Murder, Incorporated

I'm sort of a snob about my driving. Not that I'm super-talented or anything; I hit plenty of curbs when I'm parking. It's only that I'm careful in and around our town. Now that I spend nearly every day at the elementary school and with our children and their friends, I sort of feel as though I know every family in town.

And I don't want to kill anybody's child. So I'm careful. And I'm a little arrogant about how careful I am. "Check me out," I tell myself as I'm rolling along at 30 mph. "I mean, did you see that full stop back there?"

And then it happened. Yesterday, as I was crawling along one of our little suburban roads (with a line of beeping, road-raging maniacs on my tail), I squashed a squirrel.

There was just no avoiding the damn rodent. He practically threw himself under the mini-van. In fact ... now that I think back on it a little bit, I'm sure that I saw a look of hopelessness on his little varmint face. Despondency, even.

So what do you think ... squirrel suicide?

I Want ...

.. to have Keith Olbermann's love child. Because smart is sexy. Because every used-to-be-geek in America eventually grows up, and some of us quietly cheer as this take-no-prisoners Journalist takes the Powers that Be to task for their sins (whether of Omission or Commission) every night on his show.
And because, for the love of God, it's about time somebody stood up. I'm inspired; I'm grateful; and I just want to cry. But I think I'll become an activist instead, because my I want my kids so see me Stand Up for them, my beliefs and my country.
Bravo, Keith. And get yourself a flack jacket, for Chrissakes. We can't afford to lose you to one of you-know-who's crazy minions.

Activism 101

We have a little groundwater problem in our town. Simply put, we have too much, and it has nowhere to go. So my PTA (that's the Parent-Teacher Association) and I arranged a little Advocacy Nite at school, and we wrote all of the local politicians to ask for help.
Then, I hand-delivered the dozens of letters all over the County.
Last in line was the County Executive, whose office is in a well-secured County Office Building. I approached the guard booth, handed over my driver's license, and announced that I was a representative of our elementary school PTA, and that I wished to drop off some letters to the County Executive.
The two guys in the guard booth hardly blinked. The one with my license in his hand was madly scribbling some information onto a piece of paper. Then, without looking up, he addressed me: "Are they expecting you?"
I dipped my head forward, and stuck my nose through the hole in the Plexiglass that separated us. Then, I spoke:
"Honey," I told him, "no one expects the PTA."
He peered up at me, and burst out laughing. He scribbled a small hot-pink Visitor pass, and handed it through the hole.
"You go right on up."
That's right, people: don't mess with Mom!

First Day of School!

Because there's no better way to celebrate Fall than to miss the bus ...
All's well, now, and my little sweeties are settled in elementary school!

Not So Hot in the Baby-Sitting Department, Either!

My sweet friend is on bedrest during this (her fourth) pregnancy, and so I thought I'd take her three sons home to our place for a while to play. Two of them are shown here (flanking my Maddie and Thom at Center), having gotten into Maddie's dress-up stuff.

Apparently, I should spend less time in the kitchen, and more time monitoring the little ones in my charge!

Mother of the Year

Let's face it: I should have been standing right next to my little son as he tripped over and fell against the wall, lacerating his little skull. And I should have warned him against jumping around with that stupid Power Rangers helmet on (he obviously can't see worth a damn with the thing on, and it has since been put in the trash).

But I wasn't, and I didn't. I was in another room at the time of the accident, and all I could do afterwards was hold him down in the ER while they stapled his head back together (I took this photo while we waited to be seen; I'm going to post it someplace so I'll always remember the cost of a lack of vigilance).

I was as cheery as possible throughout the whole ordeal - so as not to overly frighten the little fellow - and I rewarded him with a warm bath and as many cuddles as he could stand.

Every time this sort of thing happens I feel a little like the tenth runner-up in the Mother of the Year contest. Sigh!

The Bitch is Baaack!

My mom took the family on what I've been calling a "Cruise to Nowhere." My Canadian husband hastily adds: "Canada is not nowhere!!" But since he elected not to get off of the ship and visit The Fatherland, it's acceptable to ignore him.

I've got to get back into a rhythm ... for now it'll be fun just to check in with my old friends! You all look fab-u-lous, by the way!