June 2015 archive

The Devil Went Down to SoCo

Recent­ly, Hand­some #2 and I had an oppor­tu­ni­ty to spend some time togeth­er, just the two of us. When I have the­se spe­cial moments, I am sure to tell each boy how much I love him and that he is my favorite. I also make him promise that he will nev­er, ever tell his broth­ers. It makes them feel good and each of them tru­ly is my favorite, in very dif­fer­ent ways.

Hand­some #2 and I dined at his first-choice fan­cy restau­rant, Steak n Shake, and then head­ed to a moth­er son event at his school. I was a bit weepy that night, real­iz­ing that he would be in kinder­garten next year, com­plete with blue Tom Sawyer shorts and a crisp white polo. OK, that is a lie. That crisp white polo is just for the first day of school pic­ture. The rest of the school year is slight­ly dingy with a required morn­ing sniff test to see if we can make it one more day.

My sweet sec­ond son was so proud to have me with him and couldn’t wait to show me all around the build­ing. We ate snacks, played games and had a fun pic­ture tak­en.  But, the evening start­ed after 6pm, which is oh so close to the witch­ing hour when all of my hand­somes become blood-lust­ing demons. As the evening pro­gressed, I noticed his eyes glaze and the horns begin to pop from his head.

If I was going to make it home unscathed, I’d have to move fast while he was still smil­ing. We said our good­byes and head­ed to the car, still hap­py and chat­ting about the fun we had. As he climbed over to the third row seat, I put my key into the igni­tion and the horns popped all they way through as his eyes became flecked with flames.

Hand­some #2-Mom, what are you doing? I am not buck­led. Do you hear me? I am not buck­led.

Me-It’s ok, bud­dy. I’m not going any­where, just get­ting the air flow­ing. Buck­le up.

Hand­some #2- Yeah, right. You big dum­my.

Me- Excuse me?

He caught my icy glare in the rear-view mir­ror and began to pan­ic.

Hand­some #2- Oh no. I’m sor­ry, mom­ma. I’m sor­ry. I’m real­ly sor­ry.

Just as I was about to acknowl­edge the apol­o­gy and excuse his moment of tem­po­rary insan­i­ty, his eyes closed and his hands clasped. He implored our Lord for for­give­ness, cer­tain that I was going to mur­der him.

Hand­some #2- In the name of the father, son, holy spir­it. Amen. Bless us, Oh Lord, for the­se thy gifts which we are about to receive from thy boun­ty, through Christ, Our Lord.

Amen.

And just like that, he earned him­self an extra spray of starch on the first day of school.…..

 

bst

Ladies, I’ll be Pressed to Impress on the First Day of Kinder­garten

Hey, You Guys!

 

Goonies-Movie-Quotes

On June 7, 1985, exact­ly 30 years ago today, ‘The Goonies’ was released. At the time, I was six. My broth­ers were four, three and eight weeks. My mom and dad were 33 and 36, respec­tive­ly. Today, I am 36. My sons are sev­en, five and two. I am the exact age that my father was when he and my moth­er decid­ed to head to the movie the­ater with four and three-year-old boys. Four chil­dren under six, includ­ing a new­born who was left with God only knows that day, would make anyone’s judge­ment a bit lax.

 

The antic­i­pa­tion was incred­i­ble. After what seemed like hours, 15 min­utes real time, we walked in the doors. Can­dy, a huge tub of pop­corn and one soda with four straws lat­er, we were head­ed to the upper bal­cony ready for the Goonies expe­ri­ence.

 

We were all hooked on the tale of friend­ship packed with action, adven­ture and a real­ly creepy guy chained up in the base­ment. Despite our young ages, we sat pret­ty still while devour­ing snacks and slurp­ing drinks, until we didn’t. There was danc­ing down the aisle. Not tap or sal­sa, this looked a bit more like the hus­tle.

 

One-eyed Willy’s boat had just been dis­cov­ered when the real per­for­mance start­ed. A poor, Pep­si-filled tod­dler, began the chant famil­iar to all par­ents,

 

It began soft­ly with a chair squirm. “Um, I have to go. I have to go to the bath­room.” He twist­ed and twirled. “I have to go. I have to go. Dad­dy, I real­ly have to go.”

 

The Fratelli’s just appeared and now a kid is filled with urine up to his eye­balls. Per­fect. With mere min­utes of the movie left, but not want­i­ng to miss a sec­ond, my dad did what any lov­ing par­ent would do. He made the ulti­mate sac­ri­fice. Even though he was real­ly full, he forced him­self to eat the last of the pop­corn, cre­at­ing a makeshift toi­let and told my broth­er to tin­kle. Right there. In the tub. In the the­atre. And he did.

Goonies nev­er say die……

Who Let the Dogs Out?

Since I scored an amaz­ing Noto­ri­ous B.I.G. shirt at Tar­get last night for a mere $7.48, I was extra moti­vat­ed this morn­ing to get up ear­ly and walk. I hate morn­ings. I hate exer­cise, but I love Big­gie Smalls. So, if I am going to look like one of those rap guy’s girl­friends, I need to get my a$$ mov­ing.

biggie

Some­times the sales just hyp­no­tize me

I start­ed my playlist and ven­tured out the door at 5:45. My neigh­bor­hood is friend­ly. Lots of sil­ver cit­i­zens walk­ing their dogs soon after sun­rise because they get up at 3:30 am and by the time the first rays appear in the sky it is near­ly their lunchtime. I wave, smile and get back to singing out loud not giv­ing a darn what any­one thinks.

There is a house in my sub­di­vi­sion that has a secret club in their garage. Except, it’s not a club and there is noth­ing secret about the­se peo­ple because the door is always open so the nosy neigh­bors con­stant­ly rub­ber­neck. They sit there for hours on end smok­ing cig­a­rettes, drink­ing beer, watch­ing TV and prob­a­bly plot­ting to kill all of us.

I had always thought that hap­py hour start­ed about noon because the par­ty is in full swing by the time I get home from work at 5. Appar­ent­ly, I was wrong this place is a 24-hour all ages show. As I approached the club this morn­ing, the door was open and the table was sur­round­ed. Stand­ing near the door was big black dog that I thought had on a leash. After I inad­ver­tent­ly locked eyes with the beast, I real­ized it was just a crap­py piece of ripped fab­ric dan­gling around its neck.

He came toward me, so I walked a lit­tle faster. Then he walked a lit­tle faster. I crossed the street, he crossed the street. All the while the par­ty barn stared as if they were watch­ing some crap­py karaoke, only half pay­ing atten­tion, but sure to laugh at the per­for­mance. Real­iz­ing that this dog wasn’t going away, I yelled out,

Can you please come and get your dog?”

That’s not our dog.”

Holy $h!+. This dog didn’t belong to the­se peo­ple! It was hun­gry and I was on the menu. It is no secret that I am con­vinced that my death will be the result of an ani­mal attack, but I tru­ly thought that a cat would be my demise. As I gath­ered my thoughts, I con­tin­ued to walk slow­ly and the dog fol­lowed me.I start­ed the Hail Mary. If I was going down, I was going down with the Lord on my side.

For more than a half a mile this dog was with me. I turned around peri­od­i­cal­ly, err every 3 sec­onds, to make sure he wasn’t going to sneak up and maul me right there on the street. I was six hous­es from my own when the beast spot­ted a stop sign and was instant­ly obsessed. This was my shot. If I could get down the hill I could sprint, OK may­be a real­ly fast trot, to my house.

As I made my way to the bot­tom of the hill and spot­ted my front door, I felt a wave of relief come over me. I had made it, unscathed. Sud­den­ly I heard a rustle behind me, fol­lowed by a bark it bark. I sheep­ish­ly peered over my shoul­der and the hound was charg­ing! Holy $h!+!?!?. I stood still sure that if I moved I was dead.

I pre­pared for Heav­en, say­ing good­bye to my chil­dren and hus­band, all sleep­ing sound­ly unaware that I am about to be killed on the front lawn. And then, God him­self appeared on the lawn across the street. Squir­rel! The dog spot­ted it, for­got about me and dis­ap­peared into the com­mon ground. I took off toward my back­yard and slammed the wood­en gate behind me, but not before cry­ing and may­be pee­ing a lit­tle.

My Fit Bit logged 5500 steps before 7am. If the entire neigh­bor­hood could just go ahead and unleash their ani­mals around 6 every morn­ing, I’ll hit my weight loss goals by the end of next week.