If you are missing something, it might have been under my fridge.

So I've been doing a lot lately (besides watching every single show on Netflix).  Here's a list that will sum it up nicely (or just sum it up) and be easier (and I hope more entertaining) than me trying to explain it all.

1.  Bandit my dog is an awful painter's helper.  He took a fair amount of spackle off the wall in one fell swoop.  He tried to eat the painter's brushes when he was washing them (right after he'd had his first bath in about eight months naturally).  He drank the painter's Big Gulp because he left it on the table.  He ate the painter's tacos because the painter did not learn from his mistake.  And he ate numerous pieces of old (and new) baseboards like they were treats we'd bought just for him.

2.  The painter is still willing to come back to do another job upstairs.

3.  There are still people in the world with "work ethic." (I'm not talking about myself here.  "Duh," you say.)

4.  My kids *might* have careers in stand up.  Or I'm unusually prejudice (most likely the latter and my kids will be living with me for a long time which I probably will not find funny at all). 

5.  The time between spring break and summer can be compared to the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas.  It's painful for parents, kids, and teachers alike.  The kids are done learning anything.  So, naturally that's when the state testing occurs.

6.  It is possible to overthink things.  This can result in hours of time spent thinking and not actually doing.  I fall victim to this phenomena a lot and it explains quite a bit about the status of my life.

7.  When you've been married over 20 years another wedding and all the ensuing presents would be helpful and probably less expensive than trying to re-do your house with your own income.  I am considering a huge 25 year anniversary party.  I will not write Please no gifts on the invitations.  In fact, I'm asking Prudie if it would be presumptuous and rude to register.  At Target.

8.  My entire paycheck has gone to Target the past few months.  Wouldn't it be easier for me to just move in there?  I guess I could offer to work a few hours, too?  And promise to wear only red and khaki?

9.  Netflix has ruined regular TV for me.  It happened slowly, but I'm pretty sure now that I can't watch regular TV anymore.  SPOILER ALERT.  I knew something huge was happening on The Good Wife and I still finished Luther on Netflix that night instead.  What's wrong with me?  Then I read in the paper that Will died and I didn't really care unless I can watch it on Netflix.  Again, Will's dead!  What's wrong with me?

10.  The kids have discovered the dog whisperer on Netflix.  I've told you guys before how much I don't really like him?  I mean really.  If my parents watched the dog whisperer I think they'd think he was dropping acid (if my parents know what that is).  But, whatever.  The kids have told me that it's the owners that must be trained (yeah, I suspected a train wreck coming, too).  And that *maybe* Bandit behaves the way he does because of me.  So, basically the dog whisperer has taught my kids that parenting dogs and kids is basically the same.  The parents will invariably be blamed for everything.

10.  When you do home repair, maintenance, and painting it makes you feel good.  It also makes you notice all the things you didn't do.  How many permanent handprints will be on all the doors before we can repaint them all, too? 

11.  Painting also can make you want to clean everything.  Remember about a year ago when I went bat $hit crazy and tried to organize every area of my house?  Well, damn it if it didn't all get dirty and disorganized again.  The hell?  So, now I'm on a cleaning frenzy again.

12.  I don't pay my house cleaner enough.  She hasn't been here in a while because the chaos would probably give her a coronary and it takes everything out of me to clean the house.  Aside from the fact that it's covered in a thin layer of painting dust/grime, I'm just not a good house cleaner. 

13.  I cleaned under the stove for the first time in about 11 years and there was an ecosystem growing under there.  It was horrific, but I did find quite a few lost toys, magnets, kitchen tools, and popcorn from the early 2000's.  No more gourmet popcorn for Bandit.  Turns out he likes years old popcorn that's covered with goo just as much!

14.  This motivated me to clean under the other three movable appliances.  Not one of the five people I live with (or Bandit) noticed or cared that I'd done it.  The hell?  Lesson?  Not doing it again for another 10-20 years. 

15.  After seven years of having three of our four kids taking piano lessons and all practicing on a digital keyboard, we bought a piano.  Now, I've never seen the movie We Bought A Zoo (if it's on Netflix, though, there's a good chance I might see it someday), but I wanted to make a mockumentary for reality TV called We Bought a Piano.  They're *kinda* like children or dogs.  You have to take care of them, they respond to temperature changes, if you treat them right they can provide joy for you your entire life, they need annual tunings (sometimes more if they get sick), they're fragile, and they cost a buttload of money.  I'm hoping this piano does not want to go to college.

16.  I miss you guys a lot.  I've vowed to be better about reading my favorite blogs and I've vowed to post more.  But let's be honest.  This might be my last post for a while or until I get out of rehab.  Last night around 10:30 p.m. hubby and I started doing something we'd been putting off for a while.  We had sex?  No.  We started Breaking Bad.   

Six days (give or take) and I'll be back.  Maybe.

I wrote an acrostic poem for my dog. Because he brings out the artist in me. Or something like that.

B - Bursitis.  Because he has given me that in my shoulder.

A - Always wants what I'm eating.

N - Neurotic.

D - Difficult.  About everything.

I - Illogical (contrary to the principles of logic).  As in:  Desperately wants me to take him on a run.  Will not sit still so that I can put on the leash.  Cries when I leave him behind.  Cheesus.

T - Tortured.  By all the animals in our creek who have learned precisely the location of his electric fence boundary.  

Sorry, y'all. I'm busy procrastinating....I mean drinking....I mean procrastinating.

So, it's been a family filled summer so far.  Here's what I've learned.

1.  Someone made a wine for me.  (Not to be confused with a whine for me.  Someone made that for me a long, long time ago.)

Notice the little person relaxing at her desk?  She's clearly a woman.  To which I say, "Huh?"  In my extensive research and experience, men procrastinate far more than women.  Amirite?

2.  I've lost weight.  Maybe.  My swimsuit bottoms almost fell off in the pool today.  This could be because:  I have lost weight.  My swimsuit bottom elastic has completely lost its elasticity.  Or, I am a really bad swimmer.  I am going with - I lost weight.  So, yay!  And, boo.  Because now I have to shop again.

3.  Because during the first week of summer our kids were turning into computer screens, communicating with acronyms, and pausing their games only to toilet themselves and eat, hubby and I decided we had to somehow limit their technology use.

We have now limited it to the point where our kids hate us so much they might move out before school starts again in August. 

We arrived at this status via a surprising move last Sunday evening, when we voted in my family.  The two options up for vote were:  1.  Kids will use technology only on Saturday and Sunday for unlimited use.  There will be no technology use Monday - Friday.  Or, 2. kids use technology for one hour a day at the same hour Sunday - Saturday.  The kids voted for Option 2, and for one full week we have battled and argued each and every day about how many minutes are in a freaking hour.

Seriously?  Tuesday I thought Girl 2 was having the DTs because we had to stop her game and leave the house during her "one hour."

4.  I am addicted to Daft Punk.  My kids are happy, but a little concerned about me.  Have a listen and you'll soon be addicted, too.  You're welcome.

5.  I have been unable to run with puppy because he threw my hip out pulling me and I am recovering with large doses of Aleve, chocolate, and beer.  So, I am getting no exercise and gaining weight.  And he is getting no exercise and acting like a maniac.  This has created a vicious cycle similar to drug dependency.  He is hyper because no one is exercising him and no one wants to exercise him because he's too damn hyper.  Cheesus.

Hubby had a moment of pure genius earlier and declared, "We should have named puppy "Technology" because then everyone would want to play with him."

That, folks, has been my summer thus far.  How have you been?

Let's hope unicorning pays well.

I'd like to come up with a normally scheduled and/or regular series of posts entitled "$hit My Family Does."  But, my track record for normality and regularity sucks. 

That said, remember the post about the evangelizers who left their bikes in our neighborhood and my kids theorized (because they're smart like that) how to most effectively steal them?
Well, this post is kinda like that.

$hit My Family Does (this will probably never happen again)

1.  Boy Child screws things up in hysterical ways.  Today at breakfast he said very seriously and poetically, "That which doesn't make us stronger, kills us."  My favorite quote according to my Facebook profile (which we know is like Wikipedia in its truthfulness) is Neitchze's, so I love this about as much as I love my kids.

2.  Hubby was explaining to Girl 2 what a baker's dozen was.  When he was done she said, "I always thought it was because the baker ate a dozen and then there was one left to share with someone else."  We *might* be related.

3.  We were driving the other day and we passed an area where new construction had started.  Boy Child commented, "Hmm. I wonder what they're building there, mom."  There was a construction company's sign up with the motto "Blank-blank Construction Company...Building the Future."  He quickly read the sign out loud and said, "That's a weird place for the future."  Lest you think he was joking when this happened:  The other day we drove by the same place and he said not even jokingly, "Look, mom.  They're getting pretty far on the future there."

4.  I don't really believe in anthropomorphism, but since I am probably going to have to send this *smart(ass)*puppy to private puppy school, he will heretofore be considered "family."  The puppy tries to strangle himself each and every time he is "chained up" outside.  Before you call PETA on me, he's only "chained" for short amounts of time (or he would die, apparently) and tomorrow the guy is coming to fix our invisible fence (as we explained to Girl 3, it's not really "invisible").  I can tie him up, quickly go inside to get a cup of coffee, walk right back outside to check on him and he's managed to make a cat's cradle with his rope. 

Photo credit:  Oxford Advanced Learner's Dictionary.

Cheesus.  And, people keep telling me he's smart. I guess I'm ecstatic he's not dumb?

5.  Lately we've been going to our favorite hang-out, Spicy Ginger, and ordering almost everything on the menu.  I am beginning to wonder what those lovely people think of us.  Are they frightened?  Is there talk in the back?  "OH MY GAWD.  HERE COMES THAT ENORMOUS MEXICAN FAMILY WHO EAT EVERYTHING ON THE MENU.  QUICK PUT OUT THE "CLOSED" SIGN."  When you manage to spend nearly $100.00 on a very reasonably priced restaurant, and the food you order could feed a small country and barely fits on the table it borders on embarrassing and it might be time to quit.

6.  This one *might* eventually be one for Prudie, but right now I'm just filing it here.  Girl 3 is addicted to chewing gum.  She hides it like an addict.  Although friends have suggested I allow it on a "supervised" basis, or I use it as a reward, hubby and I have adopted an AA approach in that we are not giving her anymore gum.  (We also helped her to admit she has a problem and make amends to the people she's hurt.)  We are pretty sure if she relapses it will not be a "I can just chew this one piece and I'll be fine," but that she will pick up where she left off and it will be more like, "WHERE ELSE CAN I HIDE THIS $HIT???  THE LID OF THE TOILET???"  Lest you think we are cookoo cra-cra, the *damages* so far include (but are not limited to):  the wood floor in the corner of her closet is permanently marked bright green and scented minty, the cup holder that's closest to her in the Yukon Cornelius is permanently sticky, her sheets are stained bright green, and there is a small piece of hair in the back of her head that still has not fully grown out.

7.  I have an irrational fear of wet dog, rain, mud smell in my house.  Usually that's easy to avoid because I live in Texas and it only rains about once every eight years here.  But, lately we've been having some cloudy weather.  The other night I let puppy out to strangle himself on the chain.  About one second after I brought him in the back door it started to POUR.  I thanked Jesus, Mary, and Joseph profusely that my timing had been so extraordinary.  At about the same time, Hubby was so excited with the rain (I guess he forgot what rain was) he threw open the front door in glee.  Yeah.  Puppy pretty much ran in the back door and immediately out the front.  He refused to come back in until he was soaking wet, stinky, and nice and muddy.

8.  Girl 3 has been a negotiator I think since she learned to talk.  She's stepped up her game as of late and I thought she'd get a little smarter with it.  But, no.  It still goes down something like this almost every time:

Girl 3:  I can't finish this supper.  Remember I don't like peas???  How about I take five more bites?

Me:  How about 10 more bites?

Girl 3:  NOOOOOOOO!  How about seven?

(There are just about 7 more bites of peas on her plate - which I have carefully calculated before entering into the negotiations.)

Me:  PERFECT!

This complete misunderstanding of the art of negotiation has made me wary of what her future holds, but also thankful that parenting in this regard has not become more difficult.  So, I have mixed feelings?  Let's hope unicorning pays well?

Lest you think after reading this that I am perfect and I don't do any ridiculous $hit, I took puppy out running wearing my headset and phone armband for the first time just the other day.  Let's just say the entanglement of earphones, choke chain, leash, and ponytail coupled with my complete lack of coordination and just how quickly it all went down was amazingly embarrassing.  I am so happy that I was home alone and that I ended up flat on my back with puppy joyfully licking my face in my own driveway or I most surely would have to find another home.

I answered the doorbell, and that is how THIS happened.

Before you say, "YOU DID WHAT?  WHAT THE FURCK?"  I have a simple explanation.  I answered the doorbell and it went quickly downhill from there.

If you are a regular, you know that Girl 1 has wanted a pet since she was conceived.  The pets she has wanted have ranged from unicorn to dog to turtle.  Yesterday her dream came true.  Well....at least until we have a Plan it came true.

So, here's how it mostly went down.

We were sitting around minding our own furcking business when our sweet 10 year old neighbor girl from up the street came knocking on our door.  That itself is hardly strange.  It happens nearly everyday.  Either the neighbor kids find their way down here and knock on our door, or my motley crew finds its way up the street to drive the neighbor bat$hit crazy.  (Yes, there will be a lot of mock-profanity in this post because frankly there is a lot of mock-profanity welled up inside me right now.)

What WAS strange is that she was holding this in her hands:

Meet Rocky/Yertle the Boy/Girl Turtle/Tortoise.

I think what she said (through wild, deranged grinning) was, "Did you guys lose a turtle?"

Now, my immediate thoughts were many and went through my brain like a semi-automatic weapon shooting off rounds: 

First thought:  Hell no it's not ours.  Did you think I went furcking NUTS and got the kids a turtle this weekend and then came to my senses and let it out? 
Second thought:  CLOSE THE DOOR so that none of the kids see the turtle. 
Third thought:  Start speaking Spanish to confuse her and maybe she'll go away on her own. 
Fourth thought:  Start telling lies.  About anything. 
Fifth thought:  CLOSE THE DOOR.
Sixth thought:  CLOSE THE FURCKING DOOR!

Then (while I had sat there silently thinking these thoughts) my kids came to the door and I was screwed.

Back-up was called in the form of our neighbors who have a menagerie (not to be confused with a menage a trois) at their house to determine what kind of turtle it is.  That was helpful.  Here's what was determined:

1.  It's probably a tortoise because its feet are not webbed and it hated the water when the kids submerged it.

2.  Turtles and quite possibly tortoises hate to be held.  It was held and carried by children for about five hours last night and due to that trauma (presumably) it slept all day today.  Or, it's just really lazy.

3.  It's not a snapping turtle because our neighbor tested it to see if it would snap.

4.  So far it eats, leaves, lettuce, raspberries, and carrot.

5.  The Internets and our neighbor said it would also eat apples.  In this way it is like a horse.  Except you can't ride it, it's not useful, and you can't pet it.

6.  Turtles and tortoises carry salmonella (a fact I already knew and use to my advantage regularly and without hesitation) which is why it is not a good idea to pet it or carry it.  Within seconds, the three year old pet it and then immediately sucked on her hand.  I just knew death was imminent.

7.  It *might* grow to be large enough to ride.  But, that would be weird and kind of uncomfortable.

8.  It doesn't appear to like it's tank (borrowed from the menagerie neighbors) because it spent a good part of last night (while I was trying to watch TV) loudly banging it's head on the glass.  PTSD?  Or just ungrateful bastard?

9.  The girls have watched it with a fascinating love, and curiosity usually reserved for sleeping infants.

10.  The sex of a turtle (or tortoise) can be determined by pulling up some nether-region part.  Who cares?
 
11.  "Salad" has been taken off the Eat From the Pantry  Challenge menu.

12.  It's been named.  I think "Rocky."  I wanted Yertle.  Apparently no one knows Dr. Seuss.  Really, people?

13.  Tortoises (and possibly turtles) can live to be 8000 years old.  Really?  Right now it looks like its about 300 - give or take.

Now, before you send me Congratulations on Your New Addition cards, here is The Plan So Far.  We think it is possibly a tortoise and not native to these here parts.  So, if we were to take it out back to the creek it would probably not survive too long.  Although I am an avid non pet-lover I do not want the blood of this damn turtle/tortoise on my hands.  Therefore, we have decided to take it to a pet store to determine what the hell it is and we will go from there.  Meanwhile, it is sitting atop my sewing machine in a tank eating all my salad and making insufferable noises while I blog and watch TV.  Damn him/her.

A turtle. You know? The cute and cuddly kind.

So, I am not a pet lover.  If this is an unfavorable trait, I blame my mother.  She was not a pet lover and I think I inherited this distaste from her.  In my lifetime, I have loved two pets and they are now dead.  One was an incredibly dumb/smart golden retriever named, Maverick who we had nearly from birth and the other was a demon possessed cat named Quentin who came to us because we needed to learn a lesson.  This post is not about them, but just for the sake of background...

Maverick was a golden retriever.  What else can I say?  They beg you to love them and really you are rendered defenseless and often find yourself doing ridiculous things like crying on their "shoulder," feeding them scraps of bacon from your breakfast plate, popping popcorn just for the "two of you," and laughing saying it's "cute" when they eat the just barbecued chicken you have been waiting for hours to eat.

Quentin.  What can I say?  He was an awful, evil, hateful, fat cat that I loved from the night he spent outside our bedroom window meowing louder than any cat should ever be capable of doing begging us to feed him and give him a home.  He bit neighbors, my mother-in-law, small children, and anyone else who was irritating him or just breathing.  He often bit me.  When I was feeding him.

Another side note (because I am in a rambling kind of mood today):  I hate it when people discover that I like some dogs better than some cats and say in that gushing and condescending way some pet lovers have, "Oh, so you're a dog lover?"  I desperately want to say, "No.  I am a pet hater.  I do not discriminate."  But, in this world that often seems worse than admitting to spanking your kids in anger.  NOT saying I have done that.

September 2011 - All of my kids (including that pestery three year old) want a pet.  Damn them.  My excuses are wearing thin and their whinyness about it is wearing me out.  There is something to be said about persistence (ask hubby).  So....get ready for the Bonus Parenting Tip for this post......when your kids ask for a dog - Say "no," but instead promise a TURTLE.

Yeah.  Now, I am second guessing myself.  What the heck?  A turtle?  I sort of promised Girl 1(and maybe the other three) a turtle for Christmas.  And, shhhhh, because I haven't told hubby.  Now, I am realizing this was totally wrong, but I am afraid we are too deep into the insanity to backtrack easily.  Here is a recap of how the backsliding went:

Some random child of mine:  Can we have a dog?
Me:  No.
SRCM:  Can we have a cat?
Me:  No.
SRCM:  Can we have a gerbil?
Me:  No.
SRCM:  Can we have a mink?
Me:  Hell to the no.
SRCM:  WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?
Me:  (Insert any answer you want here.)  Because they require responsibility.  Because they require money.  Because they poop.  Because they stink.  Because they pee.  Because we go on vacation and can hardly afford that.  Because mommy hates pets.  Because we might develop allergies.
SRCM:  Can we have any pet with fur?
Me:  No.
SRCM:  Can we have fish?
(This is another blog post.  I had fish as a child and they all committed suicide.)
Me:  Um, no.
SRCM:  How about a turtle?
Me:  Hmm.

The kids heard the weakness and pounced.

So, now Santa MIGHT be bringing a turtle.  I don't want to totally alienate you dear readers, so I will not expound on how much I hate Santa right now.  Just use your imagination.

SRCM:  So, what kind of turtle?  A tortoise?  Is that legal?  Will we be kicked out of our neighborhood?
Me:  NO, NOT A TORTOISE.  WHAT ARE YOU KIDS?  NUTS???  TORTOISES AREN'T EVEN REAL.  THEY ONLY LIVE AT ZOOS.
SRCM:  So, what kind of turtle, mom????
Me:  YOU KNOW.  A CUTE CUDDLY TURTLE.

Pray for me.  It's getting deep in here.