Lucky 13

I am now the Mother of three teenagers.  Yikes!  How did that happen?

Today Middle Weasel turns thirteen.  Thirteen!!!!!!

My beautiful baby girl who was chuck full of surprises from the day we found out that I was expecting her has worked her magic yet again and caught me by surprise as she has grown so quickly right under my nose.

I must have been distracted by the way her eyes sparkle when she smiles and her constant ability to make me laugh.

Happy Birthday to my rosey faced baby.  Dad and I are very proud of the wonderful young lady you have become.  We love you.

We'll Be Right There.

And so it happened.  The phone call that as parents we knew to expect sooner or later, came in last night right around dinner time.

It was Eldest Weasel and she was out of breath.  In a shaky voice she began apologizing to me.  She was obviously upset and was not making much sense.  "Calm down kiddo and tell me what's wrong".  She had been in her first car accident.  "Are you okay?", yes she was.  "Where are you?" prompted her to tell me her location.  "Mom, I can't find my front end!".

"We'll be right there" flowed from my lips instinctively.  There was no conscious thought on my behalf at that point in time.  I didn't need any.  Natural instinct kicked in and I swung into action to get to my child.  I knew she was physically okay, but she was shaken and scared.  She needed her Mom.

Maternal instinct coupled with years of experience worked together like a well oiled machine to allow me to have the entire situation under control without having to put any thought into it.

1. Call Mr. Weasel and have him drop what he is doing and come pick me up with the other car.
2. Calm and assure the other Weasels that their sister is safe and Mom and Dad are on our way to help her.
3. Put Monkey Weasel in charge of setting the table for dinner.
4. Have Boy Weasel finish preparing dinner and feed his sisters.
5. Grab my phone and be waiting in the driveway for Mr. Weasel.

We reached the scene within a few minutes to find Eldest Weasel outwardly holding it together very well, making me proud of how she was handling things and keeping her head together, even while on the inside she was pretty shaken.

She had been on her way home from Cross Country practice.  Three cars had been involved in the accident, two of which (including ours) were team members.  After calling parents and police the girls had the presence of mind to call their coaches*.  Smart move to call trusted adults that you know are only 2 minutes away from you when you know that the police will arrive before your parents can.

*Her coaches are a credit to coaching.  Not only do they love what they do and do it well, they care about their athletes as a whole and not just on the course.  They were there immediately and even after seeing that everyone was okay, stuck around in case we needed any help.  They even offered the cash they had on hand to post the bond on the girls tickets.

Hugging Eldest and continually trying to convince her that it's all okay, was not working.  She felt awful that Keith (her name for the car that she most often drives) was in bad shape and the lurch that would put our family in.  She's never had to deal with the police before and was quite overwhelmed by the entire incident.  The sound and feel of impact are not pleasant experiences.

We changed tactic to what would assure her that all was okay.  Her dad and I starting joking.  That's how we roll.  If Mom and Dad are joking around, she knows that everything will be all right.

I told her what to expect from the police (paperwork, report and a ticket) and let her deal with the officer.  I let her know what to expect from insurance.  She handled everything very well and I was proud of how she composed and carried herself.

All in all, I think that this accident was good thing.  Two important lessons were learned.  Eldest Weasel, being a fairly new driver, learned that  accidents will happen even if you were driving just the way you should be and that you need to be hyper aware of what everyone else around you is doing and all without anyone getting injured.  She will be a better driver due to experience.

I learned that my little girl has grown into an independent and responsible young woman.  Sure, she needed her Mom, but she only needed me for emotional support and reassurance and a ride home.  She handled the situation all on her own in a way that any parent could be proud.

Still, anytime in life that she reaches out to us we'll be right there.

There's A Storm Brewing in Weaselville

Yup, yours truly just stepped in it. Big. Time.  There is a-storm-a-brewing in Weaselville and I am in direct path of its eye.

First, some back round information.  Eldest Weasel (16) has been miffed at me for a few weeks now (that girl sure can hold a grudge), ever since I turned down her request to allow her to drive 4 hours to Indianapolis with some friends to attend a Justin Bieber concert.  After all, his Chicago show is sold out and the next logical thing to do is to let my teen leave the state with my car and my money to go see the tot/tween heartthrob in Indiana.  I am such an unreasonable Mom.

Eldest somehow is completely enamored with him, even though his core fan base seems to be six to ten year old girls.  Even her younger sisters point and laugh tease and mock her about her taste in heartthrobs.  Boy Weasel thinks he's kind of cool things that make you go Hmmm.

On a seemingly unrelated note,  my sister who lives many states away, is visiting here right now with her family.  They are on a cross country driving vacation and stopping to spend time with family in many different states.  I mentioned before that she wanted us to meet up with them in damn near Canada the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and join them for camping with her husbands family.  I don't camp.  Weasels nest in fluffy comfy beds with cable and wi-fi.  The Weasels kind of liked the idea, well except for the camping part, but quickly and easily accepted as gospel truth that there was no way in hell I was driving them 9 hours to camp.

Anywho, yesterday my sister and her family arrived here in Weaselville.  Eldest Weasel was off at an amusement park with her friends and would not be home until very late yes, there was adult supervision.   As we chowed down on some pizza, my sister started showing me some of the vacation pics that they had taken. They were all lovely and looked like a lot of fun was had, but one in particular really jumped out at me.  It was the one with my 7 year old niece sitting and kicking back with Justin Bieber!!!!!!!!!!!!  Yeah.  It turns out that Justin and my brother in law are cousins.

Eldest Weasel is going to be waking up soon and you know the first priority of her siblings is to show her the pics of the camping trip.  Yeah, they can't wait to see the fireworks show.  I have no idea where they got such a sick and twisted sense of humor.

Yup, there's a storm brewing in Weaselville and I'm left holding a lightning rod.

Image credit goes to Tonsoftickets.com

If I had Only Known Then

There is is a song called A Letter To Me with the premise of if you could write a letter from yourself, at present, and send it to you, as a struggling teenager.  If I could send my current life knowledge and experience back to my young self, this is what I would tell me.

If I only knew then what I know now.

Angelo is a friend whose heart you don't want to break.  Be careful with it.

Mom and Dad weren't always right in their actions, but they will never give you bad advice.  Listen to their advice.

Don't smoke.  You'll regret it.

Skip the trip to North Carolina when you are 16.  No good comes of it. 

You'll make some awesome and incredible friends over the years.  Keep them close, but weed out the losers sooner rather than later.

Spend Senior Week with your friends. (see above)

You can do anything you put your mind to.  Don't let anyone ever tell you that you can't.

You are beautiful.  Everyone knows it and assumes you do too.  You need to realize it.

You are smart and sharp.  Adults recognize this in you.  You need to recognize it now instead of when you are 30.

Don't pay any mind when teachers or professors tell you you can't write.  You just don't write what they want you to.  You can write.  Always write from within and be true to yourself.

You're going to kiss a lot of frogs, and have a lot of heartache through your search,  but you will find your Prince right under your nose when you least expect it.

Your future Mother in Law is not the anti-Christ.  Get past your differences.  She's a loving mother doing the best she can - just the same as you will be.

Spend as much time with Mom and Dad while you can.  They won't be around forever.

You will have more joy in your life than you ever knew possible.

You're life will have some extreme heartbreaks.  You will survive them, I promise.
 -Hold close to your Prince for dear life when you do.  You will hold each other up.

Reach out further to your sisters, especially when they pull away.

Do your best everyday.

Love with your entire being.

You'd never be able to fully appreciate the joys without the heartbreaks.

Don't forget who to thank.

I guess what I am saying is: Use your head.  Be yourself. It all works out.  Don't worry, you are just stuck in The Middle.




It's a bitter shame that we must learn these lessons in life for ourselves and that we can't pass this gained knowledge down to our off spring.  No matter how hard we try.

You Might Have A Teen.

*Can't get enough of World of Weasels? You're in luck, as I am also guest posting today at Carrying a Cat by the Tail. Friday just got that much brighter!*

If the amount of unsolicited affection you receive is directly proportional to the amount of available cash in your wallet, You Might Have a Teen.

If you lose IQ points daily because you say things like "No, you can't go to a concert 4 hrs away in another state", You Might Have a Teen.

If the amount of help and cooperation you receive with chores is directly related to someone wanting to borrow the car, You Might Have a Teen.

If you have 2 small holes burnt into the back of your head as the result of lasers shooting out of someones eyes, You Might Have a Teen.

If you find that your monthly food bill is equal to the GNP of a small island nation, You Might Have a Teen.

If you have someone living in your house who constantly borrows other peoples things without asking, but freaks out when someone asks to borrow their things, You Might Have a Teen.

If you do indeed find that you have a teen, don't panic and don't call the exterminator. Try to relax and have a drink and this condition will clear itself up in approximately 8 years.

What a Week!

Here's your reminder that Suburban Wow airs today an Noon Eastern/11 cdt/9 Pacific. Click this link to join Melisa and I for an hours worth of fun. Today's topics to include Picking on Me, Melisa gloating about the Blackhawks and teenage driving adventures. Bring a friend and send a tweet.

Today I am going with some Fatherhood Friday Fragments and covering all my bases.

• Watching the Stanley Cup Finals with the Weasels, as I wrote about before, brought back so many memories of my childhood and the bonding that occurred while watching the Flyers with my Dad. Unfortunately, it was a little too de ja vous, as I watched the Flyers lose the finals in game 6. C'est La Vie.

• Congrats to the Stanley Cup Champion Chicago Blackhawks. They won fair and square. They worked hard, played well and earned it. I tip my hat to them.

• Finally, after 2 weeks of dealing with government agencies - I'll elaborate on Suburban Wow - Eldest Weasel is now a licensed driver. As Melisa has taught me, Oy Vey.

• I took Eldest Weasel to lunch next door to the DMV at a brand new Chinese restaurant to celebrate with $5 lunch specials. The neighborhood itself is heavily Mexican in ethnicity and all of the employees were Mexican. The real surprise though, came in the beautifully authentic looking food, that when tasted, oddly tasted like Mexican food. The seasonings and flavor mixes were definitely not Chinese. It wasn't bad, just different. I'm calling it Mexi-Chin Cuisine.

That's all from me for now, tune into Suburban Wow for more and don't forget to hit up Dad-Blogs for some good postings on everything Fatherhood and Mrs.4444 some wonderful Friday Fragments!

Purging The Clutter

My mind and my life have been so busy lately that I just need to purge the clutter from my brain. Thanks to Mrs4444 and Friday Fragments, I am doing just that - with a twist. Fatherhood Friday Fragments. Stop by both Dad-Blogs and Half Past Kissing Time Later today, not now, not before you spend time hanging out with me.

First and foremost, Suburban Wow livestreams today at 12 edt/11 central/do the math Mountain and Pacific. You west coasters confuse me. Here is the cheater link to *watch the show*.

• Yesterday Eldest Weasel turned 16 years old and today is her last day of school. We will be heading to the DMV after the show today, if she can get all of her paperwork together.

• The other Weasels will be finished with the school year next Thursday. The last day of school is my favorite day of the year. I am usually even happier than the kids. Call me crazy. I hate the school year and love having the Weasels around. We have fun together.

• Summer has officially arrived in Chicago with temps hitting 90 for days on end. I love the heat, but am ticked off because all of my summer clothes shrunk while sitting in the storage bin all fall, winter and spring long.

• I took Matilda The Hun for a walk yesterday and was very impressed by how well she walks on the leash without having had and formal training. I realized that she is better behaved than the Weasels. Huh. I am better at dog training than kid training.

• I went to the snack and candy expo this past Wednesday and will show some of my favorite finds on Suburban Wow today.

• The Stanley Cup Finals start tomorrow night and I can't wait. It does however make me miss my Dad and wish that he were around to enjoy this with me. He was the one who gave me my love for the game.

• I painted my nails orange this week and added the Flyers logo to them. Yes, I am seriously excited about this series. I sent out a twitpic, but can't find it now. I'll show them off on Suburban Wow.

Broad Street Bonding

As a small child I watched Flyers hockey, curled under my father's arm. It was the Era of the Broad Street Bullies and dad loved it. With only one TV in the house, my options were limited to watching the game or staring at the walls - No noise was to be made in the house when the Flyers were on.

So I would curl up under Dad's arm and watch the game. Showing an interest in hockey was a great way to win Dad's affections and there was no chance of the channel being changed during a game, anyway. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

Gene Hart would belt out the play by play with such passion and speed that I had absolutely no idea what was going on. During stoppage of play, commercials or intermission, Dad would explain it to me. What I did know is that I enjoyed the fast paced action and jumped out of my seat every time Gene would scream out "SHOT, SCORE! Philadelphia!". I came to love the game too.

I unknowingly, had been watching some hockey greats. Bernie Parent, Bill Barber, Bobby Clarke and Dave Schultz were just a few of the line up.

As the years went on, I watched more, I learned more, grew a greater appreciation for the game and had watched live, some great moments in sports. All while sitting and bonding side by side with Dad.

I inadvertently learned knew language skills.

I cried when the news proclaimed that their was no hope for Pelle Lindbergh.

I cried in 1987 as I watched the the Stanley Cup slip away from reach at the end of game 7. Not just for the team and our hopes, but because I had much homework that had not been completed and had been counting on the day off of school as a buffer.

I rejoiced as I watched Ronnie Hextall, Rick Tocchet and the Sutter Brothers live on the traditions of a Philly favorite team.

I remember many a long, cold and windy walk with my Dad to the Spectrum to watch the games.

I am now watching the Flyers in the Stanley Cup semi-finals, with Smallest Weasel under my arm and the other Weasels sprawled through the living room. I explain the game, the action and the rules at the stoppage of play, the commercials and during intermission.

The Weasels are learning names like Chris Pronger, Mike Leighton, Danny Briere.

I have inadvertently taught them some new language skills.

Dad has been gone for many years now, yet he is still close in my heart. I feel him close as I hold my children and watch the Flyers play.

The Flyers are only 6 wins away from taking The Cup home. Lord Stanley, we want your Cup.

Who Got Us The Free Drinks? YOU Be The Judge.

Well hello there. Melisa with one S here. I'm guest-posting for Weaselmomma, who might be in Hollywood selling her autobiographical screenplay to Quentin Tarantino in the hopes that he can get the ball rolling on her major motion picture, tentatively named "There's a Mouse In the House: Trouble in Weaselville", starring Meryl Streep as Weaselmomma. Or she may NOT be doing that. Regardless, you're stuck with me today.

I have a little story to share with you about a recent evening out that Weaselmomma and I enjoyed. Specifically, it was last Saturday night. We had a blogger event to attend in the city at 7:00 p.m., and had to leave our suburban homes really, really early because it's construction season in Chicago, and the main highway from our houses to the Loop is a complete mess. (The drive normally takes about 35 minutes from my house, but all bets are off these days.) Weaselmomma picked me up at 4:30, and we were on our way, figuring that if we arrived in the city early enough, we'd grab a bite to eat.

On the ride there, Weaselmomma talked my ear off, which is nothing new. (Seriously.) She told me how Mr. Weasel dressed her for the evening (okay, well, I don't mean LITERALLY. I mean he picked out her outfit.), and she felt like a Barbie doll. She didn't have a springtime jacket that was appropriate for a dressier evening, and because she despises shopping, Mr. Weasel went out to buy one for her. In the process, he bought her an adorable ruffled-blouse, a little light sweater to put on over that, fishnet socks (yes, really!), and even shoes. She put on all of that with her favorite pair of black pants, and looked really great. I think Mr. Weasel must have been a stylist in his other life. (I think she said he even helped her with the hair. Hmm.) Anyway, he did a great job styling her, yet she felt a wee bit uncomfortable because she was showing a tiny bit more cleavage than she would if she were hanging out in the burbs. I reassured her that she wasn't flashing anyone, and she's just used to her t-shirts and twin-sets, and to just relax.

We made excellent time, as it turned out, arriving at our destination by about 5:20. We parked across the street from the event and looked for a restaurant. There were several choices, but I suggested Ed Debevics, where the motto is "Eat and Get Out!" and the staff is really, really rude: on purpose. (I wrote about an experience my family had at Ed's when we went for my older son's birthday two years ago, on Suburban Scrawl. Click here. Then come back!)

Weaselmomma was not really crazy about the idea of going to Ed's because she believes that if she wants to be treated rudely, she can just stay home. (Ba dum bum!) But I talked her into it, and away we went. To be honest, though I love the rudeness of Ed's, I'm always a little scared when I go there because you never know what to expect.

We were seated, and our waiter showed up. I can't remember his name, but he was hilarious. He asked if we wanted to hear the specials and I told him we were probably going to stick with appetizers, and then we got yelled at. He asked if we wanted a drink, and of course Weaselmomma said yes; I was a little indecisive, which he berated me for. He asked how I was going to get drunk if I didn't have a drink, and although that wasn't my goal (hers either), I didn't spend my time telling him that, because, you know, he would have taken that and hit the ground running. I ended up ordering my favorite, a Jack and Coke, (Yummy.) and bantered with our server a little bit. He was a fun guy, especially when I turned on the charm and it became clear that I was his favorite.

We decided that we were indeed hungry enough to order "real food", and told our server. In response, he yelled, "GOOD!" He became especially snarky with Weaselmomma when she ordered American cheese for her burger, not realizing (because she never wears her glasses in public) that they didn't offer that as an option. (I, of course, ordered correctly.) He looked at me and said, "Yeah. Thanks for bringing THAT ONE here," tossing his head in her direction. I was really enjoying my place as the better of the two guests in his eyes.

Weaselmomma and I chatted about all kinds of unbloggable things, of course, and she was still a little anxious about her cleavage, adjusting her top as she spoke.

He brought us another drink, and by the time we finished, it was time to walk down the street to the event.

The server swung by the table, set the check down, and said something as he kept walking. I said to Weaselmomma, "WHAT did he say? It sounded like he said the drinks were on him!" She said, "Yep, I think that's what he said!"

I picked up the check, and indeed, we were only charged for our dinner. WOW*.

So you see, a great personality (mine) really can take you places and give you advantages in this world.

Or was it Weaselmomma's cleavage**?

You decide.

*I gave him an 80% gratuity. And yes, I know from working in a salon that sometimes people who get paid tips will sometimes not charge for certain things so you'll tip them better. But seriously. He really liked me. Or her. But I think he liked ME.
**No pictures. Sorry!

*Okay, WeaslMomma here. I wasn't going to step in today, but in my defense, the proof is in the pudding! Melisa has a stunning personality and nice cleavage to boot, but I am not lacking in the personality area and thanks to Mr. W's clothing choice is why we received free drinks, no doubt, but judge for yourself.
Photo credit to Kris, aka, Little Tech Girl


If you wonder what this has to do with Dad-Blogs Fatherhood Friday, it's just a little something to remind you of one more reason to cherish the fairer sex.

Triple The Insanity, Triple The Fun

Yesterday I had the pleasure of interviewing John Cave Osborne, author of Tales From the Trips and the voice behind the blog And Triplets Make Six, about the book.

This is the first installment of WeaselMomma's book club of 1, where I hope to introduce the authors of some books that I enjoy, directly to you.

I found Tales From The Trips to be very endearing as John takes us along on his journey from bachelorhood to marital bliss and being a father of four in just 13 short months. This is a candid look at extreme parenting, filled with stories that will bring a tear to eye and have you laughing yourself simple, within the span of a few short pages.

Without further ado:



I encourage you to pick up a copy and check it out. It's light, sweet, sincere
and funny. You can check it out *here*.

Don't forget to head on over to Dad-Blogs.com for Fatherhood Friday.

A Peek Inside My Head

This has been a busy and tumultuous week in Weaselville. Thus, I haven't posted anything since Monday. I know that your lives are no less busy than mine, but that's the excuse I am going with. Live with it.

I still can't wrap my head around the events of the week enough to write something coherent in good form, so I am giving you a tour of the scary little place known as The Mind of WeaselMomma in the form of some fragments.

~ I learned that when serving homemade soup, that you consequently let get to a rolling boil by not paying enough attention to it, it is better to ladle the soup into a bowl for serving purposes rather than directly into the palm of your hand.

~ Cats will always puke during the overnight hours and Mr. Weasel's bare foot will be a magnet for finding it on his way to the light switch and coffee pot.

~ Old Man Winter is in his death throes here in the Windy City and I have every intention of dancing on his grave. I will however plant flowers to mark the event.

~ If you give a geek the opportunity to dress himself, he will choose these and call them the "Best, Most Awesomest shoes ever" no matter how humiliating they are to the rest of the family. Geeks will also rock these gorilla feet with the same confidence that Kindergartners rock sparkly red glitter shoes with green tights and a sun dress.

~ This weekend we change up those pesky clocks and gain an extra hour of sunlight in the evening hours. This day is as happy for me as Christmas and the last day of school.

~ Some people are very apprehensive about their children starting to drive on their own. I however and counting the days until Eldest Weasel begins driving and I am not playing chauffeur nearly as much.

~ If the GPS were to give Mr. Weasel driving directions to Canada via Peru he will follow it blindly like a Siren's Song. I however am the rock that he crashes into.

~ Now don't forget to stop by Mrs.4444's for some more lovely fragments and Dad-Blogs for the awesomeness that is Dads and Fatherhood Friday.

Olympic Parenting

One of our countless responsibilities as parents is to teach our children history and love of country.  The Olympics is an amazing vessel to use for these teachable moments, while getting to enjoy some fantastic sporting events.

To watch the Weasels cheer on Team USA, fills my heart with joy.  I take this time to teach them about the rules of hockey the sports that we are watching and throw in a history lesson in the form of explaining why it's always fun to watch the Russians get beat and how it's a shame that we won't be meeting up with them on the ice about the Cold War and how the only good thing that came out of it was some really exciting sporting rivalry and the fall of the Iron Curtain.

I continue the history lesson by showing them video clips of Team USA taking home the Gold in 1980 and how amazing it was to watch and tell them how we are going to repeat that performance this time around.

This is a great opportunity to teach them how to trash talk properly and that screaming instructions at the TV screen really is productive even though Eldest Weasel keeps reminding me that the players can't hear me and that screaming out loud with pure joy and excitement with every goal Team USA scores is the equivalent of saying the Pledge of Allegiance.

They get to see my eyes fill with pride and emotion every time Old Glory is raised and The Star Spangled Banner is played.

I am using the opportunity to brush up on their math skills n the form of explaining odds and wagering on the events.

All in all, the Olympics is a great learning experience.  Covering history, patriotism, math, and sports in one, two week learning experience.

To entertain yourself further *click here* to see with your own eyes what my Canadian used to be friend, Big Bad Daddy has done with Flat WeaselMomma after reading about the wager that friend and fellow blogger, Huckdoll have riding on the Men's Hockey Gold Medal.  Also, don't forget to head on over to check out Dad-Blogs FatherHood Friday.

It's All About Us (This Time)

Valentines Day is quickly approaching and any of you with school age children knows what that means. Valentines for the classroom! Decorating shoe boxes to become makeshift mail and candy collection boxes. There are treats to be sent in as our contribution to the classroom parties and the Weasels will return home from school all hyped up on sugar and carrying sacks reminiscent of Halloween loot.

Mr. Weasel and I usually don't celebrate Valentine's Day in a big way. We make sure to have miniature heart shaped boxes of chocolate for each of the Weasels, but never really go all out with gifts.

We typically mark the day in small ways. I may make a favorite dinner. He may bring me coffee in bed. We will try to steal a few moments for us in the middle of our busy schedules. Last year I send Mr. Weasel roses, but only because I won them for free in a blog giveaway and Mr. Weasel organized the gang and did something very special and love filled for me.

This past year has been an excessively busy and stress filled one for us. Long hours of work and long hours taking care of the Weasels and all of there transportation needs, along with all of our other obligations have left us too often like ships passing in the night. If not for stolen moments, we would have very few.

This year, the love of my life has taken the initiative to make dinner reservations for us. He has planned a special evening on Saturday (to fit into the hecticness of our schedule) and is taking me to one of my absolute favorite restaurants where the only food that I will have to cut up is my own. My meal will be hot and my beverage will be cold. That alone is a huge treat for me, but it's just the beginning.

Mr. Weasel has planned out an entire evening of surprises. All I know is that he has other secret plans in place for after dinner. After a particularly harrowing week, I can't begin to explain how much I am looking forward this.

Although the day is just an excuse to force sometime for ourselves, it's so very important to make the time for each other, to nourish each others souls and our relationship with some time alone and special. We become better parents and better spouses when we take the time to be good to ourselves. This year, Valentine''s Day will be all about us and not only will we benefit from it, the Weasels will too.

Dad Would Be Jealous

Growing up we always had dogs. Dad was a lover of good dogs and by good he meant large, personality filled and well behaved. He was a big fan of the run of the mill, grungy mutt. A punt-able pure breed was nothing more than a glorified cat in his mind and Dad was not a fan of cats, much like Mom wasn't much a fan of pets of any species, with the exception of rock.

The dogs were always Dads responsibility and companions. He enjoyed their companionship and personalities, trained them well and loved them very much, but was never a doggy-daddy. He always looked on them as a dog. A loving pet that had a place in the family, but not that of human.

There was the occasional dog of a friend or neighbor, that he would have admiration and affection for, as long as they were big, well behaved and had strong personality (see above).

I have always had a natural affection for dogs and I inherited Dads penchant for enjoying big dogs. As a matter of fact, my dog affections are almost exclusively reserved for medium to large breed dogs. The one exception being a sweet little rag-mop, belonging to this lady, who had enough personality to win me over and help start a beautiful friendship.

I actually seem to have inherited many of my Dads traits, from my love and defense of cheap beer to my early morning rising and enjoyment of peace, quiet and coffee at obscene hours of the morning. As I sit in the quiet, alone with my thoughts, my trusty laptop and my dog, my mind wanders back to thoughts of my Dad. I think of how much I miss him and how much I truly enjoyed him. I think of how his relationship with his grandchildren would have been and I think about how I believe that Matilda The Hun would receive his stamp of approval.
Matilda is big and strong, relatively well behaved, loyal and loving and has a personality all of her own. She is clumsy, clunky and awkward. She is playful at times, but often resembles a bump on a log. She's incredibly smart, but has earned the nickname 'dummy', Ultra friendly to every man, beast or child as balanced with becoming protective of her family.

Not only do I think that Dad would approve and enjoy her, I think he would even be a little bit jealous.

Happy Fatherhood Friday! I encourage you to visit Dad-Blogs and click the FF links to get some great reading material on everything Fatherhood.

Reunion

*Suburban Wow will be livestreaming this morning at 10am est/9cst/7pacific. Click this cheater link and join Melisa with 1 S and I for an hour full of fun, chat and laughs*

About seventeen years ago, my Grandfather died. It was just one month before my wedding and it was the last time I saw my cousins from that side of the family.

Growing up, we lived many states away from each other, but more summers than not we saw each other during their yearly treks back to visit my grandparents. I always looked forward to this time, because they made going to my grandparents house more fun.

We were close in age and interests and always got along very well. Sometimes we would get to have sleepovers and stay up late giggling and talking, usually until we wound up getting in trouble.

Ed Grimley, of SNL fame, was all the rage and we would make everyone around us nuts with our imitations, but were ourselves having a blast.

At some point in time, for reasons that our generation was never privy to, there was a falling out amongst our parents and all communication came to a screeching halt. The funeral was last time that we were together.

Now all these years later, I am living in the area where they lived while growing up. It's a small world, I tell ya. Through the magic that is Face Book in these here internetz, we found each other again. Along with the realization that we live pretty stinking close to each other.

Coming to the conclusion that whatever happened between our parents was indeed between them and didn't involve us, we should not let it prevent us from enjoying each others company and having a relationship that we have been missing out on for far too many years.

This past Monday, we did just that. The Weasels and I met up with two of my cousins and their beautiful children for lunch. I can't tell you how nice it was to see them again or how good it felt to fall immediately back into our friendship like we had never missed a beat.

We laughed, talked and giggled, only without getting in trouble this time, for we were now the grownups. All of the kids played together just like we used to do when we were kids. In short, it was really fantastic.

So on this FatherHood Friday, I leave you with this: Don't let the sins of the father, so to speak, fall upon the son. It's not just for you to ever have to live in the shadow of your parents prejudice or faults and more importantly, don't keep your children living under the shadow of yours.

Am I really a Minority?

School is back in session this week after the 2 1/2 week Christmas break. Monday morning twitter was all a twitter with celebratory parents who couldn't wait for this day to arrive.

Throughout the week I read many blog posts recapping the events of the extended time off and mostly decrying how awful it was to be spending so much time with the children home and how the kids were making these parents crazy. Whether families had traveled over their vacations or had stayed home, the general sentiment was "Thank God the kids are back in school and I can have my house back".

I get this. I really do. Peace and quiet are nice environments to get work done in. Some of the kids favorite shows make your ears bleed when you hear the theme song. The constant activity level that surrounds you when the kids are around for extended periods can be a bit much and the trail of destruction that they leave in their wake gets old.

However, my feelings on this past Monday were the complete opposite. I was sad that the Weasels were heading back to school. We didn't go anywhere special over the break. We didn't have any magnificent plans. We just celebrated the time off simply at home.

In the days before Christmas, I was still running around trying to get my last minute to-dos finished. Life was busy as usual and a bit on the hectic side, but starting on Christmas Eve at dinner time all that changed. The hustle and bustle were finished and it was just time to sit back and enjoy. Christmas itself and the days following were spent in relaxation and family time. A luxury we usually don't have on school days. There was no rush to get ready and get everyone out of the house on time. There were no sporting events on the schedule. The stress of homework, deadlines and strict bedtimes were gone.

We could simply enjoy each other. We played Rock Band and SpongeBob's Battle For Bikini Bottom for hours on end. We played cards and Operation. There were playdates and dinners that we made and eaten together. Sure there were chores to be done, but that only accounted for one hour a day if we all worked simultaneously. We watched movies and television, spent time with friends and just savored the time off.

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't all rainbows and puppies - well actually, there was a puppy involved. There were moments of arguing over who's turn it was to play what game or who cheated someone else, but overall it is so much better when the Weasels are home. I really enjoy when I am actually able to enjoy them as opposed to just playing Drill Sergeant on busy school days with tight schedules.

I like to think that I am not really in the minority.

Now Head on over to Dad-Blogs to read many great postings on everything FatherHood Friday related.

Virtual Hugs

Teens are a unique breed of human. Most anyone who has spent significant time raising them would agree. As much as they love Mom & Dad, they usually have a hard time showing it, let alone saying it. They much prefer to give an eye roll over a hug. When given a gentle kiss on the cheek from Mom, they recoil as if her lips are a branding iron. Eldest Weasel actually jokes "It buuurrrnnnsss". However, they do indeed love and show it when they choose to.

We are now into the Christmas Season. I used to love it all. The lights, colors and shimmering paper always filled my heart with joy and the spirit of Christmas. A few years ago, Christmas changed for me. I could not bear to see the lights, hear the carols or stand the sight of the decorations. I could not muster the energy to celebrate anything and begrudged the world around me that did. I went through the motions for the sake of my children so as not to spoil their enjoyment, but my heart wasn't in it.

Christmas Present, 7 years later, is bittersweet for me. I can celebrate and enjoy. I can decorate and admire. I can shop and be excited about the treasures that I have found, but it is now always tinged by a sadness and longing. I will laugh, but I will also cry.

The other day while baking some favorite holiday treats the Christmas tunes were playing, while the Weasels sang, danced and 'helped' me in the kitchen. I love times like this, for the memories we are making, but then something stopped me in my tracks. Out of the speakers came "All I Want for Christmas is You" sung by Mariah Carey. This is a great song that I always loved, but that now will bring me instant tears.

For the only thing that I really want (and don't have) for Christmas and always, I cannot have. The only thing missing from my life is the laughter and hugs, from a would have been, 7-year-old girl who I can only visit at the cemetery, whose name is etched in cold marble, planted in icy ground as the only statement to the world that she had ever existed or mattered.

As the song began, my sweetest, eye-rolling, smart-mouthed teen, Eldest Weasel, spotting the pain in my expression, hugged me tight and we began to dance. I held her with all of my might in gratitude for being able to, as tears streamed down my face in heartache and sorrow for her little sister whom I long to hold, but never will again, in this life anyway.

Her love and unspoken understanding of what I was feeling meant so much and gave me the ability to continue with the tasks at hand in the kitchen. It also reminded me of an organization made of up individuals who have had a child's death touch their lives, SIDS of Illinois. These are the people who carried us through that first Christmas, birthday, Mother's day and subsequent ones, with an understanding of our pain. They are the people who acted as a crutch when we were not able to walk this road on our own. This organization that not only works to support bereaved families, but fights to save babies lives, through education for parents, providing safe sleep material goods for families unable to afford them (such as cribs and sleep sacks), but also to train first responders on how to deal with newly bereft parents, while still performing their duties, in order to prevent living nightmares such as Mr. Weasel and I experienced.

In this season of giving, if you are so inclined to give me a hug, I asked that you do so virtually, by way of donation to SIDS of Illinois. It doesn't matter if it's $1, $5, or $500. Donate in memory of Claire Weasel (she is the featured remembrance baby of the month - go check out her beautiful picture) via phone ((1-800-432-SIDS (7437)) or Paypal directly on their site. You can also tweet, Digg, stumble or otherwise promote this post. Every dollar donated can mean another baby's life saved or a lifeline for a family who will need to survive their first Christmas without their child in their arms.

Don't forget to stop by Dad Blogs for some other interesting insights on all things Fatherhood and Parenthood related.

The Good Old Days

Last night around dinner time, with my fever creeping back and body ache inching it's way into my bones, I knew it was time for my next dose of cold medicine. That's about the same time that I remembered I had already taken the last dose of Nyquil in the house the night before. I called Mr. Weasel to ask if he would pick some up on his way home, only to find out he wouldn't be home for hours yet. I couldn't wait for hours.

The suggestion was made that I could drive to the store with Eldest Weasel and have her run in and get the goods for me, but if I had to leave the house anyway I may as well just go alone and run into the store myself. I only needed one item. Besides, I wasn't even sure that Eldest would be allowed to make the purchase of such state controlled and dangerous items like pseudoephedrine here in stupid Illinois.

So off I went to hit the cold and flu aisle of the store. We all have seen the 100's of confusing options we now have in cold medicine. There is cold & sinus, cold and flu, allergy & sinus, pain reliever- fever reducer- stuffy nose & cough. There is sore throat -fever reducing- lottery number- sinus relief. All varieties are made by 15 different brand names and come in formulas such as Childrens, Regular, Extra Strength and Max!

All of these products do have one thing in common though, they don't work! They all have pretty much the same active ingredients, just different packaging and marketing. It made me miss the good old days of a pharmacy aisle being chock full of hard core, artificially colored, sugar filled, alcohol based cold and cough medicines.

Sure, the main active ingredient in the old school cold medicines was alcohol, but they worked to relieve your symptoms enough for you to sleep and your body to get the rest it needed to fight off the germs. Let's not forget that alcohol has many far reaching medicinal qualities and was regularly prescribed by physicians for many an ailment throughout the ages. It works well as an antiseptic germ killer and an anesthetic. It works as a pain reliever and as a muscle relaxant. Black berry brandy can settle an upset stomach better than any antacid and port wine is one of the best cough suppressants ever known to mankind. Alcohol works wonderfully as an anxiety reliever and stress reducer. Yet, it has been yanked from our medicine cabinets because alcohol contains, well alcohol.

So, as I was reading marketing labels of all the cold medicine boxes on the store shelves, they were all sporting "Sugar Free", "Alcohol Free" and "no artificial colors or dyes" on the front of the boxes as selling points. "Pick me, I have no active ingredients!"

It made me long for the days of my childhood. If I had a toothache, my Dad would take out a shot glass and pour about 1 teaspoon of whiskey into it. He'd tell me to dip my finger in and rub it on the tooth and gum, then to pour the rest into my mouth and swish it around before swallowing. By George, it worked and would help the ache until my parents could get me to the dentist.

If you had a bad cough, out of the liquor cabinet came the port wine and you would be given a thimble full every so many hours. If you had a bad cold or flu, not only would chicken soup be on the stove, but hot tea spiked with a splash of brandy, whiskey, schnapps or whatever kind of liquor was in the house that the taste could be disguised with sugar and tea. You were encouraged to drink it down fast and hot and then to go lie down. These old home remedies worked and when cold medicines originally hit the marketplace, alcohol was the #1 ingredient. If a parent were to give a child any of these alcohol based home remedies today, they may get put in front of a firing squad, just for the high-fructose corn syrup factor, before they were burned at the stake for the abuse of giving a child booze, no matter how medicinal or small the dose.

In the end, I picked up my box of alcohol free, psuedoephedrine filled, Nyquil liqui-tabs and headed for the checkout, kicking myself for not having the energy to just go to the liquor department for a bottle of Brandy, port wine and some old fashioned aspirin.

Don't forget to stop by Dad Blogs for some other interesting insights on all things Fatherhood and Parenthood related.

Yeah For Friday!

First and Foremost on this lovely Friday morning, HAPPY BIRTHDAY MELISA with 1 S!!!!!!!!!!!! Please join me in heading over to The Suburban Scrawl and leaving her some birthday comment love, spread the word and maybe today she can have the most comments ever. What a nice present that would be!

In order to celebrate the momentous event, Melisa and I will be livestreaming a special Birthday Episode of Suburban Wow this morning at 10 est/9 cst. Tune in and join the fun by clicking here and interact with us via Twitter by using @ messages and following us and others who are watching and be part of the conversation.

Also, don't forget that it is Fatherhood Friday over on Dad-Blogs.com. Go read and enjoy. Don't forget that it is time to register for the Dad-Blogs Convention to be held in Chicago this July! Both Melisa and I will be attending and this would be a great chance to meet all of you. Moms are obviously welcome and there are lots of great things planned. If you register now, you can still get the early bird discount on registration. Room rates are a huge bargain @ $109/nt including wi-fi and cooked to order hot breakfast in an all suite hotel. You can't beat that deal. Click here for details.

Fairy Godmother Wanted

Happy Friday! It's been a long week, but now that we have made it, treat yourself to a healthy dose of Suburban Wow this morning at 10 edt/9 cdt/ 7 pacific. Here's the cheat link.

It's also Fatherhood Friday at Dad-Blogs, so click on over there (when you are finished here, of course) for some great postings on everything parenthood.

With the week that I've had around here, it's best that I offer you a post in the form of FatherHood Friday Fragments, because my brain has been sucked dry from well, parenthood. Go visit Mrs 4444 for some more awesome nuggets.

• Last weekend Eldest Weasel's Cross Country team competed extremely well in their Regional Meet (so well that I had to celebrate 4444's style) and thus this Saturday, yes- on Halloween, are moving onto the Sectional Meet. Next stop, State!
• Saturday is Halloween and as of yet I don't have any costumes ready or planned out for the Weasels nor am I properly stocked for trick or treat.
• I will earn my Mother of the Year award on Saturday when I will cheer Eldest Weasel and her team mates on, get pumpkins carved, candy bought, costumes put together and adorned on Weasels, prepare for dinner and have everything go off smoothly and swimmingly. Now I just have to find my magic wand.
• I am used to being asked "you lip too?" every time I get my eyebrows waxed, but now to have "you toes too?" added to the list hits below the belt.
  
• Dog Weasel is almost finished with puppy class and doing very well. She's smart and catches on fast. I wonder if I could teach her to carve the pumpkins. Nah, poor thing doesn't have any thumbs.
• May Snowball the hamster rest in peace. He passed away this past Wednesday and funeral services will be held in about 30 minutes, as soon as I hear the trash truck coming. I better get a fresh cup of coffee ready.
• The other night Boy Weasel (13) sat down to talk to me. Mid conversation he had a eureka moment and stated "Mom, I always feel so much smarter when I am near you". Translate that one however you wish.
  

Well that's all for now, I have to go take the trash out prepare for our daybreak memorial service.