This is SCARY Stuff!

This morning my alarm went of at 5am.  I got out of bed, changed the alarm to 6am, and crawled BACK into bed.

At 6am, my alarm went off AGAIN. 

Aren't you glad to know that the alarm on my phone functions just as it should?

Well, unfortunately instead of "snooze" I hit "dismiss."

Which, of course meant I went right back to sleep...

Fast forward what felt like mere seconds.  I stretched, grabbed my phone, and decided to use my weather app to see what the weather would be like...Because experience has taught me that the first words out of my youngest daughters mouth (behind her lengthy groan at having to rise) will be "What's the weather going to be like today?"

Anyway, I grabbed my phone from underneath my right hip, and just as I hit the "unlock" I heard an eerie "swishhhhhhh."

?!

I can always hear Kelsey's collar jingle as she trots down the hall to tell me it's time to get my carcass out of bed.  And Chesney always makes Chewbacca sounds as she stretches, and even if those bizarre growls don't wake me, her tail whacking the door frames as she goes down the hall certainly will.

But all I could hear was a very constantly paced "swissshhhhhh."  And it was coming down the hall to my room!  Hashtag!  Something is coming to get me!

I said in a weak, thready voice, "Kelsey?"  The swish remained steadily paced.  No reassuring jingle. 

"Chesney?"  No thumping tail or Wookiee moans to alert me as to the identity of the source.

You know how when you first wake up, your brain is fuzzy and perhaps not rational?  Well, I don't know what the heck I thought was swishing down the hall to me, but it took all of my willpower not to let out a blood curdling scream when warm breath started fanning my face.

Then I realized the warm breath was attached to a dog that was carrying her security blanket down the hall, and since she was dragging it, she apparently wasn't wagging her tail or talking in Wookiee.

She was just scaring the crap out of me.

But in the end it was all good, as I had actually went back to sleep for FORTY minutes instead of a mere few seconds. 

Turns out that early adrenaline rush was just the thing to get me moving quickly to get everyone out the door on time!

The Rotation

The dogs sleep in the house at night.  I bring them in around 8:30 or so, and since time has changed, but Kelsey has no concept of time change, she huffs past me and heads straight to bed.  Her frustration with my lack of consideration for her sleep time are quite obvious. 

Chesney, however runs around like a spazz, fetching and retrieving and generally acting goofy.  Until she finds the bag of sweet potatoes, and if you aren't quick enough, you will notice it is too quiet.  Quiet like, "what are my children doing" quiet.  Only my kids are usually in bed, and Chesney can usually be found quietly noshing on a sweet potato.  So, if you happen to notice puncture marks in your sweet potatoes when you are at my house, I have no idea how they got there.

This is Chesney's painful attempt at "stay."  I assure you every fiber of her being want to dash up to me, then crawl between my legs and lay down.  It's her safe spot.

Anyway, sometime between the hours of 5:30 and 7:00am, I let the dogs out.  The time is now gloriously fluid because A)have I mentioned I only go to work twice per week now and B)Chesney's bladder is a little more able to take a longer sleep in. 

As I let the dogs out, an amazing cycle begins.  A cat jumps over both dogs as they scramble out the back door.  Then, if the cat is Oliver, he runs to the front door and meows.  Now, this makes little sense to me as he just came from the BACK door, but now he wants out the front door.  Although, why it surprises me is ridiculous.  He meows at the gate to the yard if I'm outside too.  But I don't blame him.  Would you rather scale a chain link fence, or let your human open the gate for you?  Anyway, I let his majesty out the front door.

As I go into the kitchen to start up my Keurig, invariably I hear a chirruping "meow."  That would be Misty.  The ruckus at the back door has woken her.  I open the door and ask "How do you get in here every night?  Every night I put you both OUTSIDE, yet one or the other finds their way BACK in the garage before I get up."  You see, the cat in the garage, and the cat outside rotates.  I never know if I will see a streak of gray sleekness leap over the dogs, or a mass of black and white fluff. 

It kind of keeps things fresh, y'know?

So, in this particular example of the morning rotation, Misty is in the garage.  And she is using her chirruping meow.  I open the door, because I'm stupid, and she runs in the house, weaves herself around my legs, then proceeds to the front door, where I have just released Oliver, and lets out a long, plaintive, raspy "meeeeoooooow."  Of course, the kids are still asleep about 60% of the time at this point.  Or at least, they are PRETENDING to be asleep as they do not want to leave the comfort of their warm beds.  So, in order to give my little angels a few moments more shut eye, I open the door to let Misty out.  Because apparently I have no authority over the cats in this house.   I mean, I put them out every night.  Every morning at least one is in the garage, demanding to be released.*

Oh, don't let that calm demeanor fool you.  This cat outright talks to you.  And if she doesn't get her way, she talks and talks and talks until you just give in and do whatever it is she wanted in the first place.

You know what happens next, right?  Oliver runs right into the house, seeing as I have not filled his food dish, and that was the only reason he wanted on the front porch in the first place.  Now the thing with Oliver is this:  He owns a human.  Well, he owns three technically.  Because Bookworm takes no ownership of him whatsoever, and I scratch him when I fancy, and Brent pretty much dotes on him.  But Popcorn?

Oh, he OWNS her.  She knows it.  He knows it.  Shoot, the whole family knows it.

Well, upon discovering that I have not filled his food dish as was his wont, he dashes back into the house. Gentle Reader, let it be known that I NEVER fill the food dish of any animal in this house unless my children are gone.  So why he considers this a surprise every single morning is a mystery.  However, he is greatly offended.  And he knows exactly who to go tattle to.  He pussy foots his fluffy self right past me, makes a persnickety left at the piano, and heads directly to his child.  He prances into her room, meowling his strangely dainty meow for an 18 pound ball of fluff, and hops onto Popcorn's bed.

Here is Mr. Flufferpants himself, surveying his child's domain

She promptly picks him up and carries him...

To the garage.  Where she shuts the door, then goes to her room to get ready for school.

As I typed this post, I kept having one thought buzz around my brain "The definition of insanity is repeating the same thing over and over yet expecting different results."

For the life of me, I can't tell you who the insane one is.

*Gentle Reader, the magic of the cats in the garage has turned out to not be magic at all.  It turns out that as Brent leaves through the garage, then out the door to the back yard through the garage, at least one cat darts in.  And then plaintively meows.  And then he feeds them.  IN THE GARAGE.  The issue with this is that I was scolding the girls for WEEKS that they had better stop feeding the cats in the garage so the cats would quit dashing in every time the door was opened.  Of course, they denied feeding the cats.  "Then how does the bowl of food keep appearing?"  Oh, Gentle Reader, the culprit was found out.  And then I learned that not only do I have no authority over the cats in my life, apparently I have none over my husband who can't stand to hear their pitiful wails at 4:30 in the morning. 
 

Bodies in Motion

Have you ever worked out with Gilad?  He's this Jewish guy who did work outs in the 90s, and then got restarted a few years ago on Fit TV.  Of course, we no longer receive Fit TV, as we have antennae.  But I still have some of his workouts on DVD and they are quite painful.  Anyway, I always chuckled when at the end of the workout he would say, "Thank you for trusting me with your body."  It's always nice to end a sweatfest with a chuckle.

Hey, guess what?  I decided to check out Gilad on Youtube and sure enough he has posted several workouts for your sweating enjoyment!  Here is a sample of his first video:

A body in motion tends to stay in motion.  That's why after I got home from a class at work, I should NEVER have SAT DOWN and attempted to figure out how to do my schedule from home online.  After 45 minutes I gave up and got through to the helpline.  Only to discover that indeed I'm NOT stupid, but that the program does not work under the search engine I was using.  So that was good to know...

And once I finally got that ordeal worked through, I was utterly worthless...Because I got sucked into my computer and found myself reading blogs/emails/and facebook.  Which is why I've still avoided Pinterest.  My thighs can't survive it.

Monday was my daughter's first school basketball game.  She is in 7th grade, and it was painful.  The final score was 34 to 7.  They.  The opposing team girls ran circles around our little novices...

But even though we got it handed to us, it was still imminently more enjoyable than a softball game where we come out ahead by 10 runs.  And I asked Brent "Why would ANYONE watch softball when they could be watching or playing THIS?"

Bookworm and I played a game of "21" on Saturday.  Only it turned in to a game of "11" because either we are both AMAZING at defense...or really terrible at offense.  The final score was 11 to 7, my favor.  And I was still sore on Monday.

Brent pointed out that he hardly ever takes shots on her, as he's 10 inches taller.  I told him she's not stupid and there's no glory in a hollow victory.  That is why my kids were never able to beat me at Twister.

Today I will endeavor to coupon for the first time in MONTHS.  But since I now get the Sunday paper, and have a dog who FETCHES the paper for me, I have an accumulation of coupons to choose from again.

Did you know that if we did NOT receive a paper, and I say "Go get the paper," this dog will indeed bring me a paper?  She may have to go steal it from the neighbors driveway, but she will always GET THE PAPER!  (And yes, I returned it.  Once I stopped laughing long enough to take it back.)

And, now it is time to put my body in motion and get busy with house work, since I've decided I will have a MUCH cleaner house now.  Going to work two days per week is the BOMB people!  Why on earth did I ever do eight hour shifts when I could work ridiculously long days, but be home other days?  Why, why, why?  Incidentally, I'm working three whole days the week after Thanksgiving.  I'm pretty sure there will be weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth.

By me, of course.

Christmas Letters and Cats

To continue his Christmas card tyranny over my life, Studmuffin gave me a lecture on the NECESSITY of giving cards to everyone in church who gave us a card.  We have this mail box that sits in the hallway, and you put the cards in the box according to last name.  I've always avoided this, as I see these people, and feel they are up on my life, so giving them a card seems superfluous.  Studmuffin said "it's the right thing to do."  Since when did he become the voice of social etiquette in this house, Gentle Reader.

He is currently signing cards that I bought last year and never got out.

The really funny thing about that is I had bought the cards and even ADDRESSED THE STUPID ENVELOPES, but because I had never gotten around to writing my annual Christmas letter, I REFUSED TO MAIL THEM OUT!!  Guess what?  As of last week we had ten cards in our church box...And I had exactly ten envelopes left over that weren't addressed.

If that isn't the hand of God reaching down and saving me from a lecture from my husband, Gentle Reader, I don't know what is!

I did write my letter this year.  Studmuffin made sure it got printed, as I really was resisting even writing the darn thing...I've become a little jaded as in previous years I've mailed out well over 50 cards and only gotten 10-15 back...Please, refrain from mentioning that the gift Christ gave us was freely given, and thankfully I don't have to earn it.

I confess I'm a little too human in the Christmas card department.  This year I weeded my list down to 30, not counting the ones my husband is signing to place lovingly in the church Christmas mail box.

In other completely unrelated news, guess who came to our house last Friday night?

Popcorn was so excited I thought she was going to weep.  All she wanted for Christmas/birthday was a kitten.  However, since we have TWO children, and we previously had TWO kittens, Studmuffin felt quite certain we needed TWO more cats (remember ours disappeared).

Are we insane, or WHAT???

So, just to clarify the count:  We have two dogs, Kelsey and Chesney, both of which live in the house about 50 percent of the time.  We have Oliver, the tom cat who will live forever and ever as far as my children are concerned.  He lives outside.  Unless he decides to live in the garage.  Or the house.  Or even Studmuffin's shop.  Basically, Oliver is king of this castle, and he lives wherever he wants to...

And now, to add to this chaos we have two four month old Russian Blue cats.  They are litter mates, and were headed to the  pound, until we decided to "save" them and give them to the girls.

I'm sure there's a diagnosis for crazy people like us, but I really don't want to know what it is.

NO PETS ALLOWED

My parents never allowed us to have pets in the house. 

Never.

Never.

NEVER!!!

I once had a beautiful calico kitty that I got from my Aunt Christina named Callie.  It seemed as if she was in going to live in the house forEVER...It seems very unlikely that she was in the house for any lengthy period of time at all, but I do know it was definitely long enough for me to fall madly in love with her and be ready for her to stay inside forever and ever and EV-UH!!!

One day my dad was home sick.  Now remember, Dad is a farmer/rancher.  If he was home sick, he was SICK sick, not just "I feel a little crummy, so I think I'll stay in and rest" sick. 

So Dad was home sick.  And lying in bed.  Surely he was knocking on death's door for these two events to occur.

I came home from school and Callie was outside.  I went in the house with all of my righteous indignation as only a middle school girl can have.  Believe me, I'm becoming VERY familiar with the righteous indignation of middle school girls...

"DAAaaadddd, why is Callie outside?  She is an INSIDE cat."

Dad looked at me in all of his fatherly fatherliness and he said quite sternly with no voice raised (he seldom raised his voice, if anything when he was REALLY angry he would talk very quiet and I'd cry), "That damn cat will never be in this house again."

Shock!  Horror!!!  He swore!  And in reference to my precious beautiful sweet little kitty!

"But DAAAaaaddd, I want her to be an inside cat."

"That damn cat climbed on my chest and pooped on me while I was asleep!  She will NOT come back in."

And that was that.  Thankfully, I had enough sense to keep my mouth shut on any further thoughts regarding the unfairness of an outdoor cat.

But just in case any of you happened to wonder about the relevance of the above photos of FOUR dogs...

These are all my parents granddogs that come INSIDE the house every time their children descend on them.

I have strictly forbidden any reptiles in our house...Especially pet snakes.

I'm a little nervous about what sort of grandpets my children will come toting home in about twenty years or so...

Puppy Antics...

It's raining today.

And it's my day off.

And there are no fantabulous deals at Homeland.

So I'm sitting on the couch sipping hot cocoa laced coffee and not feeling guilty for doing nothing...

Well, I'm feeling guilty about my thighs, but that's irrelevant.

The obvious answer to that dilemma is homemade banana and pumpkin bread...

I decided to delay that spurt of productivity by sharing some puppy antics with you...

Aawww!!  Look at that picture of innocence!

Too bad it was directly following a wild chase through the house by Popcorn who was endeavoring to save a baby bib I had stored in a cabinet under our bar that was made specifically for her by one of the leader of my MOPS group...The strings were dangling out after I had dug through the cabinet looking for my fall napkins...

The chase lead to this:

So, after much crashing and banging and excessive yelling by everyone present she decided she should lay docilely on the floor to prove her overall cuteness.

Oh, and what about this sweet little snapshot I took last night?  Well, Brent had decided it was bedtime.  Chesney refused to lay down next to him on her pillow case and sack out with him on the floor.  (This is their normal 8pm routine, followed by me waking Brent around 9:30 and telling him to put his puppy to bed and come to bed with me.)

Well, as I said she did not feel like going to bed at 8pm last night.  Instead she was rolling around on the floor, getting into everything she shouldn't get into, and generally getting on his nerves as he wanted to go to sleep while watching the timeless Halloween classic "Lost Boys" on Netflix...

He scooped her up and shoved her in her crate.  And she proceeded to yelp and whine and whimper.  She did not WANT to be in her crate when the living room lights were still on and the family was still awake...

So she endeavored to keep the girls awake, and was quite successful!  They yelled "SERIOUSLY!!??  She is keeping us awake!"  So, I broke the rules and let her out of her crate where she walked directly to Kelsey's bed and promptly squeezed between her and the desk and went to sleep. 

I think Brent was slightly annoyed by her choice of sleeping partner...

Since it is raining, and I'm off work.  The dogs are in the house with me.  Chesney is getting a tad rambunctious.  I am trying to teach her that playing rough is not allowed in the house...Kelsey is not doing an adequate job of discipline, which is clearly her job...

I mean part of the family's argument when begging me to get a new puppy was that we needed a puppy while Kelsey was still young enough to "train" her...So far Kelsey is gleefully joining in games of tug of war with stuffed animals (dog toys, thankfully) and wrestling matches directly at my feet...

I lost my patience with their antics this morning and yelled in my best "I've had it" mommy voice...

"That is ENOUGH!!  Kelsey!!  GO TO BED!  Chesney!  Go AWAY!!!"
 

They slunk out of the kitchen and plopped down on the carpet, gazing woefully at me like this:

But it did not make me feel guilty.  Not one little bit.  Instead it inspired me to stop any pretense of productivity and write a blog!

And Chesney has decided that all is forgiven and she is running maniacally around the sofa I'm sitting on, weaving under the table the lap top is sitting on, behind the sofa, then behind the recliner, and between the end table and wall where she knocked the lamp off just two days ago.

Lord help me, what was I thinking when I decided to surprise Brent with a puppy???

Oh, but on a brighter note:  I hung some chimes from the door and have been using her nose to ring them each time I take her out...She has rang them THREE times this morning and went outside to potty!  I'm finally getting trained...

Drama Llama

I have all sorts of things to tell you about my family. 

I can't help but notice my nine year daughter has better handwriting than I ever will.

However, apparently some children are becoming more sensitive and would be horrified if I told the story of them getting off the bus a half mile from our house and running all the way home in the 108 degree heat because they were upset about something at school, and the fact that their sister was not on the bus to comfort them as the sister had went home for a play date... The unnamed child decided she could not sit on the bus a minute longer.

Drama llama.  I'm telling you.

Popcorn has been struggling with multiplication facts, so we've been refreshing her.  They stayed with my folks last week and apparently my dad decided to spring a pop quiz on her.  "Hey, what's 9X7?"

Popcorn looked at him and said, "Now what brought THAT up?"

And Dad laughed and failed to make her give him the correct answer.

She's sneaky that way.

School has begun.  Popcorn is liking school, which I interpret as "Loving School" and she has corrected me numerous times that she only likes it.  Considering she had determined she hated fourth grade before the year even began, I'm calling liking loving.  Because I'm the mom.



Bookworm is in MIDDLE SCHOOL.  They are having a back to school dance this Friday.  WHAT???  She just turned eleven!  She is not going to no stinkin' school dances.  Luckily, none of her friends are going. And she is going to a birthday party that night.  So, I'm off the hook.

WHEW!




The kittens are settling in well, as you could tell from my last post.  They have taught Lord Fluffypants (Oliver) how to play again.  This morning as I was sitting on the back porch sipping coffee Shyla dashed after him through the grass that is embarrassingly tall...He made the impulsive decision to run up a tree.

My focusing skills are amazing, no?

You realize he's all of eighteen pounds, right?  He got about four feet up and appeared to decide he did NOT belong in trees as it was a tax on his claws.  He clumsily repositioned his super sized self and jumped down with a giant THUD.

You know it's a tad disconcerting to watch an eighteen pound tom cat pounce on a three month old kitten.  Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera as they were wrestling in the yard...

When will I learn that I can never leave me camera in the house?

Well, today is my day off.   The kids have started school, so that means that I have mountains of housework to do since they no longer have time to be my Cinderellas.  So, I'm off to get laundry done and floors cleaned and bathtubs scrubbed.

Not to be redundant:  But the kittens are clearly NEVER in the house.

What are your plans for today?

Cow Skulls, Kittens, and a Drought

I seem to have fallen into a blogging slump again.  I have nothing interesting or witty to type.  I have lots to say, as anyone within a ten foot radius of me will tell you.  But nothing to blog.

 The situation is getting dire.

Kelsey is in love with Shyla.  What a name for a cat.  Shyla.  I obvioulsy had no say in the name.  

Regardless of her name, or the tom foolery of it, Kelsey loves her.  She grabs her between her front paws and licks and licks and licks.  I'm not sure Shyla is so in love with the situation.  But, it appears she's given up fighting it.

Of course, Kelsey is fenced in, and the kittens can go wherever they will.  Which seems to be primarily the back yard.  So it's not as if the kitten couldn't avoid the whole thing if she just stayed out of the back yard.  Simple solution, right?

Kelsey tends to leave Freckles be.  Maybe she prefers Shyla because she's a little fluffier?  Maybe that fluff makes her tastier?  Or dirtier?  Or easier to ruffle her fur?  Either way, Freckles is my husband's favorite.  He thinks she's prettiest, and she is certainly cuddly.

What I do know is that I was totally right about the cow skull I mentioned last winter.  It looks awesome in my garden.  

Oh, and in case you ever have trouble with your peppers growing at all, just remember the old coffee grounds trick.  Mine were void of leaves all summer, until I remembered that I always dumped my old grounds around the base of them when I made pots of coffee.  Now I simply peel the tops off my K cups and I have leaves and blooms and everything!

Hooray!

At this rate I will finally have poblano, bell, and jalapeno peppers by September.  

That is if they don't end up banning out door watering all together.  Which is what we're facing in our current water crisis.

Pray for rain.

Welcome to My Menagerie

The kittens are getting used to Kelsey.  Read here:  They've given up. 

She is quite certain she knows what is best for them, if they will only listen!

They are somewhat afraid they are looking at the face of death.

If a kitten can have death by dog licks, then they are correct.  Otherwise, she is just intent on keeping them in a particular location, which varies based on her whim.  Unfortunately, we've never presented her with two kittens at once.  While she is dragging one kitten back to where she wants it, the other escapes.  So, she goes after the escapee, and the whole process starts over.  Kelsey is quite overwhelmed, I assure you.

That is why they live in the front yard.  Sometimes the place she decides they need to be, is NOT by water.  So, I put them in the front yard so they can destroy all of my flowers, and have plenty of water to drink.

As you can see, they are NEVER ever EVER in the house. 

Nope.

Never.

This morning I kicked my kids out of bed by 7am to drag them along on a bike ride.  I put the kittens that only live outside, yet were in the garage for some strange reason outside.  Every night I head to bed and they are outside, sleeping on the front porch.  Every morning I wake up and they are in the garage, ready to pounce on my legs.  I scoop them up and carry them to the front porch.  It is a mystery, I'm tellin' ya.

Because, after all, my husband did NOT bring the kittens in the house at my mother-in-love's after I had promised they would stay outside.  Not him. He did NOT bring a large box into the bedroom that they could not climb out of, so the girls would view him as a hero, and me as an evil ogre who cares not if kittens die by the jaws of a coyote.

*SIGH*

So, I put the kittens out and was fixing my kids a highly nutritious breakfast of frozen blueberry waffles, when I looked outside and saw a horrific sight!  

Horrific!

Gastly!

A sight to never be borne!!

I sent Studmuffin out double quick to rescue the kittens from certain peril...

Guess who wants to join our family?  We opened the front door, and he went from running to our yard to falling to his side and showing us his belly.  We took this to mean he was a nonviolent sort of dog.  I told him "GO HOME!"  He trotted to my front mat and plopped down on it.

I think he's confused at what home I meant.

We took him on a 3 mile bike ride trying to discover who owned him...Nobody recognized him.  On our way home, he spotted a kiddy pool and ran to jump in it.

Popcorn and I looked at each other and said, "Let's ditch him."  And we peddled away as hard as we could.  Because, apparently, Popcorn has some evil ogre in her too.  That, and she was afraid I'd make her ride further, looking for his rightful home.

Guess who met us at the garage door?  He was waiting patiently for us.  He apparently cut through some back yards to beat us home.

Oliver is FURIOUS!!!  First two kittens, now this!  He is NOT a happy camper.  The kittens are none too fond of him either.  And Kelsey is confused as to why she is trapped in the back yard with a fence, yet this mongrel is wandering all over the neighborhood with the kids!

I had planned to load him in the car and go to our nearby vet to see if he had a microchip.  Guess who jumped in the fish pond and became quite malodorous?

Since he has no collar and is so eager to stay with us, I fear he was a dumped off dog.  I hope not, but I'm afraid that's the deal.

This particular neighbor girl is happy to take him home with her.  If only her mom will agree..

She has named him "Copper," and I am sure they will be the best of friends.  I even told her we would dog sit if they had to go out of town.

Cue evil laughter here.

What Happens When Kids Are Home Alone: Photographic Evidence

The scene: Thursday. 4pm. My house.

I got a phone call.

"Mommy! We are home alone!"

"Rachel isn't there?"

"NO Mommy! We got home and nobody is here!"

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. We're fine."

"Okay. I will call Rachel and see what's going on."

As it turns out, Gentle Reader, Rachel was there with in seconds of my hanging up the phone. I called her, and she was walking in my front door.

Today I found these pictures of Kelsey, taken in the few minutes before the girls called me. Now, doesn't it look like they were living in fear for their lives, and wondering who was supposed to be taking care of them?

The Post in Which I Reveal My Inherent Evilness

First before we begin my tale of inherent wickedness, let's discuss the above photo taken 2 years ago...When did this child suddenly start to go from the above to THIS?


Wednesday night was like any other Wednesday around this place. I got home about 8:30 after choir practice. I pulled into our driveway, and saw Studmuffin at the kitchen sink. "Oh, he's washing dishes. How sweet! Makes my heart go quiver..."

I pulled on into the garage, and he met me at my door. He had a very sly smile on his face. "Oh, now I understand!" my inner dialogue continued..."He's filling up my love tank and making sure I see all that he has done...I suppose I may reward him. Even though I didn't get a nap today." (Just keepin' it real, people)

I open my door. "What's up?"

"We've had a death in the family..."

Sadly, Gentle Reader, I immediately understood what he meant. I let out a whoop of joy and sang a little song, "Ding dong the gerbil's dead! The stinky gerbil's dead!"

Okay. Maybe that part didn't really happen, but it might as well have Gentle Reader...It might as well have.

"What did Bookworm say? Was she devastated?"

"I haven't told her. I was putting her in bed and said, 'So, is that rat dead yet?' Then, I turned around and saw Ava belly up in her cage. I picked it up and started carrying the cage out and Bookworm said, 'Oh! Thanks for cleaning my cage, Daddy!' The cage is on the dining room floor right now."

"You have to tell her!"

"No! She will have a total meltdown! I'm cleaning out the cage, getting rid of the gerbil, and I'll tell her in the morning."

Well, Gentle Reader, I convinced him of the wisdom of telling her that evening, even if it was late, so we could get the drama over with at night instead of just before climbing on the bus...

And was there drama!!!

Drramaaaaa llama!

Weeping.

Wailing.

Gnashing of teeth.

I cuddled. I stroked her hair. I felt horrible that she was so sad that the darn rat was dead...

Because at the same time that I was singing the Hallelujah chorus in my head that I never had to listen to that darn gerbil chewing at night. And running on it's wheel... All. Night. Long....

Aaaand I cuddled some more...

"Mommy? I think we need to bury Ava."

Crud...."Really? Where?" *Sigh* This is ridiculous...

"In the garden! She will decompose and turn into humus and that is great for the soil!"

I burst into laughter...She started laughing....

"Baby, I'm sorry, but I'm NOT burying Ava in the garden. Ick. I just can't think of decomposing gerbil under my tomato plants!"

She agreed with me, and we decided to send her daddy out in the dark to bury the gerbil under a tree...

And we kissed goodnight.

I went to the living room and discovered that I had forgotten to dvr Survivor.

I wept.

I wailed.

I gnashed my teeth...

Then I remembered I could watch it online the next night, and so I was over it. I sat down to see what else there was to see....

And I heard more wailing....

Okay. Have I ever told you that if you want sympathy, you really shouldn't have a nurse for a mommy? Just ask my kids...

Because. Seriously. It's a rodent, people...And, as much as I love my daughter, I understand her love of drama. And her love of total emotional exaggeration. There is the teeniest tiniest possibility that it could come from my side of the family...But just a tiny chance, mind you...

I went to her room. I handed her "By the Shores of Silver Lake" by Laura Ingalls Wilder, and I said, "Read this. Get your mind off of the gerbil. Go to sleep."

And I thought that was that....

Until we had a ladies' tea at church Thursday and one of her teachers asked if we had a funeral for the gerbil...

"How do you know about that?"

"Oh, she had a total meltdown in class about it today..."

Great.

Apparently, it went something like this, "My gerbil died last night....I didn't get any sleep...I'm tired and I can't stop thinking about it."

Such drama.

It. Is. Exhausting.

Being dramatic, that is.

Not that I know anything about that....