going Wednesday as they packed up the last of their furniture. This of course creates an infinite parade of incredible vehicles for the obsessed Rhino to gaze at, drool over, and perpetually describe in great play by play detail.

In an effort to get a break from it all, I did the daily swimsuit and sunscreen drill an hour early and trekked everyone to the pool. We managed to stay two hours before he decided it was time to go check on the progress. Imagine his delight when we came around the corner and all the trucks were still there. Oh Happy Day!!

I practically had to drag him into the house and up the stairs to get his swim trunks off. "Please put your swim clothes in the washer and get your play clothes back on." I made sure I got him into his room and at least reaching for his dry clothes. I thought he was good to go so I ran to my room and changed.

As I passed his room on the way to the washer, I realized that he was no where to be found. But his blinds were moving. "Hey! What are you doing?"

He popped out from behind the blind on his floor to ceiling length window still completely, entirely, totally, without a stitch, butt naked. He had been standing in the middle of the window "sunning" the neighborhood while 4 movers, 2 truck drivers, and our neighbors had been marching up and down the driveway right next door.

Two choices came to mind about now. Fall through the floor in humiliation or laugh myself silly and pray that no one payed any mind to the four year old in the window!

I guess I should be grateful that the Orangutan hadn't done the same thing in the other window with him!

Summertime, and the Livin's Cray-zee!

2009-05-26T17:14:00.004-04:00

Well, this is it. The time of year that every stay home mom dreads. Summer. The time when the following questions play in your head even while you are asleep (which I think we have established, mom's don't ever really do).

What do we have to eat?
Is it time to eat?

What can we do now?

Can we go to the pool now?

and of course the every popular collection of catch phrases...

I'm bored.
I'm hungry.
He/she did (insert ultimate world ending evil here) to me!!

I thought I was going to be ok. I made a plan two weeks ago. O is having some literacy issues at school so we are going to have Zoo Summer School! I am Super Mom and therefore I can come up with activities and games and other occupations to help her learn in a fun and engaging way.

Yesterday was Day 1 of my Super Plan. We woke up and hour later than I had planned. Marmie sat on the potty for 15 minutes with no result. And Rhino peed his bed. While I was stripping sheets Marmie went into the kitchen and peed on the floor which of course O walked through. I mopped up the mess and handed out breakfast. We had a nice little chat about what we were going to do while everyone ate and I unloaded the dishwasher.

Breakfast was wrapping up nicely when Marmie got out of her chair and peed on the floor again. Three guesses what O did! Yup, walked through it again!

Ladies and gents that was all before 9 AM yesterday.

The rest of the day went rather well. Our letter of the day was B so we drew B's in grits on cookie sheets; did a B treasure hunt around the house; beat Mom on the head with a baseball bat! (Not really but a late cup of coffee and missed breakfast made me feel like it.) All in all we managed to salvage it and have a good day.

Fast forward to today when we decide to take a trek to the pool. The usual departure chaos but overall a pretty easy time getting out of the house. Being that it is still early in the year, the water was the expected cold but children have no thermostats so they didn't care which meant that I COULDN'T care. Swimming, swimming, swimming.

Hey gang. Let's take a potty break. Rhino had been refusing to get back in the pool for a good 15 minutes and when we went to the potty I learned why and thanked God. Serious debris in the mesh swimming trunks. (Sure! Go ahead and gag. I did!!) Pack everyone up and trek back while watching "stuff" fall out his pant leg. (Gagging again!)

Did I mention that we have been doing a letter of the day? Yeah and today's was P. I really didn't need this many words that started with P.

Apparently I'm a Butt Mom.

2009-05-22T21:03:00.003-04:00

Lie to me if you must moms in the reading audience, but tell me that you are a Butt Mom too.

It has to happen outside of my house. If it doesn't; if my house is the only place on the planet that is home to the Butt Mom then I am renegotiating my stance on dying in the basement and being buried in the front yard.

Please go put these shoes in your closet.
But Mom! I have to finish this puzzle! (Which I am then going to leave strewn in a million places all over so you have to pick it out of the vacuum cleaner for the next 3 weeks.)

Please go put your laundry away.
But Mom! I don't know where it goes.
(But if I ask you to get dressed you can assemble an outfit in 2.7 seconds. It may clash but you can change it 3 more times during the day - for absolutely no reason!!)

Please clean up the playroom.
But Mom! I'm soooo tired! (It's 8 AM and you just had syrup with pancakes - not a typo people.)

Dear Exhibits,
If I was a Butt Mom you would be the funniest looking kids in Kindergarten. I (am going to pull out one of Bill Cosby's lines) brought you into this world; I can take you out!!

And I wish I could say it was just the Exhibits that had this problem. Apparently I'm Butt Honey too!

Please stop and pick up some milk on the way home.
But Honey! I've had a really long day and I just want to come home. Can't you get it in the morning?

Please help me get the kids into bed.
But Honey! I just ate and I want to sit here and just relax or a minute.

Please put your stuff in the laundry basket.
But Honey! Then I have to look at what I'm doing.

Dear Zoo Supporters,
Don't think to hard about Butt Honey. You'll never look at a bee the same way again.

All my love!

I Have Decided to Quit Blogging

2009-05-21T11:37:00.002-04:00

I’ve gotten a few notes and comments from regular readers asking if I’m okay and telling me that they miss my blog updates. Thank you. That is very sweet of all of you.

And while I don’t OWE you an explanation for my absence because after all this is my place on the web and I will do with it what I want, I will offer one out of friendship. Simply put, I burnt out. I was pressing everyday to find something to write about and stressing about whether my stats were climbing and if I was "good enough" to be a part of bloggy land at all. I was worried about whether you were enjoying my writing and was I funny enough? Why wouldn’t my meme take off and why didn’t I take more pictures this week for Wordless Wednesday? Who in the forums was reading my stuff and why wouldn’t more people comment? Why couldn’t my most controversial stances spark any kind of debate?

I was dreaming in blog people. I would wake up thinking blog and I would eat blog for lunch and I would blog while I was brushing my teeth. Not on the blog but in my head. I would wake up in the middle of the night to make notes about a dream because maybe when I was fully awake I could turn it into a roll em in the aisles post.

For some people that is a great thing. For some people that would be a rocking life. For me it was torture. I want to write. Just write. I don’t want to install meta tags and learn CSS code and HTML code and link all the right keywords. I don’t really care if Google finds me or not. I don’t necessarily want to make millions off of my blog. It would be nice if it happened but only if I can still be happy while I do it.

I just want to write. And that is what this started out as. A place for me to write. Then I got sidetracked with stats and comment counts and posting two or three times a day and making sure that I was friends with the right people in bloggy land and making sure that I didn’t offend or comment on the wrong blog because that would draw drama.

So I am going to quit blogging. I am just going to write. Here. When I feel like it and about what I want. The family stuff will still be found at The Zoo and the brain junk and social commentary will still be at The Bowl. But don’t expect me to update everyday. I don’t have THAT much to say.

I am no longer judging my success by stats, followers and page rank. I am purely judging my success by comments and my own happiness. If I can inspire you enough to cause you to comment then I have been successful. My biggest reward is forcing Buck to come out of his reader to comment. And that is what I want it to be all about. Just writing and sharing my writing with people who want to read.

Those of you who know me from some forums, give my regards. It’s not that I don’t like you or want to hang out with you. I just can’t get sucked back into all "stuff" that is blogging.
So farewell to blogging - welcome back writing.

**Note: For those of you who follow both, you will see this post cross posted today because the same audience is not in both places. Thanks for your tolerance.

My Mommy by Orangutan!

2009-05-06T10:43:00.005-04:00

This morning was O's Mother's Day program at school. They sang for us and then presented us with gifts and a little interview that they put together with the teachers. I'll sharee the interview first (because the computer is slow and hasn't finished loading the video yet).

These are the answers to 10 questions the teachers asked Orangutan.

1. My dad calls my mom Sarah.
I would have said he calls me "Honey where's the..." but it was her interview not mine.

2. My mom is as tall as a pole.
Not sure how I feel about that. I guess it's better than being as tall as a frog, right?

3. My mom weighs I don't know. I never weighed her before.
Good use of diplomacy O. I am so glad she stuck to the scientific answer! By the way the low bid out of all the moms was 10 pounds I think. She looked good too!

4. My mom is 19 years old.
Boy, I sure wish I felt like I was 19! My knees actually made audible creaks this morning. And the low bid on age was 5 - yes, that would mean simultaneously being born and giving birth. Not a labor I want to be part of thank you very much!

5. Her favorite drink is fancy ones.
Maybe cocktail hour has been happening a little early lately! Eeek!

6. Her favorite restaurant is fancy ones.
The correct answer here is any! As long as I don't have to clean I'm golden.

7. She likes to play with us for fun.
Or take a nap, or watch a movie or write, but yeah, playing with them is a pretty good deal too!

8. She enjoys cooking pizza.
Time to shake up the dinner menu again!

9. She looks prettiest when she wears a black dress.
She could have said "dress" in general or "when she actually showers" so I'll take this one.

10. My mom is so smart she can even get me, my brother, and my sister a playground that you can pick a circus, then switch again and find a new one. If you get on the sun the game is shorter.

See, what she was trying to say is that I'm so smart I can get them to play a board game together with minimal bloodshed. But instead she described the game.

And now (an hour and a half later) I can share with you the musical number from our morning. O is in the very back because she's one of the tallest in her class. Sorry about the quality. It's from our digital camer. Any one who would like an idea for a birthday gift (coming up soon!) is welcome to remember that a gift card to Best Buy is a really GOOD idea! (Pass it on sis!)

Well, how did THAT happen?!

2009-05-04T13:49:00.002-04:00

Orangutan is staring down the end of her first year of school. I think she is actually disappointed that school is ending "so soon." And I can understand why. She's the popular kid in class.

So how did THAT happen?

I was the Invisible Girl. The one you knew if you needed help with homework or a ride after track practice but other than that I didn't exist. I had my friends (all eight of us who ate lunch together every day) but I wasn't picking a name out of a hat for prom if you know what I mean.

Lion was part of a group of guys who probably held their own in high school but he wasn't a Jock himself. I think he was probably that guy between Jock and well, the other guy actually. And yes, that close nit tribe he ran with in high school is almost all relocated here to Atlanta too.

So how is it that my daughter, who talks entirely too much, is the popular kid in her PreK class? I didn't realize this was her status until I went to a birthday part at Chucky Cheeze yesterday. And yes, that's a rant filled blog in and of itself but I'm trying to stay focused. I walked into the party and met the host and hostess who were the sweetest people on the planet I think. Barbie and Ken right here in Suburbia!

As we were making small talk Ken (obviously not his real name which quite honestly I've forgotten! eek and shame on me!), noted that she is the friendliest, most talkative, helpful and delightful child in the class. To which Barbie replies, "Oh yes! S talks about her all the time! He just adores her!"

Fast forward fifteen minutes when we bump into another member of her class and his father. C reacts with typical girls are yucky fervor "Oh No!! Not M!!!" and his father turns seven shades of red, apologizes profusely, and adds, "But C really likes her. He talks about her all the time!"

Then there's the girls who flocked to her when they came in, and the little boy who follows her around like a puppy all day every day. "Please be my friend today?" Like he has to get permission to be her shadow every day?!

I don't understand. How did a child from a socially backward mother end up the popular kid in the class?

I'm not sure how I feel about this. I would almost rather she was invisi-kid like me. She wouldn't have the pressure of everyone's eyes. She wouldn't have to feel like a leader before her time. I could protect her from so much more if she was invisi-kid.

This motherhood thing just keeps getting harder.

When Animals Attack!

2009-05-01T10:35:00.005-04:00

This has been a very strange week for me animal wise. I'm not sure why but it seems that every day this week there has been an animal related incident that has made me laugh or freak me out.

Sunday I was planting on the porch and suddenly saw a little gecko pop out from under the door between our screen porch and our deck. Being the educationally encouraging mother I am, I called Orangutan and Rhino out of the yard where they were playing in the sprinkler to observe this gift of nature. We even had a deep conversation about how his tail ould fall off if they touched it. And then he ducked back under the door.

Please keep in mind that our screen porch is just off of our master bed room and the sliding glass door has been open to air the house out. Rhino pursued our little friend into the screen porch and I went back to planting. At least I went back to planting until I heard this.

"It's ok pal! My room is right there across the hall. Just run through Mommy's room to the other side."

Yeah, no! I am not up for lizards in my bed, under my bed, or rotting in Rhino's closet. No sir! Lizards stay outside, thank you very much!

Fast forward two days to a phone call from my college roommate during which she recounted the capture of 8 (or nine - we're not sure) crickets that were released in her car. Did I mention that she didn't find out about the crickets until it was dark and she was driving said car? Yeah.

And then we called Grand Keeper and Silverback. Chat, chat, chat. Grand Keeper erupts in unexplained laughter. "Mom? What's going on?"

"I'm not sure but your father is dancing." This peaks Orangutan's curiosity because she knows Silverback is an "awesome" dancer. "Why is he dancing, Grammy?"

More laughter followed by lots of stomping. "There's a bee in Poppie's pants!!"

My mother had put laundry out on the clothesline last weekend and a bee got trapped in my father's pants and stayed there all week. Well, until he put them on last night anyway. The bee is no more. That was funny enough to make Orangutan laugh until she fell off my lap but the real kicker came next.

"It's not funny girl!" Silverback was chuckling himself. "If you think that's funny wait until I tell you about the mouse that ran up my leg and into my boot!"

And you were all wondering why I call this The Zoo!

The New Innies and Outies

2009-04-28T09:32:00.004-04:00

Well, there is a very good chance that we have FINALLY gotten over the hump with Rhino's potty training. It has been a long and tearfilled journey but he has finally taken mercy on me and decided that the potty is not the black hole of death.

In celebration of this fact we are now moving on to encouraging very "boy" behaviors such as standing and aiming. For the sake of my bathroom floor, we started this project outside. Yes, I have been encouraging my son to pee on trees in the back yard. And before you all freak out and call me looney because after all suburbia isn't country, we have a very high privacy fence and lots of trees and bushes. No one is "peeping" on my son. And he is keenly aware that this is only BACK yard behavior.

Last night we moved training inside. Unfortunately the timing could have been better. Orangutan was jumping in for her shower when suddenly a completely naked (fresh out of the tub) Rhino came sprinting into the bathroom screaming, "Gotta pee! Gotta pee!" Nothing like an entrance. He was all too excited to show his sister his new "trick."

I knew a conversation was about to happen but with Orangutan you never really know which way it's going to go.

"Hey Mom! Do ALL boys have those sticky outie things?"

(oh crap!) "Yes honey they do." (Dear Lord let it end now. Please! I beg you! Let it end now!)

"But girls have innie things."

"That's right." (Ok, this could still be saved as long as she doesn't ask why. And even then I can go with the God's plan line.)

"Well, that's just too bad for boys then." Said as if the conversation was done. On that note? Now I have questions!

"Why do you say it's too bad?"

"Well, if boys aren't paying attention then they'll miss the potty and make a mess. Then the Mommys will get mad and probably spank them for being messy."

"Is that what you would do if you were a mommy for a boy?"

"Oh Mom! I'm only having little girls. Boys are just a mess."

If only you knew O. If only you knew! And on top of that she still has no interest in boys which delights my little soul that much more. I thought we were having issues because there is a little boy in her class who adores the very air she breathes.

I did however forget to remind her that that was a Mommy-Orangutan conversation before she left for school today so I could be in for an interesting e-mail from Mrs. F if things go poorly.

Try not to think too much about this the next time you shower. Are you an innie or an outie?

Well, I have No More Children!

2009-04-23T09:00:00.000-04:00

Orangutan gave me some interesting news Saturday night.

"Mom, some day you aren't going to have any kids anymore."

"Really O? Why is that?"

"Because we'll all grow up and move away."

I let a little smirk show up. "You think you might know when that will be? 'Cause I'd like to mark the date on my calendar." I was halfway out the door when she piped up.

"I'm not quite sure but I think it might be April 23rd."

She gave herself, Rhino and Marmoset five days to grow up. I'll be forwarding their mail as soon as I get their new address.

The best part to me was that today is her first field trip with school. Apparently when you're old enough for a field trip you MUST be grown up. Have to love Kid Logic!

Proof that We're Doing Okay!

2009-04-22T12:31:00.002-04:00

Sometimes even moms need a little encouragement to know that they are doing okay. We don't get regular performance evaluations like other careers, you know! Unless you count the dinnertime feedback we get about green veggies.

This morning Lion was getting ready for the hunt and I was tidying up the Den. Through the sliding glass door I watched Rhino slip into the screen porch and scoop up a riding toy. When he did, he bumped a loose panel on the side of the hot tub base and it fell over. Poor little guy froze in his tracks.

He peeked out onto the porch, and then looked back at the panel on the floor. Back out on the porch and back at the panel. Then he slipped back out the door and very carefully and quietly closed the door. I, of course, was laughing hysterically at the whole thing because he had no idea I had seen him. And it goes without saying that I recounted the whole incident for Lion.

"Did you say anything to him yet?"
No. Are you going to get him or am I?
"I'll get him!"

And just as Lion was about to pull the big "Gotcha!" (because he's the one who didn't put the panel on right in the first place) Rhino came around the corner. He looked like he was about to cry but was trying to be brave.

"Ummm, Mom? I have to tell you something. I think I might have broken something."
Where buddy? (This is me laughing in my poor son's face!)
"Out there." I really thought he was going to cry!

Lion and I scooped him up and reassured him that he hadn't broken it at all.

But it just goes to show you. You have no idea if the lessons are getting all the way through those little heads and suddenly they bring it back to you.

Of course in about 10 more years he's going to start lying through his teeth . But until then I'll just revel in the fact that I did ok so far!

Tuesday Tribute: Lessons of Childhood

2009-04-21T08:45:00.000-04:00

I know you are used to my Tributes being a little lighter in nature but this week I have a genuine Tribute to pass out. Here's to my children and their lessons.

This whole blog is really dedicated to all the little lessons I learn from them and silly things they do. But here is a lesson we can all take from my children. Take joy.

Friday afternoon I was folding laundry and watching my little Marmoset play with the dog. She had a ribbon off of the front door wreath and she was trying her hardest to catch the dog so that she could "tangle" him and take him for a walk. She tried to tie the ribbon on his tail, his back foot, his ear and his nose. She was nothing if not persistent. Anyone else would have gotten frustrated and given up.

"So why is the lesson 'Take Joy' instead of 'Be persistent' Sarah?"

Because everytime she failed she would fall on the floor giggling hysterically. And not just giggling. That bubbly giggle laughter that made me giggle and laugh until tears came to my eyes. She was truly joyful to be chasing the dog. It didn't matter that she never won. She was happy with just her ribbon and her dog.

I folded the laundry and pondered what I had just seen. I try very hard to turn things back to my own life as I watch my children play them out so the question that confronted me was this. Am I content to take joy in what I have?

In the current state of affairs in our nation there is plenty to be down and out about. There is plenty of finger pointing and blaming and lamenting for everyone. But is there enough joy? Is anyone actually looking at what they have and saying, "Well, ok"?

I have three incredible children and a loving hubby. I have a roof over my head and food in my pantry. I have sunshine and bubbles. I can take joy. I can allow myself to be happy. I don't need for anything. So "ok."

And here's to my Marmoset and the gift of her joy.

How About a Third Helping?

2009-04-19T22:30:00.004-04:00

Well, I'm adding to my bloggy family. No. This is not a preggers announcement. Could someone please pick my sister up off the floor? Baxter? Thanks bud.

No, I'm just adding to my writing projects so on top of my two blogs and the other book that keeps rolling around in my head, I am going to contribute to Kadi's project Making a Mommy. If you haven't been there yet you really should visit. It's a gathering place for mothers to share the wisdom that they have found in their own parenting journey. So if you are a mom to be, a mom who has been, or a mom in middle of the process there is something there for you. Kadi should know! She has seven.

She is also welcoming other writers so get your tookus over there and throw you hat in the ring. In the meantime, feel free to pop over and visit me there from time to time too. I always welcome the company.

Every Child is Unique in their Own Unique Way!

2009-04-16T09:15:00.000-04:00

All together now. Well, duh!! But I don't think you fully grasp what I'm saying.

Yes, all children have their own personalities and likes and dislikes. They all look a little different unless they are identical twins and even then something differentiates the two. But there are some...we'll call them "quirks" to some children that make them a little more unique than average.

Example - The Rhino has taken to singing everything. (His father is so proud of his impending Broadway career.) He came up from the playroom while Lion, Silverback and I were playing Texas Hold Em Saturday evening panting like a dog. "Are you a dog now son?" I asked thinking he was just pretending that the climb up the stairs had taken it out of him.

"No Mom! I'm a boy! But I have to (threw his arms open as wide as he could) PEEEEEEEEE!!!"
He sang that last little bit like he was Pavarotti center stage at the Kennedy Center. My head immediately hit the table and the next thing I knew I was laughing so hard I couldn't decide if I should hyperventilate or cry.

As if that wasn't enough, I handed out some leftover jelly beans for dessert last night. Marmie decided that she didn't really want hers so suddenly they were gone. When I asked what happened to the beans, Rhino piped up with (to the tune of There's a Hole in the Bucket)

"I put them in my mouth and I chomped them.
I chomped them. I chomped them.
Put them in my mouth and I chomped them.
I chomped them right down."

He's special.

Then you have Marmie. She took her uniqueness to a whole new level today. Tell me. How do your children react to Tylenol? Legally induced coma? Nothing? How about Crackhead? Do any of you get that? Because that's what I got!

She woke up spitting mad at the world and complaining that everything was owie from her nose to her knees and even her "hairsh" were "bad." She felt a little warm so like the loving and concerned mother I am I studied the Tylenol label and gave her the dosage recommended for her size and age. BBBRRRNNNTT! Wrong answer!

Yes, her mood improved dramatically. She started running in circles singing, talking and babbling to herself like a lab rat on speed. At one point (and the video of this would have been AWESOME!) she did that lay on your side and run in a circle thing. Then she rolled from one side of the room to the other. I kid you not when I say this child lost it in such a grand fashion I didn't know if I should call 911 or laugh my pushers off. As I told my sister, she went around the bend with both arms above her head screaming "Wheeeeeeeeee!"

And then she was fine. The spaz out lasted about 30 minutes and then she was mellow and sweet - my normal kid. I knew when her 4 hours were up though because she started all the whiny, achy, cranky nonsense all over again. Of course by then it was time for nap and this momma ain't no fool! I was not about to pump it into her a second time!

I even went so far as to wait until nap and carpool were over and I dropped her dose to a half. Maybe the whole dose was just too much for her. This time she ran circles around her friend yelling "R look at me! I runnin'! I runnin'!" Then she ran to the other side of the room and fell on her face. No lie! Like she was doing a belly flop into a pool - WHAM! Into the floor. She flipped over, said, "Hey Momma! I fall down! Wanna see 'gain?" And she lathered, rinsed and repeated! This time it was only about 15 minutes of insanity but insanity just the same.

She's special. And she is now limited to Motrin.

Tuesday Tribute: Heaven Bless the Bean People!

2009-04-14T09:23:00.012-04:00

What? You expected some normal touching Tribute? Well then, you definitely have missed my last few tributes. Here's to the Bean People!

#5. Ageless, Always Home for Christmas, Big Brother Dude.

(This isn't him! But he DOES look familiar to me for some reason...)

You know him! The stud who always manages to come home for Christmas in the Folgers commercials. Now I don't drink Folgers coffee so his placement on this list is very special. He gets to be one of my Bean People because he never ages! This guy has been coming home for Christmas since the 80's and he has yet to go flabby, gray or bring home a woman. He's awesome and any woman out there who denies that she gets a little secret smile every year when he shows his devilishly handsome face is a big fat liar!

#4. The Ultimate Mountain Man and his Trusty Steed.

You know who I'm talking about - Juan Valdez! Who can't love an authentic Brazilian with a handsome burro? And the burro was always cooperative. Did you ever notice that? He never brayed or balked or just turned stubborn. You have to give this duo their kudos. I think they are the only Bean People I've ever seen do a cameo on the big screen. Know the movie? Bruce Almighty! Watch it again. They're there.

#3.Freaky Mer Woman with the Crazy Arms - or is that her tail?

Now this one makes the list because of the coffee - not because of the chick. She freaks me out. Are those her arms? And is she trying to tell me to think something special? Is she putting her caffiene juju on me? Nice hair by the way. Strategically placed wouldn't you say? But we have to give her some credit. Nothing starts your day off like a double shot venti caramel machiatto with extra cream and sprinkles. Or I could just shoot adrenaline straight into my heart.

#2. The Criers on the Roof!

I love these guys! It's the Dunkin commercial where the lady takes a sip of coffee and she's suddenly touting Dunkin's praises from her rooftop. There are two people in particular who get me every time though. The first is the lady who is too afraid to stand up so she ends up straddling her roof and hanging on for dear life. Watch for her next time. She makes me smile. But then you have the lady who makes me laugh. She stands up there in her bathrobe I think and screams "THIS IS MY SIXTH CUP!" No, really? No wonder you're on your roof! I'd be on the moon! Bless her heart.

And my #1 Bean Person is none other than Fred himself.

I am the worlds biggest Dunkin fan. From the blueberry cake doughnuts (Sorry Fer) to the Bavarian cream filled to the simple glazed. And don't get me started on the Munchkins - those puppies pop a little too easy. But the doughnuts aren't all that make them the #1 Bean Person. Now that I can get their coffee in just about every grocery store and buyer's club, I am in heaven. Have you had their coffee? It's a delightfully smooth and mild coffee that brews perfectly every time. Every morning this loving nectar flows into my coffee cup with just the right touch of cream and sugar and nurses me through my morning routine. It's all I can manage not to brew a second pot after Lion heads to the hunt.

Here's to the Bean People and all of us who support them like our life depends on it. Next week a tribute to the pharmaceautical companies who provide pain relief when we don't get enough of our Bean People.

Now if you were looking for the REAL Tributes head over to Jay and Deb's and find out who is truly worthy. Thanks again guys for letting me spout off and ruin the mood.

Suck it Up You Whiners!

2009-04-09T11:03:00.004-04:00

I'm pretty sure I'm going to upset some people with this post but quite honestly I really am not too terribly concerned.

Apparently I missed the announce ment that this is "Poor Mom" media week. It started with Oprah and her show on Monday. I didn't see it but a friend was texting me all the nitty gritty. Apparently it was the secret life of moms and the challenges mom's face. Then the Today show got on the bandwagon with ways mom's can take care of themselves and the relationship with husbands and wives.

Here's my stance. Unless you are the mother of special needs children, your job isn't really any harder than any other job on the planet. You just have issues with work ethic and prioritizing.

Did I just hear a collective rising of blood pressures? Wow! That was cool! I guess I should explain myself.

We don't have it any harder than any other mothers in history. They had to work farms, handwash clothing, bake their own bread and other food stuffs, store their own food and love, bathe and feed children. In other words they had full time jobs and were mothers. They didn't have the luxury of tossing a load in the washer, starting the dishwasher and and then posting a blog while clothes and dishes were getting clean.

They didn't have the luxury of starting a movie in another room so that they could run the vacuum without children pulling the plug out of the wall. Oh wait! They didn't have power much less a vacuum.

No, they didn't have soccer practice and gymnastics and playdates and doctor's appointments and mothers morning out. They lived a pretty solitary life unless you count the trip to church every Sunday.

So here's my deal. If I have an issue with how "hard" my job is, maybe I need to sit back and look at what I'm really doing. For example, right now I'm supposed to be upstairs shampooing my livingroom carpets. I'm on the computer. Is that my job or am I allowing my priorities to twist in the wind of selfish endeavors?

I just took 15 minutes and actively coached/helped my children clean the playroom. I hate the playroom but if I expect my children to learn to clean on their own shouldn't I model it for them? Instead of pointing and saying "do it" and then whining about them not working, maybe I should take an active supervisory role.

We fuss and whine that we just have too much to do all the time. Ever think about committing to a little less? We complain that we have to work and clean and cook and still have time for parenting. Have we turned off the TV? Have we given our children chores of their own? Have we asked for help?

I think sometimes we over commit and let things slide so that we can blame our children and husbands for not helping. We want to be martyrs. We want to lament our position because we don't want to resolve it and tough up. And don't get me started on asking for help. We don't ask for help because we have set the standard so high that no one else can do it "right." Just one more way to make ourselves martyrs.

Motherhood is no harder than any other job. You have expectations imposed on you. The difference in motherhood is we are self employed. That means we are setting our own expectations.

Here is what I want to achieve in my position as a mother and wife.

I want my children to learn how to be responsible for themselves, their actions and their future.
I want my house to be clean.
I want to make sure that my marriage lasts and is full of love and fun.
I want my children to learn that love, friendship and the intangibles are more important than any "stuff" they can ever accumulate.

How hard is that? It looks like I have great job security and a lot of opportunity to have a huge impact. I just have to prioritize.

Tuesday Tribute: Mother's Little Helper

2009-04-06T16:05:00.005-04:00

Jay and Deb are going to kick me out of Tribute if I keep picking such abstract and really quite bizzarre tributes. But I can't pass this up.

It's spring break week here and like all mothers I am losing my sanity bit by screechy little bit. I love my children. I do. They make me rely on "helpers" sometimes though and in an effort to be "real" I am opening the blinds into my helper life. I'll post these according to insanity levels.

Minor insanity is controlled by One Eyed Monster and his pal Don Vito Douglas Player. They kick into action when certain maintenance activities need to be completed to keep the house from caving in on itself. Quietly they entertain the masses by broadcasting favorite cartoons movies and other diversions. Admit it - they're your little helper too.

Growing insanity calls for Player Do. And while I fully understand that PD can contribute to the insanity by being crumbled into microscropic bits and ground into the used to be beige carpet or tracked onto the newly mopped floor, he still manages to occupy and distract long enough for basic hygiene maintenance.

Escalating insanity can usually be staved off by Transport and an off location recreation zone. Sometimes however the rec zone can be insanity in and of itself which is a risk a truly escalating situation requires (as well as a smack down on a four year old or two).

Out of Control insanity. This is one ugly fellow and I have found that he only speaks two languages. White Flag and Tom Collins. When the hair pulling has turned into kicking, scratching, screeching, naked toy throwing, tantrum having, pants pooping, tears flowing and the children can't handle me any more, they throw up their white flags and mix me a Collins.

What can I say? Spring Break brings out the best in all of us!

Now for those of you who were looking for a real Tribute, please head over to Jay's Place and snag a few links of heart warming treasures. There are people out there who really are sane and delightful. You should hang out with them.

Orangutan Says...

2009-04-02T08:54:00.002-04:00

My spare exhibit is here today and he doesn't have the clearest speech I've ever heard. O was talking to him this morning and I followed it up with a question about whether she thought he might want to eat breakfast with her.

"I don't know Mom. I don't speak his language."

Get used to it baby. None of us speak "guy."

Could a Mother Be Prouder?

2009-04-01T15:05:00.006-04:00

Or more jealous?

Orangutan came home from school today with this.

My daughter has been published. In a hardback no less! I can't even get a stinkin' magazine or newspaper article. Maybe I should start writing the kind of page turner material that my beloved Orangutan has been writing. Reproduced with permission by the way.

"Once upon a time in a kingdom far away from New York, on the other side of the world, where Santa Claus lives, and there's lots of snow lived a King named "Old King Cole.

One day, he found a unicorn lost in the snow with a little pony. They were trying to find their way out of the snow.

So the King decided to help them to go to a place out of the snow, where there's lots of fun called Georgia.

The king made really nice friends with the pony and the unicorn. The King, the unicorn and the pony went to get a drink of water.

The King told them a joke. He told them 'Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall, but Humpty Dumpty didn't fall.'

They all laughed and laughed at the King's joke, and they all lived happily ever after.

The End."

I'm sorry. The book tour hasn't been finalized yet but I'll post it as soon as we finish up with the Caldecott interview.

Wordless Wednesday: Take That Tyra!

2009-04-01T10:24:00.004-04:00

You can't make THIS a Supermodel!

She already rocks the Runway!

How I Love you Huckleberry Hound and Hershey's!

2009-03-31T15:15:00.006-04:00

Apparently I am feeling very poetic today. I was strolling through the grocery store snagging some stuffs for dinner and my neighbor's birthday truffles and I started to channel my pal Miranda and Huckleberry Hound. I'm sure Miranda is completely flattered right now.

You can sing along if you like.

Oh my darlin'. Oh my darlin'.

Oh my darlin' Mo Magoo.

You know you're making me quite crazy

Oh my darlin' Mo Magoo.

You make me nutty
You make me loonie

You make me wanna lose my mind
But I guess I have to keep ya

'Cause the doctor says you're mine.

You would think after a trip like that I would resist the temptation to pump the children full of Hershey's Robins Eggs. But how can you turn down a candy that doubles as a cosmetic? (That's for you Cat!)

Tuesday Tribute: Here's to You "Normal."

2009-03-31T08:15:00.000-04:00

If you've been reading the Zoo for a while you know that I seldom play very many memes here. Most of that finds it's way over to The Bowl. But today there was one that I couldn't resist. Jay at Halftime Lessons and Deb at Dirty Socks and Pizza are the host of Tuesday Tribute. It's a weekly opportunity to bow to someone or something other than our ginormous egos.

This is my first time playing along but I have read quite a few of the tributes in the past. Let's see if I can do the meme justice. My Tribute to "Normal."

Welcome to My Norm!

There's a dino in the dining room
And a pick up in the tub.
There's a martian on the ceiling fan
And an ape under the rug.

A watermelon's sprouted

Underneath the bathroom sink.
And something quite unknown
Is making such a stink.

I saw a walrus hiding

In the pillows on mom's bed.

She hasn't found my toad yet

Or I'd probably be dead.

My little sister just ate dirt.

The big one flushed the phone.

I think I should try hiding

Until my Dad gets home.

I think my mom is losing it.

She's about to blow her stack.

'Cause she may have just discovered

She's standing in dog yack.

I'm pretty sure at other homes

This scene might make you squirm.

But around these parts my mom would say...

Welcome to my Norm.

Mom Tip #67: Be Grateful for What You Have

2009-03-30T11:01:00.005-04:00

It's my first day in two weeks without someone else's child in my house. I mean it! I even had surprise children yesterday. There's nothing like having someone else's children in your house to make you grateful for your own children. In case you missed it you can revisit my experience from last week at Mom Tip #66 (appropriate number, don't you think?).

So here are a few of my child related gratitudes.

I am grateful that Marmoset stopped stripping when she came to her diaper. Especially when I realized its contents. (Scratch that - I changed her and now she's decided to be naked.)

I am grateful that we have no where to be today since Rhino decided to wear Steeler's shorts with a burgundy sweatshirt. (And Marmie is naked. Not good for public outings. Wait, make that a double scratch. Rhino now has on camo pants with his burgundy sweatshirt.)

I am grateful that Orangutan didn't call my bluff this morning when I told her I would "come up there and get you!" Crashing the bunk beds was not on my list of things to do today. (Nor was staring at a naked toddler or a clashing 4 year old.)

I am grateful that my children don't like milk on their cereal sometimes. Clean up is so much easier when it only requires a vacuum. (And a naked Marmoset won't need a bath.)

I am grateful that my dog doesn't care what he eats sometimes. (Did he really just cover his eyes?)

I am extremely grateful for the secret stash of mini chocolate chips in the top of the freezer and the Belevedere on top of the fridge. Oh wait. That has nothing to do with my children. Well, not directly anyway.

Oh the Things a Blogger will Blog.

2009-03-28T15:23:00.008-04:00

*Which should have the subtitle "She Hasn't Put the Leash Back On Yet"*

There are six children here today (in case you missed all my whining on Twitter) so I have not even thought about attempting any housework until the three visitors go home. Why would I even dream of running up a mudslide? So while they have been sweetly playing here in the playroom I have been supervising from my desk and Tweeting and following and stuff.

I took a minute to study my blogoversary ticker and my post counts and I am facing a decision.

It's 118 days until this blog turns 1. Who'd a thunk I would have made it this far? On top of that I only have 75 - well now 74 - posts until I hit 300. So here's the dilema.

Should I pace my posts so that I hit 300 on the anniversary? Should I shoot for 350 on my blogoversary? Or should I just celebrate one or the other?

And then you come to the fact that a little over a month later The Bowl will celebrate its blogoversary. To make 300 coincide with the blogoversary over there I would have to post 139 posts in 158 days. A little more do-able considering I take at least one day off during the weekend.

Of course then I'm looking at how to celebrate. I should try to host a giveaway or something but I don't have a clue how to do that or even what I would give away. Anybody want to make a donation or act as a coach?

This looks like a cool way to party!

I'm wondering if blogging is my therapy or if I need therapy for my blogging. I seem to think about this an awful lot. I was actually tossing this very problem around last night when I was supposed to be sleeping. That and what I would blog about if we started to have the severe storms that were forcasted for us. Then I started to freak out a little because what would I do if there were six children and no power.

Wait. Did I have a point? And what has happened to my playroom? I gotta run.

Are you Tired of Being Tangled Yet?

2009-03-27T15:51:00.003-04:00

Because I know you all did exactly what I asked and crossed everything this morning so that you looked a little like this...

Looks painful doesn't it? Like Gumby and Smurfette had a little one. Kinda freaky really. Those chicks on the bottom really got a bum rap. What am I supposed to be talking about? Because I'm pretty sure it's not Gumby.

Oh yeah! You want to know if Rhino got pulled in the lottery! I called the school and Ms. Debbie the secretary answered the phone. I gave her my name and told her that I wanted to check the PreK list. She asked me to hold and then immediately said, "Oh wait! You're Tucker's mom?"

Deep breath before I said yes. Holding for a split second before she answered with...

Tension's killing you isn't it? It's this little thing I'm working on called plot development. You're supposed to create tense situations that keep your readers craving the answer to the conflict. Is it working?

"Sure, he's in! I hope we made your weekend!"

Are you kidding me? It took me a full 20 minutes to stop dancing long enough to realize that I was supposed to be on my way to pick O up.

So YES! We are in! Thank the Lord because with this week's track record, if I had to make two school stops on the way in the morning we would be late every single day of the year.

At first he wasn't thrilled because he thought O would be mad that he was going to school with her. O assured him that she was really excited because she would be able to look out for him and maybe she would get to see him in the cafeteria at lunch and she would make sure he found me in the car rider line. You know, take care of all that really important stuff. Now he feels better and he is ready to start getting ready for school.

The question now is how am I going to feel in August when it all really happens?

Grandkeeper Bought Them for the Wrong Kid!

2009-03-27T13:14:00.000-04:00

This is who she bought them for.

This is what I've been looking at all morning.

She's a fashion plate, she is!

Cross Whatever You've Got People!

2009-03-27T09:08:00.004-04:00

Today we have the big pull for the PreK lottery at school.

Today we find out if Rhino gets to make me nutty for another year or if he goes to school and makes Mrs. F nutty instead.

See, PreK is not mandatory here in Georgia because they don't have enough classes for the bajillion four year olds in the state. In day cares it's handled on a first come first served basis. In the public schools they have a lottery where they literally draw the names out of a hat.

Last year we were #49 on the registration list and O got pulled. You would have thought I had been given gold - I think I may have actually cried a little. This year the ladies helping with registration told me that there were a lot fewer registering so hopefully this means our chances are even better. Even so, if the people pulling the names just happen to be readers of my blog, "Please I beg you! Pull his name!!"

And it's not because my son makes me crazy. I mean, yeah, sometimes he does. It's more like I want to avail myself of the school's speech therapist. I was the horrible mother who didn't break her child of the pacifier in a timely fashion and now we are up against a very ugly impediment. We almost had to do translation for his vision test the other day because the tech was having a hard time understanding him.

So cross what you've got. We REALLY need this pull to go in our favor. Of course I'll be back after school to let you know how it went. In the meantime I may channel a Chinese contortionist and tangle myself up.

Mom Tip #66: Set Boundaries!

2009-03-26T13:14:00.002-04:00

**Editorial Note: While I understand that not ALL only children or children of divorced parents have issues with boundaries, the child in question is both. If your child fits one of those molds and does not fit my issue - a million kudos to you for being a rocking parent. If your child is neither and fits my issue - you need a swift kick in the rear.**

For the love of all things holy fellow parents, set some boundaries for your children. Not all behavior is acceptable.

Let's talk about this. If I walked into your home, strolled into one of your bedrooms, opened a dresser drawer and threw the contents all over the room, would it be acceptable? If I grabbed your purse or wallet and proceeded to distribute the contents to the four winds, would it be allowed? What if I pooped in the middle of your living room floor and then bit you on the leg?

The good news for you is that I don't behave like that. Would you like to know why? Because my parents taught me from a very young age that not only is it wrong in my own house, but it is even more rude, devestating and embarassing in someone else's. Can I share a little news flash with you? My children will not be doing it in your house if they come to visit. Would you like to know why? Because I have taught them that it is completely wrong to act that way in our house and incredibly rude, devestating and embarassing in someone else's house.

I have been spending time with a child who apparently has not been taught these things. This child happens to be an only child and the product of a newly divorced home. While I understand that both parents feel like they should allow a little leniency to "make up for their issues" I don't condone it. You want to make it up to her? Teach her to say please and thank you instead of "gimmee" and "I want." Teach her to share - not snatch. Teach her to wait her turn instead of bulldozing everyone out of her way. Teach her that destroying someone else's property is hurtful and rude.

But let me give you one more tip. Back your boundaries up. If you are setting boundaries, reinforce them when they are broken. Should my children ever lose their minds in any of the forementioned ways while we are in another person's home, you can bet your eardrums that I will be tip toeing on the fine line of violating the Geneva Convention. I will knock somebody's butt OFF!

And before you jump on me for that one, let me tell you something else. If you don't want to see me discipline my child (which I try not to do in public), don't give me the stink eye when my child is pouring a strawberry milkshake down the back of your shirt in a restaurant.

Should I have to take care of an issue in public (usually Target or the grocery store), you will see me get about two inches from my child's face. I will put my hands on either side of their face and mine so that they can't look anywhere but into my eyes. I will have a very quiet conversation that you will probably never hear and we will be done. If we aren't done, you will see a very hasty trip either to the restroom or to our vehicle.

I have three children. I do the same thing with all three. They know what is expected and they play by my rules. You know why? Because I'm the big person. I'm the adult and respect is a way of life in our house.

As long as I'm on a roll, let's cover one more base shall we? Chores. It is completely acceptable for you to ask your children to do chores. Quite honestly it is more than acceptable in my book. Someone looked at me cross eyed the other day when I mentioned to the exhibits that it was time to gather their laundry off of my bed and put it away. Yes, my five year old, four year old and even the two year old put their own laundry away. They also feed the dog, clean their rooms, bring me their dirty laundry, clean up their playroom and clear their dishes from the table. Yes, I help them with some of those things but they can do them on their own.

In my humble opionion, part of the problem with society is that people expect to be waited on hand and foot. Also part of that opinion is that the reason they expect it is because their parents never taught them personal responsibility or work ethic.

I have to go now. I just kicked a hole in the side of my soap box and if I plan to spout again anytime soon, I have to get my slaves to work fixing it.

Shove Sentiment!

2009-03-25T22:49:00.006-04:00

Can I blip yesterday from the grid and try again? Seriously?

I was off to a wonderful start with getting all my blog posting up and commenting like a fiend. I didn't do much because I knew it was a short morning with O having an early release day. All was going well.

Then Marmoset and her pal decided to clean out all the gravel and sand in the bottom of the fireplace onto my livingroom floor. I can deal.

Then they emptied my purse and coupon organizer all over kingdom come.

We went to get O.

We came home, had lunch, and went down for naps. Pal decided to strip. I redressed Pal put her back down and took a shower. I came out of the shower and Pal has stripped again, this time distributing the contents of her diaper for me. Marmoset only got an hour nap.

I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to keep Marmie and Pal where I could see them at all times while still making sure Rhino got to the potty on a regular schedule and O had a steady supply of snacks for her tapeworm. Well, it HAS to be a tapeworm. No healthy child eats like that!

Then we handed Pal off to second sitter and packed up for Rhino's check up. We've been away from the city for two years now. I forgot how nasty traffic is especially in the rain. It took me 10 minutes to get within a mile of the doctor's office. It took me another 25 to actually make that mile.

Then it was an hour for the checkup, vision, hearing, and "shops" as Rhino calls them. Did I mention that it was still raining? That meant that traffic was still snargled beyond belief so it was another 45 minutes to get home (a 15 minute drive without traffic but who am I kidding? There's always traffic!).

I followed all the other chaos up with a disasterous dinner for everyone (who burns corndogs?) topped off by a blue birthday cake with white icing. It was his birthday; if he wanted Smurf cake who was I to say no? At least I talked him out of the blue frosting.

Did I mention that I've been in a perpetual allergy attack all day? Sneezing, itchy eyes, snotty head, and stopped up ears. Did I also mention that I have Pal and Rhino's BFF again tomorrow after I register Rhino for school?

If I'm not on drugs already (which I may be...I'm not sure) I probably should be.

***************************************************

I wrote this last night before I went to bed and I was revisiting in hopes that I had a better perspective. I don't. Did I mention that I lost the keys to my van at some point in all the chaos last evening? Did I mention that I searched all morning only to realize that I left them in my hooded sweatshirt which was going in the laundry? I should have known it wasn't going to be a much better day.

So Rhino's BFF didn't come today after all because he's under the weather. But Pal is back. Stab me in the ears. Another cleaning out of the fireplace. More pinching and scratching. There's a Mom Tip in this. I'll be back when I can tip and not rant.

Where's my coffee? It's entirely too early for an "Uh Oh" moment.

Wordless Wednesday - Sentimental Journey

2009-03-25T10:18:00.008-04:00

Four years ago you entered the world early and with such a ruckus. I should have known then that you were a very special child.

As we watched your personality develop we began to realize just how special you were.

You weren't just the only boy in a house full of girls. You were the one who would be the orneriest, stubbornest, and funniest.

Between your crazy faces and your crazy sayings, we have never stopped laughing at you. Even when we feel like you are tap dancing on our last nerve by refusing to potty train.

Four years has gone by so incredibly fast.

Just this once it's ok if you don't listen when I tell you to "grow up."
Happy Birthday, Rhino.

Your Zookeeper loves you very much.

(But could you please stay out of your nose!)

Well, That's Good to Know.

2009-03-24T15:06:00.005-04:00

Apparently you really can stave off panic with panic. That preemtive strike I attempted earlier worked. Three of my spares exhibits won't be coming this afternoon. They will all be here all day Saturday but I can prepare for that. Of course Saturday we're supposed to be experiencing some severe weather but there is always my pal playdough, movie party and nap.

Maybe I should freak out on people more often.

Preemtive Panic Attack

2009-03-24T11:32:00.003-04:00

AAAUUUGGGHHH!!!

Thank you. I needed to do that so that I don't do it in about three hours. What happens in three hours you ask? Thank you for caring. My home will have eight people in it. I will be the only one over eight years old. Unless you count the dog.

Let's take a roll call shall we?

K1 - 7 in a few days

K2 - 5

Orangutan - 5 (5 days younger than K2)

Rhino - 4 tomorrow

K3 - 3

Marmoset - 2 in two weeks

and R - 2 on Sunday.

What was I thinking? And I promised them that I would make chocolate chip cookies for snack. Did I mention that it's about to start raining any minute? Me and seven children. In the playroom. All afternoon.

It was nice blogging for you. I'll be in my padded cell tomorrow.

A Mother's Sleep

2009-03-23T13:08:00.004-04:00

For the briefest of moments last night I thought about blogging about how nice it was this weekend to get some nice, deep, restful sleep. Then I went to bed.

What is it about becoming a mother that totally destroys your sleep?

It starts in pregnancy when you can't get comfortable no matter how you position the pillows or which side you lay on. Even before the belly shows up you wake up to morning sickness which makes you dread going to sleep in the first place.

Then you give birth and we all know what sleeping with a newborn is like. You hear every sigh, every squeak and every whimper. That's not terribly restful sleep either.

Now in my case I had my children back to back so I have stayed in newborn sleep mode for four and a half years. All the children are sleeping through the night now so what do I do? I switch beds and rooms and roomates and disrupt the whole thing. So we're back to broken sleep.

Friday we had a really busy day of being outside and running and playing and carrying on so everyone slept like the dead. Saturday we had a similar night. So it's not a surprise that as I laid down last night I was thinking that maybe the end was in sight. Maybe I would get to go back to sleeping through the night in a deep and comfortable sleep in my own bed.

Nope. 1:30 AM Orangutan calls me into their room to tell me that Marmoset woke her up by singing. Marmie looked up at me and said, "You sing too Mama?" So I ended up laying down with her until she started to drift off. Once all was quiet again I went back to my bed and snuggled in.

3:30 AM Rhino taps me on the nose and tells me that Marmoset is trying to climb into his bed. I check all the beds and she is sound asleep in hers. When I got back to my bed to tell Rhino that he was dreaming he was sound asleep sprawled all over my pillows and wadded up in the blankets.

6:45 AM Orangutan calls me from her bed that she's ready to get up and get ready for school.

And another night is lost to being a mother.

Want a Dose of Old?

2009-03-19T13:03:00.004-04:00

Guess how I've spent my morning?

Rounding up the paperwork for Tuck's PreK registration next week.

How's that for a dose of "How Time Flies!"

So far I have rounded up the old social security card, birth certificate, and a utility bill for residency verification. I booked his doctor's appointment where I will snag the immunization form and the hearing and vision check. The only thing left is a trip to the dentist which of course I am dreading because we already know he needs work.

And I was wondering why my head was throbbing.

This little guy is getting ready to go to school?

Planning my Summer

2009-03-18T12:25:00.006-04:00

Now I know you all think this is a little premature - especially those of you who are still looking at snow. Here's the thing. Spring break is in two and a half weeks. We all know that spring break is really just a dry run for how nutty things are going to get over the looooooong summer break. That being said, I think it is completely appropriate for me to start planning now.

Here's my list of things that I would be willing to do, vlog and blog for the small fee of some corporate sponsorship. Hey! They are getting behind all kinds of techno Internet promos now and I'm a pretty entertaining person if I do say so myself so I can't see that I could severely hurt anyone. And I have Twitter, Facebook and my two awesome blogs on my side. So here's the list Corporate PR people. Feel free to contact me when you're ready to get behind me.

Remodel my house.
I was thinking that this one could be sponsored by a LOT of companies thus spreading the cost out and minimizing the impact on any one company. I think some appropriate sponsors would be Home Depot (we all know how I feel about Homer), Bed Bath and Beyond, Pier One, Rooms To Go, Behr or the DIY Network. Duct Tape or 3M could also get involved because child restraint and painters tape would definitely be involved. See guys, all you have to do is provide the supplies. I'll provide the sweat, swearing, and crying.

Redo my entire landscaping front and back.
Homer, you are in on this one too. DIY you could come hang out too. Caterpillar, I know you guys are in need of some good face time and I'm sure there are some trees to come down or other front loader/skid loader projects (like spreading topsoil) so I saved some space for you. You may want to send a licensed operator though because I can't guarantee my heavy machinery skills.

And the BIG ONE that I would really knock out of the park for everyone - The East Coast Road Trip!
I have Winnebago, WalMart or Target, and Exxon or BP tagged for this one. Rand-McNally we'll be needing your help too unless Tom Tom or Garmin wants to kick in (just in case Winnie gives me a model that doesn't have a navigation system). I'll go to whatever East Coast landmark or city you want. But know this; if you choose some educational spots, you would expand your campaign base by labeling yourself the Education Company!

So you ask yourself what you get in return? You get your name plastered all over every blog, vlog and my forehead related to your endeavor. You get my dry wit and humor. And you get one free commercial on network TV because you will undoubtedly be so awestruck by my mad skills at PR that you will want to sign me for an enormous contract as a spokesperson.

I should offer a claimer that I really would do all of these things this summer if funds were available. I should also note that while I am not a review or PR blog you can bet your paint rollers and Tang that I would take every single one of these companies up on their offer if they said they would do it.

Laughin' my Pushers Off!

2009-03-17T12:40:00.003-04:00

Can I just tell you how much I love my Rhino? I swear he gets funnier every day.

Yesterday I was making PB&J's for lunch and of course being the on top of it mom that I am I had forgotten to take some bread out of the freezer the night before. For the record 15 seconds is just about perfect for defrosting 2 slices of frozen bread in the microwave. So I popped two slices in and turned around to see Rhino scratching his behind.

Dude! What are you doing?
"My pushers are itchy."

Your WHAT?

"My pushers."

What are pushers, son? And with that I turned to take the first slices out and put the second slices in. I turned back around to see my beloved son with his behind hanging out of his drawers.

"See Mom! These are my pushers."

By this point I wasn't just grinning anymore - I had started to giggle. "Why do you call them pushers, exactly?" Thinking that maybe he had mistaken the word tush for push.

(Ready for it?)

"Because they push my butt around and make me wiggle when I dance like this!" Please picture a very enthusiastic puppy wagging its tail. You know how they kind of wiggle all over? That's what your pushers do.

I literally hit the floor. I'm still giggling and on the verge of tears as I type this and this is the third time I've told the story. As certain members of my family might say, "That boy ain't right!"

You Might Not Want to Call 911.

2009-03-16T16:11:00.005-04:00

We got love you packages from our favorite Z.I.T. today and the fun has been boundless. Well, it was fun once I convinced Orangutan and Marmoset that they could wait until after bath to put on their new pajamas. That part wasn't so fun.

Now the empty boxes have been converted into cars and more specifically police cars complete with steering wheels and walkie talkies.

Orangutan took hers off for a minute so she could decorate it and the Security Dog tried to bite it. She used her best gruff officer voice and told him, "Do NOT eat the police car! If you eat a police car you will get a ticket and get thrown in jail and you will have to eat mashed potatoes for the rest of your life for breakfast and lunch and dinner and even for your snacks."

I asked her if that is what people in jail have to eat. "Well something like that anyway!"

Officer Rhino has been busy chasing down bad guys in his unmarked car (he didn't want to decorate his) and has so far found three stores that were being "battacked (that's not a typo) by ugly bad guys." Because apparently all bad guys are ugly.

Officer O drew a "12" on the back of her car. I asked her if it was her car number and she said, "Yes. And I'm car #12 because I have arrested 12 bad guys so far. " The Grand Keeper was on the phone at the time and asked what they had done to be arrested.

"Some were robbing purses, and some were sticking up people, and some were robbing the bank. Well, a lot were robbing the bank but I got them all!"

Look at me. Raising such upstanding citizens. Who apparently would rather live in Idaho.

Another Economic Cutback.

2009-03-15T17:51:00.007-04:00

I'm sure it comes as no surprise when I tell you that The Zoo has been impacted by the recent upheaval in the economy. So we've been doing what all of America has been doing - looking for ways to cut back in our spending. We'll today we went for the gold.

The Zookeeper took a few hours this afternoon to decompress and ended up buying a set of hair clippers complete with scissors, guards, combs and an instruction booklet. That's right Zoobies! The Rhino was in need of a haircut and while the $18 dollars I spent on the clippers would have covered the haircut at Snip-it's I was approaching this like an investment. If I was investing in entertainment, aggravation, and disaster, my return has been the best ever.

Let's talk entertainment. L.M. Lion was fancying himself a barber today so he put Rhino on one of the bistro chairs and got down to business. Surprisingly the back of the neck and the beginning stages went fairly well. But then it was time to head for the ears.

"Bud! You can't put your hands there!"
"Buddy! I have to be able to see your ears if I'm not going to cut them off."
"No! I didn't mean I was going to cut your ears off. I just don't want to cut you."
"I did NOT cut you!"
"Be still; I'm almost done."

"Well, crap. I messed that up, didn't I?"

It's not the Rhino's best haircut ever but he's a cute kid so he can carry it off. Let's just say that I think I might take a swing at the next haircut - it should be due right AFTER Easter.

Then (in mid-cleanup)..."If we can skip taking Rhino to the salon, do you think we could do the dog too?!" There was a little too much enthusiasm in that question and the next thing I knew the dog was in the hot seat. At least it was a much quieter encounter, but it WAS a two man job.

That's not snow on my sweatshirt and sweatpants.

The economics work out pretty well if we can master the technique. Clippers? $18. Haircut at salon for Rhino? $18 + tip. Grooming for Security Dog? $40 + tip.

Providing the Zookeeper with this much blog fodder? Priceless!

A Mother's Legacy

2009-03-14T12:02:00.003-04:00

L.M. Lion and I were watching West Wing (thank you Bravo syndication) the other week and they were talking about the President's legacy. What would his legacy be? How would people remember his time as president.

Of course it went into my brain and I chewed on it and worked it around and I started to wonder. Political officials and celebrities and "big" people aren't the only ones with legacies. Parents definitely have a legacy - a pretty big one if you ask me. But you don't have to have children to have a legacy. Normal people (because parenting is NOT normal - we've established that here at Zoo Suburbia) have a legacy too. I of course was wondering what my legacy would be. I mean, I'm not much more than a mom. Yeah, yeah. Wife, daughter, sister, friend. But my main title in life and the name I go by most often is Mom.

I know what my mother's legacy (so far) is. My mother gave me the gift of cooking. One of my first memories of our "new" house - the house I grew up in - was pulling a chair up to the counter and helping to make a birthday cake. Cooking is so much a part of me now that I have a whole shelf on the bookcase dedicated to cookbooks, the most important one being a copy of the one my mother used to teach me to cook.

My mother also took on the painful task of teaching me how to sew. I say painful because I was not the most patient of students, would get frustrated easily and probably left more porjects unfinished in her sewing cabinet than I actually finished. But now I have a skill that allows me to make my own dresses, skirts, gauchos, capris and who knows what for the kids. Advanced skills? No but enough to make my children happy.

Probably the biggest legacy my mother has given me is how to pray. There is a generally held consensus in our family is if Mom is praying, get out of the way. Something is going to happen. And I try. I try to pray sincerely and powerfully like my mother.

So now I am setting out on my own parenting journey trying to leave a legacy of my own. I will never know what my legacy is but I certainly hope that I can pass at least the lessons that my mother passed to me. After all, who has a more powerful legacy than a mother?

Mom Tip #65: Sometimes our Job just Stinks.

2009-03-12T21:32:00.004-04:00

I'm not talking about the smells. Eau de poop and barf is definitely not one of the highlights of being a mom. Just the same there are so many other aspects of our job that stink that the smells really just act as a little whipped cream and cherry on top of all the other odor.

The hours stink. We are up at the butt crack of dawn (no offense to any Dawns in my audience - I'm sure your butt crack is adorable) and really have to hit the ground running. We can say that we sit in the quiet and savor our fabulous coffee, but chances are that if someone were to put a hidden camera in our house, they would find that we have the coffee in one hand and we are picking out clothes or washing dishes with the other.

But I got sidetracked (SURPRISE!). We cover the whole day working inside and outside our home and then we clock out (or not) and we head home (or not) to fold laundry, feed small and large mouths, bathe people, read stories, tuck in and call it a night. But we don't call it a night because now we are sneaking into rooms and putting away the laundry, washing dishes, paying bills, picking up toys and trying to get our heads on for the next day. We fall into bed only to be jarred awake by some noise in the middle of the night or we open our eyes to see a big toe on the end of our nose. Our hours stink.

The pay. Now some of my fine readers may very well have good paying careers outside of the home but sentimentality be flushed. I love my children and their hugs and their kisses and giggles. They really are something special. But it sure would be nice if someone really did pay me that $114,000 that some ridiculous government agency determined my work to be worth. And even nicer if they paid me in something other than a namby pamby tax break or day care credit. Pay me in the green.

Ahh Hah! I figured out the real stimulus package! Pay the stay at home moms and working moms for their parenting time. We in turn will hire teenagers to babysit while we go to spas and nail salons and malls and crafting and writing conventions. Or maybe we'll start our own businesses that will stimulate the ecomony. We will be spending that money you gave us. We will be providing jobs for working class people. As Mrs. Dolly Levi said, "Money is like manure. It does no good unless you spread it around." (Name that musical and a bonus for the person who names the actress who played her. Double bonus if you can tell me who the leading man was.)

Anyway, I'm just saying that for all the joy that being a mother can be, it's not a job for whiners and wimps. It's a job for selfless, dedicated, determined, focused people with no olfactory nerves.

Wordless Wednesday: A Day at the Park

2009-03-11T09:06:00.005-04:00

Waiting for a breeze.

Coming down!

Hi Mom!

In search of more Wordless Wednesdays? Head over to MomDot and peruse some folks with more camera talent than me.

And don't forget about Show me the Funny tomorrow at The Bowl!

Dear L.M. Lion, Please remember that I love you.

2009-03-10T13:31:00.004-04:00

As I hog tie you, gag you, and throw you in the truck of your own car for the next 12 hours.

I understand that you aren't feeling your best. I'm sorry that Orangutan and I shared our flu bug with you. I'm sorry the people who line up the daytime programming didn't take you into consideration when they were setting up today's line up. I know that they would have put on more shows that interest you if only they had known you were going to be home all. day. long.

Again, please remember that I love you dearly. But let's do a little review shall we? If I am in the kitchen taking dishes out of the dishwasher, chances are I'm cleaning out the dishwasher. The question, "Whatcha doin'?" might be a little uncecessary. Walking out to the livingroom, turning around and coming right back does not create the necessity to ask the question again when you get back oh say three seconds later.

Please don't ask me what you can do if you have no intention of giving my suggestion any thought. Folding laundry is not that strenuous and will keep you in close proximity to both the bathroom and the bed in the event you start to feel woozy or sick again.

I love you and I'm glad that you are feeling a little better than you were this morning. I hope you continue to recover quickly.

I'd hate to have to hurt you.

All my love and nursing,

The Zookeeper.

The Wear Them Out Plan Backfired

2009-03-09T16:57:00.003-04:00

Again.

Why do I keep doing this? I tackle projects and involve my children in hopes of absolutely wearing them out to the point that their little bodies collapse in small sweaty heaps for hours at a time without so much as a thud when they go down. And it never seems to work.

Know who goes down with a HUGE thud? Me. The Mom. The one who is supposed to be able to get vast amounts of things done while they are knocked out.

Hit the old backyard today to clean up leaves left over from last fall and start the spring cleanup. Rhino and Marmoset were supposed to be outside playing in the fresh air and getting all worn out. They sat in lawn chairs and discussed what a "lovely day" (and no I am not lying - I wish I could make this stuff up!) it was outside and how "darling" the birds were. Backfire #1.

Then we ate lunch and cleaned the Rhino exhibit while Marmoset napped and before we knew it it was time to snag Orangutan from school. Ah hah! My second chance! We'll pop by the park on our way home and since it's not that breezy some running to get the kites off the ground should be just what I need to finish them off. And some sliding and swinging and just general running in circles.

They aren't even showing signs of surrender. I, on the other hand, have stiff back and shoulders, a throbbing, popping knee, blisters on my hands and can barely keep my eyes open. Did I mention that I smell like the garbage truck that backed over me last week?

This is me waving my white flag. Except from the smell of the child who just passed me I might do better to cover my nose and mouth with it. Ahhh, the joys of motherhood.

Dear Zoo, The Flu is NOT a Spectator Sport.

2009-03-07T08:31:00.003-05:00

I understand that Mom never REALLY gets sick. I know that it is a law of nature that no matter how sick we think we are we really must press on. It would be a lot easier to press on if you would all follow the guidelines outlined below. This is simply for future reference.

#1. When the Zookeeper is occupied with vacating the contents of her stomach is it unnecessary to stand over her and talk to her or mimic her sound effects. This is for you Marmoset. It is not helpful to ask the Zookeeper a million questions about "waddya doin" or copy the sounds I am making. It really just makes me feel a little worse.

#2. Screeches are completely unnecessary when the Zookeeper's head is on the verge of explosion. They really just make the fissures in her skull open a little more. The intensification of the skull pounding only amplifies the nausea and therefore leads to more sound effects which we have all established we are not in favor of.

And #3. While I appreciate that my life status was in question for the better part of the day yesterday, the giggling while you poked me with a stick was really uncalled for. The poking was not completely necessary but at one point I appreciated it because it let me know I was still alive. The giggling was a little too much though.

These are just a few thoughts should your Zookeeper ever fall victim again. Thank you for your attention to this matter. I look forward to being back on my feet in the next 24 to 48 hours and back in your service.

Sincerely,

The Zookeeper.

Normal is...

2009-03-05T11:13:00.005-05:00

Mama Kat does a writer's workshop every week and I've been watching some of the writing prompts that have come up from time to time. I couldn't pass one of today's prompts up. "Normal is..." I have to go with "relative" for this one. Normal is relative. Oh yeah!

Normal at my house is waking up somewhere completely different from where you went to sleep wearing something completely different. I fell asleep in the Orangutan-Marmoset exhibit last night (Marmie isn't having such a great transition) and woke up half an hour later on the chaise in the living room. I woke up 3 hours later to Orangutan and Marmie climbing into my bed with me and have no recollection of taking off my sweatshirt, taking out my contacts or even going into my room and clearing the bed which I know was covered with laundry.

Other people go to bed and wake up in the same bed and in the same clothes they went to sleep in. Not sure how they do it but it must not involve children.

Normal in my house is six meals a day. Breakfast, mid morning snack, lunch, mid afternoon snack, small exhibit dinner and large exhibit dinner. And before you tell me that you don't count the snacks as meals you don't know the preparation that goes into peanut butter saltines. Marmie insists that she must have silverware for every meal no matter what it is so it counts as a meal.

Other homes probably don't even have to use bowls for their snacks and therefore can legitimately discount them from being meals. That's not our normal.

Normal at my house is doing AT LEAST one load of laundry a day. I'm lucky if I escape doing two or three. Inevitably as soon as I even think, "Whew! Caught up! Yay!" someone has taken it upon themselves to spill a sippy, poop, pee, barf or draw on something not intended for any of the above. Thus creating another load.

Other homes can probably knock the laundry out in a day on the weekend and not even have to glance in the direction of the hamper until the following week.

Normal at my house is answering the phone and then proceeding to have four conversations at the same time. One with the person who called; one with Rang Tang; one with Rhino; and one with Marmie. None of them will be talking about the same thing. It's a good thing that most of the people who call me share my version of normal and therefore are very understanding (if they aren't having multiple conversations themselves).

Other people answer the phone, have their conversation with the person on the other end and hang up. I bet they even stay on the same train of thought while they are on the phone.

Now I am sure that several of you share the same normal I do but I thought you should know that other people think our life is not normal. Weirdos!

The Rookies vs. The Veterans

2009-03-03T12:36:00.006-05:00

Parenting like every competitive sport has it's rookies and veterans. What? Parenting isn't a competitive sport? You must be a rookie!

A friend from college recently had his first child and I've been following the adventure on Facebook. It's very hard not to chuckle at every status update but because I like him and he's a good friend I have not mocked him in his new fatherhood. Yet.

"Babies smell so good!"
Wait until you start solids dude! Nothing yummy about that.

"I don't want to go back to work."
I give that 2 years if you don't immediately have another; 18 months if you do.

It's fun to watch new parents. Every coo gets a picture. Every bag of diaper trash becomes a baby book entry. First trips anywhere are documented with glee and delight. And before anyone jumps on me about it, I did it. I made a fool of myself just like every other new parent and therefore I am making fun of myself too! Get over it.

Then your second child comes along and you still take fun pictures because now it's the first time X and Y did Z together. But the glow is a little fainter because now you are trying to get two children to keep their shoes on while buckling four arms into carseats and packing two sippy cups and snacks and heaven only knows what else.

You can spot the mom of 3 or more from a mile away. She looks completely at peace. She smiles at everything and she maintains a calm and easy exterior. You know why?

She has surrendered to the enemy. Waved her white flag. Tossed in her towel. Bowed out. Given up and given in. She knows that if everyone makes it through the day with nothing more major than a scrape and 4 bandaids she has won. She never worries about people coming over and seeing a mess because people don't come over. They're too scared of the duct tape. She doesn't bother with her appearance because she knows that somewhere on her personage there is poo, spit, snot, vomit or jelly and if there isn't there will be soon.

The rookie is constantly seeking the approval of others and taking too much advice from too many well meaning people who may or may not have children of their own.

The veteran has perfected smile and nod. She will smile and nod and pretend to listen to you and take it all in when in her head she is really saying, "Your turn is coming. They will break you too."

And before the debate starts about parenting being a competetive sport let me say this. Your way is the best way. It always is. Moms who nurse are superior to moms who don't and vice versa. Moms with slings are cooler than moms with strollers and vice versa. Moms who don't vaccinate are infinitely wiser than moms who vaccinate and vice versa. See! Told you it was a competitive sport. Rookies get caught up in those debates and get tweaked about them. Veterans look at their children and say, "Nobody's dead yet, so I'm ok."

I really should run. There should be a Facebook update for me to laugh at soon. Bless their little family Lord! And Congrats again Joe!

Moms of the World - Come out of your Bathrooms!

2009-03-03T12:23:00.002-05:00

What has become of us? Mothers who have been relegated to hiding out in their bathrooms for just a few moments of peace. We try to fake them out like we're really doing "something" in there but they know we aren't. And yet we continue to call our bathrooms our sanctuaries.

What is wrong with us? Wasn't there a better room? Of all places - the bathroom! And you know that you really aren't getting any peace in there. You are actually sitting there thinking about how gross that scum ring is and eventually you will get up and start to clean it. Don't deny it. I've been in there. I've done the very same thing.

I am on a campaign to free us from our bathrooms. We MUST find a better place to have our peace and quiet. I move that we take over our guest rooms. Then again some of us (me) don't have guest rooms.

Basement? No that's either flooded, full of exercise equipment (thank you, guilt, for killing this one!) or (as is our case) a playroom/pool table/man den.

Garage? Reeks of gasoline and power tools.

Closet? Another organizational nightmare.

Kitchen? Snacks central and everyone will want you to bring something "as long as you're in there."

::Sigh:: So the bathroom it is then. If the TP is on the handle, Do Not Disturb.

A Letter to Rhino: About your Clothes...

2009-03-03T10:08:00.005-05:00

Dear Rhino,

Good morning small, stubborn exhibit. I can see that we are about to have one of "those" days so I thought I would write you a little note instead of (wringing your scrawny neck) getting into a debate with you.

I apologize for not switching the laundry over to the dryer last night. That was an oversight on my part. Had I realized that the sweatshirt that matches those sweats had missed the load capacity cutoff, you may be assured that I would have been more attentive to making sure drying happened in a more timely fashion.

For the record, I really DO appreciate your keen fashion sense and desire to coordinate all your attire. It's wonderful that you are so image conscious and take pride in your appearance. It will get you far in life.

However. If you decide to throw yourself on the floor, kick, scream, wail, pound, bang, screech, and spin in circles like that over a shirt ever again, I assure you that you will spend the rest of your life naked. I'm fine with it. Sure it's 20 degrees outside and there is still some snow on the ground. Of course with the wind chill at 2 that could cause some issues for your exposed skin but it's your choice.

I have told you before but apparently it bears repeating. I do not negotiate with terrorists. Our dryer is fast and as you can tell from the fact that you are now wearing said matching sweatshirt, all things dry in time. Since I see no visible scars from putting on the T-shirt that matches the pants, I am pretty sure you are going to survive to tell your shrink about this one.

Now that we have the clothing issue out of the way, can we please have a better day? Your darling Orangutan shared her barfs with me and I am really not in any kind of mood to deal with your terrorism any more today.

With deepest love and thanks,

The Zookeeper

The Tale of Two Bunk Beds

2009-03-02T13:16:00.005-05:00

Let me begin by saying that Lion and I have never assembled bunk beds. We have never slept in them or really had anything to do with them. And now that you know this you will probably understand that bed assembly turned into a real fiasco.

Step 1 - Bring all the pieces into the room. This went very well without any hiccups or even scuffing a wall.

Step 2 - Prep pieces. Glitch #1 - We were missing two nuts for the bolts that held the bed rails to the headboard. Lion made a run to The Mighty Home Depot. If I may interject a side note? We were in Home Depot every... single...day last week. Did I mention that they owe me stock?

Step 3 - Assembly. It went perfectly! And then we lifted the frames up to put one on top of the other and realized (Glitch #2) that both headboards needed to be on the top bunk in order for one to go on top of the other. We had them assembled as two twins instead of in the bunk bed configuration.

Step 4 - Disassemble and reassemble in proper configuration. Add slats and base board and matresses. Insert Glitch #3. When we went to put the ladder on for the top bunk we realized that we had put the side rail on the wrong level. There was a setting for bunks (upper) and one for twins (lower). We had both on the lower.

Step 5 - Take top bunk back down and completely disassemble and reassemble. Put back on top of top bunk. Double check ladder and side rail and put on base board and mattress. I discovered that I can't be in the top bunk (suspicious creakings) to make the beds and I'm too short to make them from the floor. If you are ever visiting and you need the step ladder, it's in the girls' room.

Step 6 - Bring in the dresser. Move O's clothes into the proper dresser. This got really entertaining because when he saw her stuff moving out, Rhino couldn't help fast enough! I've never seen shoes fly but they sure were yesterday.

The bunk beds took us a full 4 hours. I was so shaky and tired by the time we were done I was ready to declare that I would die in this house before I would ever move. I still may.

The Great Switch-a-Room: The Big Reveal!

2009-03-02T12:50:00.002-05:00

How to Tell You're a Grown Up by The Orangutan

2009-02-28T22:37:00.009-05:00

It was feeding time at the Zoo Thursday night and the small exhibits were gathered around their corn dogs chomping away with glee. Lion and I were discussing whether we should have egg noodles or rice under our beef tips. It was a pleasant little Cleaver scene when Rhino decided he was done.

He got up from the table, pooched his belly out as big as he could get it and said, "See Mom! I'm all full."

Before I could say a word Orangutan jumped in. "Rhino, if your belly is getting that big it must mean you are getting to be a grown up because grown ups have big bellies. Well, Daddy grown ups do but Mommy grown ups don't. The have straight down flat bellies."

Lion and I just looked at each other and started to laugh but I composed myself and I asked the inevitable question, "Orangutan, why? Why are grown up Daddy bellies big and Mommy bellies flat?"

"That's easy Mom! Because Daddys eat a lot and lot of food and just sit and Mommys don't eat very much at all."

They don't? Why don't mommys eat?

"Because they are too busy working and feeding everybody and taking care of everybody and being bossed around. They don't get to eat breakfast or lunch and they only get to eat dinner if the kids are done eating and will leave them alone."

She's going to be a great mom. With a flat belly.

Must be a Daddy Tang!