Mother's Day, Mayhem Style
Good morning and happy Mother's Day from la Casa de Testosterone!
So, I'm solo parenting today as the cop is covering a patrol shift. Upon last check he was sitting in the emergency room waiting for mental health to come and assess someone who currently makes me look like the picture of sanity. I'm pretty sure this is a blessing, because lately the cop has looked at me like I'm only 20 cats short of living up to my full crazy potential, and yesterday I got offered some kittens... Also, during my conversation with him his somewhat disturbed client did tell me happy Mother's Day. So I got that going for me, which is nice.
It's pretty early here, but we're off to a roaring good start to the day. I slept in until almost eight, and when I woke up the wild boys explained that the blood stains on Gabe's sweatshirt were old, so aside from having that laundry to look forward to we're going to call it a win. They then showered me with homemade gifts from school, which is awesome. For real, I know you all expect me to be all jaded and critical but the stuff from school is always adorable. And I'm going to reflect on that as the remainder of the day unfolds. Because immediately after that the dog barfed on the floor in the kitchen. I gently tried to escort her to the deck and Gabe tunnel visioned in on the gigantic pile of slimy puke and started dry heaving, creating the potential for a second pile. I'm good for exactly one vomit pile clean up an hour. Anything more than that is going to require alcohol or sedatives, and it's way to early for me to start down that road. So I hoisted the dog out the door and banished Gabe to the bathroom to focus on some cleansing breaths, but in the midst Gavin came running in to see what the drama was and came within an inch of a barefoot barf slide which would have undoubtedly ended up with a head injury. I managed to catch him in time, but my heroics came in the form of taking a bullet for someone, and I will be reliving the horrific sensation of dog bile between my bare toes in my deepest darkest dreams for months, I'm sure.
I decided at that point that maybe it was time for the wild boys to go play outside. So I attempted to encourage that, but was unaware the amount of preparation it would take. So as I sat here typing I also got to yell things like "It's with the first aid stuff," and "it's the only cream spelled with a z, I don't need to spell the whole name for you - does that one have a 'z' in the name or not?" and "NO - we have to go to the grocery store - NO CAMO FACE PAINT!" Real deal here though, had I known that banning the camo face paint would result in them having to totally redesign the nature of their outside play and would necessitate them being inside long enough to weigh the pros and cons of each individual nerf gun in their arsenal I would have rethought it. Because I really hardly even notice the stares of shocked passerby shoppers anymore. And now I need to pick up all the camouflage gear strewn across the living room in favor of police costumes. I'm pretty sure this is why Mother's Day typically starts with Mimosas. This job is not for the weak of heart or the entirely sober.
Anyhow, there are screams from outside and household chores to be done, but I didn't want to miss a weekly check in to let you all know I was still alive and keeping the wild boys in as much check as is humanly possibly. Until next time, have a wild boy kind of week. Much love from la Casa!
So, I'm solo parenting today as the cop is covering a patrol shift. Upon last check he was sitting in the emergency room waiting for mental health to come and assess someone who currently makes me look like the picture of sanity. I'm pretty sure this is a blessing, because lately the cop has looked at me like I'm only 20 cats short of living up to my full crazy potential, and yesterday I got offered some kittens... Also, during my conversation with him his somewhat disturbed client did tell me happy Mother's Day. So I got that going for me, which is nice.
It's pretty early here, but we're off to a roaring good start to the day. I slept in until almost eight, and when I woke up the wild boys explained that the blood stains on Gabe's sweatshirt were old, so aside from having that laundry to look forward to we're going to call it a win. They then showered me with homemade gifts from school, which is awesome. For real, I know you all expect me to be all jaded and critical but the stuff from school is always adorable. And I'm going to reflect on that as the remainder of the day unfolds. Because immediately after that the dog barfed on the floor in the kitchen. I gently tried to escort her to the deck and Gabe tunnel visioned in on the gigantic pile of slimy puke and started dry heaving, creating the potential for a second pile. I'm good for exactly one vomit pile clean up an hour. Anything more than that is going to require alcohol or sedatives, and it's way to early for me to start down that road. So I hoisted the dog out the door and banished Gabe to the bathroom to focus on some cleansing breaths, but in the midst Gavin came running in to see what the drama was and came within an inch of a barefoot barf slide which would have undoubtedly ended up with a head injury. I managed to catch him in time, but my heroics came in the form of taking a bullet for someone, and I will be reliving the horrific sensation of dog bile between my bare toes in my deepest darkest dreams for months, I'm sure.
I decided at that point that maybe it was time for the wild boys to go play outside. So I attempted to encourage that, but was unaware the amount of preparation it would take. So as I sat here typing I also got to yell things like "It's with the first aid stuff," and "it's the only cream spelled with a z, I don't need to spell the whole name for you - does that one have a 'z' in the name or not?" and "NO - we have to go to the grocery store - NO CAMO FACE PAINT!" Real deal here though, had I known that banning the camo face paint would result in them having to totally redesign the nature of their outside play and would necessitate them being inside long enough to weigh the pros and cons of each individual nerf gun in their arsenal I would have rethought it. Because I really hardly even notice the stares of shocked passerby shoppers anymore. And now I need to pick up all the camouflage gear strewn across the living room in favor of police costumes. I'm pretty sure this is why Mother's Day typically starts with Mimosas. This job is not for the weak of heart or the entirely sober.
Anyhow, there are screams from outside and household chores to be done, but I didn't want to miss a weekly check in to let you all know I was still alive and keeping the wild boys in as much check as is humanly possibly. Until next time, have a wild boy kind of week. Much love from la Casa!
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