Dolly Has Nothing on Stay At Home Parents

Dolly's Version


WeaselMomma's Version

Rollin' outta bed
4:30 in the morning.
Stagger to the coffee,
before I start my morning.

Pat the dog's head
and hope she don't pee on the floor.

Quarter to 5
and time to wake the mister
5 o'clock, I wake oldest sister.

Better hurry up and make sure they get out the door.

This ain't no 9-5
and I don't make my own living.
My days are long
and I'm only paid in kisses.

I must use my time
to make lunch and do the dishes.

And the best is when my family gives me credit!

This ain't no 9-5
it's all service and devotion.
and I love my life
and all of it's commotion.
It's my family
my time is what I give them
and my office is the
counter in the kitchen.

6:30 in the morning
time to wake the young ones.
pull 'em outta bed and make them put their clothes on
force feed breakfast and make them brush their teeth.

7:15 and time brush hair,
gather the backpacks,
and to get outta here.
Drop the kids off and get on with the chores of the day.

This ain't no 9-5
but it's is something I love doin'
Sometimes I
Lose my mind
and get distracted from my mission.
It's my family
and lord knows how much I love them.
I have to hurry up and
get the meatloaf in the oven!

Ten til 3, and it's time to pick the kids up.
Get in the car and hope that there's no hold ups.
Open the door and have them climb in the car.

3;15 and how was your day?
Give out a snack and tell the dog to stay!
Time to do homework and finish the rest of the day.

5:00 have to pick up eldest,
Stuck in traffic listing to Elvis,
Make it on time, but only by the skin of my teeth.

Eldest drives home in rush hour traffic.
Trying to put her mother in a panic.
That's what we had the brakes installed for!

Gotta get home and dinner on the table.
Get School papers signed
and read them if I'm able.
Where's Mr. Weasel? He ought to be home soon.

Baths and bedtime
who has a quandary?
No time to sit, I have to laundry.
Boy takes the dog out before a kiss goodnight.

Mr. comes home and I just wanna kiss him.
He tells me his day and sit and listen,
All before he kisses me goodnight.

This ain't no 9-5
but there is nothing I love better.
Yes I, stay at home
and I wear a worn out sweater,
But my life is sweet
and there's nothing I love better.

'Tis The Season

It was a dark and stormy night in the fall about 14 years ago. Okay, it wasn't really stormy, but it was dark. It is however dark and stormy as I am writing this. I was driving home on Interstate 71 just outside of Cleveland, after spending some time with a friend. Traffic was light as I traveled home alone. I must have been cruising somewhere around 65 mph in the left hand lane when suddenly my headlights shone on a man in a hat and trench coat who walked out onto the road right in front me.

I couldn't swerve without slamming into another car. I slammed my brakes, but it was futile. He was way to close. I ran right over him, or rather I should say I ran right through him. No thump, no thud, no anything. He simply vanished.

I looked in my rear view mirror and saw nothing. Cars that had been following behind me continued moving as if nothing happened. There was no place to safely pullover at night and although I knew I saw him step onto the road right in front of me, I also knew there was no accident or incident. No signs of distress, no change in traffic patterns, nothing out of the ordinary with the exception of my heart trying to beat itself right out of my chest and a cold clammy sweat covering me from head to toe.

I continued home on high alert and was quite shaken. When I entered our apartment I starting crying and trying to explain what happened to Mr. Weasel. I was so afraid that I had hit someone, but I knew that I didn't. I wanted to turn on the 11:00 news just to make sure there weren't any hit and runs on the highway.

As I flipped through the channels, Mr. Weasel scanned the bookshelf. A few minutes later, with nothing on the news about any such accidents, Mr. Weasel brought me the book he was looking for, Haunted Ohio by Chris Woodward (the 1st volume I believe). He had it opened to the story of a man who had been struck and killed on that section of highway many years ago. The story was accompanied with numerous reports of a man stepping from the median and into oncoming traffic at night and vanishing on that same stretch of road.

Many a driver has called the police to report hitting someone that then vanished. So much so, that the officers just send the drivers on their way.

Vodka Mom wanted to read some real life ghost stories, so there you have it. Maybe before the season is over I will regale you with some other stories of the past, but I think this is a good start.

The Birds And The Bees - Weasel Style - Part II

It's Fatherhood Friday, so get on over to Dad-Blogs for links to some pretty great posts on all things Fatherhood.


*Today is the last day to enter the LeapFrog Tag Pen Bundle Giveaway*

Today's post is a continuation of the 'The Talk' on the birds and the bees that the Weasels gave to me! Part I, Smallest Weasels version, is here.

Monkey Weasel (9 years)

Monkey Weasel thought I would understand much better is she used visual aids in the form of her stuffed animals, Pooh Bear and a Heffalump, to act out everything she was trying to explain to me. I sure do wish I had video of this.

One day Mrs. Bird (an already married heffalump?) was going out. Mrs. Bird was flying and so was Mr. Bee. By accident they crashed into each other. They both said "sorry" and both said "it's okay". After that thump, they liked each other and then decided to get married. After 1 month they had a baby boy (who was the spitting image of his father -in the form of a 2nd stuffed Pooh Bear).
My two cents ~ That must have been one heck of a thump! Actually, I am not surprised about the baby coming 1 month after their marriage because I know what kind party guy that Pooh Bear really is.

Middle Weasel (12 years)

Middle Weasel used fruit metaphors, complete with grapes, bananas, grapefruits and peaches to explain the facts of life to me. I won't go into more detail on this one ~I do try to keep this blog PG rated ~ but they all did live happily ever after.

Boy Weasel (13 years)

Boy Weasel also decided to go with visual aids. Individual hand drawn stick figures to be exact, and boy do I wish I had a scanner!

BW ~ (barely able to keep a straight face) God made man, then God made woman. God told them to be fruitful and multiply and so they did. About 7 months into pregnancy.......
Me ~ How'd we get there? What about.....
BW ~ I'm skipping to the good stuff! On this wonderful journey called pregnancy....., This is going to make an awful blog ~chuckle~ OH! YOU ARE BLOGGING THIS!!!! I should have thought this through better. Okay, the mom was in excruciating pain. She started to yell things I'm not allowed to write down (complete with drawing of long haired stick figure and thought bubble $#%*@). Now onto lesson two, enter Praying Mantis'.
(complete with more drawings) They were fruitful and multiplied a lot! ~ Skipping to the good stuff again. After she um, lays her eggs, she bites his head off and lays them inside his body.
Me ~ How did.....
BW ~ All questions must be in the form of an answer. Now onto part three, on the computer! And here it is:

The Birds And The Bees - Weasel Style

Last night at the dinner table the Weasels were giggling and snickering about the birds and the bees. It was just I and the 4 younger Weasels as Mr. W and Eldest were not yet home for the day. Overhearing the innocuous conversation, I asked "what's so funny". "You know, snicker, snicker, the birds and the bees'. "What about them?" I asked. "Birds fly and bees sting." -----MOOOOMMMMM, you know........about the birds and the bees???????
I insisted that I didn't know and that they should give me 'the talk', which they all did one at a time after dinner. Thus begins our series The Birds and The Bees - Weasel Style

Part I
Smallest Weasel (age 5, Kindergarten)
SW - You know how the bee is the boy and the bird is the girl and they have bee babies and bird babies, but they are people and have people babies?
Me - Huh?
SW - They have this thing in their stomach that allows them to have babies and the babies come out of the bellybutton - but I'm just guessing.
Me - Do they have bird babies or bee babies?
SW - No the people do! They are all people! I can't believe you are writing this down. Can I give this to my teacher? She will be surprised.
Me - No, I am writing this down to make sure I don't forget anything. Yes, you're teacher would be very surprised, but these notes are for mommy.
SW - Or they give them surgery -all the moms- if they want to have kids.
Is this how 'the talk' works?
Me - What talk?
SW - The Talk. You're mom and dad never gave you the talk? You're not getting this are you? They (the other Weasels) told me once, but I forget it. The talk is about how they get married and stuff. Before they get married they have babies --No, no, no.--After they get married. Sometimes people make a rattle thing and it hurts for them to get the babies out.

Stay tuned to read what the other Weasels have to teach their mother.

Parting Gifts

My maternal grandmother was not a nice person. Granny was a unique personality, with a 'get off my lawn' temperament, even toward her own family. She treated people badly, and was never known to keep her harsh opinions to herself.

Granny would bad talk my father, no matter what a good husband, father or worker he was. He had just 'made her list' for daring to marry my mother. Even with her grandchildren there was no gentility. A 5 year old wearing anything resembling the color purple would be openly called a tramp. Granny didn't like purple in any shade.

No doubt the woman was a fruit cake not mentally stable and needless to say, I never enjoyed her company. Visits in 15 minute spurts were enough were enough to burn off years of time in purgatory long enough.

As a teen, growing up in the 'hood, I was smart enough not get busted very often a relatively good kid, compared to the frequent precinct visitor cards of many my age. but when I did get busted by my parents they went completely old school on my butt. Hence, I became smarter if not wiser for self preservation purposes and limited these ungodly beatings teachable moments to a minimum. Still, from time to time my plans went awry and my parents would bust me. These were moments of great fear.

One morning, during Sophomore year, I woke up for school and headed down the stairs to find both my parents sitting on the couch together. Immediately my hackles went up and my body temp must have dropped by 10 degrees. Dad was always gone for work well before anyone in the house was awake. Dad never used sick days unless he was direly sick. Dad was sitting on the couch with Mom.

My life literally passed before my eyes, when Dad flatly said "Come here, we need to talk to you." Not in a nostalgic way, but like a Rolodex of all the recent activities I've been involved in and I had to quickly figure out which one I was about to die for. What had they busted me for? What would be my story? Did I have catchy epitaph? If Dad missed work for this I was surely about to be sent back to the manufacturer.

I know I was sweating and am surprised that I wasn't sweating blood. My heart raced as I approached the couch and feared for what would happen next. "Granny passed away overnight" was all my father said as he held my mother. It was all I could do to contain my relief and glee. I have no idea of how I held back a beaming smile or the pure joy I had for life at that moment. My relief was palpable, yet if noticed had gone unmentioned.

This was the kindest act my grandmother had ever done for me and I loved her for it.

I hugged my mother and told her that I was sorry for her loss before gathering my things and heading off to school with a bounce in my step and a new lease on life.

Years later, as an adult and with time having mellowed Mom, I told her this story and watched her laugh. She said "You can thank Granny when you see her see her heaven someday". I said, "if that's where she is".

I wonder is Vegas can offer odds?