I Suck, So Here's A Funny Story

I've been an awful blog friend lately. I haven't posted much. I haven't visited many blogs. I suck. I apologize. Things around here have crazy busy and hectic. There is a lot on my plate right now. I promise, no I pinky swear to catch up with all of my reading and commenting soon.

My monkeys provide me with endless blog fodder so I do have a funny story to tell. This time it's about the monkeyman. Last night, I was recapping the DWTS finale so I could get it posted(I think I've mentioned that I write for a reality TV site). So it was late, like almost midnight and I was hungry because I'd skipped dinner. I yelled downstairs -well, I didn't really yell since the little monkeys were asleep. It was more like "Pssst" - and asked the monkeyman to grab me a frozen pizza from the garage freezer. I heard him turn off the alarm to go into the garage. The next thing I heard was "Meeeeeeooooooooow" followed by lots of swearing. Was that a cat? We don't have a cat. I jumped up and went down to find the monkeyman in the garage trying to get behind some boxes. He yelled for me to hurry and close the door so I asked what was going on. Because I never just do what I'm told. He then yelled some obscenities as my neighbor's cat flew out from behind the boxes and made a beeline for the open door to my laundry room. Ah, so that's what is going on. That cat has been a problem for a while since it likes to use my flower beds for a litter box and my car as a spot to nap. It started out doing this at my cousin's house until she scattered moth balls all over her front yard. Now the stench of moth balls makes her front porch smell like really old people. Those of you who read me regularly might remember that my neighbor and I don't exactly get along. Remember this? And this? Anyway, when the cat saw that I was blocking it's path it disappeared behind another pile of junk. Reason #672 for cleaning out the garage : It leaves no hiding places for annoying trespassing cats. I laughed my booty off. Of course, the monkeyman was not amused. He was livid and opened the garage door to the outside to run the cat out. I went back in the house because my excessive laughter was not welcomed on the scene, but oh, how I wish I'd grabbed the camera. It would have been sure to win first place on America's Funniest Home Videos. He did finally run the cat out but said if he'd gotten his hands on it...well, let's just say that it wouldn't have been pleasant because I don't like to use such language.

The only way I can figure the cat got into the garage was yesterday morning. I have family in town for my aunt and uncle's 60th anniversary and the big party is tonight (Anyone who puts up lives with the same man for 60 years deserves a party, no? Maybe a freaking medal?) So anyway, I took the stroller out of my SUV so we could use put up the third row of seats to make room for everyone. And also, to clean out all of the toys, books, crumbs, etc that were in the car. I think my monkeys could survive at least a week on all of the Cheerios, gummy fruit snacks, and french fries I found in there. The garage door was up for about 10 minutes while I did all of this. That must be when the cat sneaked in. Yesterday was a 90-something degree day here and the humidity must have been at least 158%. That had to be one hot kitty. I'm surprised he had the energy to move as quickly as he did.

Stay tuned for more because when I see my neighbor outside, I plan to tell her that her cat nearly lost all nine of it's lives last night. And the monkeyman has already said if he finds that the cat relieved himself somewhere in the garage, he's going to...again, let's just say it won't be pretty. I dare her to say something smart.

Wordless Wednesday - Hot Dawg!

Haiku Friday - Assume The Position

Eighty-two dollars
Awfully steep for one tank
Highway robbery

Ready for action?
Bend over, dear consumer
Condom optional

Wordless Wednesday - Bow Before Her Majesty

An Extra Little Monkey

My brother has a 13 year old daughter named Anna. She's never lived with my brother and he was never married to her mother. We learned about Anna on the day she was born. My brother knew his ex-girlfriend was pregnant but hadn't told us because he was afraid of how we'd respond. Of course, we loved the baby. How could we not? The situation wasn't ideal but it wasn't my sweet little niece's fault. My brother and Anna's mother were on again, off again for a few years until they finally went their separate ways. My brother eventually remarried and his new wife has two girls that he took in as his own. Anna's mother eventually remarried as well, then divorced and now lives with her new boyfriend. Anna has always lived with her maternal grandmother. She refused to let Anna live with mother. It was definitely for the best since this way Anna was in a stable home. That grandmother, however, ruled the roost with an iron fist and was very controlling. She was never very fond of my brother and I suppose I can't blame her. He's never been a consistent presence in Anna's life. He's never provided consistent or substantial support. He loves her, that I know. But he doesn't know how to be there for her. He goes months without calling or visiting her but then makes up for it(or so he thinks) by buying expensive gifts.

Anna has always been a part of our lives. When we visit home in Louisiana, she spends nearly everyday with us. We support her financially and call her regularly. She's a great kid and my little monkeys adore their big cousin.

A couple of weeks ago, Anna's grandmother, the woman who has practically raised her from birth, passed away. She's devastated. To make matters worse, she feels she has no where to go. She doesn't want to live with my brother. She doesn't want to live with her mother and the new boyfriend. Besides that, her mother says they don't really have the room. Her mother's brother and SIL have said they don't have the room. How can someone tell a child -their own child- that there's no room for them? I don't get that. Can't fathom it and never will.

Okay, the long and short of it is this. Anna is coming with my mother in a couple weeks for Big Sis' kinder graduation and she will be staying for the summer. If she wants to stay permanently after the summer, our home is hers. She is after all, part of our family. I wouldn't have it any other way. So for the summer, there will be one more little(well, not so little) monkey around here. Beyond that, it's all up to her. Here...there will always be room.

For Us All

This morning, I received this email and wanted to share with all of you...

This is for the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in
their arms, wiping up puke laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry
Kool-Aid saying, 'It's okay honey, Mommy's here'.

Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end soothing crying babies who
can't be comforted. This is for all the mothers who show up at work with
spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their
purse.

For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween
costumes. And all the mothers who DON'T.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they'll never see. And the
mothers who took those babies and gave them homes.

This is for the mothers whose priceless art collections are hanging on
their refrigerator doors.

And for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal bleachers at football ,
hockey or soccer games instead of watching from the warmth of their cars,
so that when their kids asked, 'Did you see me, Mom?' they could say, 'Of
course, I wouldn't have missed it for the world,' and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store and
swat them in despair when they stomp their feet and scream for ice cream
before dinner. And for all the mothers who count to ten instead, but
realize how child abuse happens.

This is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained
all about making babies. And for all the (grand) mothers who wanted to, but
just couldn't find the words.

This is for all the mothers who go hungry, so their children can eat.

For all the mothers who read 'Goodnight, Moon' twice a night for a year.
And then read it again. 'Just one more time.'

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their
shoelaces before they started school. And for all the mothers who opted for
Velcro instead.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their
daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for every mother whose head turns automatically when a little voice
calls 'Mom?' in a crowd, even though they know their own offspring are at
home -- or even away at college.

This is for all the mothers who sent their kids to school with stomach
aches, assuring them they'd be just FINE once they got there, only to get
calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them
up. Right away.

This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can't find the
words to reach them.

For all the mothers who bite their lips until they bleed when their 14 year
olds dye their hair green.

For all the mothers of the victims of recent school shootings, and the
mothers of those who did the shooting.

For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their
TVs in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to be peaceful, and
now pray they come home safely from a war.

What makes a good Mother anyway?

Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook
dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time?

Or is it in her heart? Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or
daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very
first time?

The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to
put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby?

The panic, years later, that comes again at 2 A.M. when you just want to
hear their key in the door and know they are safe again in your home?

Or the need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear
news of a fire, a car accident, a child dying?

The emotions of motherhood are universal and so our thoughts are for young
mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation...

And mature mothers learning to let go.

For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.

Single mothers and married mothers.

Mothers with money, mothers without.

This is for you all. For all of us.

Happy Mother's Day!

Haiku Friday - My Horse

Flying in the wind
Not a care left in the world
My soul is at peace

Luna de Noche
Another's horse on paper
My horse in spirit