Yesterday when I picked the kids up from school, my oldest son (6th grader) hops in the car and says, "another girl asked for my cell number." I inquired as to who this girl was and did he give the number to her. Apparently, as these things are done in middle school (and have been since the dawn of time), she asked a friend to get his number for her . . . *sigh*, one day they will realize the direct approach works so much better, but alas, that is a long way down the road. So, her friend, being the great friend that she is, gave my sons cell number to her. Matt and I had a quick little joking dialogue about him being a ladies man ~~~ he fully supported the idea, and then the car filled with the rest of the kids. To be continued . . . .
When we got home from dropping the other kids off at home, there was a message from one of Matts friends asking if he wanted to go to a volleyball game with him that night. Of course Matt wanted to go. I told him to make sure he had his wallet and his cell phone with him, to which he raced upstairs to get. He comes downstairs and his cell phone is pinging off the hook. Oh man, it's starting!!! He tells me that he is going to wait outside for his friend . . . it's really warm outside, but, okay. After about 30 minutes his friend calls to say that they will be at the house in 10 minutes...when I go outside to tell Matt, I notice he is, 1: red-faced with sweat dripping down his face (yuck) and 2: texting. When I ask him who he is texting he tells me it's the girl who wanted his number. I asked him, "What is she texting you? Her undying love and devotion?" (I was joking, btw). He replies, "Pretty much."
Uh-oh.
I told him that no matter what is being said he is to treat her kindly. He promised me that he was and would continue to do so. Then his friend pulled up and he was off.
When he got home last night, as he was heading upstairs to bed, I asked for his phone with every intention of checking the texts. I have heard some horror stories about what the young kids today will text to one another -- it is astonishing. And I am not going to be a naive Mom who doesn't believe her child will fall into that kind of nonsense, plain and simple.
All the texts were as innocent as I would hope, but this is the thing. I remember being in jr. high and hearing about some girl who had "gone all the way" or kids who drank/smoked, etc...and they were to be avoided. This day in age, it seems that it is the kids who aren't doing those things that are getting the cold-shoulder or made fun of. How have we turned ourselves around so much? My child is only 12! That is so young. I know they won't be innocent forever, but goodness, I sure want them innocent as long as possible.
We still monitor what they watch on tv and the internet and I don't think of that as strict, but more, just good parenting. I want my children to be able to come to me and tell me anything, I really do, but I am not after being my kids' friend.....you know what I mean!? At the end of the day, my sole purpose in life is to raise good boys who will become good and honorable men. If I screw that up, I've screwed everything up.
Time to get off my soapbox, eh.
I was laying down on Matts bed prior to tucking he and his brother in and we were talking about the texts that I read and the "relationship" that was budding. I told him that it didn't matter how young they were and what kind of "relationship" he and this girl were going to have (I well remember jr. high love...it's so dramatic and usually innocent, lol), that he needed to walk softly with her (and every other girl, for that matter), to treat her kindly and with respect. He seemed to know what I was talking about as he kept assuring me that he would...then I laid my head down and said, "I'm not ready for this. I'm not ready for this at all." Matt laughed, put his hand on my head and said, "it's just proof that you are getting older, that's all." What a little shite!
At the end of the day the only thing I know is that this train is going to keep on rolling down the line....can't stop the growing up anymore than I could hold back the tides, but I do know that, while I trust my children and believe they deserve some privacy, I WILL be the snoopy Mom who reads texts messages, goes through closets and drawers, rifles through backpacks, etc...
Why? Because I'm a Mom and that is what Moms do!!
Friday, May 28, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
The cone of shame....
Oh man, yesterday Freya went in to be spayed. Besides just feeling plain awful for her, I felt awful for Loki. He seriously did not know what was going on, nor did he like it one little bit.
She couldn't have any food or water after midnight (Tuesday), so yesterday morning I had to hold off feeding Loki since it would have been vastly unfair to feed him in front of her -- they were both so confused, they usually get let out of their kennel first thing in the morning and are fed soon thereafter. But not yesterday, oh no, not yesterday.
Okay, so the kids get off to school and I hustle to the vet hospital. I wanted to be the first one there so she would go first and be able to get picked up earlier. My eagerness ended up being for naught, as apparently it is the dr's choice how the order of surgery falls. Whatever. Anyway. I knew that Loki wasn't going to like not having his sister around and boy howdy was I right. He barely ate, whined more than usual and randomly FLIPPED OUT all day long. Not only did I have to deal with his issues, but I was juggling going to the commissary and making THREE, yes 3, lasagnas. I was EXHAUSTED by the time I was to go pick up the kids and I still had to go pick Freya up and deal with whatever the outcome of her surgery was going to be.
I dropped John off at speech therapy and then ran the route to drop off the other kids, grabbed Marks truck, headed back to pick John up (who was waiting so patiently for me by the curb), then high-tailed it on over to pick Freya up.
After a little one on one time with the dr, in which he was quick to assure me that if ANYTHING looked wrong with her incision site to not hesitate a second, but to come on back in...they don't charge for surgery checks, however, if it appeared that the irritation was due to her licking or scratching, well, they do charge for that! All said with a sympathetic smile and "what can we do it about it" shrug of the shoulders. Whatever, doc, just get my dog....
Poor Frey, I can hear her whining and whimpering as they bring her down the hall. Oh! And I hear a voice say, "she's started licking". To which the dr, who was standing in the doorway says, "Oh, she's licking. Well, better put a cone on her." He pops his head back in and informs me that Freya is licking her incision site (you don't say!) and that they'll need to put a cone on her (WHAT! I'm shocked..), which, unfortunately, will be an extra charge. Again with the expression and shoulder shrug.
I say, since I just shelled out over $250 bucks for her surgery, OF COURSE there will be a charge for a damn plastic cone!
I digress.
It was horrid trying to walk her out. She would a walk a few steps, whimper, lift her back leg and hobble, then sit down. Poor John was beside himself. He kept telling her, "It hurts me to see you in so much pain, Freya. I am so sorry, Freya...", ugh, the sweetness of him just KILLS me.
It was interesting though, because, as soon as I opened the truck door she just jumped right in...I could have sworn that would have been painful..but I guess she just wanted to get in and get home, lol.
Anyway, we get home and Loki is going crazy. She is all hopped up on drugs and can't tell heads from tails...the dr said to keep them separate (HOW!?), so I put her in their kennel. Uh, yea, Loki went NUTS. He kept running up and down the hallway, howling, barking, whining, only to plant himself right in front of the kennel door and do all that to her drugged little face.
I was trying to figure out how we were going to do their sleeping arrangements, since the dr said to keep them separate from each other, and the only thing that we came up with was getting another kennel. *sigh* So off Mark went to get another kennel. These kennels are HUGE by the way. HUGE! I kept telling Mark that we were going to have to figure out someplace to put both the kennels so that they were next to each other....Mark didn't think it mattered but I knew if we were going to get any sleep at all, Loki was going to have to be close to his sister --
Guess where they ended up?
In the hallway right next to our bedroom! Yep, the only place big enough to fit two kennels back to back. And for all that I said Loki needed to be next to his sister in order to get any sleep, well, sleep was interrupted A LOT. Though he was close to her, he did not like that he wasn't WITH her....and she, dear dog, she made a damn racket with that cone rubbing all over the floor of her kennel.
So this morning dawns; I'm tired, Mark is tired, the dogs are losing their bloody minds and I don't want to get out of bed because I know that to do so means that I have to face the day that is going to be filled with nothing else but trying to keep the dogs apart (impossible!). And so far this morning, every thing I thought would be difficult, has been. This is one time in my life, probably the only time in my life, where I would LOVE to be wrong!! Lol, but what can you do. I will say that there are moments of hilarity that are tinged with sympathy . . . like watching Freya trying to walk/manuever with the cone on -- she is bumping into EVERYTHING. And I have to say, she is acting kind of like a lunatic; very twitchy, with bursts of insane energy...it's very odd.
I can't believe this is going to be for the next 9 days......man, I hope it goes by FAST!
She couldn't have any food or water after midnight (Tuesday), so yesterday morning I had to hold off feeding Loki since it would have been vastly unfair to feed him in front of her -- they were both so confused, they usually get let out of their kennel first thing in the morning and are fed soon thereafter. But not yesterday, oh no, not yesterday.
Okay, so the kids get off to school and I hustle to the vet hospital. I wanted to be the first one there so she would go first and be able to get picked up earlier. My eagerness ended up being for naught, as apparently it is the dr's choice how the order of surgery falls. Whatever. Anyway. I knew that Loki wasn't going to like not having his sister around and boy howdy was I right. He barely ate, whined more than usual and randomly FLIPPED OUT all day long. Not only did I have to deal with his issues, but I was juggling going to the commissary and making THREE, yes 3, lasagnas. I was EXHAUSTED by the time I was to go pick up the kids and I still had to go pick Freya up and deal with whatever the outcome of her surgery was going to be.
I dropped John off at speech therapy and then ran the route to drop off the other kids, grabbed Marks truck, headed back to pick John up (who was waiting so patiently for me by the curb), then high-tailed it on over to pick Freya up.
After a little one on one time with the dr, in which he was quick to assure me that if ANYTHING looked wrong with her incision site to not hesitate a second, but to come on back in...they don't charge for surgery checks, however, if it appeared that the irritation was due to her licking or scratching, well, they do charge for that! All said with a sympathetic smile and "what can we do it about it" shrug of the shoulders. Whatever, doc, just get my dog....
Poor Frey, I can hear her whining and whimpering as they bring her down the hall. Oh! And I hear a voice say, "she's started licking". To which the dr, who was standing in the doorway says, "Oh, she's licking. Well, better put a cone on her." He pops his head back in and informs me that Freya is licking her incision site (you don't say!) and that they'll need to put a cone on her (WHAT! I'm shocked..), which, unfortunately, will be an extra charge. Again with the expression and shoulder shrug.
I say, since I just shelled out over $250 bucks for her surgery, OF COURSE there will be a charge for a damn plastic cone!
I digress.
It was horrid trying to walk her out. She would a walk a few steps, whimper, lift her back leg and hobble, then sit down. Poor John was beside himself. He kept telling her, "It hurts me to see you in so much pain, Freya. I am so sorry, Freya...", ugh, the sweetness of him just KILLS me.
It was interesting though, because, as soon as I opened the truck door she just jumped right in...I could have sworn that would have been painful..but I guess she just wanted to get in and get home, lol.
Anyway, we get home and Loki is going crazy. She is all hopped up on drugs and can't tell heads from tails...the dr said to keep them separate (HOW!?), so I put her in their kennel. Uh, yea, Loki went NUTS. He kept running up and down the hallway, howling, barking, whining, only to plant himself right in front of the kennel door and do all that to her drugged little face.
I was trying to figure out how we were going to do their sleeping arrangements, since the dr said to keep them separate from each other, and the only thing that we came up with was getting another kennel. *sigh* So off Mark went to get another kennel. These kennels are HUGE by the way. HUGE! I kept telling Mark that we were going to have to figure out someplace to put both the kennels so that they were next to each other....Mark didn't think it mattered but I knew if we were going to get any sleep at all, Loki was going to have to be close to his sister --
Guess where they ended up?
In the hallway right next to our bedroom! Yep, the only place big enough to fit two kennels back to back. And for all that I said Loki needed to be next to his sister in order to get any sleep, well, sleep was interrupted A LOT. Though he was close to her, he did not like that he wasn't WITH her....and she, dear dog, she made a damn racket with that cone rubbing all over the floor of her kennel.
So this morning dawns; I'm tired, Mark is tired, the dogs are losing their bloody minds and I don't want to get out of bed because I know that to do so means that I have to face the day that is going to be filled with nothing else but trying to keep the dogs apart (impossible!). And so far this morning, every thing I thought would be difficult, has been. This is one time in my life, probably the only time in my life, where I would LOVE to be wrong!! Lol, but what can you do. I will say that there are moments of hilarity that are tinged with sympathy . . . like watching Freya trying to walk/manuever with the cone on -- she is bumping into EVERYTHING. And I have to say, she is acting kind of like a lunatic; very twitchy, with bursts of insane energy...it's very odd.
I can't believe this is going to be for the next 9 days......man, I hope it goes by FAST!
Monday, May 24, 2010
We're in for it now....
Oh boy. Maybe starting up a blog page wasn't such a good idea after all, lol. The chance to have a place to go to with a constant stream of consciousness is very tempting. But I have to share this. I can't be the only one who experienced this.....
After WEEKS of not taking my pups on their morning walk, I finally decided that today would be the day I got back into it. Yea for me, right? Right! So, I put their pinch collars on (they are Siberian Huskies who think of me as their own personal sled to pull...I'm not, by the way), latched their leash joiner, grabbed the poop bags, stuck my ipod earbuds in and away we went. It was a lovely morning for a walk. The clouds were bunching up as they do here in Eastern North Carolina, puffy white clouds mixed with gray storm clouds. It's really very pretty how it looks, but it spells one thing -- HUMIDITY. But the morning wasn't too bad. Well, for me it wasn't too bad, the pups may have a different take on it, what with all that fur they have.
So we set off on the walk path and wouldn't you know it, they were behaving! They never do, but for some reason this morning they were. THANK YOU!! It wasn't very long (long enough that I was nowhere near my house) before I realized the two poop bags might not be enough. I sent up a prayer that we would make it. I hate the idea of being "THE ONE" who doesn't adequately pick up after their dogs, you know?! It's just bad manners. Anyway, we made it to the first water faucet alright -- they had some water and off we went. By the second water faucet (2 miles) we were doing pretty good. I had the one poop bag left. I didn't want to chance it so we turned around and headed home. Now, I have to tell you that at this time my poor pups look very hot. Their tongues were lolling out of their mouths, they weren't trying to pull me, and they were WALKING....just a little background on my dogs ~~ they don't like to walk. They like to run. A little background on me....I don't run. We often disagree and end up wogging..it's the only concession I will make to their infernal need to move quickly.
What's wogging, you ask? It's a walk/jog. It's as fast as I will go.
Just as soon as we turned back, Loki, my lovable male pup, took his second bathroom break of the walk. Freya, sweet little love-kin that she is, had yet to need the pit-stop. It was obvious to me that Loki had some, um, stomach issues, but I did what all good pet owners do, and I used the bag to pick up after him.
Second bag used up. Shoot! Please, please, please, don't have any more stops!!!
Oh the fates are funny, aren't they. Of course we all know that the two bags wouldn't be enough! But that isn't the point of this story. No. It's not.
So when Loki stopped for a THIRD time, there were some very noticeable issues. Heaven knows just what the hell that dog ate, some plastic bag, some part of the rug, I don't know, but suffice to say, it was hanging out of his butt. He is twirling around like a dervish trying to get it off of him. I'm trying to force his butt on the ground while rubbing it back and forth, hoping the friction will break the contact. Freya is as unconcerned by the goings on as can possibly be and is doing her best to wrap around my legs. Loki is trying to get away from me. I have a poop bag swinging alarmingly close to my face. And there is still something hanging off of Loki's butt.
Dear dog. Are you kidding me!
Back and forth across the walk path we go -- Freya tangled up in my legs, Loki maddened by the horror of the dangling dingle-berry, and I, I am trying to keep my balance, not get a face full of bagged poo, all the while trying to help poor Loki.
I grab a stick and use that to try to break the hanging dingleberry. FAIL! I grab a pine cone, of which there are a great many around. FAIL! Why I thought that would work is beyond me. I contemplate a leaf but can't find one substantial enough (I do not want whatever the hell is hanging out of his butt touching my hand!). Stumped, I stand there for a bit. I finally register the poop bag dangling limp in my hand.
*sigh*
Grabbing Loki by the tail (dog lovers DO NOT judge me...there was not other option!), I used the loose portion of the bag to grab whatever the hell it was that was hanging out of his butt and pulled. OH MY GOSH! Even in re-typing this, I am gagging. It was long, it was slimy green. It was foul!!! And when it broke off, I saw that there was more waiting in the wings......ack! Are you kidding me!! Nooooooooo ~~
Not that I can stop or pause what nature intends to occur, but I tell you what, I untangled myself from Freya, turned Loki around and we hustled ourselves home. I did NOT want to encounter another hanging dingle-berry with naught at my disposal but my hand...NO!That was not going to happen!!
We did make it home without another incident but I can safely say that both Loki and I were traumatized by the entire event. Freya, well, Freya could care less what happened. She was just glad to be home.
That's what I get for taking them for a 4 mile wog without enough bags!
Lessons learned, people. Lessons learned ~~~~
After WEEKS of not taking my pups on their morning walk, I finally decided that today would be the day I got back into it. Yea for me, right? Right! So, I put their pinch collars on (they are Siberian Huskies who think of me as their own personal sled to pull...I'm not, by the way), latched their leash joiner, grabbed the poop bags, stuck my ipod earbuds in and away we went. It was a lovely morning for a walk. The clouds were bunching up as they do here in Eastern North Carolina, puffy white clouds mixed with gray storm clouds. It's really very pretty how it looks, but it spells one thing -- HUMIDITY. But the morning wasn't too bad. Well, for me it wasn't too bad, the pups may have a different take on it, what with all that fur they have.
So we set off on the walk path and wouldn't you know it, they were behaving! They never do, but for some reason this morning they were. THANK YOU!! It wasn't very long (long enough that I was nowhere near my house) before I realized the two poop bags might not be enough. I sent up a prayer that we would make it. I hate the idea of being "THE ONE" who doesn't adequately pick up after their dogs, you know?! It's just bad manners. Anyway, we made it to the first water faucet alright -- they had some water and off we went. By the second water faucet (2 miles) we were doing pretty good. I had the one poop bag left. I didn't want to chance it so we turned around and headed home. Now, I have to tell you that at this time my poor pups look very hot. Their tongues were lolling out of their mouths, they weren't trying to pull me, and they were WALKING....just a little background on my dogs ~~ they don't like to walk. They like to run. A little background on me....I don't run. We often disagree and end up wogging..it's the only concession I will make to their infernal need to move quickly.
What's wogging, you ask? It's a walk/jog. It's as fast as I will go.
Just as soon as we turned back, Loki, my lovable male pup, took his second bathroom break of the walk. Freya, sweet little love-kin that she is, had yet to need the pit-stop. It was obvious to me that Loki had some, um, stomach issues, but I did what all good pet owners do, and I used the bag to pick up after him.
Second bag used up. Shoot! Please, please, please, don't have any more stops!!!
Oh the fates are funny, aren't they. Of course we all know that the two bags wouldn't be enough! But that isn't the point of this story. No. It's not.
So when Loki stopped for a THIRD time, there were some very noticeable issues. Heaven knows just what the hell that dog ate, some plastic bag, some part of the rug, I don't know, but suffice to say, it was hanging out of his butt. He is twirling around like a dervish trying to get it off of him. I'm trying to force his butt on the ground while rubbing it back and forth, hoping the friction will break the contact. Freya is as unconcerned by the goings on as can possibly be and is doing her best to wrap around my legs. Loki is trying to get away from me. I have a poop bag swinging alarmingly close to my face. And there is still something hanging off of Loki's butt.
Dear dog. Are you kidding me!
Back and forth across the walk path we go -- Freya tangled up in my legs, Loki maddened by the horror of the dangling dingle-berry, and I, I am trying to keep my balance, not get a face full of bagged poo, all the while trying to help poor Loki.
I grab a stick and use that to try to break the hanging dingleberry. FAIL! I grab a pine cone, of which there are a great many around. FAIL! Why I thought that would work is beyond me. I contemplate a leaf but can't find one substantial enough (I do not want whatever the hell is hanging out of his butt touching my hand!). Stumped, I stand there for a bit. I finally register the poop bag dangling limp in my hand.
*sigh*
Grabbing Loki by the tail (dog lovers DO NOT judge me...there was not other option!), I used the loose portion of the bag to grab whatever the hell it was that was hanging out of his butt and pulled. OH MY GOSH! Even in re-typing this, I am gagging. It was long, it was slimy green. It was foul!!! And when it broke off, I saw that there was more waiting in the wings......ack! Are you kidding me!! Nooooooooo ~~
Not that I can stop or pause what nature intends to occur, but I tell you what, I untangled myself from Freya, turned Loki around and we hustled ourselves home. I did NOT want to encounter another hanging dingle-berry with naught at my disposal but my hand...NO!That was not going to happen!!
We did make it home without another incident but I can safely say that both Loki and I were traumatized by the entire event. Freya, well, Freya could care less what happened. She was just glad to be home.
That's what I get for taking them for a 4 mile wog without enough bags!
Lessons learned, people. Lessons learned ~~~~
Giving it a go....
I have never blogged before. I am not quite sure how this will all work out, but I must confess, I kind of like the idea of it . . . writing at my leisure about all and everything that occurs in my life. It's quite like an on-line diary, isn't it, without all the dirty, intimate details? Well, at least not right off the bat. After all, we haven't gotten to know each other all that well yet, have we?
I have to share the horror of Saturday night. Yes, HORROR!! You may want to sit for this one.
After a lovely day at the airshow --- really, who doesn't love a good airshow!? Anyway, after a lovely day sitting in the baking sun, watching amazing aerial feats (the Blue Angels are AMAZING!) and getting a sun burn . . . yes, I managed to put sunscreen on the boys and yet somehow, from them to me, the action got lost, never to be recovered.
I digress.
So. Where were we. Oh yes, we are returned home from the airshow and I am all sunburned. Well, I don't know if this happens to many of you, but the sun just wipes me out! I had nothing left and all I wanted to do was get in my jammies, curl up on my bed and have a movie marathon. Funny, I pretty much want to do that every day. Hm, I guess it's not just the sun. I'll have to think on that a bit later.....anyhoo, those options weren't open to me as I had promised the boys (all 3 of them) that I would be making Chicken Curry for dinner. From scratch. And the chicken HAD to be cooked, if you know what I mean. So I rouse myself to complete the task of making dinner (It took all that I had. The wine helped!) and we had a wonderful family dinner.
Quick aside here: I much prefer Middle Eastern curry to Thai. I found that out on Saturday night when I tasted my Thai curry. Just thought I would share that....
Where is the horror. Oh, it's coming.
Post dinner I got my wish. My boys were game for getting in jammies and snuggling in bed with Mom while watching Avatar ~~ HOORAY! So we all settled in and were snug as bugs in a rug.
I was laying on my side, idly scratching my back. Does anyone else do that? It's almost hypnotic. Maybe that is just me. Well anyway, there I was, idly scratching my back, completely immersed in Avatar, when my fingers came across something on my spine. It was in the area of where I had a mole removed recently, but that bad boy had already healed so I knew it couldn't be that. I gave it a tug and, um, ouch. Yea, it hurt. I flipped on my bedside table and asked Matt to come on over and check out my back. He takes his damn sweet time coming around the bed to my side(I am inwardly freaking out because I think I know what it is!) and I point to the area and say, "WHAT is that?" This is what happened after that question was asked:
Matt: "Um, Mom, it looks like a bug!"
Me: "WHAT!? What do you mean, A BUG?"
Matt: "Mom, seriously, I think it's a bug...that's gross."
Me: "Oh my gosh, you mean like a TICK? Are you kidding me, it's a tick!?"
Matt: "Yea, I think so. Mom, that's disgusting."
My internal thought: "This is FOUL!"
I put my fingers back to where the offending hanger-on was located and gave it a tug. It didn't feel good, which I must say surprised me...never having pulled a TICK off of myself before, I wasn't aware there would be any kind of feeling to it. But I guess it makes sense since it is EMBEDDED in your body (ick!!!)
I have the offensive blood sucking thing in my fingers and walk into the bathroom to get a closer look. It's legs are scrambling to beat the band and it has a white dot on its back. I am so disgusted at this point and I feel like I have a thousand bugs crawling all over me.
I take the . . . thing . . . to the kitchen where Mark is cleaning up the dinner dishes and prepping the meat for the following day and say to him, "TELL me this is not a tick! Please!" He looks at what is being held between my fingers and as far away from my body as humanly possible and replies, "Yea, that's a tick. Where did you find that?" (as if it is some kind of treasure~!) I told him I had just pulled it off of my back and he says.....he SAYS, "COOL!".
Excuse me!!!!
Excuse ME!!!!!!!!!
Pulling blood sucking ickies off of ones body is NOT cool!
I stood there staring at him. I know I must have had a look of utter disgust on my face, for both the tick and his remark (does the man not know me at all!). I handed him the tick to kill and as I do, he says, "I'll kill it but you have to give me a kiss first."
I turned around and walked away . . . "COOL!" Cool, my ass. I spent the rest of the night dreaming about ticks and waking up to check my whole body.
And just fyi . . . I really, really, really hate ticks!
So there you have it. My tale of horror ~~~
I have to share the horror of Saturday night. Yes, HORROR!! You may want to sit for this one.
After a lovely day at the airshow --- really, who doesn't love a good airshow!? Anyway, after a lovely day sitting in the baking sun, watching amazing aerial feats (the Blue Angels are AMAZING!) and getting a sun burn . . . yes, I managed to put sunscreen on the boys and yet somehow, from them to me, the action got lost, never to be recovered.
I digress.
So. Where were we. Oh yes, we are returned home from the airshow and I am all sunburned. Well, I don't know if this happens to many of you, but the sun just wipes me out! I had nothing left and all I wanted to do was get in my jammies, curl up on my bed and have a movie marathon. Funny, I pretty much want to do that every day. Hm, I guess it's not just the sun. I'll have to think on that a bit later.....anyhoo, those options weren't open to me as I had promised the boys (all 3 of them) that I would be making Chicken Curry for dinner. From scratch. And the chicken HAD to be cooked, if you know what I mean. So I rouse myself to complete the task of making dinner (It took all that I had. The wine helped!) and we had a wonderful family dinner.
Quick aside here: I much prefer Middle Eastern curry to Thai. I found that out on Saturday night when I tasted my Thai curry. Just thought I would share that....
Where is the horror. Oh, it's coming.
Post dinner I got my wish. My boys were game for getting in jammies and snuggling in bed with Mom while watching Avatar ~~ HOORAY! So we all settled in and were snug as bugs in a rug.
I was laying on my side, idly scratching my back. Does anyone else do that? It's almost hypnotic. Maybe that is just me. Well anyway, there I was, idly scratching my back, completely immersed in Avatar, when my fingers came across something on my spine. It was in the area of where I had a mole removed recently, but that bad boy had already healed so I knew it couldn't be that. I gave it a tug and, um, ouch. Yea, it hurt. I flipped on my bedside table and asked Matt to come on over and check out my back. He takes his damn sweet time coming around the bed to my side(I am inwardly freaking out because I think I know what it is!) and I point to the area and say, "WHAT is that?" This is what happened after that question was asked:
Matt: "Um, Mom, it looks like a bug!"
Me: "WHAT!? What do you mean, A BUG?"
Matt: "Mom, seriously, I think it's a bug...that's gross."
Me: "Oh my gosh, you mean like a TICK? Are you kidding me, it's a tick!?"
Matt: "Yea, I think so. Mom, that's disgusting."
My internal thought: "This is FOUL!"
I put my fingers back to where the offending hanger-on was located and gave it a tug. It didn't feel good, which I must say surprised me...never having pulled a TICK off of myself before, I wasn't aware there would be any kind of feeling to it. But I guess it makes sense since it is EMBEDDED in your body (ick!!!)
I have the offensive blood sucking thing in my fingers and walk into the bathroom to get a closer look. It's legs are scrambling to beat the band and it has a white dot on its back. I am so disgusted at this point and I feel like I have a thousand bugs crawling all over me.
I take the . . . thing . . . to the kitchen where Mark is cleaning up the dinner dishes and prepping the meat for the following day and say to him, "TELL me this is not a tick! Please!" He looks at what is being held between my fingers and as far away from my body as humanly possible and replies, "Yea, that's a tick. Where did you find that?" (as if it is some kind of treasure~!) I told him I had just pulled it off of my back and he says.....he SAYS, "COOL!".
Excuse me!!!!
Excuse ME!!!!!!!!!
Pulling blood sucking ickies off of ones body is NOT cool!
I stood there staring at him. I know I must have had a look of utter disgust on my face, for both the tick and his remark (does the man not know me at all!). I handed him the tick to kill and as I do, he says, "I'll kill it but you have to give me a kiss first."
I turned around and walked away . . . "COOL!" Cool, my ass. I spent the rest of the night dreaming about ticks and waking up to check my whole body.
And just fyi . . . I really, really, really hate ticks!
So there you have it. My tale of horror ~~~
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