They Made Us This Way

We used to be a normal, functioning, fun and even cool people, Mr. Weasel and I. Not any more. At least not by my kids standards.

I will admit, I talk to myself regularly. Sometimes it's even full blown conversations, asking and answering my own questions. I often make seemingly random statements out loud. The Weasels will say "Mom, you already told us that." I inform them that I was just reminding myself. There is just not enough room in my head to store all of the information I need to neatly. It's much more like a junk drawer and if I don't pull out the information that I need and put it on top it will get lost in the jumble.

The Mr. and I are not overly self conscious in public. We are usually self entertaining where ever we go and can often be seen visibly laughing at a thought or a joke that popped into our head that no one else heard. These things humiliate our children (especially the Eldest) to the umpteenth degree. No wonder they would rather not be seen in public with us.

Every morning when driving Eldest to school, I remind her to try not to miss me too much during the day and ask is she needs a few tissues in case she breaks into tears about it during the school day. She rolls her eyes at me and sometimes I'm lucky enough that she will play along and be my straight man and reply something like, "It will be tough, but I'll do my best". Usually though she just gets annoyed and asks "Why do you have to be so weird?".

Just the other night Eldest and I were in the grocery store picking up a few things. I was talking to myself, as per usual, going over the list in my head and giving myself directions around the store. Once again the question of "Why can't you just be normal?" came up. One item on my mental list was cookies. Eldest was allowed to bring them into one her classes for her birthday. As we were going past she spotted fortune cookies. Very excited and animated she ran to her glorious find and started selecting a box. I asked how many kids in the class to figure out how many boxes we would need. The response was "Ewww, no. I can't take these to school, that's dorky. I want these are for home. I want cookies from the bakery for school".

I took this opportunity to answer her question of why I can't just be normal. I explained once again that Mom and Dad used to be very normal and that after way to many conversations like this, she had made us this way. "Why are you telling me this?" complete with eye roll left her lips. "In hopes that you might have a little sympathy and cut us a little slack knowing that you did this to us".

Her response "Meh".

Best Day Ever

Today marks a major milestone here in Weaselville.

It was the Friday of Memorial Day weekend fifteen years ago. I had felt a sudden and total loss of modesty, bordering on exhibitionism. I no longer cared about myself or held any form of pride or dignity, for the past 24 hours I had been in cringing pain. I had been in physical discomfort and had random pain and stomach ailments for months prior. I had reached the end of my rope.

The pain worsened, even after having been given something for the pain (Chiclets, is my best guess, based on how well they worked). Medical professionals debated about what was wrong and whether or not I needed emergency surgery. I thought my body would split in two. Death surely was near.

A Doctor came at me with a big ole elephant needle. I could have kissed him. The horse needle had been tried the night previously, with the promise of pain relief unfortunately it must have been filled with liquid Chiclets that was very short lived. I was told that this time it would work. I didn't care. Even the thought of a few minutes respite was worth the size of the elephant needle he wanted to stick in my back.

It worked. If I was still in pain, I no longer knew it. I passed out quicker than a Freshman at their first off campus party.

A few hours later I awoke. The pain was back. To quote Dr. Suess, "It started out low, then it started to grow". The Doctor was sent for and upon his return refused any further medication. I could no longer speak. It was time. The only further pain relief that would be available would be of the kind that I would administer myself. The doctor sat me up and Mr. Weasel held me for dear life as the doctor instructed me to rid myself of pain by causing more in the form of "push".

A mere 40 minutes later it was all over. I was still in pain, but that pain was eased as the most beautiful blue eyes in the world stared up at me. She was the best medication I have ever had. It was truly the happiest day of my life.

We named her Eldest Weasel (has a nice ring to it, dontcha think?) and today she turns 15 years old.

It's been a crazy 15 years. Those same blue eyes that took away my pain now roll at me and cause me headaches. Yet, those eyes sparkle like diamonds when she smiles. They give hints of mischief and speak volumes of humor. Those eyes still bring me as much joy as the first time I saw them.

Happy Birthday Eldest Weasel and thank you for giving me the best gift ever. You made me a Mother.

Weekend Roundup IV

This past weekend was fairly quiet and laid back around here. I spent most of Saturday and Sunday doing yard work and finally getting the flower and vegetable gardens cleaned up and cared for, so that I can watch their lack of growth. I got around to planting the potted flowers the younger girls had grown for me at school and gave to me on Mother's Day. I pulled the ever recurring weeds and grew frustrated that my two favorite Rose of Sharon bushes are burgeoning beautifully with new greenery and not one single little bud.

I tended the strawberries and planted tomatoes and green peppers that never seem to do well no matter how I try and help the soil. I need to build a raised bed if I want better results. Alas, I will keep my fingers crossed anyway. I mowed 1/2 the lawn before I decided that I was done and saved the rest for Eldest Weasel to help her earn her keep.

Monday came along with clouds and cooler temps, which worked out just fine as we spent the day listening to Weasels whine about watching old movies they have no interest in watching the classic war movies marathon on AMC.

We started around noon with The Longest Day. Mr. Weasel and I really thought that Boy Weasel would get into these old flicks. We were wrong. If it's in black and white or doesn't involve light sabers, superheroes or cool high tech gadgets heavy machine guns must not count he's not interested.

I love these old movies, even if they are the Hollywood version of the historical accounts. The only real bothersome aspect of watching them on T.V. was the commercials. Not so much the commercials themselves, but the way they blast them at 10x the volume of the movie. We constantly were turning the volume up in order to hear the movie only to be shaken like an IMAX earthquake at every commercial break. Seriously, is the network that afraid that I may leave the room to grab a snack from the kitchen or to use the bathroom and might not hear the ad? They already were showing the same ads over and over again in rapid succession. Did they really need to test that my windows were properly sealed? Or does the network own a window company and think that by shattering a few they can keep that end of the business solvent?

Anywho.....another great, Patton, came on next. The Weasels came in and out of the living room, but the Mr. and I were the only ones really interested or enjoying the movies. We broke for dinner and to wash the school clothes for the morning before settling into Midway and nodding off for the night.

All in all, not a bad weekend. Now we're back into the drudgery that is the school/work week. Only 4 days left for Eldest and 2 weeks for the last 3. I can't wait.

ZZZzzzzzzz

It's Fatherhood Friday once again. Click on over to Dad Blogs to check out some really great FF posts.

Life in Weaselville has been busy lately. Mr. Weasel has been working long hours. He has been going in early and coming home late. Once home he still has a few hours of work to crank out before morning. Needless to say, we haven't seen too much of him lately. Luckily, this should only be going on for a few more months and then level out back to more human hours. After a long, cold winter without a job, I'm not about to complain.

However, all the Weasel home life has fallen onto my shoulders. The end of the school year is filled with events both day and night and I have been running around like a crazy person.

Wednesday, was the preschool picnic and I was running around the park with Smallest Weasel and her class. It was a beautiful 80 degree day and we spent the afternoon playing outside with neighborhood kids only taking breaks to chauffeur kids home from school and practices. We had a wonderful and exhausting day filled with fun and 5 minute spurts of getting laundry and cleaning done sprinkled throughout.

I slaved over a hot phone to order a pizza for dinner and by 7pm finally sat down for the first time all day. I called Mr. Weasel to find out when he planned on being home and catch up on the day together. I told him I was pretty tired and may be heading off to bed soon. He was rather surprised because the sun was still going strong and the kids were still playing happily.

As he continued telling me about his day I rested the phone between my ear and shoulder. The next thing I knew was that I jumped at the ceiling like as the phone rang in my ear startling me awake. It was Mr. Weasel, "Why'd you hang up on me?". What? Huh? He started laughing hysterically. "you fell asleep! I was talking to you and you fell asleep!". Yeah, I did. He promptly told me to hang up the phone and make a bee-line to bed. He would call Eldest Weasel (she was in the other room) and put her in charge until he came home.

I didn't see him or anyone else for that matter until the morning. This was the first time in years I slept for 8 1/2 hours in one stretch and boy did it feel good.

The Summer Zone

Travel with me to another dimension, a dimension not only of warmth and relaxation but of mind; a journey into a wondrous season whose boundaries are only that of imagination. That's the signpost up ahead — your next stop, the Weasel Summer Zone.

We are in home stretch. Nine long miserable months of homework, conferences, teacher emails, tightly packed schedules and peanut butter sandwiches is coming to an end. This must be what parole feels like.

Now some of you are reading this and saying to yourselves, this woman is nuts "but it's easier when the kids are in school. It screws up the whole schedule when the kids are home all summer." NukeDad commented the other day "Wait, let me get this straight: you send them all off to school in the morning and have at least 6 hours of peace and quiet, and now you can't wait for that to be OVER? You realize what that means, right? NO 6 HOURS OF PEACE AND QUIET! Are you out of your ever lovin' mind?"

My answer to that is yes, yes I am. That is what school does to me.

Even as a child I hated school. I was a descent student, but the school year tortured me to the umpteenth degree. I served my time. I did my work and I longed for summer time. The last day of school was always (and still is) the happiest day of the year for me (a close second is when we make the switch to daylight savings time).

At high school graduation, I was dumbfounded by many of my classmates being overwhelmed with tears. I wanted to sing and dance. As they mourned the end of an era, I celebrated my freedom from prison twelve years of misery. Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, I'm free at last.

I still feel the same was about school. Yes, it's a necessary evil. I still hate the constraints it puts on our lives. I earned my degree. Why am I still doing homework?

All through the school year, I am a mean mom. I don't want to be. I have to be. I feel like a drill sergeant as I pull the Weasels from the warmth of their beds, force feed them breakfast, shout orders about the days schedule, give personal hygiene reminders and make them double time it to the car to get to school on time.

After school, it's all business. Papers to be signed, homework to be done, dinner to be fed, practices to get to. No, is the answer to almost every "can I, can we" request. There is no time. By the time all of the to-do's are done, I have to march the Weasels to bed. I hate being this mom. I hate not being able to enjoy the Weasels. I hate constantly being under the clock. Sure, during school hours I can get things done in relative peace, but the early mornings and late afternoons are miserable, for me and for them.

All summer long, we Weasels celebrate freedom. There is no grueling schedule. There is less laundry to be done when they wear bathing suits and flip flops constantly. We relax and play and just enjoy. We should be the poster family for the lazy days of summer. In the summer, I can say yes more often than a drunken cheerleader. Yes you can. Yes we can. Yes! Yes! Yes! There will be sleepovers, and lemonade stands. Popsicles and roast your own hot dog over the fire pit. Family bike rides and trips to the zoo. There will be trips to the lake and fun to be had around every corner. The absolute best part of it all is that I can just sit back and enjoy the Weasels. I can spend time enjoying them, without chains.

Maybe I am out of mind, but for me, summer in Weaselville is a little slice of heaven.

Weekend Roundup III

Some some little tidbits to give you taste of life in Weaselville and make you grateful that you don't live here.

• Glorified Rat ~ Eldest Weasel has a pet guinea pig. She had him out on Friday night and we were all petting him as she held him. I leaned over to pet this sweet and cuddly little fellow myself. In one split second move that flippin' rat chomped my mother's ring and ate Middle Weasels birthstone.
• Saturday was a quiet and lazy day filled with nothing. Or so I thought. Oh, I forgot I have to pick Eldest up from her meet. And remembered Boy Weasel had a birthday party to attend ~that I still hadn't had a gift for~ until the last minute. Shoot, I guess I have to figure out dinner before Eldest leaves to go babysit.
• My entire family, sans me, has been struck blind. Not completely blind. Just legally blind and color blind, I think. I know this because when performing simple chores, like doing the dishes, sweeping the floor, or gathering loads of specific colored laundry for me to wash, they all missed the dishes sitting on the table, the crumbs under the table, half of the red clothing in their dirty laundry. They couldn't see the mess that remained on their bedroom floors after they had deemed them clean and had passed inspection by Mr. Weasel. I need to make appointments with the eye doctor.
• This is the last week of school for Smallest Weasel. Eldest only has 2 weeks remaining. The middle three Weasels have 3 weeks left. We are heading down the home stretch and I am getting burnt out. I can't wait until school is out and am counting the days.

Well that's what life around here was this weekend.

Geeking Out

Welcome back to Fatherhood Friday, sponsored by dad-blogs. If you haven't signed up yet, seriously - get on the ball.


Mr. Weasel isn't your typical dad type. He doesn't play baseball or basketball or any game involving a ball. He doesn't follow sports and probably would have trouble locating the sports page in a newspaper. He didn't do these things as a kid and he has no desire to start doing them now.

I on the other hand, was an athlete once upon a time. I enjoy both playing and watching. I'm definitely not fanatical about it, but I understand the rules and the strategies and have the interest to keep up with them, if not always the time.

When Boy Weasel, our only son, was born, Mr Weasel cradled him in his arms and brought him up next to my face. "He said, "Son, meet your Mommy. She is going to teach you how to throw a ball someday".

As luck with have it, Boy Weasel isn't much into sports either. If there is ball involved he pretty much just questions "What's the point?". Our first born girl is the athlete in the family. Whouda thunk it?

With a lack of traditional father/son bonding activities, I was curious to sit back and watch how their relationship would develop. Would they ever have special activities that they would enjoy as father and son?

Well over time that answer has unfurled itself, to the annoyance of the rest of us. It's geek stuff. All geek stuff all the time. The latest incantation of this mind numbing phenomenon is none other than Star Trek.

They went to see the movie together. Mr. Weasel was so pent up with excitement you would have thought he was taking his son to the Chicken Ranch after he scored the winning touchdown in a championship football game. He wanted to share with his son the joy that is geekdom and hoped upon hope that Boy Weasel would give him the positive reaction he wished for.

Needless to say they returned from the movie doing the Vulcan hand thingy. Mr. Weasel pulled out the Wrath of Kahn and his entire Star Trek dvd collectors set. I had to ask them "when was the last time you guys even went to the bathroom?". I think they were grateful for the prompt and finally understood why they had become so uncomfortable.

They are now looking at ordering matching Captain's T-s off of the back of a cereal box.

All I can say is That I am glad they found their thing. Although I wish we could divert dinner conversation away from "Chekov wasn't even on the Enterprise in the Wrath of Kahn movie, but he was when the original show aired", because it makes my head spin after a while.

I better go clip some box tops now.

*BTW, if you want to laugh yourself silly *click here* to see NukeDads revenge being exacted from his blunking.

Knights Not Easily Forgotton

You know when you start reminiscing with old friends and they bring up stories that you had totally forgotten about and then you can laugh yourself silly as the memories come flooding back? Yeah, that's not what this post is about. This is about one those memories that gets drudged up that everyone else laughs about and you are still pissed ever happened 20+ years later.

Let's take a trip in the way back machine. I was in college and in need of a job. A friend dragged me off to a far away 'frat party' with the lure of "the Coors Light Girls will be there and so will a rep. You can ask about a job. I bet they get paid pretty well". So off we went.

When we arrive at the party, the first people we pass are these guys on the front porch.I am thinking to myself, I am going to kill my friend. This is not a frat party or even a college party. These kids are in high school. Get me outta here!!!!!! There is no way that Coors is showing up to this flop house.

The guys introduce themselves - way to self confident for what they were offering. We politely responded by saying hello and make our way inside. My friend swears up and down that these are college guys and she just has to find her boyfriend Pee-Wee (yeah, I know. Who would admit their boyfriend's name is Pee-Wee?). I'm not convinced, but she is my ride, so I am kind of stuck and this is the crowdI tried to make the best of things and be a good sport. However, I was one of only 2 girls at the party and my friend ditched me in the other room. All the guys were drunk and one even mistook me for the paid entertainment he hoped someone else had ordered. He pulled out a roll of quarters and was raring to go before he passed out face down on the couch.

Some guy who I'll call Randy, because that is how he smelled, started trying to hit on me. Until suddenly he switched gears and started throwing a temper tantrum about the golf he played earlier in the day.

A knight in shining velor soon came to rescue me. He said his name was 'Yellow Cake'. What is it with these guys and their names? He got me a beer and was pleasant enough to chat with. He assured me that Coors reps were coming (some body's Uncle's cousin or something). Yellow Cake said he was a football player and wanted badly to play for Ohio State but something about and old knee injury was getting in the way.

All of a Sudden he starts screaming with excitement and starts singing "Sherry" (The 4 Seasons) to me. But it sounded and looked more like his favorite artist of all time.

Eventually my friend made her way back to me and informed me that Pee-Wee was the guy passed out with his roll of quarters. She then made the official introduction between Yellow Cake and I. Not having realized we had
already been talking. Not that Yellow Cake had either. They were both pretty drunk and Yellow Cake was all "It's so nice -hiccup- to meet - hiccup- you. What's your name again?". By now the Coors rep has arrived. And by rep I find out that they meant "Guy who works at the bottling plant". I did not manage to find this out until after I asked the guy about a job and he pulled out a fresh roll of quarters.

Yellow Cake starts laughing so hard he begins to projectile vomit. Right. into. my. cleavage. As I am trying not to scream with chunks sloshing around in my bra, my friend is so grossed out that she begins to vomit. All. over. my. shoes.

They felt pretty bad about it and Yellow Cake went to grab me a fresh (I guess it passed his sniff test) Gold colored Thunderbirds T-shirt, blue matching shorts and show me to the shower while my friend vacated the couch of Pee-Wee so I would have a place a place to crash, being that my driver was not able to drive me home. Thank God I could lock the bathroom door as it was pelted with quarters the whole time I was in the shower. We left the next morning and had not spoken of this incident again until recently, when I was sent these pictures.

It makes me wonder, What ever happened to that guy? I never gave him his loner clothes back. Did he ever grow up to be anything more than Yellow Cake?

BTW, NukeDad you've been Blunked! (new word = Blog Punked)

*This entire post is complete fiction just to have a little fun at Yellow Cake's NukeDad's expense. That's him and his buddies from years gone by in the pictures. Please visit Michael's Daddy, Momo Fali and Suburban Scrawl for the rest of today's harass NukeDad Fest.

**A special thanks goes out to NukeSis for providing the pics of NukeDad's misspent youth!

Mother's Day For Dummies

It's Friday and you all know what that means. Welcome back to another edition of FatherHood Friday at Dad Blogs. Check it out and become part of it. While you at it, check out Betty Confidential where I made the top 10 list of 'Favorite Mommy Bloggers - Some Mom Bloggers you'll wish you knew in real life". Really, check it out and pat me on the back later.

In honor of Mother's Day, I'm am gonna throw a last minute emergency bone to the fellas out there who still haven't planned anything for Sunday's festivities.

Some great gift ideas for the special Mom in your life, are well gifts. Sure the school aged kids are all bringing home those special art projects that they have been working on for weeks. They are sweet and wonderful keepsakes that she will always hold onto and cherish. However, you should also go out and get Mom a little something extra and special, just for her. Not a blender or a vacuum, but something special that she doesn't have to share. A spa visit or favorite perfume. Gift certificates for pedicures or massages are perfect. Some nice earings. Anything that is purely for her enjoyment.

Take her out to eat at one of her favorite restaurants. Mom should have a full day off. There is nothing that we Mom's enjoy more than a clean kitchen that gets to stay way. Having other people cook, serve and clean up without having to look at the mess is a huge plus.

If budgetary concerns prevent these types of activities, don't sweat it. There of plenty of things that can be done to make mom feel like a queen for a day without shelling out the bucks.

Kids - Clean your rooms, better than usual, without being asked. This will floor your mom and put a real bounce in her step.

Don't fight with your siblings. Nothing will rain on Mom's parade more than arguing and disturbing her day of peace.

Make the coffee (or tea of OJ) while Mom sleeps in and have it fresh and ready for when she wakes up.

Have the house clean and sparkly before Mom gets out of bed. This will be so nice for her to wake up to while enjoying her coffee. This is *almost* as relaxing as a pedicure.

Get Mom a good book and give her the quiet time to read it, maybe even draw her a nice hot bath and a glass of wine to go with it.

Make Mom's favorite meal for dinner and clean up!

All of this is combination will make for a wonderful and relaxing Mother's Day. Mom will be happy and we all know that if Momma ain't happy - ain't nobody happy!

As a last resort, for those of you who still don't what you are going to for Mother's day, I offer you this (actually I'm totally stealing this from Melisa and Suburban Scrawl).

9 Score and 20 Posts Ago......

I brought forth to this internet, a new blog, conceived in humor and dedicated to the proposition that my family is nuts.

200 posts have gone by so very quickly. I have shared with you the good, the bad and the funny. In return you have offered me many laughs and lots of fun. I have discovered some pretty amazing blogs and bloggers.

It all started when I stumbled upon Joeprah and his life as a stay at home dad. After laughing until I cried, I thought to myself, if that hack can do it, so can I. And so I did. Soon I discovered and started to badger some other highly entertaining bloggers and strong armed them into reading this new enterprise. NukeDad and Michael's Daddy were easy take downs. Once on my hook I reeled them in like unsuspecting salmon. These wonderful guys would comment early on, unwittingly encouraging me to continue. BusyDad was kind enough not only to make me laugh, but to answer and help with an endless barrage of how to questions.

I found many of you through stalking the blogrolls of these wonderful gents. I was directed to social networking sites, and discovered the joy of shooting fish in a barrel and found some fabulous bloggers who would tickle my funny bone and let be a voyeur in the window of their lives. All while finding an audience. Mrs4444, Terri, Tara and Bad Momma soon became part of my daily reads and regulars in Weaselville along with OhCaptain, Mike.

There were these two bloggers that seemed to be in every blogroll on the internet. They left comments on most of the posts that I read. I had to stalk find out who these women were and I'm glad that I did. Melisa and I now regularly meet up for hot wings or pizza and Momo Fali and I are all to set to throw back a few beers in July.

Microblogology came to dinner and brought me beer.

I started this blog for shameless self promotion entertainment and a fun new hobby. What I unexpectedly found was community. People who laugh with me and offer moral support, but also went above and beyond to make sure that the Weasels would have a Merry Christmas by offering the wonderful gift of friendship and sticking it to google the only way they knew how - generosity. Once again, a big Thank You goes out to Big Bad Daddy, Michael's Daddy and Nukedad.

I an effort to show my appreciation for carrying me through 200 posts, I'd like to buy you all a beer. Alas, you will have to settle for,

The Top Ten Reasons To Love Weaselville:

10. Friday Morning Memorial Services for less than lucky Weasel pets.
9. We Party Like Pooh Bear.
8. Great tips for dealing with the Car Dealership.
7. It's never too early for a Coors Light.
6. Yellow.
5. Torturing teens is an all out sport.
4. Our Wonderful Sponsor.
3. Alternative options to chapstick.
2. Doctor Visits are never boring.
And the number one reaon to Love Weaselville...............
Best Readers Anywhere!

Turning Point

Welcome back to another edition of Fatherhood Friday.

I had always wanted to have a big family. To be a stay at home mom with a large house full of kids was my dream job. Mr. Weasel had also envisioned me as an at home mom, but he only saw room for 2 kids in the picture. Three if really had to in order to placate me.

When our second child (Boy Weasel) was only 4 months old, I unexpectedly found out that I was again pregnant. I was in shock. I had wanted more children, but not necessarily so soon. I already had a baby and now I was going to have another. I wasn't upset by this news as much as unsettled. I could not process the thought. I wasn't ready for another. I was still sleep deprived and trying to adjust to two and now there would be three before I could come up for air.

I also did not know how Mr. Weasel would react to this news. If I wasn't ready, I knew he couldn't be ready.

That particular day I would have to pick Mr. W up at the airport after a business trip. I took the kids and we waited at the gate for the plane to deboard. Mr. Weasel spotted us as he walked down the jetway and immediately came to kiss and hug all 3 of us hello. He looked in my eyes and said "you're pregnant, aren't you?". How could have possibly known that? What would make him guess that?

He gave me a big long kiss and told me how thrilled he was. He said my face gave it all away. No, not glowing. More like deer in the headlights style shock. This was great. I needed him to be happy. I needed him to carry me through my initial surprise and disbelief. He was so happy and excited that it became contagious. He made me happy.

This little baby growing inside of was full of surprises for us at every turn. According to the ultra sound, we were having another boy. Well, not only did we have a little girl, she decided to make her grand entrance 3 weeks ahead of schedule.

The night she was born as Mr. Weasel held her and fell in love, he looked at me with the biggest smile and announced "I want more, lots more. She is so wonderful that I can't ever imagine not wanting more of this".

The really great part of this for me wasn't that I was getting what I had always wanted. It was that his heart was changed, not by me, but by his love of the Weasels. It was Fatherhood that brought him so much joy.

We went on to have 3 more beautiful girls and the day the doctor told me that worn out parts had to come out, it was Mr. Weasel whom cried. He still wanted more.