100 Days, A Day Early

So, a lot of really bad/sad/depressing/jumpoffacliff things have happened around here lately and writing has honestly been the verylastthing I could imagine doing. Sadly, my photography has become second to last. Sigh.

However, just to let you all know that I'm not only still alive, but still screwing up my children, I give you my morning:

Bonus has been running a fever since Monday. I finally took him to the doctor yesterday and he has RSV, bronchitis and possibly walking pneumonia. Add to it that I pulled a muscle in my neck and spent two days unable to use my left arm and you have A.DAMN.GOOD.TIME. So this morning when Deuce came in my bedroom to ask if it was today or tomorrow that he was supposed to dress up for the 100th day of school, I went with my gut.

"It's probably today, buddy," I grumbled from under the sheets.

Since I am such an organized person, I didn't have a clue pulled out my day planner and helped him dress as a 100-year-old man. He wore his brother's plaid pj pants, pulled up to his nipples, a striped shirt, plaid tie, tucked into his pants of course, argyle socks and black dress shoes. I even coated his face in waterproof mascara for a beard. (That whole 'waterproof' part becomes important later. It's called foreshadowing people.)

We spent the entire morning learning phrases like, "Back in my day" and "You little whippersnapper." He swaggered to the bus stop with a 'hitch in his giddyup' and bragged to one of my neighbors about his plaid tie. It was a beautiful thing. I even posted that adorable picture on facebook.

Then my phone rang. It was Sheshe.

"Dude, my daughter said their 100th day is tomorrow," she said with uncertainty in her voice. "Are you SURE it's today?!"

"Of course I'm sure. The sheet that I threw out as soon as it came in the house saved on my cork board said the 24th," I explained in all confidence.

Then I called the school... "Mrs. Davis, we will just have him come to the office when he gets off the bus."

I threw the sick kid in the car and rushed to the school with clothes and makeup remover. When I got there, the poor kid was in the office, peering through the window in his little old man suit and his permanent beard. Let me tell you, waterproof mascara REALLY WORKS PEOPLE. I scrubbed his face for ten minutes straight and he STILL had black specks!

Once I had him dressed appropriately, he smirked and said, "Listen, if you keep this up, you'll never get rid of me. No one wants a damaged kid."

True dat, you little whippersnapper...

True Art

Today, Bonus' third grade class went on a field trip to the state art museum. Sheshe had warned me that this was the 'enlightening' excursion for the kids as they had a bunch of naked statues. Fully prepared for the discussion of his trip, I began quizzing him right off the bus.

"So, how was your field trip, Bonus?!"

"Meh. It kinda sucked. There were just a bunch of weird paintings," he explained, emotionless. Naturally, I pressed. Because I am 12.

"Yeah? What else did they have there? Were there any Picasso's? Monet's?"

"Ummmm. I dunno. There were a bunch of weird statues of naked people. So that sucked."

Feeling accomplished that we had moved past the 'experience' and he wasn't scarred, we moved on to homework and dinner. After dinner, he began singing a song that one of the kids in his class taught him. Apparently, "Little Johnny" has been listening to his parent's Beastie Boys music and has memorized the.entire.Paul.Revere.song. Fortunatly, my little sponges have soaked it up, verse by verse and even had the rests in the appropriate places. Honestly, I don't mind the Beastie Boys. We jam their music most of the time in the Tahoe. Well, as long as respectible adults aren't riding along... But the lyrics to this song and the inflection they were using over certain words had me a little worried.

When Bonus realized we knew the song and "Little Johnny" hadn't made it up after all, he began begging us to play it for him. Naturally, we said no, because we can't find the CD because we are good, upstanding parents who don't let their kids listen to that sort of foul language. Ahem.

Annoyed that we had chosen now to act like parents, Bonus went to bed pouting. When confronted on his attitude, he snarked back, "Listen, I spent the day staring at cavemen with GIGANTIC boulders for BALLS. You think THAT SONG is going to mess me up?!"

I had to leave the room.

A Brief Pause

Did I tell you I shot over 2,200 pictures while on vacation to Wyoming? Well, I did. This is exactly why I am spending hours on pinterest trying to figure out how to refinish a dresser for the boys room feverishly processing photos for your reading enjoyment...

Honestly, pinterest is truly the biggest time sink I have ever experienced. I didn't think it could be worse than facebook, but if you are someone who strives to be crafty, pinterest is your kryptonite. justsoyouknow.

Yesterday, while looking at pictures of puppies on pinterest while processing photos, I called my friend, Jae, for a SAVE ME FROM PINTEREST moment. "Jae. I need your help. I am stuck on pinterest trying to figure out how to refinish an old dresser for the boys room. I haven't eaten, showered or fed the dogs. I did, however, get the kids on the bus so I am calling that a win."

"I can't help you right now. I am busy taking a quiz on how much I know about Mexico. Good news, I ranked as a citizen."

THIS is why we stay at home, people. For your entertainment. And to keep the craft stores in business.

Photos coming soon!

But probably just the before and after of the dresser. Sigh.

So, here's a buffalo as a teaser:

Yellowstone Vacation Part One: Chevy Chase has nothing on the Davis Family

When Dorkfish and I got married onehundredyearsago in 2001, we loaded up our truck with all our camping gear and headed out West. For two weeks, we traveled from Knoxville, Tennessee to Oregon for a friend's wedding. We backpacked into to remote areas, camped beside beautiful lakes, bathed alongside fly fisherman in the middle of rivers and I even got my first bout of food poisoning at Dorkfish's favorite pizza joint. Out of those two weeks, I think we spent five nights sleeping in hotels. It was quite the adventure, to say the least.

So when he mentioned to me that he wanted to take the boys out West, I was completely supportive. Aslongastherewerebeds. He decided the only way to get our gear out to Wyoming was to drive it. Seeing as how this isnt my first rodeo with kids, I refused. Putting those two crackers in a car for three days would most certainly ruin the trip for everyone involved. Since Dorkfish hangs on my every word and is always in agreement with everything I say, he found the cheapest flights into Denver and agreed to the at-least-four-nights-in-a-hotel rule I had inacted.

Giddy with mountain air and not having anyone to talk to for 35 hours, Dorkfish picked us up in Denver on Saturday. I don't think he stopped talking for the next two hours. In fact, he was still recounting the flatness that is Kansas when we arrived at our first campsite for the trip. Apparently, the 'old haunts' as he remembered them had gained popularity. Driving around in circles, close to sunset, with two tired children and a hangry wife is NOT how one wants to start a vacation, justsoyouknow... Finally, losing all patience with the search, I grabbed my iSimple and Siri found us a lovely campsite in Laramie, Wyoming. The staff at the Hilton was completely understanding when we laid our picnic out in their lobby. I will have to say, the boys were completely disappointed that the color on the TV was so poor. Deuce even announced, "Camping sucks!" and we hadn't even been on vacation for 24 hours. (I may have laughed a little too loudly at that statement, judging by Dorkfish's newly-developed twitch.)

The next morning, we did the nostalgic drive around his alma mater where Deuce noticed that his dad's tattoo was EVERYWHERE! Bonus then decided that he would love to attend the University of Wyoming as long as he didn't have to get a tattoo. I wisely chose to leave that one alone... I think everyone who reads this blog understands that we reallocated their college funds for therapy years ago.

Our first night of vacation behind us, we piled in the car and headed West toward Yellowstone. The six-hour trek to our first real campsite seemed to take forever. The boys, restless to see a bear already, were throwing out the "Is this our camping spot?!?!" at every gas stop. The only wildlife we had seen so far were some antelope; none of which were playing, and I was getting just as antsy as the kids. Suddenly, we spotted a moose trotting through a creek! Dorkfish chased him with the Tahoe so I could get a truck-window picture, all tourist-style. That's how you roll out West...

Finally arriving at our camp ground, at 9,000 feet, Dorkfish set up the tent while the boys tore everything apart and I tested the bear spray. Wearesohelpful. The wind, which had been blowing nonstop all day, seemed to have picked up as soon as we set up camp in the woods. Listening to the trees creak and watching our tent blow over had me a little less worried about getting eaten by a bear, I will admit, but when the huge tree fell 20 yards from our tent, I grabbed my phone for the nearest Camp Hilton. Dorkfish, refusing to be deterred from his rustic adventure, carried the tent to a less wooded site and insisted wearecampingdammit. We spent the entire night listening for fallen trees and bears, but we managed to survive and the boys loved it. I will admit, the lack of coffee the next morning did have me a little on edge. Fortunately, Bonus stopped me from grabbing the bear spray when some hapless camper walked by with a steamy cup in his hand. He probably saved that guy's life...

Next up: Yellowstone and the Old Fathful pipe discovery!

Deuce's Mother's Day Gift Guide

Deuce and I are out front watering plants this morning when I informed him that tomorrow is Mother's Day.

Looking up at me with a concerned look he says, "Oh, really?! Dang, we need to get you something then."

Patting him on the head I say, "Yes, sweetie. You better get something good too," and keep watering the plants.



Obviously putting some hard thinking into this, he says, "But not a boob cup."







Puzzled, I look down and him, shut the hose off and say, "Dude. What in the world is a boob cup?!"

Straight-faced and dead serious, Deuce looks up at me and says, "When we were in Florida, Bonus and I found a coffee cup with boobs on it. He said it was a joke but I don't think you would like a boob cup."

Boob cups. The gift that keeps on giving, apparently.

But, no, they are not funny.

Role Play

Lately, Dorkfish has been working more than he has in the twelve years I have known him. While I will admit that it has been tough on everyone involved, as adults, we all realize when situations are beyond our control and we find ways to make this new situation a part of our lives. We adapt. Lately, I am finding that children are resilient as well and seem to find ways of creating their own normalcy in situations.

The boys have taken on a whole new role in my life. They cuddle me more than they ever did in the past. They insist on taking me out when I don't feel like cooking.

We walked to Waffle House for breakfast. Surprisingly, we survived the walk home as well...

 Lately, they have even taken on the role of entertainers...

A good coffee table MUST be able to be danced upon.

My tiny dancer here was blasting "I'm Sexy and I Know It" on the iSimple. (Which if you haven't seen the video, you must. I think I just peed a little.) After shooting this picture, I hopped up on the table and started dancing with him. About ten seconds into it, Deuce turns to me and says, "Mom, this isn't the 'I like big butts' song, so you can cut that out."

So apparently they are taking on the role of critics quite nicely...

Apparently, I don't need alcohol to drunk text.

I have always been one of those people who makes spur-of-the-moment decisions. (I am sure this has nothing to do with my ADD tendencies...) So last week, I walked into the hairdresser for a 'trim' and left with a bob cut. It took me twenty minutes to convince her that I really, really, really DID  want all my hair cut off. But once she did it, we both loved it.

Proud of my new cut and pink highlights, I sent this text to mycowherdingcousinRachael. Unbeknownst to me, I still had her old number in my phone...

No, that is NOT mycowherdingcousinRachael; but a complete stranger. A stranger with a good sense of humor. Oh, and don't ask about the squinty eye; apparently, I suck at self-portraits. But how funny is Fedora Dude?! Did anyone but me notice the picture in the back ground looks JUSTLIKEHIM?!

After a response like that one, I had to write him back:

I believe this just goes to show that I shouldn't be allowed to text anyone. Ever.