Everybody Needs A Hobby

If you area regular around here, you may remember that Weasels love free samples while shopping.

You may also remember that Melisa has completed WeaselMomma's beginners course on booze knowledge (101) where she picked up all sorts of trivial tidbits about everything booze related on our class field trip.

Add those two together and what do you get?

Well my dear friends, I think I have now attained a level of enlightenment equivalent to being a Brahman of Booze. I believe that now I may be a Jedi Master of libations.

On Saturday a friend was throwing a bash for her husband's 50th Birthday. I received a phone call begging for a helping hand. I rolled my eyes and answered "what do you need". I being the incredibly helpful and supportive friend that I am asked why I could help with to ease her time crunch. "Will you pick up the kegs?".

Paydirt! I'm all over it! Not only does it make me party savior, it ensures I get to test the kegs. At the liquor store they do all the heavy lifting, all I have to do is show up and get all the credit. This is my kind of helping hand.

So I head to the liquor store where the kegs are waiting. As luck would have it, it's sampling day!!!!!!!! Lots of reps with many different types libations just begging you to try a little. At the entrance was a chipper woman with a tequila offering, "would you like to try a taste?". I explained to her briefly ha! that Jose and I had a big falling out back in college and that I am not really on speaking terms with his family. She explained that this is the side of family that lives in the mansion on top of the hill and doesn't associate with his cousin that lives in the shanty shack in town. Wouldn't you know it, this side of the family and I got along just fine!

Moving down the aisle there were more reps with rums and vodkas and all sorts of wonderful premixed concoctions. I usually don't care for pre-mixed. After all fresh is best, but these were actually very nice for coming ready to serve. I continue skipping happily down the aisle, Disney World has nothing on this place to make my way toward the keg counter and what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a beautiful rep with bottle of liquor so clear. "Would you like to try some Braziilian Rum?". The clouds parted and the sunshine stream down from the heavens Yes, I know I was indoors, just go with it. "Oh, you mean cachaca? I love cachaca! What do have made up there? Is that caipirinhas? Sure I'll have some".

The rep was stunned. "I don't even know how to pronounce those words, That's why I just say Brazillian rum. You know it is different then regular rum because it's......" and I stop her to tell her that yes, I know all about how it is made from fresh sugar cane and not pressed yada, yada, yada.

We talk for a few minutes because she would keep filling my sample cup up as long as I did and she says "wow, you know more about this stuff than we do. Would you like to come work for us?". I laughed it off and said that I was just here to pick up some kegs for a party and continued on my merry way.

This morning I am sitting here kicking myself. That could have been a dream job. I let it slip away. I could have done that job and been very good at it. Just ask NukeDad. He'll tell you I've done lots of research.

Ordering Pizza The Hard Way.

After a lovely Friday afternoon hanging out with our backyard neighbors in their pool, I was reluctantly going to make dinner. I didn't feel like making dinner. I was too relaxed and didn't want to exude any effort. The Weasels wanted to order pizza. I too wanted to order pizza, but already had hamburgers and hot dogs all prepped to go on the grill. Pizza was out, or so I thought.

I pulled out the charcoal to light the grill. It didn't want to light. Some days I have no problem getting it going quickly. Today wasn't one of those days. Every time the flame caught, it went right out again. The charcoal just wouldn't light easily. I kept playing with it and relighting. Finally it lit. I waited a few minutes to let the grill heat before tossing the burgers on.

Cooking over indirect heat, as opposed to directly over the flame to prevent flare ups, I had a few minutes to talk over the fence with with my neighbor. I had Boy Weasel turn the sprinklers on in the front yard and soon we would be eating.

A full 2 minutes later, Boy Weasel called to me, "Mom.........THE PORCH IS ON FIRE!". I turn around to see that for the first time ever, Boy Weasel wasn't getting over excited about a small flare up. The porch was indeed ON FIRE! Flames were shooting about 3 feet out from the porch, where the charcoal bin had caught fire. Oh, the irony.

I went running around to the front of front of the house to grab the hose that was still attached to the sprinkler. My neighbor called for her husband to come help me and he cleared the back fence with a fire extinguisher in hand (very impressive actually). He attacked the back side of the fire, while I hosed down the front. It only took about a minute to put the flames out and I was very grateful for the help.

The damage was fairly minimal, compared to what it could have been (2 more minutes and the house would have caught). There are a few scorched floor boards and part of the railing that will need to be replaced before winter, they lost some strength and integrity. A plastic caster wheel from the grill melted into the porch and the charcoal bin melted down to 1/3 it's original size. The charcoal grill will not be usable. I do not think that replacement parts will attach easily to melted mountings. We'll be cooking with gas this summer (much less flammable - hah!).

I consider us to be very lucky. Not only did Boy Weasel see and alert us to the fire in time to put it out and save out house, we got to order pizza for dinner.

Bedding, Rodents and Fairies

It's 3 am. Do you know where my sheets are? Go ahead. take a guess.

My sheets are on the floor in the laundry room. I know. I know. You are all thinking "WeaselMomma, we know that you are an odd bird, but isn't that a rather strange place to keep your sheets at 3am?"

To that I say, "Not if they're wet".

You say, "but wouldn't you put them in the washing machine and not on the floor?"

And I say, "Not if the washer is full of Boy Weasels dirty clothes and detergent, but I forgot to actually turn it on last night".

And you say, "WeaselMomma, how/why did you wet the bed?".

And I say, "I didn't wet the bed. Smallest Weasel wet my bed".

And you say, "but doesn't Smallest Weasel have her own bed? and hasn't she been potty trained? She's is 5 years old ya know. Why would you let a 5 year old stealth bed wetter sleep in your bed?".

And I say, "but I didn't. Stealth bed wetter is also stealth sneak into Mom and Dad's bed in the middle of the night girl".

And then I say "Did you just call my kid a bed wetter? 'Cause she's not a bed wetter or at least not a serial bed wetter. Accidents happen. Like that one night, back in college.......oh nevermind.

And you say, "WeaselMomma, why are you so cranky this morning? Yeah, it's early, but you always get up stupid early, so what gives?"

And I say "because last night in the first time in like, forever, I stayed up until about 11pm reading a book that I won at June Clever Nirvana called "The Fey" by Claudia Hall Christian that had been signed and personalized for me".

And then I think to myself, but do not say out loud, because Mr. Weasel doesn't know yet about my decision to adopt a baby dwarf hamster who was born with only 3 paws in a surprise litter at a friends house, *side note* Honey, if you are reading this, know that I love you.

Oh, and I just realized that today marks the 1st Birthday of World of Weasels. I guess you call it a blogoversary. I was going to make a cake for all of you, but I decided to wash my sheets instead.

Visit Dad-Blogs for Fatherhood Friday and some fantastic postings that are more coherent than this.

Weasels Loose At The Zoo

What a better way to show Dad how much he deserves a day off to be honored and appreciated in a special way than to spend Father's Day with the family. In my defense, Mr. Weasel was told that we could do whatever he wanted to do for Father's Day. The kids wanted to go to the zoo. I said I could take them there all day so that he could nap, play or whatever he felt like doing.

In his tireless job of being a great dad, he said he wanted to come with us. He has been working long hours lately and will be for months to come. So he wanted to spend time with the kids that they had been missing out on.
So today I will highlight for you how that day went and you can see for yourself why Mr. Weasel deserves a day off and why Mr. Weasel considers going to work to be like vacation.

*Realizing that Weasels are happy and quite, the Mr. and I sneak upstairs and lock the door for some mommy and daddy time to talk (wink, wink). There were no less than 7 separate interruptions in the form of knocking on the bedroom door.

*All set for gift giving time, Mr. Weasel opens a box with a model of the Star Ship Enterprise (to eventually place of his own desk in his own office) only to find out that although the box is huge the model is only 1/1000000th scale in size, scratched and damaged. It has to be returned.

*After walking around the zoo for a while the Weasels start to entertain themselves by poking at each other with sharp pointy sticks, both figuratively and literally.

* Mr. Weasel takes Monkey Weasel (9) to a park bench off to the side to 'have a talking to'. When finished and ready to continue our trek in 90 degrees and 95% humidity, smart aleck Boy Weasel pipes up "Dad, can you give me a talk too now???". The Mr. Plays along and gives a mock finger waving session to the Boy. The Boy (12 1/2), plays comedian by stating "Wow, I have a few strange years ahead of me". We lost it. No way we could have kept straight faces.

*While on our 7 hour death march through the heat of the zoo, Smallest Weasel (5) was most excited about seeing the chipmunks that run loose all over the place.

*After the zoo, we went to a family friendly bar and grill. A favorite place of ours for dinner. Mr Weasel ordered an Austrian beer called Samichlaus with 14% Alc. by Vol., served in a long stem glass, that he found potent and delicious (especially to wash down a 7.5% variety).

*During dinner Boy Weasel (sitting on my left) says something like 'you're full of crap' to Middle Weasel (11 1/2 and sitting on my right). I give him a mock smack upside the head as he laughs at me and Middle Weasel says something in retort using the word crap and laughing. I give her the same smack and Boy rebuts using 'crap' and she rebuts with 'crap' and the smacking continues back and forth 3 Stooges style. It was a genuine crapfest.

*Mr. Weasel, feeling the effects of his beverage, laughs and says "what's up with all the crap" and the entire table looses it. Smallest Weasel, sitting next to Daddy then pipes in with "crap right back atcha Dad". There was no longer any semblance of public decorum.

*The Weasels had been torturing us all day with calls of ice cream after dinner. Mr. W had said no, they had already had enough treats for any one day. As he became more socially lubricated with the help of his beverage, they asked again and he said yes.

*I told Mr. Weasel I think he is cut off. He responded with "That's what I thought too, until 10:30 this morning". My family if full of comics.

*Without missing a beat, Eldest Weasel (15) asked if I could order him another round so that they could ask for a trampoline and/or a puppy. "who knew all you had to do was get Dad a little buzzed?"

Needless to say, I did not order another round and I did the driving home. Well that's the round-up of our Father's Day and I think it points to Mr. Weasel deserving an entire vacation all by himself. It was a great and funny Father's Day Weasel style. I hope all of yours was this full of fun, family and laughter.

Dream A Little Dream With Me

It's Friday and we all know what that means, Fatherhood Friday over on Dad-Bogs. So if you would like to read something of quality instead of the drivel I am posting here today head over there and click some links for fabulous reading.

I know that we all dream every time that we sleep, but it is not very often that I manage to remember any of my dreams. This morning however, that is not the case.

Last night (actually present night, as it is only 4am) I had the oddest dream and I remember it. I dreamed that we had an icky yucky filthy little mouse burrow it's way into the house and had built a nest under the oven, sustained on cat food stolen from the cats dish. It scurried out of it's hiding place while I was sweeping and talking to Mr. Weasel. I freaked out by screaming and jumping up the counter tops and chairs in stereotypical cartoon-ish caricature form.

Now I know many of you and saying to yourselves wussy "What's so strange about that?" or "I be grabbing hold of the ceiling too". The strange part is that I was petrified of a field mouse.

Come on now. We are the Weasels. We keep rodents as pets. We have had countless hamsters and a couple of mice - as pets! We currently have a guinea pig, hamster, 3 toads and 3 cats. I am constantly foiling the cats plots to eat the other pets. I hold and pet the little glorified rats. I actually feel affection for the little disease carrying pests. I have a special place in my heart for these rodents. Go figure.

That is, the ones that I have stupidly paid for and housed by choice. Sure, I would quickly dispose of any uninvited house guests. I would have no qualms about snapping their little necks in a trap ridding them from my home, but I wouldn't or shouldn't fear them like the maid in old Tom and Jerry cartoons.

So folks, have fun. Analyze the heck out of this and tell me your theories about this doozy of a contradiction.

No Candles

Today is your birthday.
Happy birthday to you.
I only wish I had a present for you.

I wish I could shop, for some special toy.
Something to make your eyes light up with joy.

I wish we could sing and eat birthday cake
but all of my thoughts bring me back to your wake.

You'd be 7 today, it would be amazing to see
what kind of sweet girl you'd have turned out to be.

I miss you and love you, that's all I can say.
Have a great party in Heaven today.
Claire Elaine Weasel
June 18, 2002 - July 2, 2002

It's A Long Way To The Top Of Momo's Blogroll

Remember back in college, piling into a van with you buddies for a road trip to a concert 6 hours away to see your favorite band? That's what my weekend was like, only with backstage passes.

Sunday morning, bright and early I packed up the car with coolers of frozen meat (it was a charity fund raising show to prevent child abuse). Soon Surprised Mom was in my car and we were ready to go. We had one last stop before hitting the open road to pick up Melisa and another cooler of meat. We really wanted those backstage passes.

Once on the road, we of course put on the CD of theme music and later a CD by Momo's opening act. We tweeted from the road to all of our friends that were jealous they weren't going to the show, just to rub it in.

The drive was full of laughs and fun. Surprised Mom rode shotgun for sing-a-longs and Melisa had tons of activities planned to pass the time and curb our excitement so that we wouldn't burst before meeting this Rock Star. She had picked up a tiara to crown Momo with because we are such groupies and made flowers out of tissue paper and pipe cleaners to present her with. Because you can not give a woman that much meat and not make her feel like a princess. That would be rude. Not to mention had designer swag bags for us to commemorate the trip. Halfway through the bouquet making process, Melisa piped up from the back seat "I forgot the stuff to make a sash". You know the Miss America variety. Knowing that Melisa is the love child of Martha Stewart and MacGyver I told her that I was sure she would root through the van and find improvisational supplies to make one before we arrived. Sure enough, she did and I laughed.When we finally got to the arena, all that meat granted us open entry and tons of hugs. We were greeted by Momo Fali herself, live and in person. I was surprised that Melisa wasn't completely struck dumb by meeting such a celebrity in person like has happened so many times in the past.
Surprised Mom was as cool as a cucumber, you can tell she's had experience with meeting famous celebrities. We carried the coolers to the freezer and Momo ordered me to stop unloading, she would do it, and to go in the kitchen and get a beer! It was in that moment that I fell completely in love. Not only is she a Rock Star, she is sooooo regular and nice! Just like you and me and all the everyday Joe's out there (isn't that what everybody says about celebs?). She even said that she doesn't even think she is that famous! However, that didn't stop her goons from collecting another $240.00 from us to secure all access passes back stage.

We even got to go see he home office where all the magic happens! I touched her computer screen. I could have fainted!

We also got the chance to meet Dado Fali and the Fali McKids!!!!!!!!! Momo's kids are so cute you would buy one at a pet store. Yeah, they have those eyes that say 'oh, just try not to fall for me. I dare you'. I definitely left a part of my heart in that city.

Once the police were called because I was getting Creepy McStalkerish When it was time to leave, we didn't want to. Being there was so great. We had laughed and talked like old friends. I had played on the swingset with the kids and the hospitality had been awesome sans handcuffs.I can't wait for the next tour when I will get to see Momo again in JulyThanks for not going through with the restraining order. I want to thank all of you that funded the trip and the backstage passes. It couldn't have happened without you. Next year I would like to go to Hawaii. And now, when my grandchildren read in their history books about Momo's Meat Wagon 2009 Midwest tour, I can tell them "I was there".

Road Trip

If you haven't heard yet, this Sunday Melisa, Surprised Mom and myself are going to reclaim our youth. We are taking a road trip to see one of the coolest bloggers out there. We are passing this off as a humanitarian aid mission, but honestly, this is going to be stupid amounts of fun and I get to meet in person a super fantasmic chick who's autograph I've always wanted that I love to read. None other than Momo Fali!!!!!

Here's the deal. We are working on saving the life of a 7 10 I've been corrected year little girl. A sweet precious child who inadvertently left the door of the freezer in the garage open when retrieving a popsicle. Said freezer was full of meat stores to feed the family for the next year. There was an entire cow in there. *note for any vegetarian/vegan/PETA types ~ don't get all bent out of shape here. If God didn't want us to eat them, He wouldn't have made them so tasty*. A cow that completely defrosted beyond salvage. A cow that this family needs.

So this really big hearted guy started the ball rolling to replace the families food stores through the generosity and community of the blogosphere. I said "I have a cow in my freezer too! I can donate lots of cow! I just can't cover the travel expense to take that cow 12 hours roundtrip". So, Mr. My Heart Is Super Big sent out the word and we have started collecting donations to cover the cost of the trip and the cost of replacing the chicken, pork and popsicles that were also lost at the time.

We are leaving Chicago around 6am Sunday morning and will be live tweeting the road trip every step of the way *You really want to make sure that you are following us on Twitter* using Melisa's Twitter account mostly, but follow all 3 of us to make sure you don't miss any of the fun. We have all kinds of fun activities planned, like "Ask WM a question" and any other goofy gimmick we can come up with. We will be laughing, singing and having a great time acting as if we still have the stamina for road trips that we had in college. We will be doing the entire roundtrip of 12 hours all on Sunday, because we all need to be home on Monday Morning.

Many of Momo's blogging friends have already donated, but the window for donations to Momo's Meat Wagon is still open through Saturday. We are working through paypal via sending donations (any amount is appreciated) to weaselmomma@yahoo.com .

If you don't already know Momo Fali and her blog, you really want to! You want to follow her on Twitter and become a regular reader at her place. You can thank me later.

So maybe this should be a Community Friday Post as oppossed to FatherHood Friday but what a better way to celebrate Fatherhood is there than to teach your children about good deeds, community and caring for your fellow man. There is good going on in this world. This is a great opportunity for you and your family to be part of it.

Joy In Weaselville

We made it!!!!! We started in late summer. Pranced through the fall. Trudged through the dark cold days of winter. Pushed on head down through the spring and now it's here. Today is the last day of school in Weaselville.

I wanted to celebrate with water balloons and popsicles in the yard. The weather, with an expected high of 65 and rain isn't going to cooperate. I won't that rain on my joy. Today there will be no chores or homework. Today there will be only joy in Weaselville.

I have already thrown away the lunch boxes. After 2 years of daily use and countless trips through the washer, they needed to be put to rest. I hate packing lunches and must admit I really took much pleasure in throwing them away. I am all about simple pleasures.

We will spend the lazy days of summer kicking it old school. Bike riding and playing in the yard will be on the top of the activity list. We will eat our weight in popsicles. Roast hot dogs over the fire pit and hardly use the oven. We will eat grilled everything. We will enjoy the sunshine just as soon as it actually arrives.

There is no summer agenda in Weaselville. We do whatever we feel like on any given day and will just enjoy the fun and relaxation of it all. I think Phineas and Ferb have it exactly right.

Food, Friends And Fun

I over slept this morning. I didn't awake until 6:30 am. Now that won't sound like over sleeping to most of you, but it was enough to send me into a spinning frenzy. How was I going to have my coffee and read my blogs in peace or get a post up before I had to wake the Weasels for school? I am not to be interacted with until I've had my 2nd cup of coffee. I am not a nice person before that 2nd cup. After that 2nd cup is a matter of debate.

I immediately woke Mr. Weasel for work. "Wake up, it's 6:30, you have to hurry". He never wakes up smoothly, "What day is it?". "It's Monday. Hurry, you are going to be late". "No, it's not".

Friday night the family, sans Mr. who was still at work, went to have dinner with friends and played in the yard enjoying the warm weather. I was wearing jeans and quite over heated due to a lack of shorts that still fit in my closet.

Saturday morning I went for a run because I can't fit into my shorts and then Mr. Weasel took me clothes shopping for summer. He knows that if I go alone I will be home in 1 hour and have purchased next to nothing. I hate clothes shopping. Unlike most women shopping is torturous for me. Mr. Weasel comes so that he can imprison me in a dressing room while he makes selections for me to try on. This is exhausting for me. I don't have the estrogen levels to do this. After about 3 hours of pain playing Barbie Doll, we head home with a whole bag full summer clothes just in time for a cold front to move in and the temperatures to plummet.

Once home we needed to ready the Weasels to pile in the car and go to a graduation party for Surprised Mom's oldest daughter. It was warm enough for short sleeves and jeans, but I reminded everyone numerous times to bring along a hoodie or sweatshirt as we would be outside and it would get colder later.

Sure enough, by the time we arrived at the party it was in the high 50's/low 60's and drizzling. Everyone threw on their hoodies. That is everyone except for me. After all of my nagging insistence about bringing something warm, I was the one dumbass who forgot to grab something.

There was another party going on right across the street. Apparently Maria was turning 40. We had to double check the address to make sure we showed up at the right house. We entered the party to the most hospitable of welcomes. "Who are you?" was asked by a cousin. I decided to start my midlife crisis right there. "Hmmm, who am I?" That's quite a philosophical question. I finally admitted that were driving past, smelled food and this is how we take the kids 'out to eat' and that the Congratulations Graduate signs looked more family friendly that the 40th Birthday Bash going on across the street. The laughter started and we were instantly welcomed into the fold. Everyone was friendly and fun. Surprised Mom had even put Coors Light on her shopping her list especially for yours truly. When she noticed the frost bite forming on my arms she ran to get me a sweater from the house. We did the meet and great with many wonderful and fun people. The food was great and the company was even better.

When all was said and done we had a great time and were sent home with 2 boxes of doggie bags That were too good to give to any dog that I know. SM and I did manage to get a picture together, I think it turned out well even if I have no eyes when I smile. And now I will make you all privy to one of the many reasons I love being friends with Surprised Mom. She is one of the few people in this world that I am taller than.

Father's Day Brainstorming

It's Friday! And you all know what that means. Get on over to Dad-Blogs to read some great posts on Father-Hood Friday.

With Father's Day quickly approaching (June 21st) for all of you dads who have no idea when. I hope I didn't ruin the surprise., I have been pondering exactly what gift to get for Mr. Weasel.

Over the years, I have sometimes gone with the traditional (grills and smokers), sometimes with the extravagant (really special bottle of Scotch) and sometimes with the quirky and fun (a super soaker with 2 gallon capacity backpack). All of which, seemed to hit the nail on the head and were enjoyed immensely.

This year I'm having a hard time figuring out what would be the perfect gift. Mr. Weasel is not about the tools (when your that pretty, you don't need to be handy) or the ties (nobody should ever buy dad a tie for Father's Day). He has all the backyard bbq implements his heart desires. Any daddy tech gadgets that he has expressed interest in I don't quite understand and am too cheap to shell out the cash for are out of the price range. There will be no Apple TV this year.

The best gift for him would be one that I can't give. Time & Sleep. These are the things he is short on right now. He has been burning the candle at both ends. Working like a fool trying to start his own company while simultaneously working full time for someone else. He works during his commute. He works late into the night at home and weekends. He is fighting against deadlines.

At the same time, he is still working on being a fully involved dad. Helping with school projects and reports so that his wife doesn't completely lose her mind and giving to his family the very little bit of time he has left. Often sacrificing sleep to do so. He deserves a great Father's Day full of rest and relaxation. If only he could take the day off.

So throw some ideas at me people. Tell me your best ever Father's Day gifts.

Mama Said There'd Be Days Like This

So yesterday was one of those days. You know the kind. We've all been there. The kind where the pain just keeps coming at you unexpectedly from all directions. Days that make your mother-in-law's mashed potatoes look smooth. Yeah, it was one of those days.

It started out fine with the usual morning mayhem of getting everyone out of the house. I returned from the morning school drop-off and pecked out a Dear WeaselMomma column at Dad-Blogs.

I got some chores done around the house while Eldest Weasel decided that we should take a family vacation to Hawaii. I informed her that there is no way that we can take a Hawaiian vacation. Money and time -money especially- are big obstacles to overcome. She continued to research packages/hotels/restaurants et al and informing me of the deals she was finding.

I continued tinkering in the kitchen making some frozen treats with the assistance -and boy am I using that term loosely- of Smallest Weasel. While Eldest is holding on tighter than a pit bull to the idea of Hawaii. "What about your retirement money? Do you have any left? We could use that to go to Hawaii and you and Dad can just live with me" as she whispers loudly to Smallest Weasel "for 3 days". I could feel my left eye start to twitch.

Around 1 pm the phone rings. Middle Weasel is in the school office with extreme pain in her right side. The child is in tears. I call the pediatrician, who of course,is not in the office and am told to take her to the ER to test for appendicitis. I call Mr. Weasel on the way to school and he hops the next train home, I pick up tear filled Middle Weasel and head for the hospital. I make arrangements for the other Weasels to get a ride home after school and spend the next 5 hours in the ER getting beacoup bucks of tests run.

Mr. Weasel opts for ordering a pizza for dinner. I sit and wait for test results. Middle Weasel heads to the restroom and after about 5 minutes feels magically better. UGH. This was a $1000 belly ache. All's well that ends well, but really. Come on. You have got to be kidding me. Sure I'm glad it was nothing serious, but did we really have to spend all that time and money to find out?

Back home, I start emptying kids pockets to throw a load of clothes into the washer....
and what to my wondering eyes do appear
but a folded up paper by Boy Weasel, my dear.
Unfolding the paper, my eyes opened wide.
I thought to myself, this Boy's gonna die.
For this paper I held in my hands once before.
This paper I held on the Friday before.
This paper I held as I had rushed out the door.

That's right. This was the same paper that I hand delivered to the boys classroom in my bathrobe and pigtails. He didn't hand it in! You must be asking yourself "why didn't he hand it in?". I asked the same question. His response "I forgot". You have got to be kidding me! He's been told never to call me from school again, for anything. If his brains are falling out of his head, the teacher will call.

To top things off, after all the dust had settled, Eldest Weasel brings up Hawaii again. "How come we have $1000 for the hospital, but we can't go to Hawaii". Granted, she was kidding, but this kid needs to work on her sense of timing.

WeaselMomma's School of Creative Parenting

It's Finally June. The school year is almost over. Yet, I still find myself fighting the same battles that started in September.

Even after numerous reminders before we rush to the car in the mornings of "do you have all of your stuff?" or "don't forget to bring your gym shoes/lunch/folder/etc.", I still get regular phone calls from school. "Mom, I left my (fill in your own blank) on the dining room table (or in my room), I need you to bring it.

For a while I would bring it. I would let Weasel de jour know my displeasure and move on with the rest of the day. This did not seem to work as a deterrent ~whouda thunk it? I moved on to refusing to bring whatever the forgotten item was. Though sometimes I would feel compelled to bring the forgotten item, for the teacher's sake. It's pretty hard to teach math when the student doesn't have the book to work from.

About a month ago, when bringing a missing item to the classroom, I warned Boy Weasel "The next time I have to bring something, I'm going to bring it in wearing curlers and a house dress". I don't even own curlers or a house dress. He must have taken me somewhat seriously, because it bought me about a month.

This past Friday, shortly after returning home from dropping off at school, the phone rings. It's Boy Weasel of course. "Mom, I left my report on the counter. I need you to bring it right away". My first thought was No, I'm not going to bring it. Quickly, my mind switched gears and I replied that I would be there shortly.

I hung up the phone and walked up stairs. Rummaging through my closet I pulled out an old fleece robe. I walked into my bathroom and put my hair into pigtails. I grabbed my car keys, the forgotten report and headed for school.

The wonderful women in the front office were in stitches and requested a picture.I signed in and made a bee-line to Boy's classroom. Upon entering, his teacher's eyes popped out of her head as she fought to keep a straight face and maintain control of the classroom. All heads in the room turned quickly to see who had come in, including Boy Weasel. He had a nervous, shock filled smile. I walked to his desk and gave him his report. "Mom, why are you dressed like that?". "Because I warned you that I would".

I made him stand up so that his teacher could take a picture.The girls in the back of the room started to snicker. I waved and said "Hi, I'm Boy Weasel's Mom!" and gave my son a kiss on the head. He would have crawled under the floorboards if he could have. As I was leaving the classroom, I overheard one of the boys say "Don't worry Boy Weasel, you'll live this down someday".

Hopefully he will live it down someday, but more importantly, I don't think he will be leaving the house without everything he needs anymore.