Snark

A friend's 19 year old daughter, who is about to give birth to her first child keeps complaining on facebook about being pregnant. Go figure. It's such a wonderful state of being, we all wish we could constantly be 9 months pregnant. Today's post was about how she can't do anything. Of course the posts are always written in a way to gain questions, or sympathy, or imply dramatic goings-on.

But today, All. I. Want. To. Do. is post and tell her "No shit. That's what you get when you decide to become a human crockpot." But I won't. Because I like my friend.

Damn my being anti-drama. It'd be so much fun, sometimes.

My mother in law verses the chainsaw

I posted this story on a babycenter board that I'm a member of, but it's so long (and funny) that I feel compelled to post it here for posterity. Plus, everyone loves a good "My mother in law got chainsawed" story.

My MIL... God love her. But she's a little daft sometimes. And this is why she'll never watch my children alone again.

Picture the scene: southeast of Houston in April. DH is with his parents, haven taken our kids down ahead of me while he was on transfer leave. My husband occasionally does things that make no sense. Like deciding he's a logger. Granted, my uncle is one, but it's not something you become by association, like an idiot or a wagon. 

So, my husband the lumberjack (here on out known as Wonderjack) offers to take care of the three trees in his parents front yard in one of those attempts for parental validation covered up by "helpfulness". Of course, this means that Wonderjack has to use a chainsaw, which he's totally a pro at since we happen to also own one. Owning a chainsaw makes you a manly pro at using them the same way that owning a car made Wonderjack a good driver and buying a set of knives made Gordon Ramsay wish he could have my talent. 

Also, since these are trees were talking about, not stumps, this also meant the use of a ladder. 

Supplies gathered, Wonderjack left our kids in my mother in laws capable care inside the house, where she presumably fluttered window to window watching, while burning a pot of water in the stove. She was told to stay in the house, and watch the kids. The manly lumberjacks were going out to deal with those pesky trees, and kids could be hurt. So I give Wonderjack points for at least thinking about this fact. Unfortunately, points didn't prevent what would happen next. 

Wonderjack cut down the first tree with no incident. Then my MIL decided to go hover and check out what was taking do long. Because cutting down trees is such a quick process. 

My MIL has a tendency to do this. Hover and watch, fingers in pots when you're cooking. It's mostly harmless, even if a touch annoying. But this time she forgot about the five and six year old little girls in her care. Actually I prefer to think she didn't forget, but rather believed on blind faith that an ADHD little girl and her little sister would just sit quietly, saying "yes, grandma" and twiddle their thumbs until she returned. 

So MIL the brainiac meanders on over to Wwonderjack, who is up on a ladder, actively using a chainsaw. At the very moment that she walked under the ladder, Wonderjack lost his balance. With a chainsaw in hands. Mother in law (did I mention she's a genius?) dives for her baby boy. You know, the one with the chainsaw. 

And promptly takes a chainsaw to the shoulder. 

With my daughters watching. Forget about that part? Oh yes, my highly obedient little darlings had wandered outside after grandma, figuring if it was so interesting that grandma needed to go look, they needed to see too.

Now, luckily for my MIL, chainsaws in this day and age have a safety, so when you release, they turn off. Otherwise, she'd be mastering fire alarm cooking with one arm. She ended up with 11 stitches to her shoulder, and a bill for 200$ from the hospital, a story that both she and my husband will never live down, and a ban from ever watching my children again.

My Baby's Cuter Than Your Baby

Yeah, I really think that. So do you. Not that you think mine's cuter (I mean, I think you should think that) but that every parent thinks their baby is the cutest thing freaking ever. And pretty much every parent is right. Once in a while... well, once in a while Bill Engvall's ugly baby skit is spot on (Handsome little man there! Oh! It's a girl? Think of all the money you'll save on prom dresses!) but mostly, babies are cute.

But, you know. Mine's cuter.

Oh! Look! You've got the camera pointed at me again!

Random Thought

Why doesn't redbox say what they really mean?

"Fuck. You returned it. We were really hoping you'd pay 35$ plus tax for Santa verses the Water Gremlins."

Here's the deal

If I have time in between finishing dinner and your butt finally coming back to my table to do this:

Chances are you're not getting a great tip. Just sayin'. 

Today is the First Day...

Of summer vacation.

We have a full summer ahead of us. I could just do like I've done every other year and send my kids outside with a bottle of water and some sunscreen, but I made this huge list of things we're going to do this summer.

It's actually not at all daunting. We have arts and crafts projects (painted pots, stepping stones, bird feeders), simple pleasures (blow dandelions, watch a sunset), family activities (go to the movies, have a pajama night, have a card night), culinary adventures (learn to cook with mom, eat a new food every week, try a new restaurant) and sight seeing (go to the aquarium, various museums, the zoo, the water park, the beach). And it's all written up on a cheap poster board with my favorite sharpies with little squares to mark off as we go.

Of course, we're off to an auspicious start to the summer - it's raining. I appreciate the rain. It keeps the ground fires at bay, and in a state made of up of mostly unprocessed bark dust (trees), it's preferable that things remain moist. But my kids don't appreciate the rain - it keeps them inside.

So here's to summer, and to finishing what is essentially a three month project!

Beer

Conversation had at the mini-Nex tonight while buying my husband some beer, like the adorable '50s housewife I am:

"How's your day going?"

Well, I'm hot, I have no ac, the boy is teething, we're going to have a sleepover tonight, my fibro's acting up, and I'm pretty sure my meds need adjusted. But this is too much information, so I answer: "Buying beer for my husband. Pretty sure that's a valid answer to that question."

"This stuff any good?"

"My husband says it's one of the best."

"Well, I don't know about that."

"Well, we are in beer country over here. But this is supposed to be one of the best in this region." The beer is Silver City Brewery's red, by the way. Mix it with their fat scotch and you have a fred, which is apparent THE BEST BEER EVER in the words of my husband, and a local's 'secret' that I totally didn't just give away.

"Well, I really like budweiser myself."

Me: *eye twitch*