Loyalty That Could Not Be Bought..(subtitle)...The Bird That Could Take Me Or Leave Me

  Let me introduce you to "Birdman".   One would think that a name of such caliber should invoke thoughts of superheros or at the very least a half man half bird you find in a mythology book.  Not so much,  this name belongs to our beloved Cockatoo.  He was obtained in a rescue of sorts 19 yrs. ago.  The previous owner said,   " $50 for the cage and the bird and he's yours."  What was the deal?  Why so cheap you wonder?  The deal was,  he was a notorious, nervous feather picker, not very attractive by pet store standards.  We shoved the large cage and nervous bird into our tiny Toyota, off we went on the hour trip home.  We were looking forward to having this great pet,  we could train him...this was gonna be supercool.   Reality sets in.....we lived on the second floor of our apartment building and upon entering  the front door on the main floor, we heard loud amazonian like screeching.   We raced up the stairs in a panic to attempt to quiet the beast.  oh my gosh, what was up with this bird?!  Upon further research, we discovered that in the wild, they all let out primal screeches at dinnertime.......silly me, of course....what was I thinking?   Oh yes...and usually in captivity they like to bond with one person.   You would think it would be me right?  After all,  I'm home with him, I feed him and once in awhile I'll even give him a toy or even some newspaper to shred all over the floor.  Not a chance,  it's Big Daddy he loves.  I mean, I don't really blame him, I love Big Daddy myself.  There have been times when this lovely animal has even taken a lunge at me or the kids will yell,  "ma! look out!" as he descends on high to peck at my head. Did I mention we keep his door off so he can come in and out of his cage at will?  All the snuggling and lovey bird noises are saved for his true love, Big Daddy.  I get attitude or just plain tolerance.  Anyway, he remains...our longest lasting pet and faithful friend to the man he loves.  He never did quit picking his feathers, oh well,  I guess what they say is right, beauty is in the eye of the beholder ( just be careful not to get your eye pecked out!) ok...that last part was added...I think you get the picture.

Sunnin', Swingin' and Dog Poop Flingin'.....

    With "Real Feel" temperatures rising, my little one has been after me for days to put out the kiddie pool.  By nature, I tend to procrastinate, doesn't the old saying go " Why put off today what you can do tomorrow?"........Ok, I know its the other way around,  but sometimes I wish it was worded that way.  Big daddy in his usual wonderful way drags out the old blow up pool and finds a piece that will fit the blower machine and gets to work.  Sweat beads down his forehead in the hot garage as he takes care of this inflatable.  Ok, hard part finished.......not so fast, this thing still has to be scrubbed out and dragged out to the back yard.  At 7 a.m. one of the first things I'm greeted with is "I want my pool , is it filled?"   I set a time of 9 a.m. to do the dirty work.  I drag the plastic beast to the back of the house and figure out that doggie clean up needs to happen so we don't have kids mushing down "surprises" in between their toes.  I get to work...now, if you remember back to my winter dog clean up story, there was some poo flinging toward the garden in a heavy wind.   Thankfully, no wind this time, just searing heat.  Let the flinging begin!  I was grateful that the burning sun had hardened these dog pies, making the clean up a bit easier.  As in the winter, I look back at the house to see children in the window smiling at their tankini clad mother throwing doo doo.  I'm convinced this should really be an Olympic sport.  I'm finished, onto scrubbing the pool, that wasn't so bad,  out the kids went with the immediate question being, "when's it gonna warm up?"....well happy to report the kids enjoyed the frigid temperature without too much complaining.  A good time was had by all until........a giggly 4 yr. old  informs all in earshot that she has just peed in the pool.....(sigh)... the pool seems to empty very quickly when someone yells that.  There's always tomorrow.....

Even Heros Have the Right to Bleed.....

  I woke up sometime during the early morning hours weeping.  I was having a dream where my dearly departed father made 2 cameo appearances.  I lost my dad just over 5 years ago now and although the "strike" to my heart has lost most of its strength, there are moments out of nowhere that bring it back.  The thing that I enjoyed most about my dad was his sense of  "ease",  his ability to not take life so seriously.  He was funny,  sort of a silly guy.  When I was young, I saw him as all powerful, almost a superhero.  He was just barely 18 years old when I was born.  He was a father when he was a very young man, but as a man he didn't abandon his child.  Even superheros have their weakness,  and as "spectators", sometimes we view our superheros weakness in an unkind light.  We wonder why they didn't "measure up" or "come through".  As parents I believe most of us have only the best in mind for our children. We hope that they will be happy, well rounded if you will.  We hope that they will overlook our inadequacies to see the greatness.  I have come to that place in my heart when I think of my dad.   His love, his sense of humor and his easy going nature will live on.....I have grown up to see "the greatness"........

Motherhood of the Traveling Laundry Pile

  I have a love/hate relationship with my laundry.  Well, for one thing, I like to wear clean clothes,  we all do, right?  Seriously, a person can only Febreez a dirty shirt so many times, true?  I don't really do that, I actually do not like spraying freshener on dirty stuff, kinda gross to me, although I would never poo-poo any ones parade.  Onto why I hate my laundry...I absolutely cannot stand to fold the clothes.  I admire people that say, well, I just fold it as it comes out of the dryer, this way its fresh and its done.  Unfortunately, this is not actually how I roll.  My routine goes a little something like this,  washing the clothes is a smooth operation, drying, "easy peasy".....folding....hmmm...here's where things get a little "iffy".    By "iffy" I mean, "if" I'm not busy, then I will fold.  My laundry pile is currently about 3 loads high....now I procrastinate.  I fold a few things then walk away, then someone usually runs through my pile, so then I'm back at 1st base.  Yesterday, I folded some things, then just laid on top of the pile and daydreamed a bit.  Eventually everything actually does get folded and no one is wrinkled.  Starting to wonder if I should delegate it to the kids, I mean at least the towels and  undies would be folded... hmmm....the ponderings of  a daydreaming mama  :)

Tick, Tock, Tick ......

  I went and tried one of those self serve dog washes with the kids.  Let me rephrase...I didn't actually wash the kids there, just the dog.  Ive been wanting to try this for awhile but was always deterred because of the distance.   I'm a country girl so its pretty much a 20 minute drive one way to town.  Anywho, I promised my daughter that we would take the dog for a car ride on his birthday.   This grand occasion was actually 3 weeks ago but its been kinda hot so I was procrastinating.  An old dog and 3 small children doesn't always work well on a 85 degree day.  Yesterday was nice and cool, so we seized the day.

  We pulled up to the car wash and I survey the dog wash, I say, "ok you guys, this costs $7 for 10 minutes so we need to hurry.  They were great helpers, we got the old guy up the ramp onto the "sink" and began to scrub.  So as I'm scrubbin along, I feel a hard roundish bump hanging off the dog.  I got squeamish knowing this could only be one thing...A Tick!  This is nothing new in the country but for some reason, this season we particularly have our fill.  Up until about 8 years ago I was a city girl so I wasn't all that familiar with bugs the size of small kittens and such.  Of course, I'm exaggerating, but they can be intimidating.  Back to the tick,  I deal with him in the only way ticks should be treated, I will spare the gory details.  The timer on the dog wash was was counting down,  we were racing against the clock or we would be going home with a soapy dog as I didn't have many more singles in my purse.  Whew, we got done in the nick of time.  On the way home we stopped and got a chicken sandwich off the dollar menu for our brave subject.  Well, the kids had a new experience and the dog got the stink washed off him so I guess in all, it was a win-win situation.

Welcome to Your Local Germ Fest....Part Deux

  Hey all!  I felt compelled to add a second thought to my original post about public restrooms.  Just when you thought it was safe to go back to the toilet....(insert Jaws music here).  Today we will be chatting about the splendor of the port a potty.  Let me back up a bit, as if I wasn't busy enough, I decided that signing the kids up for sports would be a great idea.  We made it through Karate and moved onto T-ball.  T-ball enables me to visit the port a potty at least twice a week with my young child who is intrigued by the toilet in a box.  I should be grateful, at least there is hand sanitizer in there.  Unlike the wood boxes of yesteryear, we now have the luxury of toilet paper and don't have to resort to crumpled napkins on the floor of the car.  If you weren't fortunate enough to scrounge up a napkin or two, you may have to resort to some type of leaf or the "drip- dry" method.


   My young child must be accompanied to this glorious box in order to somehow be levitated over this hole of muck by yours truly.  Once again, I implore her..."Don't touch anything...please....and don't touch my face".  Helping her with her clothes is an added treat since I get to bend over and somehow have my clothes brush the makeshift urinal ever so gently.  I  utter out a few groans of disgust as I say,  "didn't we use the potty at home?  why are we in here again?"  The only explanation I get out of this wonderful child is .."I had to go.."    I guess for now,  the potty trenches it is....

Has Anyone Seen the Crazy Cream?

  The change.....what exactly does that mean?  Well, if your entering midlife, you might have some idea of where this might be going.  I guess the word "change" can produce optimistic feelings or possibly a wave of negative emotions.  We might experience a lop sided mixture of the two and we may scramble to find that delicate, elusive balance.  A dear friend of mine let me in on a little secret...she called it "natural progesterone".  I had a surge of hope...could I find that balance I was in search of?  I took a little trip to my health food store..where was it?!  As if the heavens opened, a ray of gleaming light shown down,  there on the women's health shelf was the answer to all that was amiss.

  I got home and opened my bag of gold.  On the container it said, " Massage 1/4 to 1/2 tsp of cream into inner arms, thighs, blah..blah..blah".  On it went, "Yay!  the solution to all my ups and downs,  happiness and calm in a bottle!"  I did notice a difference, a slight improvement, better than nothing.  Big Daddy lovingly refers to my new found treasure as "crazy cream".   He will enter my perimeter and survey my aura..."did you put on the crazy cream?..slap it on, eat it or do what ever ya got do...."    Hmmm......I wonder what he's trying to tell me...Ahhh yes....these stages of life.   No wonder why the  "Good  Book"  offers up the encouragement...."Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting, but a women who fears the Lord will be praised."   So, as I beat back my impending mustache and growing feet, I will try to keep that wonderful verse in the forefront of my mind.