"I tawt I taw a puddy tat! I did! I did taw a puddy tat! Bad old puddy tat!" --Tweety Pie

Unbeknownst to me, Sylvester Gypsy apparently brought me a gift this morning.

I was in the kitchen feeding breakfast to Blessings # 2, 4, & 5, while alternately calling upstairs for B#s 1&3 to “hurry your buns and come downstairs!” The radio was playing; dishes were clanking in the sink; monkeys were chattering.

I could hear B#3 calling to me, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying with all the kitchen noise. Assuming he was informing me that he was now awake and out of bed, I told him to get dressed and come eat before we had to leave for school.

Soon Beloved Husband, who on most mornings would have been long gone and working already, hollers to me, as well.

BH: Who left the door open?!
Monkey Moma: What door?
BH: The outside door!
MM: There aren’t any doors open.
BH: Why is there a bird in the house?!
MM: What bird? Where?
BH: In the window! That stinkin’ cat must’ve brought it in! (insert his audible grunt of frustration here) I’ve got to get to work!

Oh lovely. (insert my silent grunt of frustration here) Lifeless, bloody, ruffled-feather remains of a little tweety. Which window? Whose bedroom was this bird in? Why was a dead bird in a window?

Nope, not the case. Tweety was definitely in a window, but Tweety was also quite alive. Alive in a very HIGH window.

A ladder, two fishing nets, a tall husband, and several minutes later, the bird was captured and released back into nature. (This was also a good opportunity to rescue the frisbee and sparkly purple bracelet that were in the window adorning my twiggy orchids.)

And, lucky me, the gift just kept on giving.

Tweety’s poop was on the wall.

It seems that B#3 was trying to tell me that he saw a bird in the house.

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Well, Blessing #5 is still screaming bloody murder during bath time... it's been 16 months, and it hasn't gotten any less d.r.a.m.a.t.i.c. or any less loud. In fact, it has only escalated as he's gotten stronger physically and stronger vocally (read as: kicking of legs and shaking of arms accompanied by the constant shrill of highly intense noise of many decibels). It's an experience that requires earplugs for the baby bather and anyone inside the house.... and one which demands that all windows and doors be closed. (Otherwise the neighbors Bitter Grandma might call the police.) It's not the water that terrifies him, I don't think. It must be the tub. But considering he does the same thing in the kitchen sink, I guess it's just the fear of being clean!

Yesterday was hot and sunny, so I pulled out the six-dollar Slip 'n' Slide (a.k.a. the generic version from Wal-Mart) and set it up in the front yard while Monkey Daddy was painting the porch. B#5 showed immediate interest and scooted up close to check it out. It wasn't long before he was completely soaked. And he loved it. You'll even notice he was trying to drink from the fountains! He didn't cry until it was time to turn off the water and head inside.

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...seven of them, in fact.

(I’ve been tagged by the Ice Cream gal!)

1.) Our kitty, which gave birth to four adorable babies six weeks ago, went in to be spayed. After scheduling the appointment (I called Monday afternoon and took her in Tuesday morning), I was a bit worried I had made the call prematurely and was going to cause some type of psychological trauma to her or to the kittens. But fears were subsided as the kitties didn’t seem fazed at all... in fact, they seemed to be even more playful with Mama Cat gone. And the vet called to say that Gypsy had done wonderfully and could go home early.

Apparently the timing of my call to the vet was perfect, as I was informed this morning (upon picking her up to bring home) that Gypsy was, once again, in heat.

2.) Typin+g is difficult++ when you’ve got a* li-ttle munchkin pushing + +on the key+board and wiggling +*-the mouse.- -/ Said munchkin is crabby because he needs a nap. Said sleepy munchkin is even crabbier since he’s got two big molars pushing through his gums. Said toothy, sleepy munchkin is a mischievous little monkey. Blessing #5 isn’t a walker, but he is definitely a climber. I found him on the kitchen table. He was removing the crayons from the bucket and putting them into my flowers.

Said mischievous, toothy, sleepy munchkin now has tears streaming down his cheeks because this Moma said, “Nu-uh!” Not only did I push the mouse out of his reach, but I won’t let him push the power button on the computer. Mean ol’ Moma.

3.) If I trusted them with my washing machine, I’d put them in charge of their own laundry. I don’t, so I haven’t. But, rather, in a moment of temporary insanity positive child-rearing, while encouraging wardrobe upheaval teaching independent responsibility, I informed B#s 1&2 that I would not wash any more of their laundry until they had taken care of what had already been washed, folded, and put into their baskets for them. Obviously their little baskets are bottomless. Three weeks later, the baskets are still full, and I am suffocating under the exponential growth of dirty clothes. Having long ago exploded over the edges of the hamper, the laundry fiend has devoured the floor. No matter how many loads I wash, I can’t seem to tame the beast.

I have learned my lesson the hard way. I’m still learning it.

4.) I don’t like to eat food that was meant to be hot when it’s cold (i.e. pizza out of the refrigerator). Nor do I like to smell it. For example, when pulling leftover spaghetti out of the refrigerator, I breathe through my mouth so I won’t gag on the smell of cold sauce. Once it’s in the microwave getting nice and warm, I can switch to nose-breathing without feeling nauseous.

5.) Sometimes I put ice in my milk.

Just as I don’t like to eat hot foods cold, I don’t like to drink cold milk warm.

6.) Because, while waiting in the school parking lot, I let my tired and sick baby cry in his carseat rather than getting him out and rocking him to sleep, I was verbally attacked by a strange woman who claimed to have called the police on me for my negligence. She then threatened to call again for endangerment because I left the baby alone in the car.

I actually only stepped maybe ten feet away from the car to wave at B#s 1&2 so they would see where I was parked.

I was then informed that I was a fat and lazy, unfit, irresponsible, terrible mother. Oh, and the kicker-- that I was on meth. Only she said it in a whole lot more words than that. I asked her if she was crazy. She said that I was the one acting like a meth head. I rolled my eyes and told her she had problems. And that she did not know me, my child, or what was going on in my car. And that she was judgmental and self-righteous.

She drove away while she was still ranting and raving like a lunatic. And while I was throwing my arms in the air, “Oh puh-lease! Give me a buh-reak!”

I met with the school principal first thing the next morning to let him know that there was an unpleasant, aggressive, and hateful woman making things uncomfortable for me and my children. I figured I’d better talk to him before she did, since I have no doubt that she did! I needed to get my story in to him first, right?

I see Bitter Grandma every day. For the most part she avoids me. Every now and then I still catch her hostile looks, though. Maybe she hasn’t had someone stand up to her nastiness before. I don’t know. There’s no really no resentment on my part… I just think she’s bitter and nasty and unhappy (with me at least!). But on a personal level, I still don’t care for the woman.

I know, I know. She just needs the Lord. But I figure I might be a better witness to God’s love when I’m feeling a little more tenderhearted towards her.

7.) All my monkeys could use a nap right now. In fact, I could use a nap right now. But since I selfishly want them to go to bed early tonight, I will muster up the strength and patience to get through the rest of the evening. I must have the kitchen and the dishes and the general house pick-up all in order so that I can, in peace and without the distraction of five wily monkeys, learn the results of last night’s vote and say a sad good-bye to the third season of Lost.

For 100 more, dive into the Cereal Bowl.

Now, to spread the randomness, I tag Alli with her Adventures in Imperfection, Pinky in her land of colorful Polkadots, the Mama Bird in Little Flamingo’s Little World, and the Queen of the Princess Diaries' castle.

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Well, five kids later... and, even then, not until Blessing #5 is nearly 16-months old...

I have my very own mei tai.

I've never been able to bring myself to spend the money (plus s&h!) on one... So, last night I made one! After some internet research, a quick trip to Joann fabrics, $10.48 in material purchase (hooray for 40%-off sales!), and several hours of measuring, cutting, pinning, and sewing, I can now wear my little monkey on my back!

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Yesterday afternoon was nice and sunny, so the kids dressed in their swimsuits and went outside to play in the sprinklers while Monkey Daddy washed down the porch (prep work for painting).

They had a blast, Blessing #5 included… which was surprising considering the fact that he still, at 15 months, finds baths to be terrifying and torturous. But I suppose this really should not surprise this Monkey Moma, as B#4 was similar and Monkey’s Laws are certainly still in effect at this zoo.

I am still laughing over a joke shared with me by my MOPS mentor mom. Since my giggles are still going, I think this is a joke definitely worth sharing!

A pastor was visiting the homes of his parishioners. He came to the home of one particular man, but when he knocked at the door, no one answered. The pastor knew the man was home, yet even when he knocked again, the man still did not answer the door.

The pastor took his calling card and wrote "Revelation 3:20," which reads, “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me."

The following Sunday after the collection plates had been passed, the pastor noticed that his calling card had been returned to him. Below his reference to the verse in Revelation, "Genesis 3:10" had been added.

After services, the pastor went to his office, opened his Bible, and read the verse from Genesis: "He answered, 'I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked, so I hid.'"

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Of great excitement today are the tables and chairs that I am slowly dismantling and storing… they were up for last night’s Bunco bash. Mmmm-mmm, it was quite the shindig... Food, chocolate, mindless dice games, and lots of chatterin' mamas. And more chocolate. Did I mention there was chocolate? It was a fun and loud (possibly a side effect of the aforementioned chocolate?) night with the gals!

The kids have wanted to eat at Moma’s Bunco Tables. They’ve wanted to color at them. They’ve done little projects at them. So, since the wily monkeys have been easily entertained (and, thus, quieted) by the folding card tables, the folding card tables have maintained residence in the family room. Because I’m sure that the lure of sitting in folding chairs will soon disappear, the chairs themselves will soon disappear as well. As soon as Monkey Daddy gets home, I’m sure things will have made the grand move to the garage.

I walked through the room to discover one little Spider-ManMonkey reading (not at but) on the table. I discreetly snapped a picture then made my presence known and told him to move his buns!

This same little monkey, Blessing #3, has decorated the wall by his bed with newspaper cut-outs. He had a bit of help from B#2, but their cooperative effort was really quite impressive. Mind you, he’s only four, so I thought the large Spidey mask watching over his slumber was pretty cute… though, I’m not quite sure what to think about the Queen or the car salesman or the roof specialists or the hairdressers.

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apples & acrobatics & asparagus

With the end of the school year quickly approaching, the girls and I set out to make gifts for their teachers. Last year’s windchimes were successful, but I we decided to go with something faster and easier this time. So we’re they’re giving apples— with cinnamon stick stems and de-winged dragonfly worms and all.

Total cost for both: $2.04. That’s 44 cents for each of the terra cotta pots, 39 cents for each of the “lids,” and 38 cents for a bottle of red acrylic paint. All other materials were found in my craft supplies and scraps.

Then we filled the apple jars with a few little goodies… school supplies, appropriately!

The quick trip to Wal-Mart after lunch, for the aforementioned goodies, ultimately led to the afternoon’s great adventure. After our shopping trip, we went to the house for a potty stop before heading to school. Because I pulled the shopping bags from the back of the car, the kids got out of the car that way, too.

And because they got out the back, my good-intentioned, well-meaning, awfully-considerate kids closed the doors after exiting the car…. closed them onto a blanket. While scooting their little bottoms out the back, they also scooted the blanket that is stored back there. The corner of the blanket scooted out right over the latch catch.

So I am driving to school with the “Door Ajar” message flashing at me. We get to the parking lot and find a space among all the other mothers waiting for classes to release. All those mothers means lots of onlookers for a quite comedic appearance by yours truly. I awkwardly climb over the back seats, carseats and children included, to somersault myself into the cargo area. Said ajar doors can’t be opened from the inside and said blanket can’t be tugged loose.

I somersault myself back to the front and get out of the car. Going to the back of the car, I attempt to close the doors fully, so that I will be able to open them. I was standing in the parking lot, pulling out all the fancy moves.

The great big hip-check and bump of the Monkey Moma bottom into the doors. Alas, no success.

The great big double-handed shove (which did absolutely nothing other than make a nice deep "thunk-thunk" as the metal pushed in and popped back out again). Alas, no success.

The great big lean (with all my weight) into one door as I attempt to open (with all my strength) the other door. Alas, no success.

Doors won’t close. Doors won’t open. Offending blanket won’t budge. Utter frustration.

Frustration turns to exasperation when Monkey Daddy comes home and goes to the driveway to assess the situation.

(I suppose it’s at this point I should mention that my dear, beloved husband got the doors open in a matter of seconds. Then he strutted into the kitchen, flexed his muscles, and grinned. *snort*)

Also climbing around… our kitties. They tasted freedom after some playtime on the closet floor with Moma Cat and Monkey Moma. As soon as they were back in the box, there was the scratch-scratch-scratch of kitty toenails clawing the cardboard to escape to sweet liberty among the laundry and the shoes. After a couple rescues (such as finding one of the kitties belly-flopped over the edge of the box), I went upstairs this evening to discover Matilda missing. She wasn’t making any noise (but it was because of all the racket the others were making, that I noticed she was gone), so I wasn’t sure where she was. I eventually found her on top of a big duffle bag in the corner of the closet. Near the kitty box, but even so, I’m not sure how she got up there! I got her down, put her in the box, turned around for 30 seconds, turned back and she had already climbed out again…

Asparagus! Asparagus! Asparagus!

It’s in season. I love it. BH loves it. The older kids love it. But since it can be pricey, I can be a bit stingy about sharing it. But that is when I buy it. When you’ve got a sink full of it, and it was free, you don’t mind gorging out on it. And you don’t hesitate to share the veggie wealth with friends. We have the inside scoop on where asparagus grows wildly right across the highway from us. Lots and lots of it. Fresh-picked wild asparagus. Mmm!

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