Finding the funny in parenthood before somebody loses an eye...

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Banana Splits for Dinner

This is such a great idea and a beautiful story from my friend at editor, Rebecca Dube, at, about a mom's wish for her dying son.

All they are asking is that we all put aside the broccoli, pasta, chicken, peas, meatloaf, and yes...even chicken nuggets for ONE NIGHT to have banana splits for dinner with our kids - making a lifetime memory with our own children in honor of her son.

Not that I need much cajoling to eat Ice Cream Sundaes, but what a great reason to do it.  I am so there.

Check out the story HERE, cry your eyes out, then plan this with your kids ASAP.

Friday, June 15, 2012

My Evil Nemesis Has Gone Too Far

I have an enemy and he just crossed the line.

There is this really fat squirrel who lives in the bushes outside my house and we've been at odds since last year's fig harvest.

My fat furry 'friend' has a penchant for fresh figs and last fall when our Black Mission Figs ripened on our fig tree it became a daily fight to see who would get the juiciest figs.

What really annoyed me is, he's discerning.  He wouldn't just grab any fig from the tree.  No.  He would wait it out.  Watch them ripen.  Both of us, waiting for JUST the right moment for picking.  I might leave a fig overnight thinking "it just needs one more day to be perfect" and then find it plucked from the tree the next day.  It's half-eaten figgy carcass left on the wall of the stairway, taunting me.

Occasionally, I would get to the fig first.  And I could see him.  Sitting on his fat furry ass on the wall of our stairway outside - giving me the evil eye.

Everyday of fig season was like this.   And I was REALLY pissed. 

I considered running him over with my car.

Well, the summer figs have come in (they are the harvest before the good ones in the fall) and he's trying to gorge himself.  Testing them for ripeness.  Trying to get to them before I do.   Unfortunately, because they're not very good he leaves the partially 'tasted' figs all over the stairway.  He's clearly, plucking, sniffing, and scoffing.  Littering the stairway to my home with rejected figs.  Reminding me, "it's ON!"

But yesterday, Ben slipped on a fig and fell down the stairs.  Luckily, he's fine.  But seriously, this battle has escalated - he's taking out my family members.

Now it's war.

He'd better watch out, cuz I have a full tank of gas.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Instead of packing, I made this video of our hamster, Reggie...

Filmed our hamster on his wheel and put it to music. 

Isn't it kinda a platitude for motherhood?'s over.  Back to packing...

Monday, June 11, 2012

Four Stores and Seven Malls Ago...

I didn't think it was possible, but I hate shopping.  And I have camp to thank for it.

Shopping for three kids for seven weeks of sleepaway camp has pushed me over the edge.

I finally tackled the supply list provided to us by the camp and was more than a little shocked to see the amount of clothing and gear necessary for 3 children to swim all day, play some games and occasionally bathe.

 To give you a better idea - here's just a sampling of what the list suggests three small people need to enjoy their camping experience:

60 pairs of socks
42 pairs of underwear
9 pairs of jeans
18 swimsuits
30 pairs of shorts (9 of which have to be white, 6 red and 9 blue)
60 t-shirts (again, 9 white, 6 red and 9 blue)
36 towels
12 bottom sheets
24 pillow cases
and 12 bottles of sunscreen
and 6 bars of soap

I'm sure there's a partridge in a pear tree in there somewhere.   Although how I'm going to pack livestock is beyond me.

They also suggest each child bring a lacrosse stick, tennis racquet, softball glove, a hockey stick and rollerblades.  Rollerblades!  Seriously?  Where the heck are the kids gonna rollerblade?  In the mess hall?

But I have dutifully made my rounds of every kid's boutique, sporting good store, and Target in a 15 mile radius. And I think we've got everything.  We have purchased t-shirts, swimsuits, gym shorts, sweatshirts, underwear, shin guards, tennis racquets, egg crate mattress toppers, sheets, towels, plastic bins, reusable water bottles, sunscreen and enough socks to foil any plan on the camp laundry's part to de-sockify my children before visiting day. 

My TV room is a piled so high and so deep in camp gear that I'm missing a TV remote and not even bothering to look for it.  It's a needle in a haystack as far as I'm concerned.  I can watch TV when they're gone.

There doesn't seem to be any end in site to the packing and labeling and I'm definitely getting worried I won't get the trunks to camp in time.

To relieve some of my stress I thought it would be funny to hide a plastic cockroach in Livi's bathing suit pile and see what would happen when my nanny - who was kind enough to offer to help me label part of the heap - stumbled upon it.   It was hilarious.   I'm labeling my own clothes now.  

Three more days to finish labeling, piling and get the trunks off and headed East.  Then it's 7 weeks of camp.  7 weeks away from my kids.  7 weeks of silence.


Maybe I can fit myself into one of those trunks.

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