Mama Diaries

Thursday, March 26, 2015

Miz Lemon

Meet Miz Lemon.  At two years old, she is the oldest living balloon.  Miz Lemon has been a very nice family member.  She's quiet.  She stays out of trouble.  And she's very pleasant.  Unfortunately, Miz Lemon is going through an accelerated aging process.  Every day, she loses more air, and her wrinkles become more pronounced.  I'm afraid Miz Lemon has only a few more days to live.

"I don't want Miz Lemon to die!" said my son.  "I'm going to miss her!"

I put my arm around the boy. "We'll all miss her, Bubba."

"Are we going to have a funeral for her and bury her in the backyard?"

I smiled.  "We will most certainly give her a proper burial."

"Good," said Bubba.  "Because she doesn't deserve to be thrown in the garbage.  She was the best balloon that ever lived!"

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Owl Talk

This morning, before the sun had even thought about coming up, my son and I were standing at the bus stop.  As we stood, we heard an interesting sound:  Who. . . Who. . . Who,Who,Who,Whoooo!

"An owl!" I said.

Bubba grinned.  "Can I try talking to it?"

"Sure, Bubba.  Go ahead."

He raised his head and called, "Who. . . Who. . .Who, Who,Who,Whooo!"

He listened. No response.  "Never mind.  I don't speak owl," he said.

No sooner were the words out of his mouth, when the owl called back, "Who. . .Who. . .Who, Who,Who, Whoooo!"

Bubba was thrilled. He called, again, and the owl responded. The two carried on their conversation until the bus came.

"I like owls," Bubba said as he got on the bus.  "They're really smart.  That one knew exactly what I was saying!"

Saturday, March 21, 2015

The Boy and His Box

Last night, when I went into my son's room to tuck him in, I didn't see him.  I wondered where he might be.  Then I spied a giant box on the floor, flipped upside down.  I suspected I might find the missing kid under it. Sure enough, I found the boy curled up in a little ball under the box.

"How did you find me?"  he asked.

"Well, Bubba, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that a box is a good place to hide."

He grinned.  "You know what else boxes are good for?"

"No, Bubba. What else are they good for?"

"Going for airplane rides."  He flipped the box over and sat inside.  Then he opened the flaps on the sides.  "See. Wings!"  He flipped the back flap open.  "Tail!"  Then he proceeded to make airplane sounds.

I just watched, amused by his creativity.

When he was done, he curled up inside.  "I'm tired from all that flying.  So now my box will be a bed."  He closed the flaps over him.  "Goodnight!"  

Thursday, March 19, 2015

The Art Project

My teenage daughter came out of her room with glitter all over her face.

"Um, you look a little sparkly," I said.

She nodded.  "Yeah.  I was trying to get glitter on my eyelids, but I ended up spilling it all over the place."

"Oh," I said.  "Was that glitter, makeup glitter?"

"No.  It's the glitter you gave me."

I frowned. "You realize that was supposed to be for art projects, not makeup applications, don't you?"

She looked at me and grinned.  "But Mom, my face is an art project!"

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Schultz's Big Escape

The canine you see in the picture has been a very bad dog!  His name is Schultz, and he's our hundred pound German Shepherd.

Yesterday, the beast escaped.  Yes.  He went missing for over four hours.  None of us have any idea of how he did it.  My daughter and I had gone to the mall.  When we came back, my husband and the beast were missing.  My daughter and I assumed the dog with with the husband.  But no.  When the husband came back, the dog was not with him.

"Um, excuse me," I said.  "Where's Schultz?"

My husband looked around.  "I don't know.  I thought he was with you."

"Nope.  Not with me."

Thus commenced the dog search.  I stayed home while the search party went out.  It's a good thing I did, because while they were out, an unfamiliar car pulled into my driveway.  I looked closely, and who do you think I saw?  Yes.  The giant beast in the back seat, taking up practically the entire back end of the car.

I guess he had wandered into another neighborhood, a ways away, and found another dog to play with.  Fortunately, Schultz is a nice dog, and let the other dog's owner put a leash on him, and take him home.

Now Schultz is in the dog house.  Literally.  Let's just say he'd better not try that stunt, again!

(And what did the cat think of all of this?  This picture pretty much sums it up:)

Sunday, March 15, 2015

Bubba Bowling

Today, my family and I went bowling.  We got to our lane, and set up the computer keep score.  Everyone was on normal bowl mode, meaning no bumpers were being used.

We started bowling. Everyone did well, except Bubba, my ten-year-old son.  His balls went into the gutter eighty percent of the time.  At the end of the game, he was dead last, and quite upset about it.

"Redo," he said.  "Because something is wrong with the ball."

I laughed.  "Okay, Bubba.  Get another ball.  We'll do another game."  While he got the other ball, I changed the computer to bring up bumper guards when it was Bubba's turn.

That made all of the difference in the world.  Every time the ball was about to go to the gutter, the guard prevented it.  Bubba even managed to get a few strikes.  At the end of the game, Bubba was in second place.

"See, I told you it was a bad ball!"

Right.  Next time, we're all using gutter guards!  

Friday, March 13, 2015

Killer Bear Hug

Before I begin my story, I wanted to let you know that my book, That Mama is a Grouch, is now available as an animated ebook through the Kobo online book store.  I haven't yet seen it, but someone who has, says it's really cute.  You'd need an Apple device to view it.  If you're interested, you can find it here.  (I've included this link on my sidebar, too.)

Now for the story:

My ten-year-old son loves giving hugs. He's quite the expert. His favorite hug is the "bear hug."  When he was little, it wasn't so bad to get a bear hug from him. His squeeze wasn't too strong.  Now that he's bigger, it's a different story.  Yesterday, he gave me one such hug.  I could barely breathe.

"Bubba," I gasped.  "You need to be gentle, or you're going to break your Mama!"

He grinned.  "You can't break!"  He gave me another hug.

"Yes, I can," I said, wincing.  "You're going to squeeze the guts right out of me!"

Apparently, he thought that was hilarious, and squeezed even harder.

"Seriously, Bubba, you need to be gentle.  Do you want me to die from one of your hugs?"

He thought about that. "No.  But being hugged to death, wouldn't be so bad."

Right.  So, ladies and gentlemen, if I cease to blog, you can pretty much guess that I've been hugged to death. Which would probably make me the first Mama to die that way. What a way to go!