Silly Rabbit

We have a great little orchard near our house that has sheep, goats, ducks, and rabbits that visitors can feed. Monkey Man loves to visit and feed the animals as well as get ice cream at the quaint country store. We went yesterday when the weather was iffy - gray clouds then blue sky, then drizzles of rain, then sunshine. During a brief period of rain, I mentioned to Monkey Man that we would need to leave if the rain started to come down hard.

It was then that I felt like I had a 30 year-old with me when he replied, "When we go to the car, what we will have to protect us?"

Umm, maybe the grammar handbook in your back pocket, because where did you come up with that sentence?? I should slow down on the SAT prep courses that he's enrolled in. Or should I say, "in which he is enrolled."?

Skunky Monkey

While lounging in our backyard during a makeshift pool party today (plastic kiddie pool, child-size Adirondack chair, mommy-size beach chair, Billy Joel playing on the iPod speakers) I noticed Walt, our dog, sniffing the perimeter of our shed (see photo, background on the left, there he is, sniffing). I am pretty sure a skunk is throwing its own little party under our shed. A little background...

Walt got sprayed by a skunk about 3 weeks ago. It was the most horrific, nauseating, gag reflex-inducing smell ever, and smells nothing like the skunk smell in the air. No, on an animal – our dog – it smells like burning rubber, only so much worse it’s impossible to describe.

Walt decided to get into a little scuffle on the night of the Lost season finale, much to my husband’s dismay. What would we do without TiVo? We spent 2 hours douching our dog. Yes, you read that correctly. Douche is the new tomato juice. Our friend, Birdman, runs a doggie daycare/training facility and told us this. I had the privilage of buying 2 boxes of douche each containing 4 bottles. That’s 8 bottles of douche for the non-mathematicians in the audience. I’m sure I made that cashier’s night and was probably the topic of his blog. I’m probably known as the skank in town now. I have bigger problems – a skunked dog and an independence-seeking, test the boundaries 3 year-old – being the town whore is nothing.

Walt lived in the garage for 4 days post-spray until we felt like the smell was mostly gone. He has had about 9 bajillion baths and is fairly fresh smelling, living back in our house, and I want to keep him that way. When I noticed him by the shed, I told him to get away.

Monkey Man: “Mommy, why are you telling Walt to get away?”

Mommy: “Because I think the skunk lives under the shed and I don’t want Walt to get sprayed again.”

MM: “Can I go over there?”

Mommy: “No, I don’t want YOU to get sprayed! You would smell yucky.”

MM: “Then you’ll put ME in the garage?”

Surprisingly, that thought had never entered my mind. But now that you mention it...

Who's the Boss?

Monkey Man lives on cheese sandwiches, particularly at lunchtime. Unfortunately, because of his peanut allergy, I can't keep peanut butter stocked up in the pantry like we're waiting for the Apocalypse, so we rely heavily on cheese. And since cheese goes bad (Did you know that? Was that news to you?) I can only keep a limited amount in the fridge and have to run to the grocery store once every hour to buy more cheese.

During one lunchtime, Monkey Man asked for a cheese sandwich. I remembered there being at least one slice left, but shockingly, his dad ate it and left his cheese-aholic son suffering cold sweats while beginning withdrawal.

Mommy: (hesitating slightly, putting on her biggest, warmest Mommy grin, bracing herself for a cheese meltdown) "Uh, buddy, we don't have any cheese."

Monkey Man: “Go to Shop Rite.”

Yes, sir, at your command, sir. It's a good thing this kid has us whipped into shape.

Christmas in June

This Monkey Man comment is from late November, but since I started this blog in January it never made it into a post. Lucky for us, I wrote it down and now here it is.

Monkey Man was admiring the Christmas tree which was one of his favorite things to do once it magically appeared during naptime in our house. He looked at a small square ornament that was embroidered with a Nativity Scene. It’s very simple – it has 3 small figures inside a basic pentagon-shaped house with a star on top.

Monkey Man: "What is this, Mommy?"

Mommy: "It's the Nativity. That's Baby Jesus, Mary, and Joseph."

MM: "Ummm, How ‘bout it’s a gas station?”

I knew Jesus was a carpenter and I guess a blue-collar guy (in a "I can work miracles" blue-collar way), but I had no idea he had his beginnings pumping gas at the neighborhood Hess station.

I Paid Just Penney's For It

I bought 3 pairs of shorts from JC Penney’s for Monkey Man for $1.97! When the cashier told me the total, I said, “For all 3?” He laughed and affirmed my steal. I told him, “You don’t understand, only my mother gets bargains like this.”

(A little background – she is not a bargain hunter but will go to a store, inevitably find something she likes on sale, then get to the register and find out it’s an additional 99% off. Like a dress she bought for a wedding. She was already getting it at some crazy cheap price of $25, but walked away paying $7! She frequently buys Monkey Man clothes - public shout out to Mom, Thank you! - and won’t accept my money because, “The shorts only cost $2.50 -That shirt, oh, it was just $3.00 - That snowsuit, don’t worry about it, I only paid $5.00.” I am both dumbfounded and thankful for her skill!)

I paid IN CASH because I am a big spender and obviously walk around with loads of cash in my wallet, then ran out to my husband who was waiting with Monkey Man in our mall’s play area. I excitedly chattered about my purchase and I watched the other moms within ear shot come closer to hear.

Eyes wide and wallets open, several of them darted to the store to get their little ones cheap play clothes that will see about 4 wears then either become outgrown or so stained with dirt, watermelon juice, and the occasional chocolate ice cream that it won’t be a sin to toss them in the garbage when they’ve had enough.

I like Monkey Man to look cute and hip, but I also want to feed him and send him to college so I try to avoid the expensive children’s clothing stores. When he’s old enough to realize that “everyone else is wearing that,” like next year in preschool, then maybe I’ll cave.

My Very First Police Escort

On a much needed run to Target (because who doesn’t NEED Teddy Grahams, tank tops, and watermelon-scented Kandoo soap?) I decided to get new patio chairs. Hubby was picking up Monkey Man from my parents so I had a window of time to get my errands done. I didn’t just decide to buy patio chairs, but figured this would be a good day since everyday is a good day for a Target run.

Hubby took the Matrix to a meeting, which, in this family, is the “big car” – read: the car you use when you need to haul stuff. Our other car is a Nissan Sentra, not quite fit to haul stuff. But haul stuff I did, and in the trunk went 4 patio chairs. Stuffed in there. No rope, no bungee. Just God’s hand giving them a firm hold.

I live one mile from Target so I figured this would be very easy. I drove very slowly with my hazards on (just a side note - I hate when people do this, when they buy oversized things and try to put them in their trunk or on their roof and then they drive with their hazards on so that we can all watch for flying mattresses and airborne patio chairs. But, I wanted those chairs TODAY).

I got out of the parking lot and just as I was about to turn onto the main road, yes, you guessed it. Splat. All 4 chairs on the road. With a huge tractor trailer approaching the green light to either crush my chairs or kill me. I pulled over quickly, jumped out and hauled butt to those chairs and got them up on the grass. I put them back in the trunk and then, wouldn’t you know, a police officer pulled up behind me. He was a bit amazed at my lack of intelligence in the “shoving chairs in a trunk without tying them down” department. I nervously laughed and made jokes. He was VERY nice and friendly and, most importantly, without a ticket in his hand. I don’t even know if you can get a ticket for this, but if I had, I would have had to return the chairs to pay for the ticket. So thank you, Mr. Police Officer, because my chairs really do look quite nice on the patio.

Thank goodness for my nervous giggling and joking around. He commented that it was a good thing I was so happy and cheerful because otherwise he would have yelled at me (I will now thank Monkey Man for a good morning therefore leaving me happy and cheerful. Monkey Man totally got me out of trouble! Nice work, kid!). I am essentially a good girl, like to follow the rules, and have no intentions of landing myself in the slammer in this lifetime, so if the police officer yelled at me he may have needed to call an ambulance because I might have cried so hard I would have hyperventilated and passed out. Little did he know that he dodged that medical emergency.

Mr. Police Officer continued on with his good Samaritan ways and got a rope from his trunk and tied down my chairs. He then escorted me home and untied the chairs for me. I thanked him many times then wondered what the heck the neighbors were thinking. I’ll have to invite them over for a drink on the patio and explain the sordid story of their lawless neighbor.

Like a Llama or an Emu

My husband and I were away in Philadelphia for this little thing we have going on the side, a job. I’ve never gone into detail about my job, but I get the pleasure (most days) of working with my husband. And sometimes we have to go away. And sometimes when we go away, we get to have fun. I know, it’s crazy. Two responsible parents having fun. We might burn in hell.

Our fun consisted of an opening night reception at the 30^th Street Station. (Hubby is a cartoonist, as you might know from reading this blog, and we were at the Association of Alternative Newspapers Convention selling his comic). Short of wearing a bikini and a sandwich board, we needed to do something in order to chat it up with the good newspaper folks. Here comes the brilliant idea: We decided to split up during the reception to network.

A few things I discovered after three glasses of wine:

• Contrary to what my husband thinks, I can flirt.
• The lure of ground beef. After 2 ½ years of hamburger-free living, I stood on line to get myself a mini-delicacy by one of the greatest pubs in Philly. Don’t ask me the name of it, remember I had 3 glasses of wine. I took one bite and remembered why I don’t eat hamburgers anymore. They bleed. At least this one did.
• Some editor guy told me that he had heard that the “hamburger” was actually an emu-burger. I don’t know if this was true, but I can tell you what IS true. This person then went on to ask me, “What is emu?” Sans 3 glasses of wine, I totally know it’s like an ostrich. After imbibing, I answered: “It’s like a llama.” For some reason, the first thing that popped into my chardonnay-soaked brain was the line in the song, If I Had a Million Dollars by the Barenaked Ladies - If I had a million dollars,well, I'd buy you an exotic pet - yep, like a llama or an emu.

Like I learned from the D.A.R.E. officer way back in 5^th grade, alcohol really does impair the brain. If that editor remembered our conversation and learned what an emu is, an animal quite unlike a llama, I’m pretty confident I won’t be hearing back from him. Lesson learned: I will no longer try to make a sales pitch with the hooch in hand.

Monday's Sunday Funnies

Is this what happens when Time Outs are no longer effective?

Sunday Funnies

I just saw Sex and The City tonight and LOVED it. Only 30 minutes later, and I already miss the girls. It was so worth $10.50 plus a diet Coke for $3.50, oh, and a numb butt after sitting in the same chair for 2.5 hours. I would have gladly sacrificed my butt for another 2.5 hours. When is the sequel coming???
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