Well, I'll have you know that the Big Guy walked the yard and chatted with me while I picked up dog poop since this morning is trash day. He even pointed some out to me that I overlooked.
We just loved the fact that you couldn't wait to take your yappy little dog for a walk out back while my children and neighbors were partaking in the fascinating sight of the Bald Eagle sitting on the bank of the pond ripping the fish to shreds that he'd just successfully stolen from the Osprey.
Might I make a suggestion?
Next time, I'd try a bullhorn if you're trying scare away predators from your tasty little snack on a leash
We also particularly enjoyed watching the Eagle abandon his meal and fly away to safety due to the intrusion.
That was special.
By the way, I hear that the swimming in the pond is just lovely between dusk and dawn. Don't worry, alligators can't see in the dark.
I can't keep up with anything lately. I've forgotten not one, but two of my bestest friends birthdays. I have them on my calendar, but it's a better system when I actually look at it.
These aren't just any friends either. These are hold your hair back while you puke your guts out friends.
Those kind of friends are hard to come by.
My life has been in a state of constant chaos since we've moved, but that's no excuse.
I'm talking reach down while walking the kids to the bus stop to make sure that you have pants on chaotic.
That would not be funny.
Well, it would be if it happened to somebody else, but not to me.
So Linda, when you read this, I'm sorry and I suck, but you already knew that.
I know. I promise that I'll get my daily reads back up and rolling this week.
What can I say? I'm a slacker.
It's not like I've been sitting on the couch watching the L Word eating bon bons all day while the short people are at school learning how to behave in a civilized manner since they obviously can't depend on me in that department.
I fought what claimed to be a Palmetto Bug in my laundry room last week. After we arm wrestled for the iron, we agreed to give up and go our separate ways. I have a sneaking suspicion that it was a Scarab that hitched a ride from ancient Egypt in disguise though.
I'm hard to fool.
I discovered that we have a skink living in our garage. My new neighbors weren't quite sure what to think when Little Man blurted out at the bus stop that we keep a skank in the garage.
I'll leave that one to the imagination and rumors.
The Drama Queen's first cake rocked.
The instructor said that it was prettier than mine. Not that I compete with my children, but that's not to happen again. I would show you mine, but I already ate it accidentally dropped it on the floor.
Saturday night rolled around and I was no closer to cooking dinner than I was to losing that baby weight that I've been bitchin' about for the past 6 years.
The hubs is pretty easy to talk into take-out on the weekends and I really wanted a hamburger from 5 Guys. I figured that since I wasn't going to cook the least I could do was go and get it.
Aren't you going to call it in?
Nah. How long can it take?
Um, hello stupid. I floundered in teenage purgatory for freaking hour.
When I ordered my food, I heard "95? 95's ready." Apparently, the numbers go up to 100 and then start over. I was number 26. Get the picture here?
As I'm standing there shifting restlessly from one foot to the other realizing that my kids my be out of college by the time I hear "26? 26's ready", I glanced down at the floor and noticed 2 things.
1. There have got to be a gagillion peanut shells on the floor 2. I really need a pedicure
The little blonde lollipop next to me was all a buzz about how Orlando Magic's Dwight Howard goes to the Chick Fil-A close to his house every Tuesday and that she was going to start going. I'm sure that will thrill him to no end. I'm not even going to ask just how she knows where he lives.
Then she turned to me and asked,
"What number are you?"
"26"
"NO WAY!!"
"Way"
"I'm number 37!"
"NO WAY"
"Hey, that older lady's number is 26!"
I'm sure she's still picking peanut shells out of her hair. I hope she's not allergic.....
I've never claimed to be a perfect parent. I have my moments. The odd thing is, I've had people ask me for parenting advice. Why, I have no idea.
Okay, so I yell at my kids a little. Okay, okay, a lot, but that's only because they're partially deaf and can't hear anything that comes out of my mouth until it's loud enough to break glass.
I have never said anything to them that would hurt their feelings and they rarely get spankings. Yeah, so I threaten to rip their legs off and beat them with them every once in a while. It's only to make a point and besides, it doesn't work anyway.
Nothing pisses me off more than hearing of children being mistreated.
"Why don't you take me on?"
Can you imagine being sprayed with a pressure washer at arms length? Can you imagine being 2 1/2 and being sprayed with a pressure washer by your mother?
This was the top story here in Orlando yesterday...
Her defense was that the hose wasn't on full force. And that makes it okay?? She said that she uses a spray bottle when she has tantrums. I'm sorry but, she's a child not a freaking cat that your trying to stop sharpening his claws on the sofa.
And to the lady that watched for a moment and then walked away.
Children are supposed to be able to count on their parents to protect them from harm. Who's going to protect the children from their parents if no one speaks up.
posted by Robyn at 4:21 AM
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