Monday, May 2, 2011

bad parenting, the massacre, and us

More evidence of our parenting…
So – Jackson’s head is healing nicely and this is a good thing.  I’m wildly anal about making sure there is sunscreen on his scar at all times.  There are sticks of sunscreen in my purse, his backpack, his baseball bag, and both our cars in addition to the plentiful supply I have in the house.  On Saturday before Jackson had a football game followed by a golf outing with our friend Jamie and Brad and Teddy I put sunscreen on the scar and then headed out to take Teddy to his baseball game.  We met up for lunch between the games and golf and I reminded him and Brad to put more sunscreen on before they went golfing – okay all taken care of, right?  Yeah well.  His scar was white as a ghost at the end of the day but the rest of his face, a vee in his chest and his legs were, however, burnt to a crisp.  Oops.  Poor boy.

The mutant ninja massacre
Wow am I lucky or what?  All three boys went golfing on Saturday and I got to have the house to myself for several house.  It was bliss.  Okay, well… it was going to be bliss.  Seriously.  I even had a small mountain of laundry to do, and I was completely excited about cranking up the tunes and cranking it out while I had The.  House.  To.  Myself!!  Best laid plans and all…

So, there I am, first load in, tunes blaring away, I’m singing at the top of my lungs.  All is right with the world.  I’m wandering around cleaning this, putting that away, thinking of napping, thinking of reading.  You know how it is.  I decide I need some water; I’m suddenly not drinking enough water especially on the weekends.  I practically skip down the stairs and into the kitchen when something out of place catches my eye in the family room.  Our house is really open so you can basically see into all rooms at all times and there’s something scattered on the family room floor.

This isn’t the big surprise it should be.  Have you met my children?  Okay, well maybe not, but let me tell you they are messy little things.  And then there’s the dog – who I’m sure I’ve mentioned I don’t love.  If Bandit gets pissed he gets destructive.  It’s usually some poor hapless stuffed animal and we find tufts of stuffing flung around the house in little piles.  Based on what I’m seeing out of the corner of my eye, I’m thinking I’m going to have Bandit to thank for what I’m about to clean up.  Eh.. I’m alone, life it good.  Bandit can not ruin my mood.

Okay, I was wrong about that.  Big sigh, let’s go pick up whatever needs picking up and move on, shall we… Okay, not so fast.  My behated dog (that’s a new word and it’s maybe my new favorite) has systematically dismembered a turtle - and unfortunately not one of the stuffed persuasion - on the floor of my family room.  There were blood and guts and shell pieces all over the floor.  Every where I looked my horror increased.  It was the single most vile thing I’ve ever seen in my life – but a fair margin.

I am not a typical girl in most situations.  Generally I just roll up my sleeves and do what needs doing.  I’m here to tell you, I met my limit.  I was a total girl.  I started flapping my arms and saying; Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God.  I finally got enough of a hold of myself to get the dog locked outside and to keep from totally losing my cookies.  Then I did what any self respecting girl would do… I went upstairs and hid.  I called Brad and was not surprised to get his voice mail as they were golfing.  I waited a while and called him back and left a very simple, if extremely flat voiced message.  “I need you to call my at your earliest convenience.” 

Of course Brad didn’t get the message until he had pulled into the driveway, but upon hearing how I sounded he called immediately and sent the boys to play instead of letting them come inside.  I told him I’d be right down and once there apologized for being a complete girl (which is new) and explained how I needed him to be the man (which he has no problem with).  He did his best to calm the strange zombie like creature in front of him before he went inside.

He later described it as similar to cleaning a crime scene which I’m hopeful he only knows from watching TV and not from first hand experience, though we’re never ever going to speak of it again so I will never know.

Anyone want a used Jack Russell Terrier?  He’s really cute, I swear he is.

And finally... a family picture
Taken on Easter and not so good of me cuz I’m all leaned back on the slouchy couch – but aren’t my boys cutie-pies???

10 comments:

Stephanie M. said...

Oh god oh god oh god. I would have TOTALLY lost it! I don't even like seeing the poor little dead lizards who find their way into the house and can't get back out before they dehydrate. *shudder*

Ah well...your family is adorable.

FitBy40 said...

I really think I'm going to puke here! OH MY GOD! How did you explain the case of the missing turtle to the boys?
So glad you posted that cute family pic so I can focus on something other than turtle guts!

Theresa aka Tessie Rose said...

Jack Russell Terrorist! And, cut pic!

Sandy Lee said...

Ewwww! Totally worth being a girl when we can do that. I hate when I step on a worm when it rains.

OK why does one son have a broken wrist and the other a big cut on the head. Are you beating them? I know you aren't!!!

Susan said...

Love the family picture!!! And your posts. So funny!!!

Dizzy Girl said...

CUTEST FAMILY EVER! You have a great looking fam Read- seriously. :)

Clumsy said...

Love the pic! You always seem to make me smile.

Drazil said...

Damn - they are cutie pies! I cannot even comment on the turtle guts - it sounds as bad as poo and puke. Ack.

Bonnie said...

I have 2 turtles that I'd like to donate to your terrier. Sigh. I know that's terrible to say. My eldest is allergic to dogs so my youngest talked us into getting her turtles for pets. The tank gets nasty and she can't clean it so Dave and I are stuck with it and I HATE it. But, most importantly, yes your boys are adorable.

tagyourit said...

holy cow! That would send me running!!!!!! I love the pic