You Make Me Smile

Life here in Weaselville has been plugging along like an old jalopy for a few years months now.  I'm still recovering from surgery, going to physical therapy, etc.  There are good days and bad days.  Money is tight, I won't be able to work for a long time to come, but time with my family is precious.  I have a great family and a great dog.   You could say that life in Weaselville is like a badly written country music song.

Eldest Weasel will be celebrating her 18th birthday and her graduation from high school in just a few short weeks.  Boy Weasel is past due ready to start drivers ed.  Middle Weasel is graduating from eighth grade the same weekend as Eldest and making her Confirmation the same weekend that Smallest Weasel is making her First Communion.  Just this morning, Middle Weasel brought front and center to the attention of myself and Mr. Weasel, that she will be 15 years old by the end of summer.  Monkey Weasel will be slipping off into the 7th grade by fall, with what strikes me as a slight of hand move worthy of David Copperfield I have to give Monkey Weasel props for a much better sense of style though.  When did this happen???????

So, onto the good stuff......

Eldest Weasel, my fantabulous bargain hunter grabbed a coupon out of the mail for JC Penney portrait studio.      Free 8x10 and no sitting fee.  They must hate when families the size of mine jump on those things.  I am really bad at remembering to take pictures let alone making sure everyone is dressed right, hair brushed, etc. to take a really great one.  So Eldest went ahead and made an appointment when she got tired of her mother's procrastinating.  The only appointment that she could get before her coupon expired was at a time that Mr. Weasel would be at work and I would be at physical therapy.  So,.............My amazing, first born, type A, over achieving daughter took it upon herself to dress all the Weasels, fix their hair and take them to the photo shoot herself!

Here is a link to see a slideshow of the magic that all of my Weasels made happen and Eldest facilitated.

I was thrilled to see how well they all turned out, how well their personalities shined through and that I will now have this moment set in time to  treasure forever.

Thank you Eldest Weasel, for this and for the incredible young woman you are growing to be.  I will cherish this gift always.  You, and your siblings, make me smile.

Weekend Round-Up IV

This turned out to be an incredibly busy and fun weekend in Weaselville.  A top of the normal amount of mayhem that Weaselville is famous for, Boy Weasel had a few of his buddies sleep over in celebration of his birthday.  Lucky for them me, these are all good, low maintenance kids that I like and don't mind having in close proximity to myself. 

Simultaneously, Weaselville was descended upon by Grandparent types bearing awesome gifts in the form of an entire freezer full of Bessie, Yee-ha, homegrown, farm raised beef rocks! curtains hung in a Weasel bedroom, repair and rehanging of a storm door that had been seriously getting on my nerves every time I tried to open or close it and a clothing shopping spree for Boy Weasel whose growth spurts have been impossible to keep up with.  Thanks, Grandparent types!

We made our annual trek to our favorite apple orchard/farm for the sole purpose of picking up a few of the best homemade fruit pies on earth to take home fun, family quality time.  We spent the day riding ponies, getting lost in mazes, eating yummy fresh apple donuts, jumping our brains out on a giant bounce pillow and visiting the petting zoo.  Of course, I forgot to bring along the video camera.

We celebrated Mr. Weasel's occupational success as his new company earned their first revenue of 15¢ with mimosas!  Three nickels never tasted so good.

Last night, Eldest Weasel, five of her friends and I had a haunting good time taking a walking tour of Haunted Naperville.  More to come on that in another, un-sponsored, post.  Probably Wednesday.

Last, but certainly not least, after having declared my love for my morning beverage of choice and paying homage to the trusty vehicle of it's daily delivery, I woke up this morning to find the coffee pot on life support.  All of the lights were on an registering, but all of it's internal systems had failed.  I had to pull the plug.  In lieu of flowers, send freshly roasted beans.

Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

Life in Weaselville has is it's own unique little flavor, as I'm sure most of your homes do too.  We do things a little differently around here, bordering on odd.  For instance, I have found that most of the money that we have spent to furnish the Weasels bedrooms with beds, has been squandered.

Seriously.  I could sell their beds at a garage sale and only Monkey Weasel would object. She is the only one who actually uses her bed on a regular basis and she sleeps atop of her sheets and comforter and never under them.  Go figure.

Right now, at 5am, Boy Weasel is sleeping on his bedroom floor with all of his bedding.  He does this so he can cuddle up with Matilda the Hun, who happens to be asleep on the floor next to me in the living room and not with Boy.

Middle Weasel is asleep on the floor in the hallway, right outside of her bedroom door, in a makeshift nest that she builds every night.  Weasels must be more more comfortable nesting than being tucked in.

Eldest Weasel is in the living room sleeping in the recliner laid out like a business class seat on an overseas flight.

Smallest Weasel is on the love seat in the living room snuggled up with her cat.

Mr. Weasel is on the couch with his trusty laptop.  He hasn't even gone to bed yet, nor will he get to for at least another 15 hours.  Poor guy has been working himself to death.

All of the Weasels actually kiss goodnight and start off in their own beds at assigned bedtimes, but after an initial spell of sugar plum dreams they become wandering nomads and migrate from their original resting places, often more than once.

I too have my own sleeping rituals, but always in my own freshly made bed with the pillows situated just right, the perfect amount of cozy and my sleep number set at 100.   If all isn't just how I want it, no sleep will come.  It's the Princess and the Pea complex, I guess.

I should really set up some night vision cameras around the house, just to watch the migrations of the Weasels in their natural habitat.  It could be a Discovery Channel special or something akin to Wild Kingdom, only with the Weasels.  It could be called something like, "What happens after 'Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep'". 

Halloweekend Weasels

We had a great time this past weekend at Cedar Point Amusement Park.  Our family has been going to Cedar Point for years, but had never been there during Halloweekends festivities, that run every weekend from now until Halloween. 

The entire park is decked out in subtle and not so subtle Halloween decor that was very well done.  There are haunted houses that are appropriate for every age level and every and every courage level.

What I liked the best is that they scare old school style.  The scare level in the haunted houses for the teen/adult crowd were high, but they didn't need to rely on gore and chainsaws to pull it off.  They instead relied on well designed and decorated haunts, acting and costuming to get your heart pounding.  I can't even tell you about about my favorite bit of camouflage.  I wouldn't want to ruin it for you.

The rides were as great as ever.  The Weasels had a fun filled day at the park and I got to make a fun video to document it all.  The only thing I would do differently next time would be to take two full days in the park in order to have time to see all of the haunted houses and hit a few more coasters and to stay at one of the hotels on the premises.  That way I could stay with the older Weasels at the park longer while Mr. Weasel could take sleepy little Weasels off to bed when they were ready.   Yeah, there was just that much to see and do.

*Weasel Family admission to the park was complimentary.

The Un-Post

Blogging is great and I love what I do.  I have a place to share my thoughts, quirky as they may be, and tell the stories of life around here through the lens of Looney Tunes glasses, just the way I see them.  Aaaaand...........people actually like to come here and read all about it, voluntarily!  That rocks!

It's like I can have my own little stand up routine, while I am plastered to my couch!  I have an audience thanks to both of you and that, my friends, is Weasel crack!

The draw back to blogging is what I can't write.  There is almost a physical pain of not writing some of the most hilarious conversations, situations, observations, irony and antics that happen near or around me.

Out of begging pleading threats against my person respect for family or friends, some things are just un-blogable.

Some things fall under the category of you had to be there.

Some are just too quirky and odd.  You wouldn't get it, even though I may have been laughing in the aisles.  I find humor in some pretty strange places.

Some things you just don't post on the Internet.

What's that, you want an example?  Okay,  I can't post about when Melisa said...........hey wait, you almost had there.  I'm not falling for that old trick.

Some of you are no holds barred when it comes to blogging.  Your friends and family may not ever bother to read your ramblings even know that you have a blog.  I on the other hand need all the readers I can get  am very open about the fact that I blog.

There is so much going on in and around Weaselville and yet so little that I can write about today.  That's why I am calling this the un-post.  Yup, you just read 250 words that I wrote about absolutely nothing and you are still here.  There goes your time waster for the day.

That's what I call talent.

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.

Proud Moments in Parenting II

Last night was back to school curriculum night in Weaselville.  You know, the night that parents get to go school, sans kids.  The teachers go over the class syllabus and talk about how their individual classrooms run.  It's all very nice, friendly and informative and I hate it!

Yes, I like the Weasels school.  Some of the teachers we met with have been working with Weasels for years and some are having their first experiences in getting to know the Weasels.  They all are wonderful, loving and caring teachers dedicated to their students.

"Well then WeaselMomma, what's the problem?  This sounds like a positive experience.  Why on earth would you hate it so much?", I can hear your gears grinding now.

My problem is that this night is too informative.  It's not that I get information that I shouldn't  know, it's that I get information that I didn't want to know.

Case in point; File # W752.4-S

The first grade teacher, who is quickly becoming familiar with the Weasels via a school supply list flub of not having school supplies labeled and thus causing confusion in a room of 20+ six year old wild natives, told a story regarding snack time to the parents sitting at miniature desks around the classroom.

"There was one child who appeared to be eating chocolate cake.  The sweet lovely little child informed me that it was not actually chocolate cake, but 'a look alike' when I questioned the snack choice and reminded them that snack time is for a healthy snack only.  'See those chocolate chips?  Those are healthy.  My Mom would never send me to school with anything that wasn't healthy".  I gave the student the benefit of he doubt, but it sure did look pretty moist".

I bowed my head to allow my hair to cover the combination of shame and amusement that were broadcasting across my features.  I instinctively knew who that student was as I collapsed my face into my hands and shook my head.  I did not want that information.

Now that I had that information, I had to address it.  I don't need this kind of nonsense cluttering up my brain.  It's already a mess in there.  After the talk/presentation I now had the honor of introducing myself to the teacher in person, meeting for the first time the woman who I have consistently sent in late paperwork, unlabeled supplies and now, unwittingly, chocolate cake.

"Umm, hi.   It's nice to meet you" flashing my pearly whites in stark contrast to my blushing cheeks.  "I'm Smallest Weasel's Mom and yes, that was indeed chocolate cake".  I went on to explain that the cake was for her lunch dessert and that she always has an appropriate healthy snack in her lunch box for snack time.  The teacher smiled, chuckled and was very kind and I assured her that I would bust Smallest Weasel when I returned home and to feel free to call SW out on any snack that seems as questionable and moist as chocolate cake.

She explained that it was not her intention to get the child in trouble, just to share a funny ice breaking story with the parents.  I told her, "Welcome to Weaselville".

Mr. Weasel had been covering the 7th and 8th grade presentations while 1st and 5th grade had been my conquests.  He heartily laughed as I related the story to him as we exchanged mental notes in the car.  "It's a look alike?, that's awesome!", but soon we had to put on our game faces to enter back into the house.

"Oh, Smallest Weeeeassseelll.............come tell mom and Dad about snack time".  She tried to talk her way out of things, but we let her know that wouldn't fly and I asked about healthy chocolate chips and how to go about getting some.  Tears started to flow with an immediate request of, "I'm tired and want to go to bed".  Her passion, inflection and mini meltdown sent Mr. W and I into an uncontrollable  laughing fit.  We kissed her and sent her off to slumber, where she had a fitful night of bad dreams that for the first time in her six years she didn't want to talk about.  I'm sure that they all involved getting in trouble at school.

Yes, I acquired much good information last, but I also managed to bring home with me shame embarrassment and laughter.


Now do you get why I hate actually talking to teachers?

Paranormal Intervention

The Weasel children live in fear of an unseen force.  An entity that strikes them with fear deep within their souls.  Whenever they feel its presence threaten to invade close to there personal space they are struck with sudden bouts of nausea, headaches or an urgent need to secure themselves into the bathroom until the danger passes.  When directly confronted with it, it causes them to go into terrified fits.  This entity causes them such extreme amounts of anxiety that they can't even speak of it.

Although it does have a name.

Everything that I have come to learn about demons says that you should never say it's name aloud.  Saying the name has a summoning power and gives it greater power and control.  I avoid it's name.

I only refer to it as it's manifestations, and even then only in a whisper.

I tell Eldest Weasel, "Don't fear the vacuum. It can't hurt you".  Still she is scared that I am wrong and that there may be danger involved.  "What if you're wrong Mom?  What if it does bite me?".  Even after my assurances, she just doesn't feel safe enough to push it around a room.

Boy Weasel is a little more brazen in that he will confront the manifestation of the dishwasher, but refuses to load it correctly in any sort of ritualistic manner.  I keep telling him that it is not only okay, but safer and more productive to load it using the ritual that I have taught him, but alas, he fears the demon.

All the Weasels live in such fear of the washer and dryer that it causes extreme amounts of obstinance and pain in Weaselville for them to gather a load a of laundry for me to wash to feed into them.  It often causes Monkey Weasel to hiss and Middle Weasel to speak in tongues.  No wonder our orthodontist makes so much money.

At first I thought that it was the high EMF (Electromagnetic Field) readings that emanate from the manifestations that cause the aversions,   but the mere thought of any kind of chore causes a severe adverse reaction in the Weasels.  So much so  that they find themselves unable to accomplish tasks that do not even involve appliances, such as putting their shoes away or hanging up wet towels when they are finished with them.

I have blessed the Weasels with Holy Water.  I have sprinkled the appliances with Holy Water in the sign of the cross.  I have called a Catholic Priest, because these are the dudes most prepared to deal with such things only to be laughed at told that this was beyond the realm of expertise.  

You know what?  I'm going to go all Harry Potter here and say the name of the evil demon that taunts the Weasels. out loud.  There will be no more fear!  It is time to stand up and take the power out of the name.

The demon's name is Housework!

The only way to defeat this demon is to confront it and complete it, but it always returns.

There has to be a Paranormal Intervention in Weaselville.  We need a class A cleaning lady full blown exorcism to cleanse the house.

Maggoty Goodness

Friends don't feed friends children bugs.  Unless that is, you are friends with Weasels.

Seashore Subjects and I have been friends since long before either of us ever starting blogging.  We have shared stories, pregnancies, homes, landlords and countless laughs together.  Now we have shared the culinary piece resistance, chocolate covered bugs.

We were lucky enough this past July to sneak in an overnight visit together and this is the chaos that ensued.

Book Ends

I have come to the conclusion that parenting is a huge waste of my time.  Not entirely, of course and I do mean this in the most positive of ways. 

Let me explain.

Eldest Weasel is 16.  She is a talented athlete, a gifted scholar, sharp witted and self challenging.  She spoke in full sentences by the time her 1st birthday rolled around and was running circles around the neighborhood by 10 months of age.  She would engage me in logical debate by the age of 3 and all to often win the argument.  She learned to ride a two wheeler within 15 minutes of her first attempt and taught herself to read at age 4.  She was reading at a high school level in the first grade.

I was Mom extraordinaire!  All of her meals were well balanced and her schedule was very disciplined.  I would read to her constantly and we made regular treks to the park.  PBS was the only television that she was exposed to.   I went out of my way to do everything right and my return on investment was my just desserts.  I could hold my head high with a superior pride in my parenting skills.

I had my own hobbies, that led to having five more Weasels.  Of course this led to much less one on one time with individual Weasels and I started loosening my tight grip on the bubble world that I raised them in.  Priorities change, time constraints change and eventually the kids break you much like a wild horse.  You burn out on some things and toss others into the 'whatever' pile, meh.  In the 16 years that I have been parenting, to a degree I have stopped parenting.

I now proudly wear the moniker of Slacker Mom.

I do not check backpacks.  I do not get involved with homework unless specific assistance is required.  The Weasels spend unconscionable amounts of time online and in front of the television.  I let them eat hot dogs for breakfast if they like.  Bedtimes are only strictly enforced on school nights.  I let them play Rock Band and Halo.

Of course I am always here for them emotionally.  I help to guide them through life and give them rules and responsibilities that they are held accountable for like chores and schoolwork.  I am always around for them to hang out, joke around or prepare a meal together once their responsibilities are fulfilled, but other than that I have burned out taken a more hands off approach and refuse to micromanage anything.  I just allow them to be themselves and they thrive.

Smallest Weasel is 6 years old.  She is a talented athlete, a gifted scholar, sharp witted and self challenging.  She rides a two wheeler, has a vocabulary that blows her teachers away and reads well above her grade level.  She can do more chin ups a day then most gown men I know.  She never had much time for Barney but loves Jaws and Mythbusters.  She has a sense of humor that is so sharp and dry that the jokes go flying past most adults because they can't grasp onto such a young child having the complexity of thought and to make references with speed and timing that most adults don't have.  I love having adults look at me quizzically and ask "Did she just say what I think she said?".   

So much for my superior parenting skills having anything to do with her accomplishments.  I have now learned that I can't take the credit for return on investment.  All credit goes directly to them for just being who they are naturally.

This works to my benefit too, you see.  If I can't take credit for my two books ends, neither can I take blame for having screwed up the Weasels that came in between them!

Young Love

As the last lazy days of summer are winding down here in Weaselville, Mr. Weasel and I decided to take some time to make the most of a quiet Sunday afternoon and the abundance of sunshine that the day had to offer.

We snuck out of the house all by ourselves.  We didn't bring the dog, nor did we allow any Weasels to tag along as they are wont to do each and every time that the Mr. and I try to escape for a quiet walk.

We wandered the neighborhood, hand in hand, and decided to stop when we came to the pond, who's banks of freshly cut grass were incredibly inviting.  We sat down on the bank and drank in the warmth of the cloudless sky as we cuddled and talked in a scene that is now oddly reminiscent of a Cialis commercial.  Things that make you go hmmm.

I felt like a teen again, only better because I had no fear of one of my parents walking by and spotting us.  I snuggled into Mr. Weasel's arms and coyly asked him, "If you were a teenager right now, show me what you would be doing", with an air of mischievousness in my eyes.

As Mr. Weasel started to follow my lead and played along, I leaned in and whispered into his ear, "Keep this in mind the next time your 16 year old daughter wants to take 'a walk down by the pond'".

'Cause we all know, that I am great when it comes to laying traps to snare innocent victims into special moments.

Whatever Wednesday

I can't get my two active brain cells to work in conjunction with each other long enough to actually write a full blown article, so I'm just going to hit you with some bullet points of what's been swirling around in my mind.

• School starts today for Eldest Weasel, next week for the rest of the gang.  This bums me out.  I love summer and having the Weasels home.  This summer went by at the speed of light.

• I still need to chase down school supplies, clothing and shoes for the gang.  That adds up to parting with massive amounts of cash.

• We are running very low on toilet paper.  It is imperative that I get to the store early this morning.

• The rate with which the Weasels tear through toilet paper leads me to believe that they are constructing and escape rope from it.  Maybe I should find and use that escape rope myself.

• I have been applying for positions waiting tables/ bartending at some of the local family establishments that I'm very familiar with, to no avail so far.  A fellow patron/friend pointed out that they can't afford to hire me, because I was on the other side of the bar their sales would tank.  With friends like mine, who needs hemorrhoids?  I made him buy the next round.

• The developers of the ground zero mosque are lacking basic human decency.  Even if they legally have the right to build there, they are obviously lying about their motives for building 560 ft from ground zero.  They originally claimed that their intention was to honor the victims of September 11th and their families.  Yet, when those families are outraged, offended and outspoken about their disdain for this project, along with much of the country.  Even after having been offered numerous incentives to change location and with the knowledge that they are causing people anger and pain, these people push forward with the project.  That equates to a lack of scruples, basic human decency and honesty in my book. 

• This Friday will be the next episode of Suburban Wow, with special guest co-host Dawn Meehan of Because I said so.  Tune in, as Dawn is highly entertaining and oodles of fun.  She's had a crazy week and will be able to keep us all in stitches.

Dancing With a Pole

I've written before about the Weasels being a mixed family.  That is, I myself being Irish and Mr. Weasel being Polish.  We have a lot of fun when teasing each other about our respective heritage and families.  There is always much laughter to be found in Weaselville.  Well usually there is.

Just two short years since Mr. W's last layoff, we've learned that it has happened again.  This is a mixed bag of both good and bad news.  In the past year and half, Mr. W has been working 80+ hour weeks, full time contracting for a company and full time starting his own business to help secure a better future for the kids and I.  Granted, it is his day job contracting that brings home the scratch and things have been tight around here, but Mr. W has been burning the candle at both ends and could seriously use a break.  Not to mention that I miss him when he works such long hours. 

I'm going to have to find a day job myself.  Having been a SAHM for 17 years, my qualifications are a little lacking and rusty.  That and the only letters/title that I managed to achieve in college was my MRS.  So, I'm trying to think about the kind of job that would be the best fit for me and my qualifications.

Nobody seems to be searching for a resident smart ass.

Oprah's people have yet to contact me about becoming her replacement.

I haven't been offered any cash advances to write a book, yet.

After 6 kids, I'm no longer qualified not that I ever was to be an entertainer at a gentleman's club.  Nor would I want to be.  Without health insurance how would I get the penicillin and tetanus shots necessary to touch any surface in such places.

I'm still weighing my options and in the mean time instead of dancing on a pole, I think I will take some time to appreciate dancing in the kitchen with a Pole.

Weasels of Walmart

It's not often that I shop at Walmart.  It's not that I have anything against the place.  As a matter of fact, I think that it can be a very entertaining place to shop.  It's just not convenient for me to shop there and they should have a PG 13 warning or a 'Do not look directly at any full moons for risk of blindness and/or mental scaring' on the door.

For whatever reason, this morning I was reminded of a particular shopping expedition to Walmart that embarked on with the Weasels once upon a time.

Picture it.  A 2nd grader, a preschooler, a toddler and a hungry infant.  Now add 1 tired and frazzled mom dressed for the occasion, a long grocery list, lots of nagging and begging. Now toss in 6 little hands touching every nasty little public surface that they can and stir.

This was the scene as I was being bombarded with "can I have this?", "Mom, how many sides does a ball have?" and my personal favorite "Mom, what did Boy Weasel just step in?".  My only focus was filling my cart with the necessities of life and getting the heck back home where I could put them all for naps and my feet up with a strong drink control the chaos a little better.

As I pushed through the store with my list, Eldest Weasel wiggled the soon to be gold mine in her mouth known as a loose tooth.  Yes, with her hands that had been touching every germ and gunk infested surface in the store.  "Mom, when will my tooth fall out?  When will my tooth fall out?  When will my tooth fall out?".

My reply, timed perfectly as a seasoned couple passed by us in the aisle, with that look of Wow, you never know what you will see at Walmart!  on their faces.  "The very next time you back talk me, honey."

The couple burst out in laughter and I just kept moving.

Yes, we are the Weasels of Walmart.  I'm just glad I wound up on my own site and not this one.

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

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.

Don't You Wish Your Wife Was As Sweet As Me?

Mr. Weasel does not like fly. He has gotten better over time, but back in the day, he was the guy white- knuckling the armrest and starting to hyperventilate because he was convinced that we were about to die.

I, being the kind, sweet, caring and devoted wife that I am, used to comfort him by rolling my eyes and comparing him in my mind to a two year old throwing a temper tantrum and holding their breath over a tootsie roll incident turned bad.. Yes, he's a lucky man.

Anyway, a few years back and by a few, I mean 13. $hit, it's been that long? Mr. Weasel and I were on a romantic long weekend getaway in search of housing in a new city that we were not thrilled to be moving to. We flew in on Thursday and home on Sunday.

We had a plan to make the flight go smoothly for both of us because when I am not traveling with children, I don't want to be bothered with tethering people to their seats. We would arrive at the airport early, take Mr. W to the bar and give him just enough booze to put him for a nap as soon as we boarded the plane.

This having been pre 9/11, the flight crews were still fun and often enjoyable company. We were on an aircraft where some of the seats sat facing other travelers. Mr. W quickly fell asleep before we even taxied. Luckily, my other seat mates proved to be a fun and social bunch and we were seated adjacent to the flight attendant, who was all about making her work day a good time.

We all had a good chuckle together as the Mr.'s adversity to flying was obvious to all in the way he gripped his armrest and talked in his sleep. By the end of the flight, we were in stitches.

When the time came for landing preparation seat backs, tray tables, you know the drill, I knew I had to wake Mr. Weasel, but I was ready to have some fun with it. I asked the flight attendant to pass me the oxygen mask that they use for the pre-flight demonstration. She laughed herself 1/2 silly and handed it to me.

"Honey! Honey! Wake up and put this on!! Quick, We're going Down!!!!!!"

He woke up alright. Screaming like a little girl. Thank God for seat belts. We were all laughing so hard that they were the only things keeping us safely secured in our seats.

Mr. Weasel still hasn't stopped cursing me over that one.

Lesson for the day: 1. Take every Chance you can to get away alone as a couple. 2.It's important to always pack your sense of humor.

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!

Quit Your SAHD Whining

There is much whining going on in the media among Stay at Home Dads (SAHDs) in the past few months. Yes, I said whining and I am tired of it. Know that I love dads and SAHDs alike. I have the utmost respect for a man who puts his family before himself and yearns to be involved in his children's daily lives. I love reading blogs from dads. I love networking with SAHDs. After all, we are in the trenches together. However, I am tired of hearing the constant complaints of 'I get no respect from adults', 'I'm embarrassed to say I'm a SAHD in public', 'Moms won't let me into their click', 'I can't get a job because my resume has that missing time line' or 'I'm tired of people thinking I'm a lazy, no good gigolo'.

Let me let you in on a little secret fellas. I have been a Stay at Home Mom for 16 yrs and have experienced everything in that list of complaints personally. It's not because you are a man, it's because the very important job you have chosen to do doesn't come with a corner office and business cards. It says more about you that you have the priorities in life straight than an Armani suit does.

I am the traditional homemaker from the 1950's, sans high heels, a spotless house and dinner on the table when Mr. Weasel comes home. I have been raising my family for 16 yrs. Some days are great. Some days I could pull my hair out. Some days I lose it. Some are depressing and some fill me with a pride and joy that I could not find in any other line of work.

Get a grip on your own Confidence

I occasionally go to work functions with Mr. W. People always ask in conversation "What do you do?", then proceed with the look and "Oh, you have your hands full" in a very condescending tone. Much the same way they did when they find out that we have 6 children and assume I am just a human incubator. Once I was able to feel proud of what I do and state with pride that I am the mother of 6, not only did the looks no longer bother me, but they soon stopped. My confidence level affected the way people perceived me.

Find The Right Moms

There are moms who won't let me in their click either. These are the park moms with designer strollers and purses that cost my mortgage payment. These are the hyper-moms that take infants to the library for story time and not just because they have an older toddler that could actually benefit. These are the moms who only dress their toddlers from the J. Crew catalog and refuse to let them play in the dirt.

Instead, go for a walk in your neighborhood and find the mom who is playing in the yard with the kids and the sprinkler. The mom who is wearing jean shorts and a koolaid stained t-shirt. She's the mom you really want to network with.

There is More to you Than just the Title of Dad

You have interests and accomplishments. You have hobbies and skills. Don't let anyone, including a prospective employer bring you down to the least common denominator of a one faceted moniker of SAHD.

I too have been looking for part time work to help make ends meet. I am willing to wait tables, bag groceries or say 'do you want fries with that'. However, after 16 years at home and a tight economy, I am finding that because I have children I am losing out to 16 year old kids for these simplistic positions. Being a mother, they fear my calling out sick every time one of my kids has a runny nose. So be it. I will find my own niche and my own way if I just keep pushing and continue to have confidence in myself and my abilities. I can't afford to lose self esteem to any establishment that fails to see my worth.

You are NOT a Kept Man

You earn your keep the same as any other working Joe out there. Your job is vital an important to the well being of your family. You are raising children and caring for their needs. You are keeping your homes running as smoothly as is possible and you are building relationships that are more valuable than any paycheck. You are raising the next generation of adults. It only pays in kisses but it is the core job of your family. Anyone who has done the job knows that there is nothing lazy about it.

I have had many people, including my own brother, believe that I am a freeloader and doing the bon bon thing. I know to chalk these people up as being idiots. I work. I work hard. I just work out of love for my family and not a paycheck. You and I alike have sacrificed paychecks and luxuries to do this important job. Don't let the opinion of an idiot diminish you.

Now it's time to man up, quit your whining and start networking with moms like me and some other stay at home dads who do it with style, class and never any whining. Hold your head up high. Be proud of what you do and click these links.

Nuclear Family Warhead
Joeprah.com
BellasDaddy
Big Bad Daddy Rant - Who hasn't posted in a while and needs to be poked.
Clark Kent's Lunchbox
Real Men Drive Mini-Vans

Weekends in Weaselville

Mr. Weasel's crazy and hectic schedule is starting to affect his brain function. This past weekend he had an epiphany - walking across the street for a haircut every few weeks was too taxing of his time and that I should take the clippers to his head myself.

I protested with small and inconsequential details such as, I don't know how to cut hair. I may as well been trying to explain to a cranky toddler why fudgesicles aren't a good breakfast choice.

In total loss of his mental faculties, Mr. Weasel threatened that if I wouldn't do it, he was going to do the job himself. I gave in, much like a would do in the toddler/fudgesicle scenario.

Mr. Weasel removed his shirt and took a seat on a kitchen chair. I plugged in the clippers and went straight to work shaking my head the entire time. About half way through this ridiculous lapse in judgment, there were enough large clumps of hair on the floor to build 3 or 4 bionic gray squirrels.

Monkey Weasel (10) entered the kitchen and stood staring slack jawed at the improbable scene before her eyes, "Dad, is Mom shaving your head or your back?!!!!!!". Complete with outrageous and well timed amounts of laughter from 5 innocent Weasel bystanders.

Mr. W's response was a simple and succinct, "Shut up", followed up with, "BTW, WM, I need you to wax my back today too".

Yeppers, this is what life is like on weekends in Weaselville.