My F'ing Week

Fingers, football, failures, feet, phones (yes that's cheating, but it's my blog), and fishing.

It's been 7 days of fatigue.




Starting with last Wednesday.  Just a bad, bad day, along with Thursday and Friday.  Days of failure, marked by fate and frustration.  'Nuff said about that series of days.....




Then on Friday, I learned that JA2 proposed to someone he had known for five weeks.  Her fearful mom (can't say that I blame her) sent me a FB message because she wanted details on this foul man who had crept into her daughter's life.  I pulled out my JA2 briefcase -- yes I have one of those -- and went through incident after incident with the mom, and then the daughter from those frightening years.  All of those memories had been neatly sorted, folded and stored away, so pulling them out, though necessary, was exhausting.  We need to say fervent prayers that this lady follows her head and not her heart in this instance. 




Oh, and if Friday wasn't bad enough, Emma had her iPhone 6 stolen during her first week of high school.  Verizon employees unfortunately get no breaks on phones, so she will end up with an old Samsung of mine or maybe that cool little flip phone of Sloan's (that is another blog in itself).




The weekend was a forgetful blur.  Sometimes forgetful blurs aren't really that bad!




I had a fanatically busy day at work on Monday and had to get Sloan to his appointment with the hand doctor in the afternoon to check out that little finger!  I spoke to Sloan on Sunday about the schedule.  I would pick him up from home, fly to the doctor at 3:30, sit in the parking lot on a conference call for 10 minutes (I needed to be able to look at docs), then get into the doctor by 3:40.  Sounds very doable, or at least I thought.




Oh, but no.  Sloan had told me he might go fishing with a friend Monday morning.  So when I got the text, "I went fishing with a friend" in the early afternoon, I thought nothing about it.  I was on a frivolous conference call and didn't respond to Sloan's text.  I feverishly drove home, only to find the house empty!  I called out to Sloan.  No answer.  I went outside and called out to Sloan.  Again, no answer, other than chickens squawking.  At this point, I realize, "OMG, I'll bet he's still FISHING with this friend."  I called him, I texted him.  "Where are you???????"  He called, quite sorrowful.  Yes, he was on the far end of town, an exit that I passed as I was heading home to pick him up.  I was FURIOUS, to put it mildly.




I drove to the address he provided, thinking I knew the way.  Well, Ashley Autrey and many others know I have no sense of direction, so when I got to the general area, I couldn't find the street, so I had to navigate.  The call was to start in 5 minutes!  I finally found the house, parked in front, blocking the road, had to move when a car needed to pass, and was all the time feverishly thinking about how BAD this punishment was going to be.  As I was getting the text from work, "Are you getting on the call," Sloan was getting into my car, wet swim trunks and all.  I was fuming and very close to flipping out.  Had to get on my conference call and do it all on the fly.  It is very difficult to sound professional and "together" when you are giving the death scowl to your son at the same time.




On a positive note -- yes there are a few in here (LOL) -- Sloan was released to play football with a glove and a splint.  He, of course, thought this was fantastic.  I was still trying to figure out if I was even going to TAKE him to football practice, after this day.  I did decide to take him ultimately because he had been waiting weeks to actually play and HIT.  We had to go by his dad's house first to get his football gear, though.  He got in the car with his stuff and scissors and proceeded to cut sleeves off one of his shirts along the way.  After the knife incident (and all of the other Sloan incidents), Sloan in a car with a knife is a little nerve-wracking.  Nevertheless, I drove pretty fast to get him there on time, and as soon as I turned into the school, I asked him if he had gotten his glove -- the functional and famously needed glove in order to play.  For those of you who know Sloan or have read any of these stories, you probably know the answer.  NO, he forgot it.  AGGGGG, that boy!!!!  At this point, I am beyond my anger to the point of mama madness -- not in the mad way, in the crazy way -- and he realizes it.  It was a very quiet ride back to his dad's house and again back to practice.  He will be paying me, somehow, for all that gas I used, and it will NOT be in the form of his gas in return.  That boy's gonna be mowing lawns.




And then came the highlight of this bad, frowzled (yes this is a word) week.  Someone walked past me and said, "your toes look great!"  Yes, you know you're having a bad week when a toe compliment is the highlight!  But here is why.  I was always self-conscious of my toes.  My second and third toes are longer than my big toe!  In my family, this condition is known as "Tolley Toes."  It's a genetic thing, along with others than can't all be included in one blog post! 




However, my whole attitude changed when I was approached, as I was out with friends one night years ago, by a guy who saw my feet in sandals and said that my toes indicated Greek royalty!  He gave me a very believable story about Greeks and second and third toes.  At least it seemed believable to me after a few glasses of wine.  Amazingly, after further research, I realized he wasn't completely full of baloney!  Heck, I could be famous Greek royalty if my ancestry didn't point me to families in Ireland and Scotland.  If only these toes could talk!   So here is what my research says:

SECOND TOE

The longer your second toe, the more leadership qualities you have. You are dynamic and resourceful.

 

THIRD TOE

If it is comparatively long, it means you are incredibly energetic and resourceful, especially at work.

Ah hah, this resourcefulness explains how I could pick Sloan up, keep my cool, finish a conference call, and refrain from murder!  Yes!!!  Well, and ultimately the whole revelation about toes was a pretty good thing.  Ended up dating the guy for about six months, all because of a toe conversation!




So that is how I will end this frustrating week's saga.  On a funny and foot stomping note, so we can all start fresh next week!

Dating Fails

 

Since I have tiptoed in with a blog about dating, might as well stomp on in with a second one.  Like blogs about my kids, blogs about bad dates typically are funnier in hindsight, after overcoming the initial embarrassment, heartbreak or disgust.  For all of my married friends (who aren't married to JA's!), these stories should go make you kiss your spouses and thank God that you aren't in the single world anymore!

 

Note that these stories are not in any time order and names have been changed for my entertainment purposes.

 

 

 

 

 

Bruce

 

This is one of those infamous Match dates!  I'll refer to him as Bruce.  Bruce and I chatted via email and agreed to meet downtown.  We never exchanged phone numbers, which, turns out, we should have, because there was a misunderstanding on the restaurant and we went to two different places.  Afterwards, each of us thought the other stood us up.  Once we realized what happened, we agreed to try again -- this time with each other's phone number on stand-by -- at Cleveland Park.

 

Let's just say meeting him in person was quite different from his online persona.  For your reference, top 5 lies in online dating are as follows:

 

• Height
• Weight
• Physique
• Age
• Income

 

So he was maybe 2 of 5 in truthfulness, tops!  He admitted to me that he was older than his "advertised age," and then followed that with, "but doesn't everybody do it?"  NO, they don't.  Strike ONE.

 

I have been told I could never play poker, so it must have been obvious to Bruce that I don't take kindly to being lied to, so in an effort to impress me, he told me about the Batman car he keeps in his garage, works on, and drives for special outings.  Strike TWO and THREE.  Holy Toledo, Batman, no MATCH.

 

 

Blaze

While I'm talking about online dates, here's another.  I'll call him Blaze.  More like a flash fire -- which is characterized by a high temperature and short duration, by the way.  We had met a couple of times already, so knew a bit about each other by this date.  We met at a local restaurant and sat in a booth.  I was wearing a sundress, and underneath it a "freebra," advertised as "the new definition of freedom."  LOL.  Basically it's a stick-on bra that requires no straps at all but hurts like the dickens when you take it off.  ANYWAY, I was telling Blaze some long story, and in the midst of  it, I felt the freebra slide down my stomach and land on my thigh!!  I'm sure the lack of adhesion was due to the lotion I had applied prior to the date as well as the sweat from a date with someone I am calling Blaze.  I am also sure (due to the fact that I do not have a poker face as discussed in the aforementioned story), I paused in the midst of this rambling saga for a second or two.  I mean, how could you NOT? 


He appeared not to notice, so I continued, hoping to God he needed to go to the restroom quickly so I could put myself back together.  Eventually, in probably 10 minutes -- though it seemed like an hour -- he did go to the restroom and I was able to discreetly affix the freebra back to the original body part.  Ahhhh.  The date was fine, as well as subsequent dates, but ultimately, it ended in a wisp of smoke.  This is when I LOVE that I have such great girlfriends who tell me just exactly what I needed to hear.  In this case, "Strong, silent men are overrated."  Yes, even when they're smoking hot....

 

 

 

Dweebgooberman

So this one was NOT an online date, but rather someone I met at church.  I know, I know.  Men from church have not worked out well.  This one was before JA2, and in hindsight, should have been a deterrent from dating anyone from church.  I'll just call him Dweebgooberman.  He had asked me out multiple, multiple times and I had declined.  Finally, he just wore me down, plus he asked me to go to a party, so I knew we would at least be around other people, and I could take refuge with someone else if it was a terrible date. 

 

I just didn't think it would be bad so SOON!  He picked me up in a really old model car.  I can deal with this.  I'm not snooty.  Heck I've always driven old cars.  This was a grandpa car though.  Still, it was okay.  Next, though, was the radio station.  He was playing 1950's music!  NOOOOO!  Swing music.  Uggggg.  I decided I would put on my big girl panties (no freebras this time) and get through this night.  But then he decided to call his dad -- yes on our first date -- and he kept calling him "Father" throughout the conversation.  It was the most stilted, strangest, weirdest conversation I've ever eavesdropped on.  I swear, I was ready to throw out the big girl panties, and when we got to the next red light, stop, drop and roll, and figure out some way to get home. 

 

I managed to get through the night because, thankfully, there were others at the party to talk to, several of whom asked me why I was there with HIM (referencing Dweebgooberman).  Maybe I should have talked to his friends first.....

 

Obviously, no MATCH.

 

 

 

Con Vic

Okay, back to Match.  I'll call this one Con Vic.  He and I met downtown, first going to Smiley's and listening to music, then to Connelly's.  The date started out well.  Going back to earlier in the blog, again, he was not quite accurate with his online description, but it was alright.  When we went to Connelly's, he had a few drinks and danced.  He was actually a great dancer and we had a good time. 


More drinks, though, and Con started talking about his ex.  Then he was on his phone with his ex.  Then the whole evening turned into a cry fest about his ex.  Then he revealed to me that he was wearing an ankle bracelet, which was unlike that pictured above.  It was used for MONITORING purposes, because of problems with his EX.  At this point, I decided to make my exit.  I like jewelry and all, but noooooo.  And definitely NO MATCH. 

 

 
 

 So those are the top 4 dating fails, or at least the ones that I remember.  There are more, as there are more kid stories.  It's just a matter of finding the time to sit down and record them.  Too busy living life with kids and dates -- well and animals too!  Time for an animal story soon.....

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dating is for the Birds, and I guess I am a Chicken

Okay, I have typically avoided the topic of dating in my blog or on FB.  It's been taboo.  Same as politics is getting to be.  There's no use posting anything because I'm not gonna convince those people who are determined to vote the wrong way (lol!), and they're not ever gonna convince me that the mustard-haired guy will ever be fit to lead this country.  But now that dating is also a topic of conversation with my children, particularly my daughter, maybe it is time to venture into that unchartered territory.  With a glass of wine of course....

 

Emma experienced her first heartbreak just a couple of months ago when she came to the realization that she didn't really like her boyfriend as much as she did when he first asked her to "date."  Now keep in mind that "dating" in middle schools really just means that the two of you are labeled by others as "dating."  You "hang out" at school, and on occasion, may actually go out with a group of friends.  Believe me, I have had her drill down to me exactly what "dating" entails, especially focusing on the question of physical touching.  She said that hugs were allowed, and I still shook my head in disapproval.  I mean hugs could lead to kisses on cheeks --  which can lead to kisses on lips -- which can lead to, well, other things.  So no touching.  Period.  Anyway, back to her heartache.  It was right before the 8th grade dance, which they were attending together, that she broke the news to him.  Poor guy didn't sleep at all that night and poor Emma just felt awful and guilty. 

 

I didn't really know what to say, other than that it's better to be honest up front, and that she did the right thing.  Oh, and that this isn't the last time she'll feel like this, because mama also has to be honest up front, with a lot of head kissing and arm stroking to try to soften the news that heartbreak is part of life.

 

I don't even have to go back to my middle school or high school days to remember how that feels.  Heck, I can go back to last week or last month or last year and feel that knot in the stomach or that tightness in the chest.  Unfortunately, I'm going through the dating experience with Emma and it stinks just as bad for me as it does for a 14 year old.

 

I don't even know how to navigate the dating process these days.  First, how do you even meet guys at MY age and with my kids and animals?  And do not tell me that Farmersonly.com is an option, because it is NOT.  I have looked, especially when I couldn't get the little ditty out of my head --  You don't have to be lonely....with Farmersonly.com.  Yes, I prefer to be lonely.  Sigh.

 

Then there is Match, and I could write a book about my Match experiences.  In reality, I have met some nice people, but I've balanced that out with a bunch of fruitloops.

 

After JA2, I will never date someone I met at church, so that's out. 

 

Not sure what other options are out there, except maybe my hairdresser!  :)

 

So I'm just gonna sit in my house and wait for someone to magically drop out of the sky.  They could actually make it through my fireplace, as there is no damper and birds come down to visit from time to time.

 

Let's say someone magically appears.  What next?  That is also puzzling because everyone is different and they all have different expectations. 

 

• First, are you attracted to each other? 
• Second, are you interesting to each other? 
• Third, are you bringing drama into my life (NO)? 
• Fourth, are you allergic to cats (uh oh)? 
• Fifth, do you have a job?  Wait, maybe that should be third. 
• Sixth, can you communicate VERBALLY (texting does not count)?  Oh shoot, my order is entirely messed up now. 
• Seventh, are you at the same place in your lives?  In other words, are you still partying while I am ready to go to sleep at 10 pm?
• Eighth, do we worship the same God?  Wait, that's another that goes up to the top, probably way before cat allergies.
• Ninth, are you physically in good shape and do you take pride in your appearance,or are you a big couch potato?
• Tenth, do you know the difference between there, their and they're?

 

Okay, so maybe I'm picky, but doggone it, I have a right to be after the dating/marriage calamaties I've experienced.

 

Which takes me to my second glass of wine.....

I keep another diary that is just between me and God.  That one is detailed and contains thoughts that probably should not be shared with anyone but a Higher Power, nothing blog-worthy.  I could probably get sued or something.  Lisa Tolley, if anything ever happens to me, you are to come into my home and destroy it!  Without reading it of course.

That one is for cleansing purposes and is for those nights when sleep eludes me.  It actually is completely open, no JA1 or JA2 references, no redactions.  When I go back and look at that, I think, "OMG, Lord, did I bargain with you when I was with JA2 that if you'd take him out of my life, that I would never date again?"  But then again, maybe it is all in His timing and He is seeing how much my heart can take.  It's not too much different from my sister training for an Iron Man.  Well, she may not think the two are comparable, but that's my take on it anyway.  At least an Iron Man is over in an average of 12 hours, and she can go drink a beer afterwards.

So maybe I'll completely give up men and train for an Iron Man.  Oh wait, I'm not a good swimmer.  Actually I'm a terrible swimmer.  I'll train for a marathon.  Yes, that's what I'll do.

Dang, that glass of wine went fast.

No, no training for a marathon.  Ugh, what was I thinking 2 minutes ago?  Maybe a 5K will do....

If anyone would like to train with me for a 5K or can hook me up with someone who meets my many requirements for a "substantial" relationship (mama, you don't count), you can find me at FB or out in my yard commiserating with the other chickens!

 

 

 

Found -- Children Stories from the Past

While cleaning out work emails, I came across a couple I had sent to Caroline and Ellen about the children.  I had forgotten about these but they brought a smile to my face....

 

From July 2008:

I picked up the kids on Saturday (Brad had them for a two week vacation period) for the day and took Sloan to his ballgame that morning.  He hit a homerun and did not hit one base except home -- just made this huge arc and didn't come close to the bases.  Wish I'd had it on videotape.  Then when we pulled in the driveway at the house, he got out and asked if he could learn to drive.  I have NO IDEA where that one came from.  I said, "absolutely not -- you're only 5."  He said that I could be with him when he learned to drive.  I again said no.  He got to the top of the stairs and looked up at the sky, closed his eyes and say, "God, can I learn to drive?"  He then looked at me and said "God said I could learn to drive and he's in charged of you."  What can you say to that???  Funny......

From March 2009:

Saturday was one of those days when one of my children (I'll let you guess which one) would not listen to me or mind me.  He had two time-outs before 10 am so I knew what kind of day was ahead of me.  By the end of the day, I was worn out and put the kids in the bath, looking forward to some quiet time because bedtime was coming up soon.  Now I still put them in the same bath because, in all honesty, it is easier for me and they usually will play together while I am washing hair, etc.  This week has been a difficult week for baths -- fussing, fighting, water everywhere, you get the picture.  Well Saturday night I went into another room and folded some clothes and it was unusually quiet in the bathroom.  I walked in there and saw Emma lying on her stomach and Sloan rubbing her back.  I said, "What's going on?"  Sloan said, "I'm rubbing Emma's back."  I said, "Wow, what a nice brother your are.  How sweet."  He looked at me and said matter of factly, "Well she's giving me a quarter." 

 Okay, Emma is spending her piggy bank money.  Sloan is now starting to talk about his weiner and uses the words nuts and balls interchangeably (but isn't quite sure what they are since they're not there yet).  I think it is probably about time to move them into separate baths.

I really miss those days......

Will need convalesence after kids' adolescence.....

Okay, the train has left the station and there is no turning back.  The kids are full on into adolescence and I am having just as much difficulty with it as they are.  On one hand, I want to turn back time and take them back to the days when they could not speak. On the other hand, I am ready for them to be driving so Mom's taxi service can have a reprieve.  And then I think.....just live in the moment.  It will all pass and I could possibly look back on these days and wish we were here again, when they were 12 and 13.  Doubt it, but it's possible.


So Sloan started growing facial hair early in sixth grade, if not before.  I was okay with him shaving, but his dad wasn't.  Only after Sloan and I convinced him that other kids were making fun of my son's growing mustache, did he acquiesce and let Sloan shave.  So Sloan used his dad's electric razor and shaved at his dad's house, because he really only needed to shave once every few weeks. About a month ago, Sloan asked if he could get a regular razor for here, so we bought him one, along with shaving cream and after shave.  (I was shocked to learn that Old Spice is in style for teens!  Seriously!)  I was outside on the back deck when Sloan walked out with blue gel strips all over his face and asked what was wrong with the shaving cream.  I had made the assumption that his dad taught him the shaving rules, but he apparently forgot to tell him that you have to put the gel in your hand first and rub it to get it to foam up.  Instead Sloan applied the gel directly to his face!  Let's just say it took a few times before he got it right.  So this starts the transition of the baby smooth face of a boy to the bristly face of a man.  Kills me.


Emma has her own transitional phases, many of which can't be detailed here, but they all include a variety of moods, typical of a teenage girls.  Ah, the angst of it all......


Both kids have come to me, either separately or together, to ask the meaning of "grown-up" words, which I have learned, typically means words related to sex.  Again, on one hand, I am glad they come to me to ask these things.  On the other hand, ugggg, God spare me!  Several months ago, Emma had a list of words she wanted me to define.  I have seriously wiped much of this conversation out of my mind, but one of the words was "boner."  Seriously.  The kicker was that she told me she would check the Urban Dictionary to confirm the meanings of the words.  This was the first I had heard of an Urban Dictionary, and believe me, it is NOTHING like Webster's.  So I discovered this new dictionary, and worse, I discovered I really had to be as transparent as possible with my daughter.  Worse than that, I discovered that she knew words I had never heard of until high school or after!!!  Heck, I needed to check the Urban Dictionary to make sure I knew the definition!!  So, I told her that "boner" was defined as an "erection."  To which she replied, "And what is an erection?"  God help me......
So I told her if a boy EVER came up to her and told her he had a boner, to kick him in his nuts.  And those would be defined as, per the Urban Dictionary:


1. Crazy
2. Testicles
3. Things which monkeys eat.


So done.  Checked off the list.


She asked me shortly afterwards (and in the car -- such a small, confined space for such a conversation) if masturbation had anything to do with chickens.  I swear, I almost ran off the road.  I didn't know whether to laugh or be totally serious.  My strategy typically is to follow a question with a question, like "Where did you hear that word?" or "Why would you think that?" or "Do you want to go get some ice cream?"  They have figured out my strategy now, though, and will not let me divert their attention.  I completely stammered my way through that one but still have no idea how she came to the conclusion that there was some correlation between masturbation and chickens.  God help me....


And there is so much more, but that is for another day.....

A few updates.....because it has been awhile.....

I was kindly reminded a couple of days ago that I hadn't posted anything to my blog in a very long time.  This is true, and there are a couple of reasons why I haven't.  First, where the heck do I find time to do this?  Second, my children are doing and saying things now that may require an "adult content" filter!  OMG, these preteen and teen years!  They are gonna kill me.




Well the kids are with their dad for their two week summer vacation right now, so I currently DO have some time.  This is typically when I tackle a bunch of home improvement projects that are on my "list."  This list is quite long and expensive (yes, I'd LOVE to remodel the basement but don't think I can quite fit that into the two weeks or into my budget).  We shall see what gets accomplished.  Instead of painting right now, I am blogging, so it's not looking promising.....




Also, the two week home improvement project list is a way for me to cope with my children being gone for two entire weeks!  At first it is nice.  I went to the grocery store today and strolled through the aisles picking out exactly what I wanted to eat this week.  I didn't hear Sloan's voice in one ear asking me to get pop tarts, ice pops, ice cream and potato chips, nor did I hear Emma's voice in the other ear asking me to get celery, granola bars, yogurt and whole grain bread.  Yes, Mars and Venus.  So true.  I did hear a voice telling me the total amount I spent when I got to the cashier and I almost yelled for joy when I realized how much I had saved!  That is what happens during the first few days the kids are gone. 




Then the house gets quiet.  The stinky locker room smell starts to subside in Sloan's room.  I don't hear, "Mom, where is my other sock....or my phone....or the mayonnaise?"  The dirty clothes stack is noticeably smaller.  I don't have Coke cans to pick up.  I don't put three plates on the table for dinner.  Even the dog and three cats seem a little sad.  It is that point -- a few days into the two weeks -- that I realize how much I MISS those little imps that aren't little anymore.  What the heck am I going to do when they go to college?  It is such a cliché, but time just goes by too fast. 




I found a diary I started for Emma when she was two weeks old.  It brought tears to my eyes to read those entries about nights of colic, the word "mine" which Emma learned quickly after Sloan was born, and my first day back to work after having children (and getting to go to the restroom ALL BY MYSELF).  Of course the entries became fewer and farther between once Sloan was born and especially after their dad left and I became a single mom, but boy, I am so glad I decided to keep this journal.  It is priceless now.  I need to keep writing in it because life just continues on, but with a little less innocence unfortunately.  An entry from the diary on 12/13/01 (Emma was just 2 months old) was as follows:

You had your 2 month appointment yesterday and what an appointment it was.  Three dreadful shots to those precious little legs.  Of course, they're vaccinations and are good for you but it's so hard for me to see you in pain!  Oh, what am I going to do when you start taking a liking to little boys and experience your first heartbreak?  So many life experiences to go through and I just want to protect you!

So now we are about at that stage of liking boys and experiencing heartbreak.  I'm not sure how that compares to colic and vaccines, but I can tell you that I still feel the same as I did over 13 years ago.  I still want to hold that 5'8" girl and protect her.......

Life with teens/tweens -- I was warned!

It seems like only yesterday I was cleaning up egg yolks from the kitchen floor with Sloan....and now he is 11.  And it seems like only yesterday I was combatting possums with Emma.....and now she is 13!  Where did the time go?  (If you have no idea what I am talking about, see prior posts.)


Back then, it was both children and animals creating havoc.  Now it's not so much the animals.  It's the children, including mouths and attitudes!  I was warned about this age!  Kind of like I was told about pregnancy and childbirth.  The truth is that no one can explain these milestones to the degree that you can experience them.  For example, no one thought to tell me that after childbirth, my feet would increase two shoe sizes and I would have no shoes to wear home from the hospital.  I mean, who thinks of those details?  I can tell you that when I talk to expectant mothers, I do not tell them about the labor, the birth, the weight gain, the morning sickness, or the complete and utter exhaustion following delivery (which really never stops).  I tell them to get some new shoes to wear home!  So with the teen/tween years, I was told by others about the disrespect, the eye rolling, the hormones, and the chaos, but it didn't impact me as much as actually living with these little aliens!  Who came and took my children away?


Emma is now 5'8" and Sloan is 5'3" -- though he will argue with that measurement.  He swears he is as tall as me.  Only one more inch, baby!  But I will just keep buying higher heels!  Now when I discipline them -- which is often -- I make them sit down.  I can put on the mad mama face and shake my finger at them, and it has a much better effect than when I am looking up at them. 


As an example, I was out of town earlier this week traveling for business.  I pulled into the driveway mid-afternoon, before the kids got home from school, and saw Little Bear, our oldest cat who is no longer "little", walking across the front yard.  This is the cat that I left inside who should have remained inside.  I opened the front door and Raven greeted me.  Raven is our lab; I left her outside and she should have remained outside.  I walked to the back of the house.  The back door was standing wide open.  For those of you who have followed my posts, this gives you a good idea of how animals end up in my house!  I next walked through the house to make sure nothing was missing.  It was not.  If anyone had wanted to take anything from the house, they would have fallen over all of the Christmas decorations that I haven't finished putting up any way.  No one had broken into the house.  Instead, Sloan had come over while I was out of town to play his video game.  Keep in mind, he was supposed to come feed the animals.  He not only didn't feed the animals, he left the back door unlocked.  I don't think I have ever mentioned this, but Raven is a sweet dog but not very bright.  She does not engage in typical lab-like activities such as fetching.  She could care less about balls or sticks.  The one thing she knows how to do is to open the back door.  It is quite easy.  She just puts a paw on the handle and it opens. I have no idea how long the back door was open, how many bugs/birds/animals got into my house or how much heat was pumped into my backyard. Sloan got the mad mama face and the discipline of doing extra chores.


So in addition to some of this behavior (which has somewhat continued from their childhood), there are the mouths!  They know everything, much more than their mama of course, because I am from the "pioneer days."  I guess that is at least a step up from the Paleolithic era.  But still.....  One of them asked me one day if we had spoons when I was a child.  Seriously??!!  I'm pretty sure they got a swat for that, and it actually deserved a wooden spoon!  I am told multiple times a week that I am "weird" (usually with a little smile) but then I remind them that they are my offspring, so the weirdness will be inherited.  Good luck, my future son- and daughter-in-law!  I can no longer kiss them in public which is a little sad, so I tackle them when I get them home and hold them down to smother them with kisses.  Problem is, they can typically break the hold.....they are growing up.  About all I can do now is say a little prayer.  Well, and possibly lock them down in the basement for the next 5 years.....