Sunday, May 12, 2013

Mother's Day of Rekoning.

5:30 am: Taking Pugsley for her morning "walk" in the bushes. Knowing at any minute we will both be devoured by one of last years neigborhood bears, I think about the coroner for Timothy Treadwell and how he wryly dictated into a mic the contents of the bears stomach.
I can just imagine how Dr.Fallico would have described me. Ah yessss, blue threads consistent with a natty, worn bathrobe. Blue rubber chunks with flowers, yessss appears to be Bogs, possible size 7. Victim Number 1 obviously cared about her appearance, as she coordinated her footwear with her outerwear perfectly.

5:45 am: Back from surviving near bear attack. Back in bed, with dog. Hopefully she is putting her dirty little paws all over John's empty pillow. Bring back the sleep.

6:15 am:  Jack quietly creeps into the room only to loudly announce that he would like me to put in the password on the computer, because his penguin is in dire need of help.

6:16 am: Go back to bed Jack, it's 6:16 in the morning. Sunday morning. Stomp, stomp, stomp up the stairs he went. The tone for the day has been set and there is no remedy.

7:15 am: Trudge upstairs with Pugsley. Turn down Pokemon. Have lethal thoughts of euthanizing Pikachu.

7:30 am: Does anyone want sausage and eggs for breakfast. Ooooh me, me. I hear happy boys chant.

7:45 am:" Sausage, you made sausage? Are you out of your mind? How could you do this to me! Of all days, sausage, you give me sausage". I am feeling like the dog needs another walk and I get another shot at being devoured by a bear and not a gnarly eight year old.

Fast forward through a morning of boys arguing, teasing and being plain nasty. Except for the cheerios and coffee Brodie served to me on a cookie sheet.

10:15 am: Brodie kindly goes to fetch the dog out of the boggy wet bushes after she does her duty and steps knee deep into a giant pile of dog poop. Not normal poo. I know who's poo this is and it doesn't belong from any dog at my house. This is neighbor dog poo and it's nasty! Poor Brodie, calmly walks out of the bushes, gently sets Pugsley down and proceeds to take of his boots, with neighbor's nasty dog poo all over his bare legs(he was wearing shorts). Leaving boots for Daddy to deal with when he arrives home. 

12:00 pm: It's time to go to riding lessons! Yeah, you like riding horses. I like watching you be happy, let's go be happy!

12:01 pm: I don't really want to ride today, maybe tomorrow. Tomorrow is a school day. Today is happy riding day. Let's go! blah blah blah Okay, I am buying McDonald's for the 45 minute ride to happy horse lessons.

12:12 pm: Oh no, my fries! MY FRIES! First sausage and now this! Fries are now officially feeding the cootie bugs that dwell on the Fuelinator's floor boards.

1:00pm Mickey, I want to ride Sierra.I am not going to ride Mickey. But you rode Sierra last week it's Brodie's turn to ride Sierra. NO.....huge tantrum. 

1:09 pm: Brodie is happily learning to stand and gallop. Jack is learning that Equine Therapy Autistic Camp leaders, won't be having any of your stompy, yelling, hissing fits. You young man are going to ride on that horse. And he did. And he frowned the whole hour.

3:00 pm: Boys, Mommy needs to put her feet up for just a few minutes. But what about Club Penguin? Aren't we going to plant the flowers? If their not tomatoes I am not planting them. This coming from a child who has never, ever eaten a tomato that wasn't sauce or ketchup. What about Diary of a Wimpy Kid?

4:30 pm: Boys, Boys, argue argue. Go to your room. Honey if the puppy is biting your leg you shouldn't put her up to your face, your lip will feel better, yes, I am sure.

6:45 pm: One boy sent to bed early for hitting.

6:50 pm: My throat hurts when I swallow my spit or cough. 100 degree temp.Tylenol, water, jammies, teeth, bed. Fingers crossed his cooties go away and this house stays quiet until morning. And I mean mommy morning time, not puppy morning

8:00 pm: Just noticed the Floorboard Fries. 

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