Ham Overboard

"Ham overboard". That's what my oldest son, Alex, yelled when half of a freshly cooked ham rolled off of the cutting board, off of the table and onto the floor. I could have yelled. I could have screamed. I could even have justified crying at that particular moment. Instead I took a deep breath and let out a hearty belly laugh.

I Swear My Dog Just Gave Me The Finger

For years I have loved dogs more than cats. The main reason is because dogs, for the most part, just have a better attitude. They get up in the morning, stretch and happily start their day with a tail wag and a friendly how do you do. Cats are much more fickle. They can take you or leave you. There's a body language with cats that just says "You need me a lot more than I need you". That was my theory anyhow until this morning.

As parents of two small children (4 & 7), we have tried to instill in our children a sense of responsibility. We have created little jobs here and there and the kids are rewarded for a job well done. One chore the kids have is to take turns feeding our dog, Spencer. This has been working out really well lately. Max feeds him in the morning and Alex feeds him at night. Over the past few days I've noticed that the portion size has been getting smaller and smaller. Eventually I realized that the bag of dog food was almost empty. But hey, this has been a crazy week and I've been trying to stretch and make the food last just a little longer each day.

Well today is Friday and Max doesn't have school on Friday. I didn't want to wake the poor little guy on his day off for a simple chore and decided to feed the dog myself. No problem, until I got downstairs and remembered that I forgot to pick up dog food last night. So I reached in to the bag and scraped out every last morsel I could find which just happened to be about 25 small pieces. Clearly this was not enough food for the Spencer's breakfast so I grabbed the box of Meaty Bones and placed about 4 or 5 on top of his usual Kibble. Problem solved, Spencer will have breakfast and I don't have to buy food until this afternoon.

So anyway, I hear the thud of paws on the back door. My cue that Spencer has strapped on the old feed bag and is ready to go. I open the door, he comes racing through the kitchen and stops dead in his tracks when he gets to the bowl. He looks at me then back at his dish. He then proceeds to pick each Meaty Bone out of the bowl, spit it out on the floor and glare at me as if to say " are you f**king kidding me. You call this breakfast"! After all the bones were spat on the floor he devoured the kibble. Begrudgingly he started to eat the bones on the floor all the while staring me down.

After he finished his meal, he perched himself on his favorite spot, a crappy old rubbermaid tub in the kitchen. I didn't get the usual body bump that says "hey thanks a lot. That was great". In fact I could swear that he made a gesture with one of his front paws that resembled an F you lady. So I'm trying to decide if my theory on animal behavior is completely off or if Spencer just really enjoys his Kibble. No worries Spencer. Your belly will be full of kibble tonight.

Patience Is A Virtue

They say that patience is a virtue. This is something that I hope to pass on to my kids. One of those do as I say not as I do precepts. For I am perhaps one of the most impatient people on the planet.

I am the kid who searches and searches for the Christmas gifts hidden in the attic or under the bed. The person who can't wait to find out how the story ends so you skim through the last pages of the book. I don't like surprises or television teasers. Awaiting a response to an invitation is like pulling teeth.

So I sit here tonight feeling a little like Cinderella waiting for my Fairy Godmother to come change my pumpkin into a carriage. I sit here waiting for someone else to make a decision which will affect me for the rest of the year. I am helpless. I cannot change the outcome or influence the decision and that make me very impatient.

What Goes Up Must Come Down

Afternoon pick up yesterday at Alex's school was interesting to say the least. Alex, my rule follower, decided that was the day that he would test his boundaries at school. Let's just say that little test didn't end so well and he got into trouble. Nothing horrific but just enough to make him flip a card. The second card he's had to flip in the past two weeks. The card he promised me he wouldn't get again.

So there we were driving in the car and I'm laying into Alex for his behavior at school when the screaming started. It wasn't a whimper or a little screech just to get your attention. It was a blood curdling scream and it was coming from the seat directly behind me. From that point on the conversation went something like this:

Me- "What is going on back there, what's with all the screaming?"

Max- "It hurts, it really hurts!"

Me- "What hurts?"

Max- "My nose."

Me- "Your nose hurts, why does your nose hurt?"

Max- "It really, really hurts!"

That's when the light went off in my head. That's when I remembered Max sitting on the ground at Alex's school gently rolling a little bead between his fingers. What appeared to be a seemingly harmless bead at the time was now causing my heart to skip a beat or two. After a few moments of instant replay the conversation began again.

Me-"Max, did you put something up your nose?"

Max- "Yes!"

Me- "Max, did you shove that little bead up your nose?"

Max- "Yes."

I tell him whatever you do, don't touch your nose. I'm thinking to myself I have got to find a place to pull over quick before he shoves this thing up any farther. Just as I'm about to pull over I hear a sigh of relief and Max's sweet little voice say "Ah, it's o.k. now mommy. I sniffed it out". Thankfully we avoided another trip to the emergency room and Max has had his bead priviledges rescinded indefinitely.

Angel-Five Letter Word For Headache.

Migraine sufferers of the world unite. How many times have you gone into a store for a nice relaxing afternoon of shopping and are instead sidelined with a migraine because some dimwit decided to take a bath in their cologne. It's not a hard concept folks, as the saying goes "a little dab will do ya". The goal is to smell nice not to use the whole bottle in a day.

So anyway, there I was minding my own business when out of nowhere a little old lady who had pickled herself in Angel perfume appeared. My senses immediately went on high alert and I could swear I heard that little voice in my brain say "run". This is the perfume that I can smell from a mile away. This is the perfume that usually brings on an instant migraine. This is the same freaking perfume that everyone on the east side of Cleveland seems to wear. They must buy it in bulk.

Thankfully I listened to that little voice and I got out quick. I escaped today relatively unscathed with merely a tingle or two in my frontal lobe. A day that could have ended with me locked in a dark room turned out to be relatively productive. A great big "thank you" to the voice in my head and a great big raspberry to the lady who bathed in Angel.