Hanging Tough
I never owned a New Kids on the Block CD or cassette tape. I was one of those who walked in the crowds of New Kids haters. They were no good, at least that is how I remember them.
New Kids performed on the Today show this morning. I was witness to it, but didn’t realize who I was singing along to until I looked up from tweezing my eyebrows. To my absolute amazement I knew nearly every word they were singing.
Yikes.
Ladies and Gentleman, this might be a sign of the times, it’s the last days.
The birds
I took my children to feed the ducks the other day, or so I thought.
Oh look, those cute ducks spotted our bread crumbs!
Why does that little duck look alarmed?
What the crap are those?
RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!
EVERYONE GET IN THE CAR!
THEY ARE COMING FOR US!!
And then we drove to the hospital to be tested for bird flu.
High School Musical III
There has been great excitement here at the Evanzstox household. Great Excitement.
Just when being a young American girl couldn’t get any better for my two daughters, Zac Efron decided to drive down my Mother’s street this morning. If you didn’t hear their shrills across the land consider yourselves lucky.
Apparently Disney is filming part of High School Musical III on my Mother’s block. Being the wonderful mother I am, I decided to surprise my children with some photos of the spectacle. Unfortunately as I neared the house where filming is going to take place, I started to get a little anxious. Surely if my daughters were with me I would have been more confident, but as I started to envision myself on the six o’clock news as a “Mother of three, and stalker of Zac Efron”, I shrank into my drivers seat. As I drove past the house I quickly snapped this shot, and drove off, because people, I have lost it. Completely lost it.
Let’s take a closer look.
Yep, they are setting up.
If this was a film site of a new Billy Idol music video I would proudly strut cross the lawn and snap photos like I was popping corn. But this was not Billy, this was Zac, and I felt foolish. That won’t stop me from going back with my girls tonight to get more photos, besides, with them in toe I can look like the cool mom, rather than the sick 30-something lady trying to get a close up look at Mr. Efron.
When I was a young girl, part of Steven King’s “The Stand” was filmed on our street. The morning they began filming, Steven King himself stood on our front lawn and talked to various people who were involved with the mini movie. I was afraid of Mr. King and didn’t take any photo’s of his production. My mother on the other hand was completely inthralled with it, but then again she liked watching the OJ Simpson case, so I guess that might explain that. None of this has anything to do with High School Musical, Did you notice how I went from Zac to OJ in a matter of seconds? Frightening.
Monster Children
I gave birth to the bride of Frankenstein,
a vampire,
and a mummy.
.
My experience as a mother has been full of unexpectant surprises.
And devilish smirks.
There are times I don’t know if we are coming,
or going
but even after the standoffs,
and fires,
I have always felt privileged to be the mother of my three monsters.
Even after Mrs. Frankenstein locked my car keys in my car, or the rotting string cheese mess under my little vampire’s bed, or the two open boxes of Honest Kids pouched fruit drinks my mummy poked holes in and tossed all over the family room, EVEN after the yelling, the drama, the tattletales, the diaper blow-outs, I’m still honored to be called mom.
I really lucked out because nobody checked my credentials or even conducted a background check before letting me leave the labor and delivery room. I was handed my bundled babes without any questions asked.
Today, as a daughter, I show my mother how much I appreciate her on Mother’s Day. As a mother, I want to thank my children for tolerating my mothering efforts. They really are but only guinea pigs in this adventure. I live and learn my way through Motherhood and many times my children take the hits and misses without even seeing them coming. I love them for that.
Happy Mother’s Day to my three monstering guinea pigs. Every day that I steer this ship without sending one of us off to walk the plank is a reason to celebrate. Looks like we survived another year. Say hooray.
Jackass
Holy cow, my photos are working again. Hee Haw!
Hosed
Yesterday I had the thrill of watching Claude and his new gardening buddy turn on his sprinkling system. Witnessing Claude get sprayed down and tripping in his ivy while trying to get away from the spray, was pure entertainment.
As Claude started to launch F-bombs I quickly ran inside my house so they couldn’t hear my cackles. Unfortunately our doors that face his backyard were wide open, so when I yelled “Hey kids, Come down and watch Claude run through the sprinklers” he heard my every word. I guess that explains why he was glaring at us as we pressed our faces up against the glass window.
It was worth getting caught because as we locked eyes his rain bird came spraying back around and hosed Claude good. As he was cursing the devil we pointed and laughed.
Point for Claude, 2 points for us.
Shoe talk
Do you say “please put your shoes and socks on” or “please put your socks and shoes on”?
Speaking of shoes, there was a person with a stinky foot problem today at the figure skating rink . I dared a fellow skate mom to walk by him and take a whiff. She did. And that is why I love her. It’s that kind of loyalty that makes everlasting friendships.
Please bring our dog fine cuts of meat only
My Hubby was listening to a segment on how to train your dog to not bark and go berserk whenever someone knocks on the front door. The suggestion was to have a treat ready for the visitor to give the dog before they knock on the door, so when the dog runs to the door she will learn to react to the situation with glee, instead of ripping flesh from the visitor’s leg.
Gucci has become yappy and stressed out by the mailman and visitors ever since her accident. Two years ago the neighbor boy, who had been grounded and sent to his room by his mother, escaped his house, jumped on his bike, rode to our back yard and ran Gucci over. We were afraid she was paralyzed because she couldn’t walk, and was barely breathing. After a long night at the Vet ER and $1600.00 later, Gucci Pucci was home and doing her best to recover. She had bruised lungs and a new temper towards bicyclists. Six months later, while viciously shaking mail that dropped out our mail slot, Gucci smacked her head on our rod-iron chair and knocked herself out cold. Her heart was only beating 4 beats a minute, we almost lost her. She suffered neurological damage. Gucci had to learn how to eat and walk again. Her eyes don’t speak to her brain, is the quick explanation for her new yappy crankiness. It takes her a minute to realize what/who she sees is not a threat, or that tall lady walking across the lawn is me, her momma, and not a tall lady rushing to steal her Science Diet puppy chow, in which case she’ll bark up a lung and charge my shoes like a land evolved Parana.
Today, as I was just stepping out of the shower, the UPS man knocked on the door. I yelled down the stairs to Little Man “DO NOT OPEN THE DOOR!” I was too late, the door was open and Gucci was already in full freak out mode. I saw the UPS guy harshly shove her across the threshold with his boot, she hit her head as she slid across our tiled floor.
I don’t think there is a treat or meaty bone big enough in the world, Gucci now officially hates everyone who comes to our door. Thank you Little Man, and THANK YOU UPS man.
Talking to Ralph on the big white telephone
I may have told you this before, and if I have please pretend I haven’t, I really need some support here, “I hate to be sick, 80% of my day is spent dodging germs”.
Late last night at about midnight, after Hubby and I were through complaining to each other about how beat down tired we were, we heard Sas stomp to her bathroom upstairs. Every time one of our children gets up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, it makes my heart stop, and I hold my breath while waiting to hear a victory flush. But last night, there was no victory flush. There was nothing of the sort. Unfortunately my ears rang to the tune of vomit splashing on the floor. Followed by moans and groans and then a high pitched “DADDY!”, she knew calling for him was the wiser choice since her mother would be doing her best to get herself together. Getting myself together I did not. Instantly I started to recount the past couple of days. What did she eat? Who was she around? Is this food poisoning (please Lord) or worse? Is it the dreaded virus that inspired Walt Disney to make Splash Mountain (oh no Lord, please have mercy on my Lysol carrying soul)?
We were up all night with Sas. At 3:00 AM I snapped “Do you see the importance of washing your hands little girl? And, why you don’t share food at school?” Then I pointed to Gucci’s kennel and made her sleep there for the rest of the night. Not really, it was late, and Gucci’s kennel is the size of a shoe box.
Sass dry heaved every 30 minutes on the dot. She is a trooper.
Sitting here, relieved that she has been able to sleep an entire hour, and daydreaming about how life will be when my children are away to college, because then if illness strikes me down, it will almost be like a vacation. I’ll rent movies, order soups, stay in bed in comfy PJ’s, read a book, and drink tea. It WILL be a freaking vacation, because nothing, let me repeat, NOTHING IS WORSE THAN SICK KIDS.
I think we will survive. I have bleached, and scrubbed. I suited the others in face masks and latex gloves. I stripped down to nothing after scrubbing the porcelain phone and tossed my scrubbing clothes into a garbage bag along with the other evidence of illness. Once the bag was full, I hog tied it and threw it off the balcony. I have given Hubby instructions to take the bag and bury it in the desert.
Oh O, phone is ringing, Lord help me, it’s Ralph.
Looking for Spring
It’s beginning to look a lot like spring time
Everywhere you go.
take a look at Claude’s lawn, boy, it’s surely long,
with thawing links under the melted snow.
It’s beginning to look a lot like spring time
Gucci blamed for every turd,
But the prettiest sight I’ve seen is the poop that Claude just flinged (flung, work with me people)
On my own front porch.
