still just like a circus

One would imagine as my circus act is grown and some are out of the house perhaps it would be a little less like like a circus.

Yeah.

No.

Currently we have a house guest for the next month.

Zoë’s Prince Albert. He’s literally the size of a small beagle and he is definitely overwhelmed, a little pissed off and definitely scared as he has been hiding behind the drapes, the washer (how in the world?…) and the toilet in the kids’ bathroom.

Then there is this feathered little pecker.

Now what in world could one of god’s wonderful, little songbirds be doing to be annoying? His song is so so sweet joyfully praising the arrival of Spring…or perhaps trying to get the attention of a female wonderful, little songbird because, it is Spring.

Well, let me tell you what this little pecker is doing…

From the first light of morning, through the late afternoon, he is repeatedly hurtling his little songbird body against my windows…especially THIS window, the window he has CRACKED by repeatedly flying into the window. Do you see the crack on the right side of the window in the above picture? That freaky, little songbird did that!

Google why birds fly into windows or how to prevent birds from flying into windows and you discover that they do this because this particular type of bird sees his reflection in the windows and is trying to scare or fight off the competition from the female he is trying to mate with. So basically he is a horny bird fighting with himself thinking that it is another horny bird trying to steal his girl. Google will also warn you that this is leading to the deaths of birds because they are flying into your windows which of course means that you are the asshole for living in a house with windows which reflect the birds’ images and habitat in the sunlight. Their blood is on YOUR hands! It’s almost as bad as if you were to have a domesticated cat and let them go outside to explore…almost…pretty close. Google is trying to make me feel guilt and shame for having a house…with deadly windows. I would feel shamed except for the fact I have a HUGE CRACK in my window thanks to horny, stupid bird. I won’t lie, I’d let Albert go outside to explore and hopefully get rid of the damn bird if he wasn’t such a scaredy cat right now.

And speaking of cats…

This one…our little 7 pound ball of fur…less than half Albert’s size, Zelda, the Alpha kitty, has way too much on her plate at the moment because Albert the giant scaredy cat, Betty the dumb Australian shepherd who just wants to play and that bird…that bird!!! Her struggle of does she continue to establish her reign as The Alpha Kitty with this guest who is twice her size and the stupid dog that wants to play or does she try to figure out a way to get to the horny bird smashing himself repeatedly in the skylight window 18 feet out of her reach. You can’t imagine the struggle she is dealing with right now!

The struggle is real!

Exhausting too!

So basically Albert is a big scaredy cat, Betty is a ridiculous hot mess, Zelda is a bully and that bird is an asshole.

We just had to have animals in this circus!

overdoing

The Big Top Spring Break plans had to be shelved…for obvious reasons…womp, womp. Bill is still waiting on his cardiologist to sign off on his disability insurance and, well, the savings for Spring Break Week in Monterey had to be redirected because clowns need to be fed and bills need to be paid.

Perhaps next year!

But, we are excellent punters…any family with more than 1-2 children is because it is part of basic family survival.

My darling husband is recuperating well but he is growing more restless and bored as each day goes by. His son in law comes over to mow the lawn. The wife is taking out the trash, along with everything else she juggles. He can’t vacuum. He can’t haul the laundry up and down the stairs or the groceries out of the mom car. He can’t walk the dog…no matter how much Betty begs. So he walks in the morning and the afternoon and the evening. And he putters around the Big Top feeling incredibly restless and bored.

A beach vacation would have been perfect right about now….yes.

Maybe a day in San Francisco is what we all need. Nothing ambitious…no big shopping trips or crossing bridges. Perhaps a day visiting a dear, old friend and lunch and some walks around a very small part of The City.

The most delicious, cup of Swiss chocolate made perfect while enjoying the company of a dear, old friend who made it for us.

Strolling through the Yerba Buena Gardens, enjoying the water falls…

and perhaps reflecting a little on the fail that is your Mima and Papa not having any spare change to toss into the fountain so that you can make a wish. Absolute fail!

A fail soon forgotten as you try to shake Shaking Man‘s hand(s).

Oh Art!

Onward to the Zeum Carousel…renamed recently the Leroy King Carousel

Whatever the name, it is a good place to ride a dragon

or a beautiful, white horse.

Absolute fun!

Lunch followed up with a short walkabout around Union Square complete with an encounter with a Buddhist monk offering prayer beads for Hazel and me along with a blessing…for 20 bucks.

Yeah.

Hazel and I accepted the beads and the blessings giving 4 bucks because that was all that we had. The beads are cute though.

 

A good day…a great day…a day where perhaps Bill might have overdid it.

Looking at her, exhausted, he agrees that yes, he overdid it. But he smiles when he states this.

Tomorrow he rests,

I promise.

He promises too.

 

 

when the bee stings

As far as I can recall, I have only been stung by a bee twice in my lifetime. Am I lucky? I don’t know. I don’t really care. The first time was enough for me. I was 7 years old. That little fucker came out of nowhere and stung me for no reason other than to sting me. Really. I was minding my own business walking home from school with my little brother and my 1st grade best friend, Kerry Klower when that bee flew out of a bush as I walked past right into my arm which it stung. Stupid suicidal bee! It hurt. It hurt so bad. I’m sure some of the pain was also because my little brother was screaming then laughing hysterically along with my friend as I stood there frozen letting that stupid bee end it’s life causing me such extreme pain. Kerry’s mother digging the stinger out only added to the pain. Remember I was 7. But I was a smart 7 year old because I resolved to avoid bees at all costs. And I did until I was in my 40s and again literally ran into a bee while I was running. That one hurt too. Stupid suicidal bee!

Sitting in my car in the school pickup queue yesterday afternoon the last thing I planned on was running into a bee. No. I was re-reading Nicholas and Alexandra, which I read years ago when I was in junior high, while enjoying some iced green tea, a Macklemore and Ryan Lewis playlist, and the hot, 90° breezes blowing through the open windows of the mom-car. Suddenly…bzzzzz…

OH DEAR GAWD!!!

This huge bee flew right into the car and was buzzing like crazy around my head…my face.

OMG!!!

Screaming, I swatted it hard back out of the car and proceeded to roll all the windows up at once. Of course that only served to piss off the suicidal little buzzer as it began to hurtle itself against the closed window of my car. I’m sure no one else in the pickup line saw the bee when I consider the way that people were staring at me like I was off my meds or something. I wanted to roll down the window and yell out, “OMG! Did you see that crazy, giant bee! He came right at me!!” But that would have meant that I would have to roll down the window and that crazy, buzzing fucker was still trying to somehow get into the car banging up against the window of my car. Let the other parents continue to think I’m crazy. I am not getting stung again…not today!

Did I tell you that it was 90° outside? It got a helluva lot hotter in the closed up mom car that was protecting me from the suicidal, crazed bee. So I start up the car and turn on the AC because I wasn’t about to die from heat exposure waiting for Daniel. He still is one of the last kids to come out to the pickup because he must say goodbye to each and every one of his teachers, present and former and all the yard duty workers before he leaves school. God only knows how long I would be waiting and it seemed that that crazy bee wasn’t going anywhere as it still was repeatedly flying up against my window. Eventually the crazy bee left as kids began to come running out of the school…possibly to look for another victim…who knows. He was gone; that’s all I cared about, I thought to myself as Daniel climbed into the now cool car.

Ahhh! Air conditioning! Thanks Mom!! It’s so hot outside. This is perfect.

Lucky for you a bee was trying to get into the car otherwise I wouldn’t have had the AC on.“, I tell Daniel as I start to drive down the street.

You mean this one?

WHAAATTT!!!

:::hysterical laughing:::

I got you, Mom.

Oh my god, Son!

:::more hysterical laughter:::

the inconvenience of awesome

Aw, growth spurts! So much fun…said no parent who JUST bought their kid those out-grown athletic shoes or three pairs of must-have skinny jeans ever.

When I was a girl I discovered just how awful growth spurts could be as in Mommy-Dearest just bought me those shoes or those pants or just let out the hem of those dresses and pantsuits (we wore pantsuits back in the day, don’t judge) with no more material left to hem. She’d be frustrated and angry that I was growing like a weed and I would feel bad because I clearly should have better control of this growing thing…at least that was my perspective as a 12 year old kid not understanding the inconvenience of your kid growing like a weed when there are bills to pay and groceries to buy to feed your ravenous, growing weed.

Then I became a mother; a mother of kids that grew and grew like weeds. Often growing like crazy at the most inconvenient of times like when I had bills to pay or groceries to buy to feed those ravenous little weeds of mine.

I could not seem to keep Zoë in jeans that were soon too small or impossibly too short literally a month after I bought them. And replacing Jodie’s split sole, black tap shoes that were scarcely worn for only two dance competitions really sucked sometimes as did emergency alterations of custom made costumes that were custom made to allow for grow room.  I mean…how rude…how inconvenient…these kids are growing much too fast!

And then I understood.

Oh.

So now that Spring has really sprung, Daniel is ready to break out the shorts. But the shorts are much, much too small. Two sizes too small. Shorts he has worn for the last two years of Spring and Summer…perhaps more. Shorts that are clearly much, much too small.

Oh happy day!!!

Human growth hormones, I love you so much…except for the fact that this is a helluva time for the kid to have outgrown his clothes because there are bills to pay…too many bills…and these kids seem to be hungry all the time…especially that kid who is finally GROWING!!!

So inconvenient but so freaking awesome!!!

Don’t worry, the mom of the 8 year old who apparently is wearing shorts two sizes bigger than Daniel’s new shorts tempered my excitement and frustration by pointing out the fact that her 8 year old is two sizes bigger than my 12 year old….as moms of kids who are not growth hormone deficient do.

Thanks!

Us moms of kids well below the growth curve their entire life, with non-functioning pituitary glands, love to hear about the burden of your overgrown child. It’s so…encouraging. Thanks.

Still, it is pretty damn awesome to pack away forever the shorts your son has worn every Spring, Summer and Fall season since second grade as his fifth grade year is winding down because this is normal. This is what “normal” parents do with their kids as they grow. This is just more “normal” for us to celebrate as parents of this mighty, former micro-preemie of ours, as parents of micro-preemies do…celebrating the normal.

So damn awesome!

Now to figure out what Peter to rob to pay Paul for the new shorts, the shorts that fit. Hey, at least they were on sale!

 

 

promping v. 2014

If it’s Spring then it is time to promp again here under the Big Top. Such is the life of raising a family of five circus clowns growing up much, much too fast. Actually this will be the last promping time for awhile. I imagine that when Daniel is old enough and if he chooses to go to prom that it won’t be such a big deal as it is now…and truthfully my girls are much, much more low maintenance than some peers…thank goodness. Still, I won’t lie, I do live a little bit vicariously through my girls’ proms because that wasn’t one of those things I got to share with my Mommy Dearest even if I did have a boyfriend through high school…that dang “no-dancing-because-it-is-a-sin” thing that he and his family ascribed to.

Oh well.

But this year’s promping is again all about Jodie…her Senior Prom!

There was the dress shopping.

It MUST be a burden to be a hanger that every single dress one tries on looks absolutely perfect. I’m going to keep telling myself that. These were part of her top 4. Wait for it…the winner is coming.

But horrors! A monkey wrench in all the promping.

A tumbling mishap at dance earlier this week which she tried to tough it out until yesterday when she could scarcely lift her arm. That could be a problem. Xrays ruled out a broken clavicle but it was determined to be a sprain of ligaments connecting her clavicle to her shoulder joint so the good doctor recommended no dancing for a week and to wear a sling to keep her arm in a neutral position.

I know, first world problems.

Still, we pressed onward because it is promping time.

Who else would be doing hair and makeup besides big sister? Really?

Ta-da!!!

Actually this is the only picture with the sling. We made a deal and yes, against medical advice, she went sling-less to the prom promising to be careful. I’m not worried. Her shoulder and collar bone are quite sore still and she has limited range of motion so there won’t be any throwing her hands up in the air because she can’t. Plus next weekend is a big dance competition so with the exception of tonight, she is motivated to follow doctor’s orders. Besides, this dress…

…with a sling?

Yeah.

Aren’t they cute?

They’re just friends which is okay because promping is so much more fun with friends.

Truly.