My son is asking about umbilical cords again.

The dog keeps licking my heel. So I move my foot. And she follows my foot. What is so tasty about my heel? Don't answer that, I really do not want to know.

I have not wanted to cook this week and so the kids and I went out for burgers one night. I have a snarky sense of humor and some little one liners come to me more often than they should. One of my one liners occurs in a restaurant when a server or other restaurant employee drops something. I always say, loud enough for only my table to hear, "Job Opening." The great thing is, about every other time you eat out, a restaurant employee drops something, so when you so quickly come up with this one, people think you are funny (I just like to tell myself this, the reality is they probably want to stick a nasty gym sock in my throat to make me shut up already.)

About a year or so ago, we went to Chili's for someone's birthday. I think it was my mom's because my brother actually showed up. M was probably 9 or 10. M has pretty much NO filter, which can be entertaining at times, but at other times makes me want to sew her mouth shut. Twice. On this particular occasion, a new server dropped pretty much an entire tray of plates about one table away from us. M announced, in what was pretty much a shout, "JOB OPENING!" The red faced server looked at our table, and then tucked tail and ran to the kitchen. We didn't see that server again for our entire meal. Needless to say, I watch my mouth a good nine times out of ten now, and for nearly 2 years, we have been working on a FILTER. Because there is nothing like being at Wal-Mart, grumbling about a certain something, and having your 10 year old parrot back, "YOU MEAN, ONCE A MONTH YOU BLEED????" loud enough for your friends in Kentucky to hear. LOVELY.

Put in a fresh trash bag please.

I took the kids to get their hair cut tonight. Evan's hair is just strange and I had her cut his bangs shorter than usual. He loves the shaggy hair thing, but he got his daddy's hair and the shaggy thing will never work for him. I haven't had the heart to tell him. Instead I just take him and go against his wishes while he is strapped down to a chair getting his hair did.

On our way home from the hair cuts, my middle child reminded me that I signed the consent form that allows her to be subjected to the PUBERTY VIDEO. She then informed me of the main rule while watching the video: If you laugh during the video, you have to go to the Principal's office and explain, while looking the Principal in the eyes, what you were laughing at while watching the video. This statement from my child, of course, made me snicker. I'm sure it is the affliction of all superior parents, laughing at puberty and the terms that come with it. And thus ensued a conversation that is probably not going to get me the parent of the year award.

Honestly, why do they make the words that refer to a persons private parts so freaking funny sounding? Plus, kids this age, just starting into puberty, they are nervous and rightfully so. All of a sudden their little bodies change and in some ways that are a little bit alarming (armpit hair anyone???). So when you hear said private part references in what you know is supposed to be a serious context, you want to burst out laughing. Or at least I do. How will I face the Principal when myself when I get called into her office because my daughter laughs out loud at the word vagina while watching the film and explains to the principal that she found the word funny and in fact, I also find it amusing...... This will not end well.

Love is watching someone go

Tonight my beloved Hammer completed his second of eight training classes. He has known how to sit since he was a wee pup. I was so pumped up about Hammer's mad sitting skillz that I almost bragged out loud when the instructor said we were doing "sit" first today. But guess what, Hammer, my beloved, he refused to freaking sit AT ALL tonight. Needless to say, I was glad I hadn't bragged out loud like I wanted to deep down in the pit of my liver. However, he was da bomb at "leave it." I am hopeful. He can do this, meaning, good Lord I hope I can do this. Because my patience is wearing thin with my beloved.

After I drank my slim fast shake for dinner and did that weird head shake because what did I just put in my mouth, I made a faux pie crust. I did this mainly because I wanted to eat some butter and it made me feel better to add flour and milk and say I was eating pie crust when really a spoonful of butter would have sufficed. I wonder why I like butter so much. Because the ewww factor is there and it makes me sick thinking that I ate butter tonight with my slim fast shake.

Yesterday, I got some new shoes at CATO. I have never purchased shoes there before and I am still a bit unsure about them, but they are comfy. I am sure because I paid $11.00 for them, they will fall apart around Thursday. Until then, I have a cute pair of black shoes to replace my river bottom smelling old pair.

I'm up late preparing for a hearing tomorrow and my daughter is up late because even though she knew about her assignment an entire week ago, she chose tonight to advise me it is due TOMORROW and she hasn't even started. So alas, she is cutting into my kitchen table space with her blasted Odysseus crap. Who even cares about Odysseus? Because right now, I don't. He can bite me.

So about the precious little bunnies. We got them Goat's milk and this worthless tiny bottle (where a dropper would have been much more realistic as far as actually getting the milk into the bun's mouths). After four days, give or take, or more like 3 days or a couple of days, we had two bunny babbits die on us. Not including the first one who died when he opted to brave it outside in a thunderstorm. All told, we had three survivors who I promptly took to this awesome place called Wildcare. Wildcare takes in the wittle wildlife refugees and nurses them back to health or gets them all growed up and then they release them to the coyotes. No wait, they release them into special areas held separate and apart just for them. So they gets to be big bunnies and do big bunny things. Whatever they may be. Wildcare takes in only wild life, except none of those big means wolves because unh.

Also, my yard needs mowed. Badly. Any volunteers?

I don't do boogers

Tonight my beloved Hammer had his first "learn how to be a freaking good dog" training class. I automatically assumed because he is evil reincarnate at my home that he would be equally horrid at Petsmart. I was pleasantly surprised. Sure, he got a little pissy with a Goober. No wait, a Google. No, a Doggle. Uh, golden retriever, poodle. One of those. The Goodle was a rather large dog of only 5 months of age. If I thought I could carry a clicker, dog treats and a camera, I would have taken a picture of the Doodle. But alas, years of single parenthood have not equipped me to be able to juggle with expensive-ish electronics.

Doogle was named Rocky. I am going to hazard a guess that he weighed about 60 pounds already. Meaning he was well on his way to BIG DOGHOOD. He was absolutely darling. He also had no idea he was not a little dog, much to my beloved's chagrin. He wanted to play and Hammie was completely run over. I, being the caring and concerned pet owner that I am laughed like a lunatic at Hammer's misfortune. I also tried to give Rocky's owner a high five because her dog was all up in Hammer's grill. Of course, Rocky decided that meant I needed licked. Now. How about now. So whatever.

By the way, we still have five living breathing baby bunnies. With eyes wide open I might add. I have been rather pessimistic about their chances of living, because I don't want the kids to get attached. Even if they DO live, they are not living at my house. Because me + wild animals = no thanks. Dog poo is plenty. Rabbit pellets might just push me over the edge.

Picket Fences

I'm not going to lie, I am completely in love with this guy's remodeling work. Now if only I could win the lottery or marry rich, one of these wicked dudes could be mine! Exteriors are completely traditional, interiors are New York City. GRAND!

In other news, Skippy Jon Jones remains just short enough to get under the couch. My beloved Hammer can no longer contort himself enough to get under the couch. Therefore, Skippy runs under the couch with toys and laughs hysterically....

What about the place that we call home?

I was sitting in the dining room, minding my own business, for real, and the kids come in bearing a Speed Racer helmet. I thought, GRAND, they are putting the helmet up, because that's the right thing to do, putting your freaking toys up instead of asking me a hundred bazillion times where your toy is whenever I don't happen to be the one who plays with it. But no, the helmet had contents. 6 teeny bunnies. Thankfully, said bunnies had fur, but their little eyes are still closed and their tails are very tucked and have I mentioned how terribly small they are? So I read up about it, hours after the fact, and discover that the mama bunnies pretty much always abandon the wee bunnies until night falls, when she returns to feed them. Not the best of parenting in my humble opinion, but it does have the element of keeping the rabbit population down, eh?

To be fair, my beloved Hammer was trying to eat one of the bunnies, and that is the reason why my children felt the need to touch said bunnies under the guise of a heroic rescue mission. I frantically tried to figure out what to do with the bunnies and putting them back was deemed the best answer, along with taking my beloved Hammer out in the front for his potty breaks for a few days at least. The following morning, one bunny has left the nest and not survived the night. The children blame me, for if I hadn't decreed the bunny babbits be re-nested, the one named Geek would have survived the night. The mama rabbit has clearly not made it back to the nest (could it be the stray outdoor cat population???). We brought the teeny bunny babbits back inside, fed them warm goat's milk and left them alone all day. So far, no more deaths. Tomorrow is another day.

I'm only happy when it rains

Every now and then my kids want to help me cook. My kitchen would be considered big, if it were in a studio apartment that is. Needless to say, I'm always worried about some getting their head chopped clean off when I swing around with the chef's knife in hand.

Tonight, I was making chicken noodle soup. E and M were out in the backyard playing screaming banshee or something else loud and appropriately OUTSIDE. I was chopping the chicken into bite sized morsels when E came in and informed me I needed his help. After a rigorous handwashing, he got to place bite sized chicken morsels into the soup pot. Afterwards, I made him wash his hands, like major. He was not happy about the second hand washing...

E: Why do I have to wash my hands again?

Me: You just handled raw chicken, yo.

E: What's so wrong with raw chicken?

Me: Salmonella. It's a bad thing that makes you sick.

E: Well, they shouldn't even be allowed to sell chicken raw.

Breaking A Habit Tonight

Hammer, my beloved bad dog, has received a death threat. It was anonymous and sent to the wrong address. Thankfully the neighbors who received the letter immediately recognized it was MY dog being referenced in the letter. I think they figured this out because their dogs don't ever get out and my dog has a bad reputation as a neighborhood gangsta. They called to let me know we may have a loose cannon in the 'hood. I know what you were thinking, "not in the redneck state," but boy did you think wrong.

The letter claimed to have maced Hams. It was unsigned, because tough people almost never sign their letters. It said things like fu***ing dog, mother fu**er, etc. But then asked that Hammer's owner be respectful. I think language like that is ALWAYS conducive to respectfulness.

Prior to hearing from the neighbor about that nasty little death threat, I had gone to Petsmart to sign Ham's up for some be nice classes. While there, my car door, which I always hook with my foot to keep it from blowing open, scraped right over my foot and hit the car next to me. A Mercedes of course. My car door would NEVER stoop to hitting a Geo Metro. Damaged my car too. Because in Oklahoma, the wind comes sweeping down the stupid plains, remember? So the insurance company informed me that the claim may not be paid because wind is an act of God.

Now my son is refusing to go to sleep and is instead banging on the wall. Between the Hammer issues, the act of God and the banging....... Why I oughta.....

I don't want to do this if I don't even know what it is.

My son has been running around like a ninja. He's very creative lately. Since he is being so creative, I decided to tap his brain and here is what happened....

Interview with my son E....

1. What is something mom always says to you?
"I love you" (I was so afraid he was going to say "Quit making all that noise already" but he went the safe route).

2. What makes mom happy?
If I do what you ask me to.

3. What makes mom sad?
If I don't listen to you.

4. How does your mom make you laugh?
You tickle me or you tell me funny jokes. If I finish this survey, can I skip a grade?

5. What was your mom like as a child?
Responsible.

6. How old is your mom?
36 (He's in the dog house, went a little high on that one)

7. How tall is your mom?
3.5 (Uh, okay...)

8. What is her favorite thing to do?
Talk with friends and be with family.

9. What does your mom do when you're not around?
She cries because I'm not around.

10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?
Being a lawyer...

11. What is your mom really good at?
Suing people.

12. What is your mom not very good at?
Reading. (I read all the time, not sure how I'm not good at it...)

13. What does your mom do for her job?
Have clients come in and stuff.

14. What is your mom's favorite food?
Broccoli (um, guess again)

15. What makes you proud of your mom?
She's happy (I think he's getting bored....)

16. If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be?
Scooby Doo, because Scooby Doo's awesome.

17. What do you and your mom do together?
Eat

18. How are you and your mom the same?
We are related.

19. How are you and your mom different?
I don't know (I knew it, he's running out of ammo...)

20. How do you know your mom loves you?
She tells me.

21. Where is your mom's favorite place to go?
Carrabba's (which might be true if they hadn't CLOSED).

Super Massive Black Hole

I have been looking for office space recently because working from home is less than desirable. At first I loved it. But my 'office' is in the dining room, the only dining room I have. So when the kids get home, or prior thereto, I have to pack it all up. So my work hours are limited. And my house is SMALL. So I have no other extra space where I can do this thing that pays my bills. The good news in all of this is the fact that my environmental footprint is smaller. I hope.

As a result of a near nervous breakdown from single parenthood, I have had little to say this week, except the gripe above about how badly I need SOME EXTRA ROOM! Well, and also the moaning and groaning about my beloved dog. So I decided today to post a few photos from our road trip in like February and to promise that next week, I will be semi-sorta-funny again.

This is Hammer, hiding underneath my leg (and yes, dangerously close to the gas pedal) in the floor board of my car on the way to the kennel. I spelled kennel when I told them kids of our destination, so NO, he has no clue where we are headed.....

Driving into Pennsylvania. Look Ma, SNOW!

This is a fantastic church in Harrisburg, PA.

Downtown Springfield, Massachusetts.

E on a back street in downtown Springfield, Mass, where we ate at a little German restaurant that was frankly not that tasty. I always like to try local flavor, and this time, we picked a loser.


Then on the way home, the St. Louis Arch, the Gateway to the West. More like the Gateway to Julie's personal HELL!

The arch is, um, TALL. When you go up in it, there is a door on the little cars, and you can FREAKING SEE DOWN, DOWN, DOWN.... I'm scared of heights. But I wanted my kids to do this thing, so I did it, white knuckled and pretty much on the verge of throwing up the ENTIRE TIME....

Requisite kid pose near the St. Louis Arch.

Last but not least, a shining example of my children entertaining themselves well on road trips, I present to you M and post-it note fun!!!