The Whys

As I was sitting down to write my little blog, all about a subject of earth-shattering importance (and sure to be the best one yet), I made a mistake.

A rookie mistake, we call it in the Mothering business.

I checked on my daughter.

Everyone knows that if you’re trying to accomplish something, you don’t check on a child that is quietly playing in their room. Whatever horrible thing they are most certainly doing is in all likelihood not life-threatening but will definitely derail whatever track you are on to accomplishing your task.

Yes, a rookie mistake.

I noticed the eerie silence as soon as I sat down to type, and against my better judgement got up to investigate. My four year old was, oddly enough, sitting still and watching a movie, but my nine year old… Well, my nine year old was up to something.

The second I poked my head in her door, I noticed something was amiss. She instantly hunched over as close to the ground as she could get.

Now, I’m not saying that I’m a freaking bloodhound when it comes to finding out what my kids are up to, but… Well, actually I am. I will catch the scent of some mischief from a mile away and follow the trail all the way back to where one of my children has inexplicably emptied an entire new bottle of shampoo into the tub. That’s how good I am. I’m like the Columbo of trouble except I work faster and both my eyes look the same direction.

“Sit up a second, Sunny.” “Why?” “Um, Sunny, you need to sit up right now.” “I don’t want to.” “Sunny. Sit. Up. Now.”

I knew it. I KNEW IT!!! The second she sat up, I realized that she had hacked off half of her hair. Half of her beautiful, blonde, halfway down her back, thick, glorious hair.

The hair that we had been growing out for about three years, since the last time she decided to do some self-barbering.

I’m not ashamed to say it, I instantly burst into tears. Okay, actually I am sort of ashamed.

She looks insane. Literally. She looks like one of those crazy ladies with psycho hair that is sitting in front of the mirror putting lipstick all over their face and saying, “pretty, pretty!”

Like this lady.

Anybody who knows me knows that hair is a big deal to me. Not my own hair, I could give a crap about my own hair, but my kid’s hair. I braid it or fix it up cute every single day. I love playing with it and making it fancy and were it left up to me, both of them would have hair down to their waist.

I cried off and on about it for an hour. I’m sort of okay now. Sort of. Thank God I was able to get her in for an emergency haircut tonight… Though honestly, I’m not sure there’s any hope. Is bald the “in” thing this season? For her sake, I certainly hope so.

There is a pile of beautiful, shiny, golden hair sitting on my counter right now that I don’t want to throw away. Can they just re-attach it??? Okay, that’s ridiculous. I just can’t believe this, seriously. I’m going through the first stage of grief, I guess… Denial.

Of course, my first question after “the incident” was “WHY???” Just why??? I mean, seriously, why??? Why would you do that??? Why??? I just. I don’t. I just wanna know why.

There was no answer.

But there never really is, is there?

In my career as a Mom, spanning lo these 9 1/2 years, that is the one lesson I’ve learned.

All the random cutting of window screens, making potions out of my brand new Moroccan hair oil, writing on the wall… There is no answer to the universal “WHY???” There is no, “Mom, I wrote on the wall because I was seeking negative attention.” There is only, “I dunno.” Seriously??? You don’t know??? “I dunno.”

And that, my friends, is why I shall most likely remain perched on the brink of insanity for my daughter’s entire childhood.

We got her hair fixed this evening, but she looks a bit… How do I put this delicately? Well, she kinda looks like Joe Dirt. I don’t know what to do about it, her hair is so short I can’t even braid the front to make it cute… I guess I’m going to have to just breathe, let it go, and make a point of telling everyone I see or meet in the first sentence, “She did this to herself ya know!!!”

Yeah, that’s normal.

I hope you have a wonderful week my friends, and may the kitchen shears of this life never touch the golden hairs of your sanity!!!

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Ep. 14 Boners, Beavers, and Randy Travis

Please allow your humble podcast hosts to take you on an audio journey through an Olympic rower’s pants, surviving a rabid beaver attack, and what comes next when Randy Travis gets naked… We’ll also tell you when it’s appropriate to whip out your boobs and issue some kill on sight orders. You’re welcome!

http://archive.org/download/Episode14_964/14firnecastfinal.mp3

White Lightening (aka my STUPID dog)

My dog is not smart.

She escapes all the time.  Like ALL the time.  Aided, of course, by my two children and their careless disregard for my constant screams of “shut the door!!!” and their random decisions to open the window so she can jump out… Why kids, why???

She won’t come when I call her.  It’s like she thinks that I’m screaming “Sugar!!!” because I really like sweet stuff.  That dog will let me get just close enough to her that I think I really have her and then she zooms off as fast as her stupid legs will carry her. I wish I could describe how frustrating it is, but there are no words… Well, there are words, but my Mommy reads this blog and I don’t think she would appreciate me typing them all out for you.

I never imagined that I would be the type of woman that would want to harm an animal.  But now, I daydream about shocking the ever living hell out of my dog with a training collar when she runs away.  Yes, I said it!!! I want that dog to pay for making me chase her around the neighborhood like a crazy person all the time!!!  Oh, you can judge me now, but I promise you would feel EXACTLY the same if you had to deal with a runaway pitbull four times in one day… It will turn you into a monster, into someone you don’t recognize.

Yes, that dog actually got out four times the other day. FOUR TIMES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  During each episode, I got to chase her around the neighborhood for 20 minutes, almost caught her about 10 times, had her literally in my grasp only to have her slip away, and had my kids running around all over the place trying to “help” me while simultaneously driving her farther away.  And it was 98 degrees outside… The temperature, not the band, unfortunately.  Even though they suck, I would have much rather listened to their overly sincere mushy caterwauling than been chasing that STUPID dog all over the place.

Also, just to put a cherry on top of this sundae of embarrassment, you must understand how truly ridiculous I look when I “run.”  I am panting, sweating, and kind of jog-walking (the only thing remotely close to running that I can manage)… Just picture my chubby little legs chugging along, propelling my sweating little self slowly forward…I figure I look a bit like a human storm cloud because I am soooo grumpy.

When Sugar decided to jet out the front door for her fourth neighborhood adventure of the day, she decided to venture into the open gate of the directly across the way neighbor, just to mix it up a little bid.  Inside she found a little girl, who was over visiting her Gramma.  She was about ten or so she made quite a show of being frightened by the dog as it zipped by.  “Don’t worry,” I panted as I chugged by, “she’s just a puppy. She won’t hurt you.” The little girl just stared at me, standing there with her arms protecting her body, perched on one leg like a flamingo.

You would think I would have finally had Sugar trapped in that yard, but alas, she darted between my legs and went right back out of the gate to make lap two of her neighborhood victory tour.  This time, she just made a short trip up the street and right back into the same gate, once again “terrifying” the child within…  But this time, the girl’s brother came into the backyard to observe.  He stood there watching, barely able to contain his glee.

As I stomped out of the yard after my STUPID dog yet again, the mother of the frightened/amused children poked her head out of the door.  I apologized for my ill-mannered pet as I went by, explaining that she won’t listen and is just a puppy, and the woman, such an understanding soul, said testily, “Well, I’m just worried about my daughter. She’s afraid of  big animals.”

I silently rolled my eyes as my 35 lb “big animal” went streaking by me again, looking as happy as it is possible for any of God’s creatures to ever look. 

I ask you, if you were the mother of a child frightened of a vicious wild dog (aka “big animal”) roaming the neighborhood, wouldn’t you take her inside or at the very least CLOSE THE DAMN GATE???

The answer to this is no, no you wouldn’t.

By the time I made my way up and down the block after my STUPID little white pitbull, not only were the two children outside, but the mother, father, and their baby had appeared to watch the big show that some sweaty, red-faced lady was putting on for FREE in the neighborhood!

Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that someone would come out of their house just to watch me chase my STUPID dog. 

I still cannot, for the life of me, figure out why.  I mean, if you’re going to have some fun watching a neighbor in distress, at least have the common decency to do it from inside the house, safely behind your curtains.

I have two theories for this inexplicable behavior:

Theory One: They were hillpeople who had never seen a chubby frazzled stay at home mother chasing a dog before.

Theory Two:  They were city folk who had never before encountered a dog on the loose and were charmed by it.

Either way, they just stood there, slack jawed, on the lawn staring at me as if I was the sideshow at a circus.

The lady put her baby down on the ground as she watched me, mesmerized… Then when Sugar made her way by for approximately her 10th loop, she snatched her child up, scared to death, sure that Sugar was going to snap up the infant in her mighty jaws.

Listen lady, 

IF THE DOG IS SO DAMN SCARY THEN WHY DID YOU BRING YOUR BABY OUTSIDE WITHIN BITING RANGE AND SET IT DOWN ON THE GROUND???????????? JUST WHY???

There is only one possible answer for this: That lady didn’t like her baby very much.

You’ll be happy to know that I was able, eventually, to catch my STUPID dog, with the help of my super cool neighbors (thanks Javier and Heidi!).

Unfortunately for me, I can’t get the image of those dull, staring eyes out of my head. They will haunt me for a thousand eternities.  

You guys, am I being overly dramatic?  Okay, I am… But still, is that not the weirdest thing ever???

Well, that is my little story for this week… I do so hope you enjoyed!  I mean, at least I was able to spin that tale of humiliation into a yarn of pure comedy gold, right? Haha!

Have a wonderful week, and may the little white pitbulls of your life only have three legs so they are easier to catch.