Finding Mama's Mind

In my last post, my eight-year-old son said I was losing my mind.  Well, I guess I've lost it, because my husband has initiated a "Find Mama's Mind Fund."

Here's how it works:  Anytime anyone talks about Schultz (our German Shepherd), that person has to pay a dollar toward the "Find Mama's Mind Fund."  (Apparently my husband is sick and tired of my kids talking about Schultz all the time!)

Once enough funds are accumulated, an intergalactic search will begin.  My husband thinks my mind is plastered under a giant asteroid that's zooming around in outer space.  My kids think it fell into a giant moon crater.  Where do you think it is?

(Oh, and if you want to contribute, feel free to stop by the wishing well my kids dug in my backyard and throw in some coins!)




Now here's the other thing for today.  I'm a little early on this, but I'll be at a string teacher conference this week, which means I'll be unplugged for a little while.    

  

 

 

M. Pax, Suze, and Nicki Elson have teamed up to create this really cool blog hop.  Here's the scoop: 

 

 

 

You're up before dawn on a Saturday when the doorbell rings. You haven't brewed your coffee so you wonder if you imagined the sound. Plonking the half-filled carafe in the sink, you go to the front door and cautiously swing it open. No one there. As you cast your eyes to the ground, you see a parcel addressed to you ... from you.

 

You scoop it up and haul it inside, sensing something legitimate despite the extreme oddness of the situation. Carefully, you pry it open. Inside is a shoebox -- sent from ten years in the future -- and it's filled with items you have sent yourself.

What's in it?

Well, where do I begin?  I guess first, I'd have a few copies of the books from the current chapter book series I'm working on, just to prove that I actually did get a publisher for them!  Then I'd throw in my son's high school diploma to show that all of my tiger mom antics for getting him to do his homework have paid off.  And then I'd throw in my mind, because, as you've read, it's missing, and I'd sure like to know what I did with it!

 

 

See you when I get back!    

 

Problems

"Mama," my eight-year-old son said.  "Everybody in this family seems to have a problem."

I tried not to laugh.  "Oh yeah, Bubba?  What kind of problems?"

"Schultz (our German Shepherd) is always dirty."

I nodded.  "Can't argue with that!"

"My sister is a drama queen."

Yep.

"Daddy doesn't have time to walk Schultz.  And I'm always hungry."

"What's my problem?" I asked.

"You're losing your mind!"

 Oy!

 

Mixed Drinks and Carbon Dioxide Man

My kids must've been in a science mood yesterday.  It all started with a trip to Subway.

"Can we get fountain drinks?" they asked. 

I wasn't in much of a mood to insist that they drink milk, so I let them have a special treat.

"Guess what I got?" my daughter asked.

"What?"

"Half Sprite, half rootbeer."

I couldn't believe it.  "Seriously?"

"Yeah, Mom, it's good."

"Guess what I got?" my son asked.

I couldn't wait to hear this.  "What?"

"Half diet coke, half rootbeer."

It made me sick just thinking about it.  "Is it good?" I asked.

"Delicious!"

Okay, then.

When we got home, the experimentation continued.  "Mom, I need a ziploc bag, baking soda, and vinegar," my daughter said.

"What for?" I asked.

"I'm going to make a carbon dioxide man."

That sounded interesting, so I gave her the supplies.  Here's what she came up with:

Isn't he cute?  Unfortunately, he didn't have a long life.  My daughter took him outside and fed his carbon dioxide to the trees.  RIP Carbon Dioxide Man!


 

Doggy Play Date

There was lots of excitement at my place today.  I was doing research for my next book, when I heard a major raucous outside. It was the sound of dogs barking - and it sounded like an army of them.  I got up to see what the problem was.

I saw Schultz, our German Shepherd...and a big white Husky.  It was the cat-killing dog from next door. (If you weren't around for that post, the Husky had snuck into my yard and killed a hapless cat that had wandered in.)

Schultz looked like he was playing a little rough with the Husky, so I figured I needed to step in immediately, if not sooner.  I put on my jacket and went outside.

The Husky galloped over to me, and Schultz went ballistic.  It was full guard dog mode!  The hair  on his back stood up and he barred his teeth at the white mutt.  Uh oh, I thought. 

"Schultz, in the house!" I called, and quickly led him inside.

Fortunately, he listened and didn't fillet the Husky! (The Husky is a large 70 pound animal, but Schultz is even bigger at 100 pounds.  I don't think it would've gone well for either dog!)

After Schultz was safely put away and calmed down, I called my neighbor.  No answer.  I figured I'd try to leash the Husky and get him back in his own yard.  I went outside to deal with the white mutt.  He ran up to me, but took off when he saw the leash.  I knew I'd have to outsmart him.  I walked over to the fence where he had pushed through the wire and gotten in.  I bent it back, pretending to ignore him.  Of course he was curious, so he came over.  Then I leashed him.  (See, now I can tell my daughter that I'm smarter than a dog!)

I took him over to his yard and tried to open the gate.  It was locked, and there was no way I was going to get in.  I walked up to the door and rang the doorbell.  The cleaning lady answered.

"Hi," I said.  "I had  a little visitor!"

Boy, was she surprised!

Now I have to go fix a fence.  Wish me luck, because I don't want anymore doggy playdates like that!



       

How We Fall Asleep

Last night, I had a rather interesting conversation with my eleven-year-old daughter.  "Mom," said.  "Did you know that boys and girls fall asleep differently?"

That piqued my interest. "How so?"

"Boys just lay down and fall asleep.  Girls do all kinds of other things."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Well, first of all, when they hear a creak sound, they have to look under their bed to see if any monsters are under there."

I laughed.  "Okay, so what do you do if you find a monster?"

"Mom, monsters aren't real."

"Then why do you look?"

"It's just what girls do."

Interesting.

"Is there anything else girls do that you want to tell me about?" I asked. 

"Girls have to fix their hair, and make sure their stuffed animals are all in place.  And then they have to make sure their iPods are okay, and then if they hear another noise, they have to go to the window to make sure it's not a burglar."

"A burglar?" I asked.

"Yeah.  You never know when a burglar might show up.   And girls stay at the window for a half hour, just to  make sure it's not one of those."

"And then you fall asleep?" I asked.

"Yep - but only after I read a boring book.  Isn't that what you do, Mom?"

"Um, no.  I just lay down and fall asleep."

"Mom, you're weird!"

 

Mama is Grounded!

The cohabitants at my house were driving me crazy yesterday.  My husband was teasing me relentlessly, my kids were utterly obnoxious, and the dog - well, he came in with a frozen piece of poo in his mouth and deposited it in front of his crate.  Then he vomitted.

"You guys are barbarians!" I said, utterly exasperated.

"Mama is blowing fire out of her nostrils," said my husband.

"Yeah, and smoke out of her ears," said my son.

The dog just looked at me and started licking up his vomit.

I shook my head. 

The man continued.  "Woman, I am going to ground you."

"What are you talking about?" I said, getting even madder.  "You can't ground me!  I'm not a kid!"

"You're grounded!"

"Fine.  But I'm taking my violin up to my room with me."

So my violin and I were grounded for two hours.  But at least I got some good practice time in!

Mister Picasso

Before I start my story, I'd just like to say that pizza is a good invention!  The kids have been out of school since Friday, and they've had friends over for sleepovers and playdates almost every day.  It's been a little chaotic!

Anyway, yesterday, I took my boy to the pottery store to do some painting.  "What should I paint, Mama?" he asked.

"I don't know, Bubba.  How about this frog?"

"No. I want something I can use."

"A cup?" I suggested.

He thought about it.  "No.  I think I'll paint a tea pot."

"A tea pot?" I asked.  "What are you going to do with a tea pot?"

"Drink my tea out of it."

"Dude," I said.  "Since when do you drink tea?"

"Since Christmas when Santa gave me some in my stocking."

Huh?  I didn't recall Santa leaving any tea for anyone.

Nevertheless, I let him select a tea pot while I selected a couple of wine bottle stoppers to paint.  We went to work.

A short while later, I looked at Bubba's tea pot.  It was covered in pink paint with brown splotches dripping off the side.  (He's colorblind, so I'm sure he thought the pink color was blue.)

"This is a nightmare!" he said.

Everyone cracked up who was sitting next to us.

"But I'm an artist," he said.  "And this is part of my artistic expression!"