Hello...is anyone out there???!!!

It has been so long since I have blogged that I had to go back and read my own blog to figure out where I left off.

The job was awesome. It was perfect for me, and I think that Boss Lady was happy with what we accomplished. It did teach me that regular 9-5 work is not in my near future. It also taught me that there might be a niche for what I excel at, maybe one day, I can devote some more time to helping carve it.

Hercules broke another television. Yep. Another one. He totaled this one with a plastic hanger. I didn't even cry this time, I guess I am slowly becoming desensitized to calamity and disaster.

We threw our couch out. It was an impulse decision based on the fact that it was broken. Broken or not, I quickly found myself longing for a place to rest my fat ass weary bones. So, I salvaged a sofa and over sized chair from my neighbor's trash. Please picture one adult driving my SUV, a piece of furniture resting partially on the tailgate, a child holding onto the arm from the backseat, and me jogging along behind the vehicle supporting the rest of the furniture. One helluva mental image, right?

The sofa was actually picked out by our new dog, Lilly. She sat on it while it was on the curb for pick-up, and refused to get off. I think she was indicating to me that her new home was missing something. A few jugs of bleach from Costco, and I have 'new' living room furniture. truly, they surprised me with how well they cleaned up, and they are a very lovely off white leather...not even pleather, real leather.

Lilly is a three and a half year old AmStaff. She has decided not to eat my kids, cats, birds, or small neurotic dogs, and thus, she can stay. She is very, very cute. Black with white paws, white chest, and a white splash on the very tip of her tail. I had her informally evaluated by my new friend and sporadic Boss Lady, who gave her the 'thumb up' for being a good girl. Lilly is an alpha, but, defers to my JRT who is THE QUEEN BITCH, and lets my chi act like a big deal. My dogs hate anything with fur, and yet, they have given Lil their acceptance, so, she is now an official Proud pet.

While moving the living room furniture around yesterday, I had a bookcase collapse. It took out three pieces of furniture when it fell, including two fish tanks, the entertainment center, television, and another shelving unit. All but one fish and one snail were salvaged from the wreckage. To save on clean-up, I tried posting a "Mommy's Sushi Bar Is Now Open" sign for the cats, the picky little brats won't eat the stupid fish off the floor...only out of the tank. Apparently, there isn't any sport in scooping them off my tile.

The Proud family is doing okay, but, we have been busy. Now, I need to surf the internet, it has been almost a month since my home network has been working, and I am going through some serious withdrawal. See you on your blogs, I will catch up...just watch me!

Writer's Block...

...and I'm not even a writer.

There is so very much going on in my life right now. Some of it would make remarkable blog fodder, but, putting it out there doesn't feel right. So, I have been a little stuck for things to talk about. Let me catch you up, at least a little bit.

I found a job. It is just until the end of next week, but, a job it is. It is lovely. As a matter of fact, it is something that I would pay to do, so I feel a little like I'm cheating. I am helping a lady who is quite a bit like me, to organize and rearrange some things around her house. Her family has several dogs, cats, birds, a bunny. They also have a beautiful home, which has such a lovely feeling about it...I think that the feeling is love.

I have been feeling a bit stale about my own home, and I think that the inspiration to have my own home reflect the love I have for my family (though, granted not for the house itself) will come as a result of being exposed to the great karma that her home has. For the first time in a looong while, I had the chance to miss my kids without being actively involved in something that would benefit them, like grocery shopping, and there is a rejuvenating breeze that seemed to blow this afternoon as a result.

In other news, the kids are out of school for the summer, and I am trying to gain the gumption to send my grandmother an email thanking, but, 'no-thanking' her for looking into summer camp for the kids. I really just want to shut down for a time, and with the exception of my little 'job' I fully intend to do just that.

H has been off his gluten free diet because his last round of test results indicated that we could reintroduce it. WHAT A MISTAKE!!! I am already done with this experiment on week 2, and I think that he will be gluten free for...about the next 15 years, or until he moves out, whichever is later. DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME KIDS!!! CAUTION! DANGER! JUST SAY NO! (Um, this was a very bad, dumb idea.)

Okay, so I am off to bed. I hope that all of my bloggy pals are well, and I will catch up on your blogs this weekend. Really, I will.

We are having a 'lazy Summer'

We are coming to the end of another school year. I am so very pleased and happy that the kids will be home, and that we'll be able to avoid alarm clocks and such for the time being. Summer vacation is a vacation from scheduling, at which I am doing quite poorly, at the moment. I think that the lack of sleep from the past two years has finally caught up with me in earnest. Sometimes I just can't wake up. I know I need to, I know I should...and still, the idea of getting out of bed at that moment, seems as impossible a task as taking flight. I'm hoping to recharge me batteries this summer.

Organization is another key component of my plans. We are going to finally have time to sit down and figure out what to keep, what to let go, and where to store it all. The kids might actually be as excited about this prospect as I am. A place for everything...not a novel idea, just not something we've enjoyed for a rather long time now.

Camp is most emphatically *not* part of my plans. I am not going to let the kids enroll in, nor let them be enrolled in anything that requires us to keep a schedule. I actually think the kids might be relieved about this one. Camp is fun, but, alarm clocks are not. Nor, is it fun to get seven people out the door by the time the rooster crows. I just have to remember to stay strong in my convictions when well meaning family try to 'help out.'

So, I say, "Come on Summer! I am longingly waiting for all the relief you bring, at the same time that I am dreading the heat and humidity that we must bear to entertain you." Please, this last week is one of the most difficult to bear...HURRY!!!

A 'real' post should be available tomorrow

Just a few random gems that I thought I might share...

How do you know that your bird's last family liked dipping into the powder? Because you rush your bird to the vet with it's terrible 'human-like' cold to find that it is merely mimicking snorts of different varieties. After careful consideration, I think that I might prefer a potty mouthed bird...just sayin.'

The same bird tried to remove my husband's arm last night. He sure is pretty (the bird) but, he is a real handful. Of course, immediately after removing a half dollar sized portion of my hubby's arm, he climbed up in my lap to give me kisses. I suspect that this bird likes the ladies.

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If your husband bitches non stop about helping? No matter how much help he is providing, you'll wish he stops...post haste.

I mean, this terrible, horrible, exhausting life that he keeps claiming is making him miserable and possibly killing him, is your own.

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My step son contacted me via Facebook. My husband encouraged me to ignore the request, I'm glad I didn't. He apologized, and now, I feel like a huge weight has been lifted from my chest.

This rather shifts the yin and yang of my world back into the appropriate balance. I love my step son, and I always will. No matter what happened in the past, that simple fact won't change. I will honestly admit that this applies to S alone, I haven't heard anything from N, and I wouldn't want to. While loving, doesn't cover 'liking' or 'trusting' necessarily, none of the above applies to N. My relationship with N was tenuous at best, before this past Fall, it is now completely non existent. I intend to keep it that way. N worked hard for years, at straining what little bond we had. After all that happened, it is broken beyond repair.

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My husband is throwing away my tee shirts as I type. Heads might roll.

Where have you been Mrs. Proud?

This question has been asked of me many times as of late. The truth is that I have been busy. Not busy with my children, well, at least not more so than usual. Not busy with my house...I will still try and visit with you on my non-existent veranda should you pop by unannounced. I've been busy with my birds.

It started pretty innocently, a single parakeet for my son's birthday. Then, in the blink of an eye my husband and I had a whole flock. In truth, I knew that what we had been wanting was a medium sized parrot. Instead, I tried to go the 'easy' route. Smaller birds are less of a commitment, right? That one little parakeet turned into a flock of six in the blink of an eye. Then we added a pair of canaries, and a cockatiel. Still, something wasn't right. So, we brought home a Nanday Conure. (There is a whole blog post on loving and losing a bird here for another day.) "Ahh," I'm surprised you couldn't hear our contented sighs from where you are Internet.

And then, we did something silly. We checked Craigslist one more time for the heck of it. A Sun Conure was listed. So, my husband said, "offer her 25% of the list price." So, we did. AND...she accepted our offer. So, we brought Herbie home to join our flock too. My husband keeps asking him, "Damn you, why do you have to be such a cute looking bird?"

I'm exhausted people. It is a contented exhaustion, but, bringing home these babies has been much like bringing home twins I should think. They wake me up every couple of hours all through the night. They cry constantly if I am attending the other. They both seem to be bonding to me. It looked like our Nanday was going to be a man's bird. Then my husband tried to get him to step up off of me, and got torn a new one. Nan seems to be mine now. Herbie won't step up for anyone. He does shriek until I open his cage so that he can chew holes in my shirts, preen my feathers, and give me kisses. He is very sweet until he sees hands, then he tries to amputate fingers with his beak.

There are all sots of other things going on too. My husband has been home this week. He is sick, and he is also sick and tired. He is about to lose his job. We knew that he had been 'working' on borrowed time. He also knows that he needs to stick with it until he finds another job, or until they dismiss him. If he gets emotional enough to quit, we would lose the unemployment option should we God forbid need it. It is stressful.

I ran my son to school yesterday morning. The truck was out of gas, and our local filling station has but four pumps. There was a pick-up with a trailer blocking the entrance to one pump, and closing access off to two more. I will admit to being grumpy, and pre-caffeinated judgement led me to jump out of my truck and yell, "You're busting my balls for two frigging gas cans? You've gotta be kidding!" So, if you are the dude I yelled at yesterday...I realize that I was not in my best form, and anatomically incorrect to boot. You're still a douche bag though Bud, 'kay?

I'll post some pictures of my new babies later. Thanks for all the emails and stuff asking if we were okay, you guys are great, really great!

The things that make my world go round

In the crazy, hectic past few weeks, there were a few blog posts that should have been written, that were not. So, today's post will be a collection of 'bloggy shorts.'

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"What the hell is leaking?" I asked this question out loud at Costco. I was trying to ascertain what was dripping all over my carefully packed grocery cart and onto the floor. The answer? Pee.

My youngest daughter's diaper had shifted and caused her latest deposit to leak down her legs, into my groceries, down the sides of the milk gallons, and then puddle on the cement floor. Other than the 'gross' factor, there was the 'poorly prepared mother' factor. I was without a change of clothes for Baby Girl...or anyone else for that matter, and I have two babies in diapers and a newly potty trained toddler, so you would think that I would plan better for the inevitable.

We were also in the farthest corner from the restrooms. So, I changed my child's diaper in mid air, while holding her over a gigantic trash can, in the refrigerated foods section. I then mopped up my groceries, child, and the floor as best I could with baby wipes, put the wet skort in my purse (Vera Bradley is very washable) and tried to maintain my composure when the cashier asked if the apple juice was leaking.

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"Mom, my ear feels funny!" I've heard my soon to be 8 year old say this approximately 1,000,000 times in the last few weeks. "Does it hurt?" I would ask. He maintained that it did not, and then I would promptly forget about the exchange.

It was an early release day from school, and I had my son, his friend, and the rest of my little ones at the ice cream place. As we stood in line, I was looking for the person who was bringing me two canaries, so I was distracted. "Here Mom," was all I needed to obediently stick my hand out, to receive whatever object LB was about to put in my palm. I glanced down at my hand, I was holding what appeared to be a medium size pebble.

"What is it?" I asked my son.

"I think it is what was bothering me," he said. I frowned and examined it more closely. "It just came out of my ear," he helpfully added. He had caught me off guard, I shrieked and jerked my hand, the 'pebble' went flying. The group of high school girls in front of us also screamed and ducked, so I have to assume that at their age, it is either a 'flocking behavior' response, or that they had been paying greater attention to my son's endeavors that I had been.

I surveyed the other patrons, aside from the group of teenagers, all but the bemused elderly couple behind us, were politely pretending we were invisible, or were oblivious. My son took advantage of my hesitation and began searching. "Stop right there," I ordered.

"But, BUT...I WANTED TO KEEP IT!!!" he sobbed.

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I was waiting in the car with LB, it was time to leave to drop the children at school. "What is taking your sister so long? Go find out." I ordered LB.

LB returned to the truck alone. "JB isn't coming to school today," he announced, "we can go ahead and leave." I gave him a suspicious look and went to investigate the matter.

My oldest son was sitting at the counter, "JB's upstairs in the bathroom, she threw up when she was putting on her shoes. I guess she needs to stay home." I returned to LB and without saying much, because I am not very talkative and border on being 'screamy' pre-coffee, kissed him good-bye before he got out of the car at school.

JB spent the day suffering from allergies and a touchy tummy. She was relaxing on the sofa when LB got home. "Your teacher said that you could have worn flip-flops if you had come to school today." I thought very little of the comment, and dismissed it as my son giving my daughter a hard time, or as another funky Spirit Day theme.

I was less dismissive of BFF when she drove by with her mother, "JB! Mrs. B. said you could wear flip-flops if you need to!" I asked my daughter what that meant after they drove away.

"I have no idea Mom. Maybe Mrs. B has me mixed up with A, because A hurt her foot the other day at school?" My daughter shrugged and sneezed the comment off.

"Oh no," LB spoke up, "your teacher isn't confused. I told her that you couldn't come to school today because you couldn't find your shoes." We all stared at him. "Well, that is why JB didn't go to school, right? Because she couldn't find her shoes?"

"No Nimrod," my oldest son chimed in, "she threw up all over her shoes!" My oldest son ignored my death stare at his choice of words. "That's so rich! JB's teacher thinks she was out of school because she doesn't have any shoes!" As his gales of laughter continued, the horror of the scenario was washing over me, apparently my daughter wasn't immune to the implications either.

"Mommy! Please can you home school me starting tomorrow?" Much to her chagrin I denied her request. Today, I found her going through her closet. "I'm going to wear a different pair of shoes each day this week," she said, "just so people will know that I have some."

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Jen, over at Diagnosis: Urine asked how I explained the terms in my last post to my children. She wanted to know how I explained lines, blow jobs, penis picture posts, and fuck to my children after our last dinner out on the town. Well Jen, blow jobs are drinks just like Shirley Temples, but, they have alcohol in them, so only adults can say the name. The people at the next table had obviously had too many drinks like Shirley Temples, but with alcohol, because they were being very silly and saying, "lines on the bathroom counter" instead of "lines to get to the bathroom counter" because it is very, very important to wash your hands after you go potty, and especially before you eat. The only time you would *ever* post a picture of your penis, is when you have to send one to your doctor because you weren't careful and got it caught in your zipper, and your doctor needs to know if you need to go to the hospital...and even then, in our house, we just go to the hospital. Finally, 'fucking' is something you do when you drive, or...err...when I drive...apparently, I "fuck douche bags that don't use their turning signals" rather too often.

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Coincidentally, when my oldest son was younger (and called a kid on the school playground a douche bag) he asked me when he would be old enough to swear. I told him that he would be old enough to swear when he started driving...as I was pretty darn sure that he had picked up the term from me, around the merge to get from one highway to another.

He has never forgotten me telling him that. In all these years, he hasn't remembered anything I've ever asked him to do the first time around, but, THAT, he not only remembers, but, can list the witnesses to my jackassery. Let this be a lesson to the rest of you...never be flip with your children, in their court of law, verbal agreements are definitely binding!

The Pink Elephant in the room

I am not by any means a prude. However, in my hope to help a few people out there, who aren't sure what is, or is not, appropriate to talk about in a family restaurant, here is a short list of words even *I* wouldn't utter.

• Anything using "fuck." This rule may only be broken if you find an appendage in your food, such as, "What the fuck is this?" as you pull a small hairy paw out of your soup.
• "Penis." While I won't ban the use of this word in the bathroom for obvious reasons, I will unequivocally state that any phrases that start, "He posted pictures of his penis..." are not okay, especially when spoken at your table.
• "Lines." Please don't leave me nonsensically stumbling to explain why you just said, "lines on the bathroom counter," instead of "lines to get to the bathroom counter. Please leave your lines and any talk about them, in the dorm from whence you came.
• "Blow job." I am positive that I don't care if Erica gave Peter a blow job, but, after they wire your jaws shut, your boyfriend will be doing without them for a long, loooong time.

Now that we have established what can and cannot be said in a family restaurant, let me give you a few helpful hints to determine if you are indeed 'in' a family restaurant.

• The term "Family Restaurant" appears in bold red letters on the sign.
• There are people at least 1-2 feet shorter than you are in every direction you look.
• They have a game room that doesn't include any darts, poker, or pool tables.
• There are pissed off parents as far as the eye can see, wondering when their children will need to potty, so they will be free to discreetly rip out your vocal chords.

I think that I am the true test of what is absolutely, positively offensive. If you have managed to offend me, you have crossed a line. In the event that the occupants of the table behind ours ever stumble upon this post, "Just because a restaurant has a bar, doesn't mean it is one. Just because you're drunk, doesn't mean it's okay. Just because you can, doesn't mean you should...and the last one, is all that saved me from dumping my glass over your foul mouthed little heads, but, the next time I would STFU if I were you, restraint only goes so far."