I would rather have my toenails ripped off by rabid ferrets on crack than visit Chuck E. Cheese with 8 kids. Well, any number of kids for that matter, but it just so happens that tonight there were 8 of them. I always leave there with a headache. Always. No wonder they serve beer - no sane parent could withstand the misery that is Chuck E. Cheese without alcohol.
Tonight's trip to hell was for TotTwo's birthday party and that, of course, set Sam to thinking about his upcoming birthday in two weeks. He had that look on his face and the mom in me knew what he was thinking - heck, the flush from recent gigantic robotic mouse, more caffeine than he's had in his entire almost 9 years and enough flashing lights to send an epileptic into a grand mal seizure to beat the band was still on his little freckled cheeks and I knew he was planning his own birthday adventure. Oh, but I, being the spoilsport of all motherdom said, "You're not planning a party at stinky ol' Chuck E. Cheese, are you? Because I hear that it's totally so like, out these days." And because he's the middle child and ever so eager to please he replied with a shrug of his shoulders and a simple, "What? Chuck E. Cheese? Nah. Let's just go bowling." I so won.
And for the 90 bazillion tickets my kids got from playing God only knows how many video games, they got: Abby - a red pom pom that she literally whipped her sister with the entire ride home and eventually got it taken away from her; Kady - a pink and silver tiara that was broken by her cousin who was all hopped up on the methamphetamine they put in Chuck E. Cheese pizza within about 2 minutes of ownership; and Sam - a foam dart launcher that is actually pretty cool because he managed to smack his Grammy right above the eye from across the restaurant.
I'm just glad Sam "wants" to go bowling for his party and that Kady wants to have her three "bestest gowfwends in the wowd ovew to pway" for her birthday. My gosh, after Abby's slumber party where the girls popped locked and dropped, I don't think I can handle another wild party this year.
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Friday night Paul, Tater and I loaded up and met up with 14 other people from the Casino That Shall Not Be Named to go through the corn maze. I really had way too much homework to go and since Mom had the kids all night I hated to miss an opportunity of quiet Algebra time, but Paul seemed so excited about it I couldn't not go. So I dragged my sister along for fun. My gosh, if it hadn't been for her, I'd have slit my wrists or drowned myself. Wow, it's a good thing I never actually worked there - they are a bunch of poopoo heads! I mean, we're talking no laughing, no joking - heck we even made it through the corn maze in 20 minutes! When we went as a family back in October TotTwo and I got lost in one section for 45 minutes. I think we were in there nearly 2 hours. But man, these casino people were all business - it was like we were being graded on corn maze proficiency.
When we met a small group at the casino Tater and I were acting like total goofasses, I'll admit, but my gosh, someone had to have fun and it was obvious no one else was going to. Paul said we were supposed to meet up with someone named Amanda. I asked, "Amanda who?" and before Paul could reply, Tater said, "Amanda Hugankiss" and we both exploded into hysterical juvenile laughter that immediately pissed Paul off for some reason. As we were driving later I said, "Wow, honey, your friends sure are not as fun as I thought they'd be." He never took his eyes off the road when he said, "Well, maybe it's because you're an ass." Ouch. That stung. So I pouted for awhile, then decided that pouting was not fun and started being an ass again. I gotta say, we definitely had more fun as asses.
After the maze we went to Pizza Hut (with a few casino people, namely Amanda Hugankiss and her husband that we named Ben Dover because we're asses like that) (however, Amanda and "Ben" thought we were funny even though no one else did) and then on to Grand Lake Casino from there. We'd been there about 45 minutes when I started feeling really crappy, like so tired I couldn't hold my eyes open, achey and just generally blechy feeling. We left and I came home to crash like the assy ol' party pooper I am. The next morning I woke up feeling like I'd been run over with a backhoe and the feeling has continued. I'm sure that led to my ultimate massive hysterical breakdown yesterday.
Today has been better. Well, except for the Chuck E. Cheese thing.
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Just now I was sitting here in my office, typing away at this post and enjoying the absence of any math problems in front of my face for a few stolen moments when I heard some clattering outside on the carport. We feed the cats on the freezer to keep Jake from eating their food and figured it was one of them havinga late night snack. Then I looked up to find this in the window sill:
For a few seconds I didn't quite comprehend what it was. The fur was lighter than our cats' and it wasn't registering what it was. Until it showed it's pointy face - it was a possum. I hollered at Paul, "Hey! Paul! There's a possum in the window! Grab my camera off the table and get the gun!"- because even though I'm a redneck, I'm a blogger first and foremost and knew there must be photo documentation of any critters here at Diva Ranch. We stood out here in my office for quite awhile, watching it, snapping pictures and marveling at its lack of fear. Finally I turned to Paul and said, "Umm...aren't you going to kill it?" He replied dryly, "Yuh. I was just waiting for you to get all the shots you wanted." Isn't he sweet?
Then he smacked it on the heck with a gigantic stick. If you are an animal lover, particularly a lover of possums, do not look at the next picture.
Let this be a lesson to any critter looking to get into mischief at my house - you will end up dead and on my blog. You've been warned.
I'm just glad the kids were already in bed. Had they been awake there'd have been tears and a funeral. As it was, Paul just threw him over the fence and went back to watching CourtTV.
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And because I'm sure y'all are anxiously waiting, here are a few pics of the kids in their Halloween costumes.
Abby was a bag lady this year, complete with shopping cart. The shopping cart seemed like a good idea at first - until I realized that I was the one loading and unloading that mother at every stop.
She was a pretty convincing bag lady, methinks - considering that when she went wheeling her cart into the lobby of the administration building at the college, the ladies in the business office thought she was a real homeless person.
Sam was a wizard and I gotta say, it was awful cute for a last-minute, oh-my-gosh his Halloween costume doesn't fit thing. Tater bought it on a clearance rack at the Disney Store a few years ago, so technically he was supposed to be the Mickey sorcerer from Fantasia, but....
.... if I had a nickel for every time I heard him holler "Wingardium Leviosa!" and "Accio [everything on the face of the earth, including at one point 'a gigantic grizzly bear]" I'd be a rich woman tonight.
Kady was Goth this year. I wish she'd have gotten on board with it last year when the other two dressed Goth, but oh well.
It's hard to remain Goth-y when you're five and wearing chocolate and pizza all over your deathly white face, though. I guess this is why you don't see a lot of Goth in Kindergarten.
I was born a semi-diva. I married a redneck. Through the magic of osmosis or just because of a serious lack of sophistication over the years I have found a balance of the two that make me who I am today. And then I write about it all, much to the chagrin of my mother.
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2 comments:
Oh, being an ass is always more fun, especially if somebody in the group says you are being an ass.
No close up of the possum, gonna hae it mounted? Or no picture of Paul with his foot on the possum holding his weapon (or the stick?)
A bag lady? Next year, is Abby going as a cancer patient?
If Kady had a fun Mom, she would have added a whole gob of eyeshadow and dark lipstick.
Thanks for the fun update.
Try to make your next post a little more exciting!!! LOL
I am the queen of dead animal eulogies. When caity fed her new parakeet from the flea market...cotton candy from the flea market.. and caused it to have a severe heart attack within 12 hours of coming home, I put his feathery little butt in one of those cafe vienna tins and said...ashes to ashes, dust to dust, I hope like the hell the tin doesn't rust. She laughed and forgot for a minute she was eternally devastated at the untimely death(murder) of her new pet. The only one I didn't eulogize was the dead fish who wasn't dead. We gathered in the bathroom, I prepared my speech, and just as I cleared my throat to begin, he cracked one eye open splashed about and we all screamed and ran downstairs. After a few minutes Jim assured us he was in fact dead and just to be sure he had flushed him. For the next two weeks candice and I tortured with "all drains lead to the ocean" and jokes about the fish who played possum to escape the dreadful Caity.
Your kady has the insullent look down pat...she looks like my Caity, except my caity looks like that every day of the year and not just Halloween...wanna trade
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