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Showing posts from May 10, 2009

a little snip here....

I want a nice lawn.

No, I want a fantabulous lawn! One that is green, lush, beckons you to place your tender bare foot on its soft, velvet grass... What I actually have is somewhat of a cross between a furrowed field and bombed out Beirut, currently being overrun by a creep named Charlie, but does show some promise in the front yard (if I could just get rid of the thousands of dandy-lions prancing about).

I've inherited from my father the Anal Lawn Gene, which requires that I know such things as:

(1) First take two laps around the outside of the lawn (this is where you turn around). These laps should be with the clippings being shot TOWARDS the center of the lawn. Not shooting out to the street, or along the sidewalks, or at the house.

(2) Mowing should be done SLOWLY. If you're traveling a bumpy trail at warp speed the mower will "jump" - so will the blades. This means you will miss cutting parts of the lawn leaving you with a choppy haircut.

(3) Grass should be clipped …

Just another random Tuesday evening....

I had just pulled out of the office parking lot when my cell rang....(isn't this how it always begins?)

Mom? Mom?

Bean? I can hardly hear you...


You want me to Shhhsh?

Mom! Please! Just be quiet.

Ok. Why are you calling me whispering?

Because Gram's in the other room....

Where are you?

In the bathroom - SHHHHH!!!!

Ok, Bean, look - I'm in the car surrounded entirely by myself. No one can hear me. Trust me. Now, what do you need? And why are you whispering in Grandma's bathroom?

Not GRANDMA'S bathroom - PAPA'S bathroom.

Ok. Why are you whispering in Papa's bathroom?

Because I just.... you know... went... you know... went a lot....

Are you looking for a congratulatory trophy?

Mom! Please! This is serious. I need your help.

Aren't you a little old for me to wipe?


Ok. Sorry. I'm sorry. How can I help you -- from my car?

It won't flush.


The toilet. It won't flush!

Well just go tell Gram - she'll fix it.


"The Mother's Day that wasn't worth a mother ----"

At this point in the game I have accepted the fact that I will never be referred to as the nurturing mother that all children long to have. Perhaps it's because I rarely bake homemade goodies and generally serve dinner a-la-frozen-food style. Or maybe it's because the first thing I say is, "what did they do NOW?" when the teacher calls from school. It could be because if someone comes crying that they hurt themselves, but there's no obvious trail of blood, I console in the form of "suck it up - it's not like the arm is completely off."

But I did think maybe, possibly, perhaps by the Will of God Himself, I would have been doted on and served by two of the best mannered children for Mother's Day.

They came close.... if you count being woken up at 7 o'clock in the morning by a sugar-manicked teen: "MOM! MOM! Get up! You HAVE to get up! There's something in the garage - Mom - Did you hear me? There's-something-in-the-garage-and-I-thin…

Dinner & a Dress with the Bean

Bean: "My buns smell weird - here, you smell them."

Bean: "Oh my gawd... I totally have to - OOPS! Too late!"

Bean: "Do you think four inch heels are too much for a thirteen year old?"

Bean: "Only a hundred and fourteen dollars? That's not bad for a dress. I'll probably even wear it more than once."