The banana and the lava pit

I'm on the phone talking to my mother-in-law which Teddy well knows. Teddy reaches for a banana and says to me "Can I have one?" I point annoyingly to the phone and completely ignore him - after all he's 10 1/2 and really should know by now to wait patiently when someone is on the phone.

By the time I get off the phone Ted has peeled the banana. He looks up at me before he takes his first bite.

Ted: Really, can I have it?

Me: I would never deny you a banana

T: What if we are dangling over a lava pit about to plummet to our death? How about then?

Me: If you have one and that is how you want to remember this world, then by all means please eat the banana.

Camela

Bandit the stupid wonder dog

Our stuipd Jack Russell, Bandit is a great dog in lots of ways. In many ways he's smarter than any dog I've ever seen (and a lot of people I know too). But he is without a doubt the most annoying creature on the face of the earth and if he wasn't so darn cute I'm not sure he'd still be around.

He barks when anyone is about to leave the house - I guess he doesn't want to be left out. And when I say barks - I mean BARKS. He will barkbarkbarkbarkbarkbark with barely a pause for breath nonstop for an indefinite time. I am not remotely exaggerating. Twenty minutes, half an hour, I'm sure he'd go for an hour but if we let it go on that long he'd never survive it. If you utter the words "go" or "leave" Bandit goes nuts and he continues to go nuts until he can no longer see your car in the neighborhood. We now use the code word "LULU" instead of go. I come down the stairs in the morning and very casually so as not to alert the dog mention to the boys that we will be luluing in about 5 minutes. Luckily so far, Bandit has not picked up on this.

Unfortunately he has picked up on lots of other things... he's totally on to us. If I yell down to Jackson in the morning "are your shoes on?" Bandit will hear this and think - HEY! putting on shoes is one of the things they do before they leave... OMG they're about to leave, I better start barking so they know I'm onto them. barkbarkbarkbarkbarkbark. And again he doesn't stop until we are out of his sight down the road. Oh and did I mention the entire time he's barking he's standing about a foot away from you barking AT you - that makes it just that much more fun. Other things he will start barking over... if a back pack gets moved, or if the TV gets turned off, or if I pick up my purse, or if I fill my water bottle, if there is a teeth brushing reminder issued, God forbid he hears the words go or leave... really the list is endless - think of all the little things you do before leaving the house - well Bandit knows them all and as soon as he notices any one of them the barking commences and continues until he can no longer see us.

It's all visual for him. So if we really are about to leave, I can just grin and bear a few minutes (though really think about a few minutes of solid barking as you are trying to get yourself and maybe a few kids as well out the door in a timely fashion) of barking and out we go. But if he picked up on one of those cues (and we all try to do them stealthily) and we're still going to be around for half an hour - well again, he'd not survive his nonstop barking for 30 solid minutes, I'm absolutely sure of it. So if you hear Jackson, with hands on hips, saying "Mo-om, you said the G word again" with Bandit dancing around my feet barking his head off and we still have a while before it's time to go I can just put him in the air lock (that little room between the garage and the kitchen) where he can't see us and instantly he's silent. I don't really like putting him in the airlock, but I really think it's helped his longevity.

The problem with it being so completely visual for him is that if he can't see us he won't bark even if he should. Case in point. I come home the other day after work and Brad's already taken one of the kids to a practice of some sort and I have the other one with me. Neither one of us notices that Bandit didn't immediately greet us - sometimes he's outside throwing the ball to himself and too busy for us. We putter around and eat dinner and do various other end of day type things. Probably an hour later I head upstairs to change my clothes and open my bedroom door where I find Bandit thrilled to be let out of his prison. All the windows had been opened and at some point the door had been blown shut. Did this happen some time after Brad left and before I got home? Did it happen three hours before Brad left? There's no way to tell. Brad can't remember if Bandit was barking when he left or not. But for at least an hour Jack and I were home and Bandit was trapped in my room and he did not make a sound. He did however try to claw his way out of the room through the door and both the door and the frame have solid gouges in them.

How can a dog be smart enough to know that brushing your teeth is a sign we are about to leave and yet stupid enough to not make a sound while trapped in a room?

Camela

My kids have been possessed and/or I’m the worlds worst mother… the jury’s still out.

It’s been too long since there have been some good “while Brad’s away” stories….

The kids were off from school on Thursday and my mom came up to stay with them while I went to work. For the most part they had a lovely time – playing with friends and fishing – and then there was Jackson’s disappearing act. Grandma sent him to his room for something and while no one was looking he snuck out of the house and went down to the pond to play. OMG, can you imagine how my poor mother felt at not being able to find Jackson. Calls were made, looking commenced, but eventually he just came skipping in as if nothing was wrong. Who is that kid, not mine, right? He told my mom he’d done it before – WHAT??? We’ve never missed him and he doesn’t spend lots of time in his room… I’ve got no idea if that’s true or not… where did I go wrong.

It’s dinner time. Grandma’s gone, Teddy is studying, Jackson is starved, pizza comes out of the oven, gets cut up and served to them both. I go upstairs to change out of my work clothes. I take a few extra minutes alone up there to decompress until I hear a very spirited game going on downstairs – it sounds like keep away or something. I just know someone is going to get hurt, they sound a little too excited. I hurry to try to get my tennis shoes on so I’ll be ready to get on the treadmill later but then I hear the crash bang boom downstairs. Good God, what was that. There is no crying afterwards so at least that’s a good sign. Teddy meets me at the top of the stairs (I’ve got the socks in my hand but that’s as far as I got).

“Mom, Jack threw jelly beans at me and the sailboat came crashing down.” Hmmm sailboat? Where is there a sailboat? There’s a sailboat on top of the extra tall kitchen cabinets – I’d say – oh 8 ½ feet highish, but that can’t possibly be what he’s talking about… right? I think that would defy the laws of physics for that to be what he’s talking about… right? Nope, sure enough laying on the kitchen floor is a sailboat and a metal grate/sculpture thingy both of which had been waaaaay up there - not to mention there’s crown molding up there which I would think would keep stuff up there if something did manage to get just the right bounce against the wall so that something would be propelled forward – seriously if I tried to throw stuff up there with the specific intent of getting it to fall down I could have sat there with a bucketful of ball for days and never been remotely successful. Jackson immediately apologizes when I get to the kitchen – well that’s something. Teddy keeps telling me how it’s not his fault cuz Jackson is the one that threw the jelly beans (did I tell you, it was jelly beans???) I, of course disagree. I think they are both involved up to their eyeballs. (quite a bit later Teddy finally lets it slip that he was up on the counter trying to get the ball down that he’d thrown up there and Jackson was trying to hit him in the head with the jelly beans but missed and got the boat instead. WTH???

Let’s take a minute to think about this. I’m 5’2” if I stand on top of the counter, my eyes reach to about the 2^nd from the top shelf if the cabinets were opened, I have no problem getting stuff off the top shelf, but reaching stuff on the top of the cabinets is somewhat difficult, in part because of the crown molding. If I stand on my tippy toes I can reach and put a bottle of wine up there, but I can in no way shape or form see over the top. Teddy’s head comes roughly to my shoulder. He has no shot of possibly reaching to the tops of the cabinets. None. And yet, he was somehow trying to reach a ball that he threw up on top of the cabinets that would have been completely hidden because of the crown molding AND Jackson was aiming at his head when he missed and hit the sailboat (way up there on top of the cabinets). Man I hope Jack’s aim was way the hell off and Ted was just standing on the counter haplessly reaching up with no hope of getting there. That’s really the only picture that will allow me to sleep at night.

I sent them both to their rooms for their own safety while I got myself together. I went to Jackson first.

Me: You know you’re not allowed to throw things in the house, what were you thinking?

J: I was hungry. (classic divert mom's attention strategy)

M: So why didn't you get yourself more pizza, it was sitting right there?

J: I'm not allowed, I didn't want to break the rules. (got to admire his shameless BS)

M: Uh babe, you didn't have any problem breaking the rule of not throwing stuff in the house.

J: I forgot that rule. I forgot all the rules except to stay away from the stove (on top of which the pizza was sitting).

Okay, I'm beginning to fear for his safety again. I tell him he should sit there and think about all the rules and I leave before someone gets hurt. A little while later a piece of paper comes sliding from under his door. I retrieve it and find a simple question.

Am I grounded yes or no

please circle one

(ps I hope I am grounded)

Okay well that's kind of cute and I'm going to have to keep it, perhaps I'll have it laminated and attach it to his door so I can circle the appropriate answer from now on. But I digress..... back to the stories

Now we arrive to this morning I am determined to have a pleasant morning....We were all heading down the stairs when I realize I had put on two different earrings. I told them to go get their backpacks and head out to the car while I went up and fixed the earring problem. I come back downstairs less than a minute later to find them fighting in the corner of the kitchen while these little metal things we have in that corner go crashing to the floor.

"What the hell are you doing?" (Yeah I know, not my best mom moment). Their heads pop up and they both start talking at once. I hear Teddy however "Jackson was playing with the knives.” KNIVES? The boy actually said knives. Yes the knife block is housed in that corner, but so is the game boy charger. “KNIVES?... WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” (yeah yeah yeah) "Teddy threatened me" "Jackson threatened me first." I think my head actually spun around on my neck three full times as my brain desperately tried to understand what they were saying, because certainly they weren’t actually playing with KNIVES…. Right? "First you, Teddy. I only left you alone for a minute, what did I tell you to do? Just answer the question?" "Put on my backpack and go outside." "What did you do?" "Threaten Jackson with a knife because he threatened me first." … OMG, this is not my life. "Jackson now you… what did I tell you to do?" "Get my backpack and go outside." "What did you do?" "Threaten Teddy." "With a knife?" "No. (phew) With what then?" "A pizza cutter." OMG this is not my life. Who are these kids? Where and when did it go so wrong?????

We had a little discussion (read: mom totally lost her mind) about blood and death and what are toys and what aren’t (lest you have forgotten, they are 10 ½ and 8 and we’ve had this conversation a million times and they’ve never ever gone near a knife – they so completely and utterly know better). I tried to quiz them as to how this suddenly made sense in their pea-brain little minds (no I didn’t actually say that – but I was in rare form) and Teddy said, no he frustratedly yelled “This is just us mom.” The violins kicked in then. "Playing with knives is you? This is something you do often?" "Yes". my annoyingly-defiant-practicing-to-be-a-teenager child responded. He just got a set of dubiously raised eyebrows at that. I cited several outrageous and wildly out of character things they’ve done in the last four days (WAIT! - maybe that’s it? Maybe four days ago they were possessed by some visiting evil demon and I just need to get that damn thing exorcised). Meanwhile the whole time I'm busy losing my mind, the ^u@k#$% dog is barking non stop which... let me just say is not helping my mood. I finally totally lose it at the dog and say "Yeah Bandit, you keep that up and I'll show the kids all about blood and death with knives." (Yeah I actually did say that one)

Does anyone know a good exorcist?? Or does anyone have a room I can crash in?

Camela

The case of the stolen bells

Brad calls me at work and very earnestly asks - Camela do you know where Teddy's bells are?

Camela: um... no.. I guess they could be in my trunk, do you need me to go look?

B: yes, I think someone has stolen the bells.

C: (chuckling) Who would possibly steal his bells?

B: All I know is that they were in the garage and I went out there and picked them up and put them next to my golf clubs and now they're gone.

I went out in the pouring rain and looked in my trunk and as I suspected there were no bells. I IM'd him to let him know.

C: Sorry babe, no bells, did you look in Teddy's room?

B: I'm 100% positive that I put those bells next to my golf clubs.

C: mmm hmm. But humor me and check his room.

B: I looked in his room. They're not here. There were a lot of tweeners running around the neighborhood this weekend. (I didn't have the heart to mention that Teddy is a tweener. And still... who would want to steal the bells - there are a lot more interesting things in the garage than a non descript black case containing a xylophone.)

C: Maybe Jack took them outside and hid them under the swing set. (which is a problem since it's raining, but not out of the question given who Jack is)

B: I've already walked around the yard and checked the swing set and under the deck. Cam, I'm telling you, I really think someone stole those bells. I just have a bad feeling about it.

C: Look in the music room and Jack's room. But if someone stole them, then someone stole them and we've learned a valuable lesson on what we can and can not keep in the garage.

Later that day I'm telling my coworker Walter the story of the missing bells and how upset Brad is about this whole thing. Finding things is a skill and it comes easier to some than to others. I'm pretty good at it. Brad and Teddy both suck at it. I tell Walter the first place I'm going to look is in Brad's trunk - because that's the most likely place for it to be. (I've of course not yet mentioned this to Brad, I don't think he'd appreciate it in his current mood)

Brad comes home a few hours after I do and he walks in with... wait for it... the bells in his hand and a bit of a sheepish look on his face.

C: Where were they?

B: Uh. They were in my car, right behind my seat.

I just looked at him.

B: I think a mom from the neighborhood must have found them and returned them.

C: To the inside of the van?

B: They were being very conscientious.

Camela

Jackson to the rescue

Our neighbor just called because he needed to talk to us about Jackson - ut oh, this can't be good. Apparently his wife had inadvertently set off the fire alarm while he was out mowing the grass causing his kids came to the window and yell "FIRE!". He went inside and they had it all taken care of in short order. A few minutes later their doorbell rang and it was Jackson. He wanted to make sure everyone and everything was okay. All was well so Jack went back to his kick ball game and that was that. Our neighbor thought it was wonderful that there was such a mature and caring young man in the neighborhood. I'm not exactly sure who was masquerading as Jackson, but I'm glad the neighbor was happy.

We asked Jack what he would have done if everything hadn't been okay and he looked at us like we were stupid and said "I'd have run home as fast as I could to get you." Duh, I don't know what we were thinking...

How cute is that...

Brad wants to replace me

We had my old high school friend Sandy and her lovely husband and daughter (David and Maddie) over for a late afternoon cookout on Saturday. I have reconnected with Sandy via Facebook - just another reason to really like Facebook - and it was such a treat to have them over.

As a funny little tidbit - Sandy's life and mine have shared a few odd similarities. We both live on identically named streets, we both used to drive a Honda CR-X. Both our husbands share a totally out there love of comic books; though David seems to be more of a collector than Bradford, and Sandy and I both have a similar opinion of it - um... polite tolerance... maybe polite is the wrong word - we both were making fun of them in the same ways at the same moments.... It was kind of funny.

Now for the being replaced part. I have to come to terms with it. It's kind of hard to swallow, but it's something I must face. Bradford is trying to kill me. He and David headed up to the comic book store leaving Sandy and me at home to catch up and get dinner together. We're having barbecue chicken, grilled potatoes and onions and a caprese salad with warm from the oven strawberry shortcake for dessert. I will admit to being a little unsure of the chicken on the grill. Brad usually does it and has it down perfectly as to just when in the process to add the barbecue sauce. But, I'm confident I can do it, I grill things all summer long.

Sandy and I also seem to be on the same page with cooking... um... well that's all I'll say about that. I get Sandy making the salad and she does a fabulous job, it looks awesome. I cut up the potatoes and onions then start the grill. I get them all situated in their "bags" and put them and the chicken on the grill. I've dialed back the temps to a quarter on each of the burners and head back in to keep chatting. A few minutes later out of the corner of my eye I notice smoke - not that unusual, but enough for me to go and check it out.... wait.. what do I see?? Way too much smoke billowing around the edges of the grill... ut oh.

(please note: fish story ahead)
I go out, open the top and am faced with a wall of fire. I kid you not, it had to be five feet tall. I turn off all the burners while Sandy runs for the fire extinguisher. She kept one foot inside, her hand on the phone in case I couldn't battle back the flames. Within 10 seconds all sources of fuel (that I knew of) were gone and yet.. the flames - they grew higher... Nearing 10 feet by now. I could only stand by and watch until finally seemingly several hours later the flames began to dissipate. After catching our breath and thanking God for being safe and alive, I called Brad and told him to stop and get pizza on the way home as the chicken was nothing more than skinless black briquettes by then. After describing what happened, he very calmly said.... hmmm that's my fault, I haven't really cleaned the grease build up in a few seasons.

um.. "that's my fault..." uh.... HEY!!!! He almost killed me and our guest, not to mention nearly burning down our house - but here he is - calm, cool, and collected... oopsie - well I guess it won't need as much cleaning now, since it ALL FRIGGIN' BURNED OFF!!!!!. I'm not sure why he's trying to kill me, he must not love me anymore.

Camela

ps - today Brad spent the better part of the afternoon cleaning out the remaining icky and flammable stuff before he grilled tonight with... what.. wait.. oddly no issues.

"Yeah, no idea what that was about."

Jackson is taking a drama class and he absolutely loves it. In one recent class each student had to pretend to be a given food product. The class got to decide which food best fit each student and for Jackson they decided he needed to be a pop rock. Now if you know Jackson, you understand how perfect a choice this was. He spent the rest of the day "popping" around all over the place in glee.

The very next week, I'm sleeping in and Brad is going to take Jack to class when suddenly Brad comes up and wakes me telling me Jackson is hysterical at the prospect of having to go to drama. I go down to calm him and figure out what's the problem. After considerable time and many, many tears I figured out the issue was he was afraid of getting stage fright. Clearly someone had put the idea in his head and I had no doubt someone must have said something to him that made him freak. By the time I got him calmed down class was half over and we didn't go. I later talked to the teacher and the parent of another student who is one of Jack's best friends and pieced together that I had been right. The wrong mix of things were said to him and he had it in his mind that there were going to be thousands of people at the play and that he was going to get awful stage fright and he was just plain scared.

So the week goes along and I know I need to talk to him about it and get his opinion turned around about it because he's been having so much fun. I'm confident I'll be able to do it, but I know it'll take a few casual conversations to get him there. So I very delicately broach the subject..

So baby, do you think you'll be playing the pop rock game again at drama?

Oh Mom!!! They played the coolest game last week!!! It was SOOOO fun, I CAN'T WAIT TO PLAY IT!!!!

Oh um.. great. So you are looking forward to drama this week?

(looks at me as if I've just grown horns) Uh yeah!! Drama is totally fun!

um, baby, last week you got a bit upset about going....

(looks up at the ceiling thinking back to that morning, finally looks back to me) Yeah, no idea what that was about.