Toledo Air

After reading this, over at Half Past Kissin' Time I was inspired about what to blog today.

I have always been a fan of the practical joke. Not just the water bucket over the door variety, but the long running, well thought out, that makes you laugh for the duration kind of joke. This one is an absolute classic that I was only witness to but wish I could claim credit for.

In college, some of the campus housing consisted of apartments that housed 8 people. 4 bedrooms, a bathroom, a common living room and very little privacy. One of these apartments housed some friends of mine, who pulled this beauty off. Two of the guys ("Mitch" and "Steve") happened to be complete motor heads. "Lester" (the victim) was anything but a 'car expert' and a little too trusting and naive, especially considering the personalities of the people he was living with.

"Lester" had a tire that was low on air every day for a week. Little did he know that "Steve" was the cause of this. Every night on his way back to the apartment he would stop and let about 1/4 of the air out of "Lesters" driver's front tire. "Lester" went to the local gas station and filled the tire daily only to find it low again in the morning. So he took it to the local tire repair shop. The attendant found no problem, didn't charge for the check and sent "Lester" on his way. The next morning he finds his drivers' rear tire is low on air.

That night "Lester" goes to "Steve" and explains the tire issue and asks for an opinion and advice. With a total straight face, Steve asks if there is a slow leak that could be caused by a puncture. Lester tells Steve how he had the tire checked and now a different tire was loosing air and that he was now refilling his tires daily. "Steve" continues to ponder what the problem could be for "Lesters'" benefit. "Eureka! I Know what the problem is, You have Toledo air in your tires. Did you fill them when you went home to Toledo two weeks ago?". "No", replied
"Lester", "They were fine when I was home." " Hmmm, but were they originally sealed in Toledo?" "Steve" wanted to know. "Well yeah, but what would that have to do with anything?" "Lester" questioned with suspicion and doubt in his voice. So "Steve" proceed to explain that the latitude of Toledo being 5 hours north, had a different air density and thus pressure changes happen. The only solution was to have the tires resealed here at the lower latitude and and made up a convoluted explanation about how in reverse there wouldn't be a problem with pressure changes. "Lester" wasn't quite buying it, but wasn't sure. After all "Steve" knew everything there was to know about cars.

So "Lester" left "Steve" to seek a second opinion, completely unaware that "Mitch" had overheard the entirety of the conversation from the common living room and was trying hard not to convulse with laughter. After having the tire problem explained to him, "Mitch" asked the normal questions and then said "Wait, where were your tires sealed?". He continued to explain the whole latitude/longitude issue to "Lester", trying not to use the exact phrasing that "Steve" had.

That was enough confirmation for "Lester". The next day after class he drove back to the tire shop and insisted that they reseal the tires. The attendant asked "why?" and "Lester" explained how he had "Toledo Air" in the tires and how the longitude and latitude was the culprit of the problem and how his two buddies helped him to figure it out. The attendant burst out laughing and informed "Lester" that he had been had. "Lester was pretty ticked, but the rest of us laughed till we cried.

Semper FI

My friend 'Megan' of E-Harmony fame was a single mother for a handful of years. She has 2 children, hence referred to as Boy and Girl, who are friends with Boy Weasel and Middle Weasel. Watching a single Mom in action did not make me envious of the job. Between work and school nonsense she had very little and precious time to just hang out with the kids. Thus when she was home with them, discipline was not on the top of her to-do list. It was dinner, is your homework done, what school papers do you have for me?, limited time to clean house and hang with her homies, and bed to start all over again in the morning.

Boy and Girl spent a lot of time here at the Weasel Village playing with the Weasels and never gave me a hard time. I run a tight ship, but a fun ship. When they needed extra help with math, I pulled out the chips and cards and taught them Black Jack(this really works with addition facts). They always had fun here and always knew not to cross me or break the rules. There would be consequences. They liked me and respected me. I babysat for them often and they became some real favorites of mine.

But when they went home, they put their Mom through the wringer. With no other reason than they could. They knew she was tired, and that she didn't want to spend the limited time they had together yelling and punishing. They would call her at work about spats they were having (what can she really do from the office?). So after a while she would call me when they were giving her an especially hard time at work and ask me to 'have a talk with them'.

When it would get to this point, I would have to go all R. Lee Ermey all over their little butts. Respect for your mother, siblings need to stick together, etc. I never swore, but used a tone that would make any drill Sergeant proud and they will not soon forget. And got immediate results.

R. Lee Ermey

So one day 'Megan' is in her car with her Boy, while ranting to herself about what a real immature jerk etc, etc, her boss is being(we've all been through this). Her boy pipes up from the back seat. Why don't you just have Mrs. Weasel talk to him, that would straighten him out!

My efforts were not fruitless!

Aliens Are Real!!!!!!

This according to Apollo astronaut Edgar Mitchell. In multiple radio and television interviews yesterday and this morning.

This explains and clarifies many phenomena for me. For example, I now understand how come my Weasels never wake up in the same place that they fell asleep. Aliens must be playing a practical joke on me by rearranging the kids while they sleep! We've teased Middle Weasel for years now that someday the mother ship was going to come back for her, and now they just might.

Believe!

This helps me to understand the inability of the kids to follow simple instructions when I leave the house. It's now obvious that that's when the aliens visit and why my children have the phenomena of lost time when I ask "If you didn't put your laundry away while I was at the store, what exactly did you do?" and they respond "I dunno".

This also explains who left the bread on the counter, who left the legos on the floor at the bottom of the stairs and who put the milk container with 2 drops left back into fridge. Along with where did all the popsicles go?

Dr. Mitchell states that aliens have been visiting earth for years and that there was indeed a crash and cover-up in Roswell, NM back in 1947. Aliens have been studying humans and doing medical testing. Now I understand the confused/lost look in the eyes of the teenager at the drive through window when I request extra napkins. The tracking device in their brain is affecting their ability to complete simple tasks! Or they are not actually from this planet to begin with.

I think that aliens must be testing on household pets also. It's clear to me now that the tracking device in cats brains sends signals that make them go from lazy and sleeping to romping around the house like amphetamine junkies in .5 seconds.

Well if Aliens are here and if they among us, I also have a much better understanding of my Mother in Law.

Things That Make Me Go Hmmm........

• These are some things that really used to get under my skin. Whether I have mellowed and no longer give them importance or the kids have broken my spirit is an open question. But either way I have become 'Zen' about them. I list them in no particular order

Yesterday I went grocery shopping. I bought 6 peaches, 6 nectarines and 2 cantaloupe. Before I could get the bags unpacked and put away the peaches and nectarines had already been completely consumed, without evidence that had ever existed. Both cantaloupe were gone by dinner time. This is the normal course for produce in our home. Hmmmm.

My Weasels do not sleep in their beds. Even if they start the evening in the beds, by morning they have played musical beds and musical rooms. They move to each others beds, the floor, my room or the couch. But always in the middle of night when everyone is asleep. I don't understand it. Hmmm.

The Weasels also have an aversion to bed clothes(except for Eldest). I can make the beds with fresh clean sheets. It does not matter what fabric, color, thread count or character is on them. They tear them off their beds as soon as they crawl into them(even though they don't spend the night there), including the pillow case. This boggles my mind. Hmmm.

They hate when their bedrooms are clean. They prefer clothes and towels, both clean and dirty, strewn across the place. Even if I clean the bedrooms, within 30 minutes of seeing it clean, they will decimate it. Why I ask? "I just like it better this way" is usually the answer. So I let it go until it poses a fire hazard and they must keep the 1st floor and main living areas the way Mom likes them. That is the compromise to keep my sanity. Hmmm.

The Weasels do not like corn on the cob. Corn from a can or frozen is fine, but not on the cob. Go figure! Eldest Weasel is the exception here. She likes corn on the cob, but only before it's cooked. She also has braces and isn't allowed to eat it unless I cut it off the cob first. Hmmm.

Monkey Weasel will not eat sandwiches. She will eat bread. She will eat salami, bologna, etc. , just not together. Hmmm.

Well this the list that comes to mind at the moment, I am sure there are many more. Hope they made you chuckle. And feel free to add strange, unexplainable behaviors that your kids have.

College Fund? You crack me up kid!

It's no big secret that kids are expensive. Families the size of ours bleed you dry. Just caring for their basic needs equals the gross national product of a small island nation. An example of this is one day I was shopping at Sam's Club (I should just call this place the feed store). Had all the regular purchases, bought in bulk of course, ground beef, pork chops, chicken, hot dogs, buns, half bushels of fruit, etc. The man in line behind me commented "looks like someone is having a party". I replied to him "No, just grocery shopping" and proceed to help him pick his jaw up off the floor.

Hand me downs should be a part of life, but my little weasels were not considerate enough to be born at the same time of year or grow at equal rates, so hand me downs are few and far between. That is unless I let Monkey Weasel wear Middle Weasel's old tank tops and shorts to go play in the snow. And the department of child services specifically told me that this was not acceptable.

We also send our children to private grade school and high school. This is a huge expense that is hard to meet, but it is what's best for our family. From the time we drank to much, um I mean decided to have a large family we knew we would not/could not be paying for college. Mr. Weasel and I paid our own way, they can do the same. So we are trying to give them a helping hand now with the best education we can provide.

Also, you have all the sports stuff, sign-up fees, uniforms, equipment. Yesterday Eldest Weasel tried out for and made "All Stars Cheerleading Squad". We were really happy, proud and excited. Then found out that part of it is being in a parade in LONDON on New Years Day. Cost of the trip: $2,500! Not sure yet if she can make the trip.

Add to this that our Orthodontist sends us a Christmas card from Maui and a thank you note every year, and you get the picture. I don't say this all to complain, contrary, this is what we signed up for. But it's the set up for Boy Weasel's best one liner ever.

"Mom",said boy, "I don't have to go to college, right?"
Me, "No, but you should. It's a good thing"
Boy, "So what can I do with my college fund if I don't go"?
Me, "college fund? You crack me up kid!
This kid has a future in stand up.

Boy Weasel

Disaster Response and Red Tape

I wanted to post yesterday, but spent all day holding on the phone instead. You will understand in a minute. Two nights ago, while the NukeFamily enjoyed a night at the ball park, Eldest Weasel hosted a Hollywood Movies themed sleepover party. She somehow had coerced me into letting her invite 7 other 14 year old girls to spend 18 hours in my home. Between you and I, I think she had drugged me.

So starting at about 5 p.m., they started descending on my home like hungry locusts, dressed like they were going to the Oscars. Mr. Weasel made up some burgers and hot dogs on the grill. We pulled out baked beans, chips and all the fixins. They whipped through the food like Tazmanian devils then made a bee-line for the basement where the younger Weasels had been forbidden to pester them. Mr. Weasel and I put the kitchen back in working order and prepared for the 'next wave'.

sleepover

sl2

sleepover 1

When the gaggle of girls was ready work on the purse decorating craft Eldest had prepared and settle in with movies in the living room, I took the others upstairs to watch Shark Week on the Discovery Channel and have their own sleepover in Mom and Dad's room. All was good, noise level reasonable, no worries.
When I woke up in the morning this is what I saw:

sl4

And this is what had happened in the Kitchen:

sl5

sl6

Well the first call I made was to our Home Owners Insurance agent. After reviewing our policy she informed me that we do not have a rider in our policy for this type of damage. Then she suggested that we call FEMA.I called FEMA and after quite some time on hold through the automated system, spoke to a person who told me that the Governor would have to declare a "State of Emergency" before they could help with clean-up.
So, I called the Governor. I remained on hold as he was speaking with legal counsel about his corruption investigation. So I held on the line while he prepared his Grand Jury Testimony. I asked for the "State of Emergency", but he said this did not qualify as an "Act of God". That only a Poltergeist could have caused that kind of damage in such a short time. Then suggested that I call a Catholic Priest/Exorcist.
I Spoke with the Diocese Exorcist. He said that the Church is hesitant to get involved without months of investigation. I told him I can't live like this for months. He told me the next best thing to do was go outside and have a beer. So that's what I did!

Twisted Thoughts

My mind sometimes wanders off to some pretty strange places. However, having the very self entertaining twisted sense of humor that I do, I share these thoughts with actual people. That's probably not wise, but it also has it's upside. I am never the friend that gets asked to babysit.

If your sense of humor is as twisted as mine (< .5% of the population), you will have a lot of fun with this. If your reading my blog, you most likely fall into this category.

*Disclaimer -this is only a a hypothetical. Just an interesting way to evaluate your friends personalities and qualities. Do Not Attempt.*

Okay- here we go : You are alone in your house. There is a dead body in your kitchen (have your own fun deciding how it got there). You are unable to call police, the situation is too incriminating (just go with it, like the last Indiana Jones movie). Who among your friends do you call to help you dispose of the body?

Now the fun part is evaluating your friends. Who could you trust not to report you to the authorities? Who would be willing to help, but does not have the stomach for it? Who would help today, but could never keep their trap shut for the long term? Who wouldn't report you, but wouldn't be willing be willing to get their hands dirty? Who would just pretend that this phone call never happened? And who has got your back, will help out, get their hands dirty and never speak of it again? This person is your best friend.

Now I want to hear your thoughts and answers about who you could trust and why. The best/funniest answer I received from family and friends was from my sister. She replied that there was no one she could trust that much. So she would just call a friend to come over for coffee. When they got there she would lock the door, explain the situation and if they were resistant to idea of helping tell them " I have 2 tarps, we can double bag this one or I can use them both". (This isn't for real people!, read the disclaimer!)

I was truly disturbed by how many people said that I would be their phone call, but I should actually be flattered that I have earned that much trust as a friend. My personal picks of who to call is my best friend from college. She lives 6 hours away and would make double time to get here and bring the tarps. Now that's a friend! And 'Megan' of E-harmony fame. She would help no questions asked!

Give it some thought, hopefully laugh your butt of at the idea of individual friends reaction to this situation, and post your comments here.

Things That Make You Feel Old

Yesterday, having started out quiet, soon erupted into great fun and surprises. A few families in the neighborhood put together a progressive water party for all of the kids. Each house or 'station' had an outdoor water based activity and we would all move from one house to the next every 1/2 hr. to 45 minutes. There were pools with slides, slip -n-slides, sprinklers, and water balloons. It was really great fun. I wanted to have fun too and play with the kids not even caring that I was still in my clothes and getting buckets of water thrown in my direction. We ran and played. It was really a hoot until I decided that the slip-n-slide was too tempting. I took off with a running start, made the dive for the slide and THUMP! I hit the slide, but did not actually slide. All my momentum just plowed directly into the ground beneath it. Ouch. I was too big to play on the slip-n-slide. That makes you feel old.

We had a great surprise yesterday too. Good friends who moved away years ago, called and said "We're in town, are you free for a couple hours?". This was great news. They came and we spent a wonderful day playing in the water and visiting. They were such a sight for sore eyes and looked great to boot. The part that made me feel old was seeing the kids. The pre-schooler turned teenager, the baby boy turned young man, and the pre-schooler that I had never even set eyes on before. When did that happen? How have they grown and changed so much? Wow, what people they have turned into. I haven't gotton any older, so how could they have? Oh, wait a minute, I guess I am older too. Drat! That makes me feel old.

What was just going to be an afternoon visit, because of scheduling, turned into an all day and night affair. We had a fantastic visit and were so lucky that cahnges in plans made it an extended one. The kids had so much fun together and even after all the years apart, just picked up right where they had left off. The same was true for us moms. It's like finding your all time favorite, most comfortable pair of jeans and trying them on to find out, not only do they still fit, but they make your butt look good too.

So this morning, after having been up way past my bedtime, I wake up in all kids of pain. It seemed to be coming from all four corners of my body. As a wipe my sleepy eyes, I realize all this pain is punishment for being silly enough to think I could keep up with the kids and water sports. As I take my ibuproffin, I feel old.

When I think about it. I know that I am not old, I can't be! My mind is young and I still want to have all the same fun that the kids do. I am not old just yet, but I'm certainly am not as young as I used to be.

Interview With A Weasel

Boy, our 11 year old son has agreed to an interview to give you and inside look at life in our world from his point of view. Hopefully this will be informative and entertaining. If you have any follow-up questions, just post them in the comments and maybe we will do a part two. And away we go........

Me: So Boy, Do you have anything to say to the nice people?

Boy: Hi!

Me: What does 'BushWeasel' mean to you?

Boy: It means special, like a doughnut with sprinkles!

Me: can you define 'BushWeasel for us?

Boy: A rare species of awsomeriffic things that live at our house.

Me: So you like being a 'BushWeasel?

Boy: 75/25 75 % awesomeriffic, 25% I have too many fans.

Me: How do you feel about your Mother blogging about you?

Boy: I have a question? Does it have to be the truth or one of those little white lies?

Me: The truth 1st, then you can white lie.

Boy: One or the other, buddy.

Me: Okay, the truth then.

Boy: I kind of like it, it makes me more famous!

Me: Okay, now the truth for real.....

Boy: I can run an 8 minute mile in only 10 minutes!

Me: don't change the subject.

Boy: My Mom is blogging, I don't know why that's bad, it just is. 50% of the time anyway.

Me: Is it because your Mom is sooooo cool, you feel you can't compete?

Boy: ixne.

Me: is that pig latin?

Boy: Yes (cringe).

Me: So I am not cool?

Boy: No you are cool(rolling eyes).

Me: So what about Mom's blogging bothers you?

Boy: I can't deal with all the paparazzi , and if you must know I think Jordan Sparks is jealous of me.

Okay, we are going to conclude this interview for now as Boy needs some calibration of his ego via his sisters. Please let us know, what you would like to ask The Boy.

Parenting Moments That Take your Breath Away

I have been cruising the blogs this morning and there seems to be a common theme among them. That theme is "My kid did 'this' and it made me so proud", " They get their, daring or intelligence from my side of the family". And reading these I am saying to myself, these are some really cool moments that parents should take pride in and share. That's part of our joy as parents. So, I am going to jump on that bandwagon and share with you a moment that took our breath away.

One evening Hubby, Eldest and I were in the kitchen. Hubby and I catching up on the day and eldest in the pantry scavenging for her 5th meal of the day. One of the cats (Mack) was annoying Eldest by demanding attention as she tried to make a sandwich. She kept moving him off her leg and he kept returning.

Very innocently, she interrupts Hubby and I, "Excuse me, but were Mack's parents ever married?" The radar immediately goes up for both Hubby and I. Eldest is 14 and knows that cats don't marry, but we don't know where this is going. We look at each other and telepathically decide to proceed with caution. "No," I respond, Mack's parents were not married. "Okay, thanks" she replies. With that she looks at the cat and with contempt in her voice and shouts "Leave me alone you little bastard!". I almost fell off my stool.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Some kids parents are engineers, scientists or mathematicians. My kids parents are smartasses. Ah, the moments that take your breath away!

Beware Neighbors Bearing Gifts

We live in a pretty tight knit little neighborhood.  We are mostly all friends and you can't burp without everyone knowing about it.  So about 2 1/2 years ago the house next door was up for sale and the whole neighborhood was stalking every person who came to look at it.

One weekend while I was out of town, my cell phone was ringing off the hook. " There is a moving truck unloading", another call beeping in, "I spy 4 bikes in the garage".  "It looks like a couple in late 40's with 2 teenagers, 1 boy, 1 girl----paydirt! Babysitters!"  The whole neighborhood was a buzzing!

When I returned home, I jumped right into the mix.  "Okay, it looks like 2 cars", the phone calls going around were enough to make Ma Bell dizzy.  We stalked them stakeout style and every movement was dutifully reported.  We would have been sitting outside playing with the kids so we could wave and say "Hi", but this was the middle of February, so we had to be more resourceful.

We were absolutely chomping at the bit to find out who moved in.  Way worse than any little old ladies having a gossip fest.  What to do, what to do....We got it!  We put together a welcome basket!  A big beautiful basket of homemade bread and wine, scented candle etc.  All kinds of housewarming goodies for a welcome to the neighborhood.  And a perfect excuse to knock on the door.

Now timing is everything.  Nibby women need to find time to sneak over without all the kids in tow, that could be too overwhelming and cut short any information gathering.  Can't be in the daytime (they'll be at work or school), not during dinner hours (that's just rude).  So on a cold, dark February night around 8, Myself and another stalker(we'll call her MP) head over bringing our welcome basket.  There only seems to be 1 small light on in the rear of the house.  Are they home?  Only 1 way to find out.  

Excitement mounts as we ring bell.  Nothing, nothing, wait... some one is coming.... it looks like the son.  He answers the door, looking slightly confused as two women with a huge basket are standing at the door in 20 degrees and darkness.  I decide to make a great first impression "Hi, we'd like to talk to you about Jesus!".  "Okay" he replies.  I now swallow my tongue and am convinced I am damned to hell.  MP steps in to save me, "She's just kidding, we're you neighbors and just wanted to stop by and welcome you to the neighborhood and drop off this basket"  good save!  "Well, thanks, come on in" is the reply.  We step into the still darkened entryway and MP continues "Are your parents home?"  The response......"No, it's just my wife and I who live here and she's not home."  We barely pull ourselves together to make a speedy but polite exit.

MP and I scuttle back to my house embarrassed and laughing our butts off over a glass of wine. The older people we saw were his parents helping them move in.  He and his wife are newlyweds and just look really young for their ages.  This will work well for them as the years go on, but for now we are pretty sure he was offended, as they have hardly spoken to us since. 

We really need to improve our surveillance  techniques for the future.

Block Party Success

The kids are home and life is back to normal.  We are back into the full swing around here, which is why I failed to post yesterday.  Now I know that my faithful readers cried themselves to sleep last night, so I am here to make sure that tonight you sleep like babies.

Yesterday started out quite lovely.  It was good to wake up to hugs and cuddles from the kids.  This is probably the best perk of having them back.  Hubby ran to the store to pick up a few things that we needed for the  block party.  I was making macaroni salad and he the smoked salmon.  It was BYOB and BYOM(meat).  We marinated the pork chops and started the process of cooking and prepping kids to get ready to go.  Juice boxes, check.  Beer, check.  Ice, check.  Shoes, check.  Brushed teeth, check.  Bathing suits, check. 

Last week started out with Hubby feeling lousy due to a sinus infection.  Yesterday morning while trying to organize the family and food, I realize he was kind enough to share his germs with me and they had now taken hold and were trying to slow me down with a raw throat and body ache.  But I wasn't going to let a small thing like being a contagious incubator for germs stop me.  I took some Advil and warned people not to drink from my cup.  Nothing is going to get in the way of having fun. 

The weather man said to expect rain and thunderstorms all day.  Lucky for us he was wrong.  It wouldn't have stopped the festivities, but warm and sunny is always better.  There was a trampoline, a giant inflatable water slide, face painting, crafts for the kids and a DJ.

The party was in full swing.  Kids running and playing like maniacs.  Adults in lawn chairs and playing Bag-O.  Beer and juice a flowing, lots of great food and a pitcher of Sangria like none other (I'll get to that recipe in a minute).  It was a great time. 

The police stopped by with their cruisers,  not to break things up, just to let the kids have fun climbing inside and hitting all the buttons.  They gave out stickers and pencils and then let the grown-ups(i.e., me) climb inside and hit the buttons too!  I think some pictures were taken.  If I get my hands on them I will post them later.

Now I am typically much more the social butterfly than Hubby, but not yesterday.  As I was still not 100%, he decided to do the right thing, and make up for my slack.  After a few beers he stumbled upon the Sangria.  It was delicious and potent.  It was contributed by one of the neighbors who grew up in poland.  Her recipe is sweet red wine, diced fruit and Polish Potato Vodka for good measure.  It tastes like fruit juice and packs a punch that you do not realize until you try to stand up.  A few of these and normally reserved Hubby was raring to go. 

By about 10 P.M. the Advil had worn off completely and I started going downhill fast.  So I said goodnight and took the two youngest weasels home with me for baths (as they were covered in face paint from head to toe) and bed.  Sidebar- No, we do not usually let our children stay out this late, it's a rarity for special occasions.  Hubby stayed on with the other kids to keep things rolling.  By the time I had 2 clean kids in PJ's I no longer had the energy to go back downstairs for more meds.  Oh well, when Hubby comes in, presumably in a few minutes, he will grab some for me.  I manage to fall asleep with 2 in my bed, feeling too lousy to tuck them in their own beds.  

Hubby staggers into the bedroom around 1:30 a.m.  I find out that he sent other weasels home and they put themselves to bed about 2 hours prior.  However, his night is not quite over yet.  As I am raging with fever and body ache, still in great need of medicine, Hubby discovers every time he tries to lay down that our bed is actually a centrifuge.  I head (read whimper and cry) to the kitchen to get some Nyquil,  Hubby has now spun enough that particles start to separate from his body.  I crawl back beneath the covers and soon hear snoring coming from the bathroom.

Eventually he made it to the bed, for that's where he was when I woke up.  He wasn't much in the mood for talking but did manage to mumble something about "Don't do shots of Vodka with professionals from Poland".

As I type this, sitting here with tissues , a dose of Dayquil, and kids, he is still in bed  with what the Eldest Weasel refers to as 'Glug, Glug Flu'.  I can't wait till I hear all the details of what I missed.

TGIF?

I Love Fridays! Fridays are good. But today marks the end of my quiet vacation at home. The BushWeasels are due home before dinner after a week with Grandparents, and I have nothing to show for all that time. I squandered it!

I don't see this a a complete negative. Sure there are plenty of things that I wish had taken the opportunity to do, like shower. But I did take this time to relax. As a matter of fact, my butt hardly left the couch. This felt better than a week at the spa and was a lot cheaper. I am not one to just sit when I am home. This was a nice change of pace.

I did however find time to spend with a few friends, including my dear old friend Coors Light, a few romantic dinners and lots of good quality time with Hubby. This was a great way to regroup. I spent many enjoyable hours with trusty old laptop and read a gazillion blogs. This was a great vacation.

I am looking forward to the kids coming home. I really do miss them. Plus they will give me so much material, such as grandparents letting them watch as the cow was bred (bow- chick-a- wow- wow). I can't wait to hear all about their escapades and reactions to them.

But in the mean time, I need to figure out a way to remove the imprint of my butt from the couch, get to the grocery store to make sure I can feed the herd when they do return and do a few surface things to make it look like I was productive while they were gone.

We have a busy fun filled weekend coming up, including a block party tomorrow (forecast: rain and thunderstorms) and are sure to have a great time anyway. Hubby, by popular demand, is bringing the smoked salmon. It will be a great family day, no matter what the weather.

So have a happy Friday all, and a great weekend!

Update On The Weasels Vacation.

Today's post will be a short one, but precious.

The Weasels have been on vacation at there grandparents farm since the 4th. We received a call yesterday that they would be coming home today. All is good and they have had lots of fun.

Well, Hubby just got a call from his Mom that they would not be coming back today after all. It seems that one of the cows is in heat and they have to bring a guy out to breed her.

Hubby's response: "Don't let the kids watch when he takes his pants down!"

This guy kills me.

Fun With Teachers

This past year 3 of the Weasels started at a new school. This was our families first experience with the public school system. They seemed to be adjusting fine and had already known many of the the other students from the neighborhood. Grades were good, socializing plentiful, so we had no concerns.

At the end of the first quarter came the parent teacher conferences meet the teacher extravaganza. Now Hubby and I tend to have a good time wherever we go, no matter how seemingly mundane, tonight was no different.

We enter the classroom of Middle Weasel and meet Mr. My-Voice-Has-Not-Changed-Yet. I had heard good things about him and knew he was young. But surely did not expect him to be this young. At the time there were other parents still milling around the classroom. So we walked around checking out the projects posted on the walls, etc. When Hubby points to a large poster on the wall and loudly announces from across the room "This is exactly what I was afraid of in public school. They are already teaching them about homophones in the 4th grade!" The teacher went silent and slack jawed for a moment before regaining some kind of composure, and attempted to continue small talk with other parents. I nearly went into convulsions I started laughing so hard. I had been sitting at our daughters desk snooping through things. A moment later Hubby joined me in the next desk over. We were now punchy and giddy to a point of making 4th graders look mature.

Mr. Teacher came over, obviously already set off balance with a little fear in his eyes, to greet us and immediately tells us what a character 'Nick' is and what a pleasure he is to have in class. Hubby is about to open his mouth when I kick him to keep quiet (we prey on fear). I start asking questions about how 'Nick' is getting along, completing assignments etc.. Mr. Teacher continues on about 'Nick' still with a little shake in his voice.

Finally Hubby goes for the jugular and asks "Why are you telling us this? (teacher has deer in the headlights expression) What does 'Nick' have to do with our daughter, Middle Weasel?" Mr. Teacher could not speak for a moment. He must of thought 'please let me wake up!' He then apologized as Hubby and I are doubled over laughing. I wiped a tear from my eye as he explained Hubby is sitting in 'Nick's' desk and he thought we were his parents. Then composed himself enough to tell us about Middle Weasel what a sense of humor she has, and now he understands where she gets it.

For the rest of the school year Mr. Teacher would get that 'Deer, Fear' look every time he saw us.

I'm Not Proud........

In the interest of shameless self promotion, if there is anyone out there who likes this blog, could you hook me up with a cr8buzz invite? I'm not too proud to grovel.

The Ballad of Frankie The Fly

I'm gonna tell ya the story of how we got our pet Frankie. I mentioned him briefly last week in We Should Install A Revolving Door and was going to post the whole story eventually. But I am prompted to post it now as Busy Dad is having a kids book giveaway looking for stories of icky bugs and your kids. So without further ado.......

When Eldest(14) was 2 she would freak out Jurassic Park Style every time she saw a fly, inside or out. You would think it was a flying raptor. She would scream, cry and come just short of having a panic attack. This went over very well in public as people would stop and ask if she was alright, thinking the child had been attacked by an ax murderer. There was no amount comfort that would settle her until it flew far, far away.

One day in the kitchen while doing whatever it is I do in the kitchen, Eldest came to help me. She spotted a fly and stared the earthquake in my ears. When from nowhere the words "That's Frankie, he's your new pet" flowed from my lips.
She stopped crying immediately and said "really, he's my pet?" It worked!!!!! And so 12 years and 5 children later, we still have our pet Frankie. I think it took her about another 4 years to figure it out.

He's not your ordinary pet. He comes and goes as he pleases like a farm cat. He 'hibernates' in the winter. Sometimes he brings friends and family to visit. He's not allowed to eat our food. He can go seek his own. And no one is ever allowed to swat a fly in our house when the little ones are around for fear of total melt down.

So, Who's Prepared For Me To Share Too Much?

Being a member of the estrogen club I have the yearly honor of a trip to the OB/GYN. *don't stop reading here fellas, this actually goes some where good*. For those of you not in the club, let me explain some of the high points that we women look forward to.

First off, at home we take extra care with grooming and maintenance. We select our nicest undergarments and socks (socks being the only item of clothing that the Dr. will actually see) and apply our make-up with extreme care. This ritual perplexes Hubby.

After a prolonged stop in the waiting room (where there is an unspoken agreement not to make eye contact) a nurse calls you back to make you step on a scale, take vitals, and ask you questions that you would make a Marine blush. She hands you a small cup and sends you to go tinkle in it. You head to the restroom and attempt this stunt without getting it all over your hands. When you return to the exam room the nurse has laid out for you a thin paper table cloth and instructs you to strip down to your socks. She leaves and you wait on the tissue paper covered exam table, with your butt sweating from nerves, for what seems like an hour in the drafty exam room covered in nothing except a table cloth waiting for/dreading the main event where the Dr. comes in and almost immediately becomes more intimate with you than your spouse. All the while acting like this is no big deal and you do this as often as he does. You barely speak and then distract yourself by counting ceiling tiles. This is the worst part. You are just a slab of meat and play along. Well that's not my style. I've never been the one to ignore the elephant in the room.

Still with me guys????? Don't wimp out now.

I have been seeing this particular Dr. for a few years and couple and kids. So luckily there is a level of comfort in the Dr/patient relationship. He and I have been in this position many times before. But, this experience still sucks.

So, on my last humiliating check-up I was left waiting sweaty, naked and chilled for quite some time. This gives you plenty of time to think really stupid thoughts. When he finally does the knock and enter (never understood that) we do the cursory hellos. I then mention the draft in response to "How are you doing?". I continue speaking as he gets comfortable and pulls out the stirrups and I suggest that he should really supply a wine and cheese tray in the waiting room. "Why is that?" he asks as he gently pulls me down by the thighs into position (this part reads like porn, eh?). My response.................."Because then I could say, at least you bought me a drink first!"
He damn near fell off his his little stool.

Hope it was worth it fellas!

Never Trust the Mob

This little kids on vacation thing is really working out. I have been extremely unproductive, and loving it! Today I may do some bare minimums like feed the pets.
Yesterday Hubby and I did manage to un-glue our butts from the couch and go see "Get Smart". It was stupid funny and very well done, the casting was perfect, and the laughs cheap. They stayed very true to the original show and it was a real hoot.
After the movie, we went to dinner at 'Al Capone's Steakhouse and Hideaway'. It's and old (like 100) speakeasy that various shady individuals used to frequent. I had heard really good things about the place and wanted to try it for some time now. It's not cheap, but supposedly worth it.
Notice I said supposedly. First of all, the place smelled, and not like steaks. It had a musty, moldy odor like that of an old woman's house filled with 27 cats. The waitress came to explain the menu and take our drink order. I ordered a martini. A steakhouse should serve a good martini right, WRONG! It was not cold. Not quite room temperature but barely chilled. I know that the polar ice caps are supposedly melting, but do we have to chince on the ice in the shaker? Next the bread came out. It was 2 large kaiser style rolls drenched in olive oil, parmasean and herbs. Sounds good , heh? Only if it wasn't at least a week old. Soon the soup came. Creamy Potato for me, and onion for Hubby. Good stuff, nothing to complain about here (shocking I know). Onto the salads which consisted of chopped iceberg lettuce and 2 cherry tomatos topped with a cool whip style glob of ranch dressing. The dressing was so thick that it shook like jello. And the coloring looked like something that I typically go to extremes to keep out of my mouth.
Then came the main event. Hubby ordered the rib eye and I the fillet. The stakes were gray in color and mine was not even close to the medium rare I had ordered. Reluctantly, I sent mine back. I do not like doing this. I used to work in the industry and do not want to be 'that customer' but at $35 for the steak, I want it right. The waitress was very nice and asked "Can I offer you another drink while you wait for that to come back out"? "Yes, thank you" I reply, thinking free booze can forgive any meal. Only later to find out that she was just suggestive selling and there was no attempt to atone for the lousy meal. My fillet version 2.0 finally did come out, now that Hubby had finished his lackluster rib eye. It was rare this time and complete with fat and grizzle. Yup, that's right. Any of you carnivores out there appreciate just how ludicrous this concept is. I no longer had the energy to try and salvage this meal. I just cut from the ends and ate it the best I could and boxed the rest up (to place in trash receptacle later). In retrospect I should have complained and not paid for the meal, but my spirit was already broken. The waitress offered us dessert and I thought to myself "I'm not falling for that one!". So we paid our bill and got the hell out of there. We will not be back. I should have known that anyplace named after Al Capone surely has to be a graft.
We salvaged the rest of the evening by stopping and picking up the first season of "The X Files",
glued ourselves back to the couch and dozed off sometime during the 3rd episode. It was a great date, but I am no longer allowed to pick the restaurant.

Being an American

I was putzing around reading blogs when I visited Dad of Divas. He has a post about what it means to be an American to him and asked for input on what it means to others. So I gave my, never to be confused with humble, opinion of what it means to me. Here is what I said:

Great post and great question. What it means to me to be American seems to big and overwhelming to put into words. For me it means so much. I feel like hit the lottery by being born in this country. It means Freedom. And with that freedom comes responsibility.
I have the freedom and rights to pursue my own happiness. My choices and my life are my own. Success or failure is my own, without the interference from or fear of my government. I may speak my mind, protect my family and worship my God. I have a voice in my government. I have a profound admiration for thousands of men and women who are willing to die to protect these freedoms for me, even if I am total jerkwad.
Now onto responsibilities. I have the responsibility of my own life in my hands. I can blame no one else for my failings or short comings. I have the responsibility to vote, no matter how I feel about the candidates. I have the responsibility to God, the God who granted me the inalienable rights mentioned in our constitution, to care for my fellow man and those less fortunate than myself(there are many ways to do this outside of government). I have the responsibility to contribute to society in a positive way. I have the responsibility to teach my children the ideals and history of this great nation and to teach them to honor and live up to those ideals so that those that have made the ultimate sacrifice for my children have not done so in vein.
All of these statements can not even begin to do justice to the pride and emotion that wells up inside of me when I think about what it means to me to be an American, nor does it do justice to my gratitude to those who have gone before me to make these freedoms possible.

I invite all my readers (both of you), to add what it means to you to be an American. Or to those who live elsewhere (yeah, I'm shooting a little high) to give your opinions (I can always delete them).

Let Freedom Ring!

The kids are gone! I love grandparents. At the crack of dawn they were pulled out of bed and thrown into the car for the long ride to Camp Grandparents Farm. I waived from the driveway until the car pulled out of sight, then started dancing in the driveway, still wearing my pajamas. No wonder the neighbors don't send Christmas cards. LET FREEDOM RING!

On another note, today in these United States we celebrate freedom. It is a day to be grateful for all that we have and to remember all those who gave of their minds, time and lives to ensure our freedom and still are fighting for freedom today. I think of our Founding Fathers with awe of the great ideals, forthought and extreme courage they put forth. As Ben Franklin once put it "We shall hang together or we will surely hang separately". Good ole Ben also stated "Beer, proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy". I swear I am not making this up.

While I am on a useless trivia ramble, let me mention something about Independence Day itself. Today we celebrate the signing of the Declaration of Independence. That glorious document that started it all. However, did you know that it was actually signed on July 2, 1776? Yup. That's right. Independence Day is actually on the 2nd. We celebrate on the 4th because that was the day that the enlarged document to display in the town square behind Independence Hall came back from the printers and was posted. No kidding. You can go look it up, I'll wait.


Ha! You didn't believe me. But I am right!
My kids teachers hate me. Teacher's editions of history books don't mention this tidbit. Remember the episode of The Simpsons were Bart stole all the teacher's editions? That always cracks me up. *Note to teachers....Don't be hatin', have a chuckle and move on*
Happy 4th everyone!

T-16 hours and Counting

My in-laws are one the way and should be here by dinner. I am in the midst of insanity trying to do kids laundry, clean the house for overnight guests, pack the bags and plan dinner. I think I will be slaving over a hot phone for that last one.
I should not even be taking the time to write this. But I can't help it. I am too excited. Early tomorrow morning I will wave at them from the driveway while pretending to be sad. I will have a week of solace. My vacation alone @ home. It sounds glorious. Just Hubby and I, and he will be a work 1/2 of the time. Tomorrow the whole country will celebrate for us. They will hold parades, shoot off fireworks, orchestras will play, people will BBQ and drink to us and our joy. Or at least that's what I've convinced myself of.
For now though, I am in the final stretch. These last few hours will be a grueling test of stamina. But I have my eyes on the prize.

How To Negotiate Car Price

Okay, so you folks seem to enjoy my approach to getting car repairs done quickly.  Some of you may try to employ this method in the future.  Well I have another tip for going to the dealership.

Here's how to get a great price on the car of your choice:

Step one- Bring whole family including Dad, very pregnant Mom and 4 kids no older than 10.

Step two- Let kids politely look through showroom cars as salesman approaches.

Step three-Discuss with sales guy what you are looking for, expectations, rebates etc.

Step four-Transfer car seats and take kids for test drive. * Make sure kids are hungry for dinner, getting punchy,mean and nap deprived  by this point in time*

Step five-Return to dealership and send children to play area while Mom and Dad have the 'sit down' with sales guy.

Step six-negotiate to what you think is a fair price and still claim 'that's too much, you can do better'.

Step seven-*this is crucial*- Go silent and risk whiplash turning your head toward the sound of a large crash in the toy area.  Mom should investigate as silence falls over the toy area also.

Step Eight-return to Dad(still standing at sales guys desk) holding the 8 year old close while applying pressure to gaping hole in the back of his head.

Step nine-ask for paper towels when sales team gets 'deer in the headlights' syndrome.

Step ten- inspect wound and question children until you find out that 4 year old pulled chair away as 8 year old was about to sit down.  Eight year old falls back taking the corner of the wooden play table him.

Step eleven- Visually follow trail of blood from play area table to carpet and across showroom floor.

Step twelve-Mom should get dealer to drive to Emergency Room while Dad re-negotiates car price.

Step thirteen-Have doctor staple 8 year olds head shut and treat for concussion.

Step fourteen- Have dealer drive you back to dealership where Dad got a much lower price.

Step fifteen- Give both 8 and 4 year olds chocolate for pulling that off and saving you money.

Step sixteen- 1 week later receive a get well card and a new x-box game(SpongeBob) in the mail from the Dealership.

*disclaimer, do not try this at home!  We are trained professionals.

Do it Yourself Car Repairs

Okay, so most of us have had to take our cars into the dealership for repairs at some point. Usually these are repairs that a trained professional can perform in short order. However, the dealership wants you to "Drop it off in the morning and we'll call you when it's done". This doesn't work for me. Trying to get a back home with 5 kids and no car looks like a refugee migration.

So I have come up with a game plan that works every time:

Mechanic: Okay Mrs. Weasel, we'll call you when it's ready.

Me: That's okay. The kids and I will wait.

Mechanic and Manager(who overheard reply): It will be a few hours.

Me: That's okay. We'll wait.

So, we enter the waiting room and I let children tune the TV to Barney and turn the volume up. Some take to the toy area and start the process of staging tornado aftermath. If I don't see any results within 15 minutes, i.e., my car in the garage on the lift, I suggest to the kids that we 'check out the showroom'. Of course the bushweasels love this idea. New cars parked indoors is craziness!!!!!

We go to the showroom and I let the kids touch everything! Inside and outside these freshly polished cars. We leave no surface without fingerprints. They climb in and out. Touch all the buttons. Enjoy the power sliding doors and tailgates. Running back and forth in all directions each child picking their favorite to drive. Each one climbs into the drivers seat of selected models (like entering bumper cars at the carnival) and pretend to race. I just watch and smile at these lovely children having such a great time. And say things like 'yeah, that car is really cool'.

Next thing I know, I hear over the PA system "Mrs. Weasel, your car is ready". I don't think I've ever waited longer than an hour. And one time I was given a free loner car for the day.

My husband says I can be evil. I call it genius. Maybe I am an evil genius.

Thanks For a Great Time

Cloud Nine

WOW!  What a morning!  I'm on the computer, just minding my own business.  Not really, I was actually being a voyeur reading other blogs.  When what to my wondering eyes did appear, but mega link love from 2 guys that read here! Only this is better than Christmas!  I am very flattered and would like to thank all those who helped me get where I am today(sitting on my couch drinking coffee).  Namely, Tom @ Being Michael's Daddy and Nuke Dad @ Nuclear Family Warhead.  Thanks guys, you really rock and so do your blogs.