Autumn And Stuff

It's fall hereabouts. I suck at taking pictures, but I thought the neighbor's yard looked cool. My yard's not as interesting, since we mostly have nothing but ugly brown oak trees. So many acorns fell this year that you can just about roller skate on them. Actual closeup shot of my yard:



Well, that's about it. Unless you wanted to see the backyard. In that case, here it is:



Oh, and Henry bids you adieu:

Halloween

Awesome title, I know. Yes, Halloween came and went. Henry wanted to be Anakin Skywalker. He couldn't find his blue lightsaber, so he had to use his red one and go as the "bad Anakin." Wouldn't you know it, I try to take a couple photos of Henry in his Halloween garb and the camera's battery craps out before I can get a decent shot. Here are the two best, if you can believe it:



And:



One would think he'd be slightly more enthusiastic since he was preparing for a night of unbridled sugar consumption. But then again, he did have a slight cold. The last one gives me a vague impression of a Picasso, what with the goofy lopsided fake smile and the slightly cockeyed look. Also, his hair reminds me of Ralph Wiggam from the Simpsons.

Saturday we got to visit Grandpa and Grandma Tilley. It was a beautiful day and Ben and I found ourselves napping on the porch while Henry ran amok with the grandparents. A nice, nice visit. Plus we were treated to a barbecue lunch at one of the baptist churches in the area. Henry was a weasel and didn't want to try anything but a few hush puppies and dessert. I decided to try a piece of pumpkin pie- at least I thought that's what it was. It was the orangest pie I've ever seen. There weren't any spices in it and it didn't even taste like pumpkin, just thick, pasty sugar. That made me so sad. I want a real pumpkin pie. Henry wants me to make a pie out of the pumpkin adorning the front porch, but I told him I only make pumpkin pie from a can; I am the Queen of Laziness, after all. Our pumpkin is slated for a grisly death next weekend. Yes, I'm going to shoot it to pieces. And as a token of respect for the gourd that must be blown up by assault rifles, I will save some seeds from its carcass and give them to Mom and Dad to plant for next year. It's the circle of life, you know...

EIGHT HUNDRED DOLLARS?!!!!!!!

All right, nine hundred and sixty-five dollars, including the initial check-up.

Because the phone was out, the vet could not contact me to inform me that they would be extracting ELEVEN teeth from my cat's head. I figured when they told me her mouth was in nasty shape that they'd probably have to give her a shot or something, but eleven teeth? Dori's only four years old. My other cat Bubbette lived sixteen years and never had to have her teeth cleaned, so it never occurred to me that Dori was prone to hereditary mouth rot. Since the original estimate was about four hundred dollars, you can quite well imagine the shock of learning that it was more than double. They gave me a little pill bottle full of her teeth, which by the way were disgusting. I shook the teeth in the bottle. What was I supposed to do with her nasty teeth? Stick them under my pillow and hope the tooth fairy would bring me a check for eight hundred bucks? I was tempted, just slightly.

The time between picking up the cat from the vet and Ben coming home yesterday was a trifle tense. On the way home I muttered to myself about how Ben was going to have a cow.

Henry asked, "Is Daddy going to go to the farmer place and get a cow and put it in the back yard?"

No, Daddy's going to get really mad and probably yell a lot...

Ben met us at the Halloween carnival at church where I informed him of the damages. I'm glad we were at church as it limited all sorts of things he might have said in a less holy place. He took it a lot better than I thought he would.

I guess it worked out well for Dori. If the phone had been working she'd still have a mouth full of rotten teeth.

One good thing: the phone line I cut did absolutely nothing to damage the phone. A stupid chunk in the phone lines outside corroded. And the phone guy didn't charge us anything. Earlier I'd seen a phone company truck over at the neighbor's house, but didn't think anything of it. So this whole time I was stressing about being a huge idiot over a complete coincidence.

I ought to call the old lady at the phone company back and tell her that no, stupid genes do not run in my family, but then I'd have to explain why Ben went to eat at White Castle. Of course, he only did it on a personal dare (White Castle is mentioned in a Beastie Boys song), and he hated it. I laughed at him because he ate all four of the little turd-burgers but he insisted he did so out of principle because, after all, he paid for them.

Yes, I'm Still Alive, But For How Long????

I've been absent from the whole blogging thing a while. Apparently the month of October is my busiest, even worse than the month of December when we have to visit every living relative in the state of North Carolina within the span of a few days. I started out the month with high hopes (they always start out that way, don't they) and halfway through it I'm wondering what the heck I was even thinking.

I think I'll just list an itinerary:

Oct 3: Drive 2 hours with Henry. Hang out with Maggie, buy each other birthday gifts. Make appearance at old childhood friend's wedding reception. Develop cough, lose voice by end of evening.

Oct 4: Birthday. 33 years old. Spend all day in bed fighting losing battle against sinus infection/chest cold. Ben cleans kitchen. Yeah! :)

Oct 7: My week to teach Joy School. Canceled Joy School for week due to freaking lingering cold. Went to cub scouts, regretted decision, should have stayed in bed.

Oct 8: Doctor.

Oct 11: Mom and Dad's for annual fall cookout/hayride. Still coughing, can't wallow all over baby nephew.

Oct 14: Joy School canceled due to sick kid. Spend all day in giddy anticipation of arrival of mission pal Aniesa (Nielson). Skip cub scouts, meet Aniesa for dinner, have fun, really regret shortness of visit, wish the world weren't so big, lament unhappy fate of not being a millionaire or having access to free travel.

Oct 15: Aniesa stops by to see house, Henry, was impressed by trees. Took Henry to park for play date with friend.

Oct 16-19: Feed/entertain neighbors 6 cats and 2 dogs 3/4 times per diem. Took cat, Dori to vet, okay except moderate to severe dental disease. Set up appointment for necessary teeth cleaning, anticipate bill $300+.

Oct 19: Henry's part in Primary presentation in Sacrament Meeting allows me to hear English at church. Brain says ahhhhhhhhh...

Oct 20: On whim purchase small Lego set for Henry while on trip to Walmart. Henry plays with Legos all day. On way to bed after midnight, discover Henry in room quietly playing with Legos. Forcible removal of Legos, Henry goes to sleep.

Oct 21: Teach Joy School. Maggie arrives with nephew, Wesley. I wallow all over Wesley. Massive organization/clean up commences under direction of Maggie. Go to cub scouts, come home and commence clean up. Bed at 1 am following long yak session.

Oct 22: Visit to radiology department for fun-filled HSG. Lunch. Mow lawn, clean litter box. Goodbye to Maggie. 8 pm arrives, realize phone line is dead, due to idiot decision to sever broken phone jack from wire sticking up out of bedroom floor serving only as tripping hazard these past five years... Confess, deal with Ben's unhappiness, go fish phone jack out of trash.

To do: call phone company to fix phone line, reschedule dental appointment for next month, see about taking cat to vet school to save $, plan Joy School lesson, fix Henry's Halloween costume, don't touch anything or do anything stupid in hopes of not causing another huge money sucking catastrophe.

Overall, this month has been a good one, all except for today's idiotfest. I'm freaking lucky the internet still works in spite of the damaged phone line, lucky that Ben for the most part has spared me his wrath, lucky that I finally got over my stupid cold.

Man, I'm tired.

Tagged again!

I accidentally got myself tagged by trying to reply to a comment (I think I was lured there on purpose).

Anyway here's how it goes:

Tag: take pictures of the following right now. No staging!

1. Kitchen sink. Oh, boy. Good thing I "cleaned up" last night.



2. Toilet. Not too bad. I won't tell you what prevented me from taking a photo of the other one. (Thanks, Henry.)



3. Laundry Room. We don't have a laundry room, just a spot in the kitchen. I'm in the middle of a project right now (not laundry) so it's a little messy.



4. Fridge. There used to be more food in it but we ate it.



5. Family members. Henry's the only one here. Sans clothes, his usual state.



6. Closet. Eh, heh, er. I guess it's that time of the year again when Maggie needs to stop by and help me reorganize.



7. Favorite room. The uselessly small room at the top of the stairs we converted into the computer room.



8. Favorite shoes. My tennies. If I could get away with wearing these to church I would. Note the neat shoe basket- the only organization I've been able to maintain (mostly because I pick up everyone's shoes and throw them in there).



9. Self portrait. I had to take a lot of shots to get this one.



So, to be nice, I'm not tagging anyone in particular, but if you so feel inclined to participate, just feel glad your house is not as messy as mine.

Why exactly is it that I hate Mondays?

Yeah, Monday, the day after Sunday. Mondays are play date at the park days. Every Monday Henry and I walk a half mile to the park down the road. Henry plays with his friends while I sit in a convenient shady spot and hang out with mine. I'm good for any adult conversations that come my way. After hours of listening to Henry spouting off random gibberish in his spotty four year old English, my brain tends to shut off and I find myself replying, "Yeah, that's great, Henry." He's even given me a new gibberish name and if I could only remember it I'm sure I could hold my own against any Sumerian god. So adult conversation is very precious to me, especially on weeks where I have to teach Joy School. Such as this week. So when Henry asked if we could go to the "dragon" park instead, I said no, I wanted to see my friends. He was a little annoyed, but too bad, this is my brain we're talking about. Two hours later I started herding him home. We took the shortcut back through the woods instead of walking back up the street and Henry headed towards the greenway trail trying to make one last ditch effort to go to the other park across the highway. I said no and he had a screeching cow. We were in a little clearing above the park next to the woods behind our house. I'm sure everyone within a mile thought I was murdering him out there. It'd be the perfect place for it, too. So he pitched a fit the entire way home. Two houses from home he refused to go any further so I had to carry him, kicking and screaming that he doesn't like me anymore, all the neighbors probably thinking, this is the kid who'll be terrorizing the neighborhood in five or ten years because of his mother's complete ineptitude in discipline. Which is sad because he's usually a pretty cool kid. Anyway, once I got him wrestled in the front door he got a nice stay in time out.

Maggie called right about the time he commenced further protestations and reaffirming his desire to have another mom. What, Mugablugoth (or whatever it was) not good enough for ya anymore? Finally he calmed down and sat down on the couch beside me for a make up snuggle.

"I like you, Mom."

Alright, score one for Mugablugoth.

When Ben got home I started plans for Family Home Evening lesson and found a 3-D wooden dinosaur puzzle Mom gave Henry for Christmas that I'd forgotten. So Henry and I sat at the table and started working on it. First thing I broke one of the pieces trying to extract it from the cheapo wood it was cut from. I guess that's what tape is for. After I finally figured out how the thing fit together we constructed a flimsy skeleton of some creature with four big flippers and what I only could deduce was an extra spine and ribcage stretching between its front and rear pelvises. I'm not sure how accurate the model was, but Henry thought it looked cool.

Then we had an early FHE lesson and I walked Henry down to his precious "dragon" park while Ben stayed home. About seven houses up there's a little foot path through the woods that leads down to the park and greenway leading to pedestrian bridge over the highway. The bridge is nice because we can walk to the other park now instead of driving. Every time I walk over it I can't help looking down at the eight lanes of speeding traffic, chewing on little morbid morsels, such as, "Gee, if we were walking down there we'd have been flattened about ten times by now." Although I'm a huge chicken when it comes to heights, the bridge has absolutely no effect on me. I suppose if there weren't a huge chain link cage around it it'd be a different story. The whole way Henry was singing the forest song from the Legend of Zelda Nintendo game he plays all the time. It was a nice walk, what with things cooling off, relatively low humidity, and the bazillion yellow flowers blooming where a huge swath had been cut out of the woods to accommodate power lines. The "dragon" park (Henry calls it that because of a big concrete sea serpent thing sticking out of a hill) is an exhausting one for me, mostly because it's got three sand box areas, a huge jungle gym/tunnel thingy, another ramp and slide thing, a bathroom/picnic table shelter, buttloads of sight-inhibiting trees and bushes, and hundreds of kids running all over the place, so I literally have to stalk Henry whenever we go there or I'll never see him again. I've actually lost him there a couple of times and it really made me consider implanting a GPS chip in his skull. We only got to stay about twenty minutes because I wanted to get home around six. Although Henry wanted to stay, he didn't go all psycho on me like he did this afternoon. On the walk back we almost got run over by a pair bicyclists who said hey before they zoomed off at mach 4 and I recognized them as an older couple from church (they have kids around my age). They're both really friendly and super fit and make me feel even more slovenly than usual. In fact she's the one my sister said had great boobs (this said indiscreetly during Relief Society when said great-boobed fit chick was doing an excellent job teaching the lesson, embarrassing the crap out of me).

When we got home I was happy to see Ben had decided to cook dinner for us. A grilled cheese sandwich for Henry, cool. For us, a big steaming bowl of homemade beanie-wienies. Not so cool. I forbore from eating as long as I could but I was hungry from the walk, so I reluctantly finished off what Ben hadn't eaten, baked beans out of the can nuked in the microwave with four glorious hot dog nuggets floating in the brown sludge. I supplemented my decadent dinner with the last piece of leftover frozen lasagna even though I'd already eaten some for lunch. Ben redeemed himself by emptying the dishwasher for me.

Ack. Tomorrow I get to teach Joy School. Joy.

7's

I got tagged by that naked chick, so here goes:

7 THINGS I PLAN TO DO BEFORE I DIE:

1. Stop being so lazy.
2. Not live in a filthy pig slob dump (that may have something to do with being me lazy, but it also involves two male residents of this household who shall remain nameless).
3. Get the house fixed up sufficiently so that I'm not always waiting for the next catastrophic failure of some important expensive thing.
4. Have more kids.
5. Go on vacation somewhere out of the state of North Carolina.
6. Finish college.
7. Adapt a more healthy lifestyle, i.e., exercise.

7 THINGS I CAN DO:

1. Read whilst ignoring the chaos around me.
2. Draw and paint.
3. Lay and grout tile.
4. Whittle with a pocket knife.
5. Patiently endure the seven millionth viewing of Polar Express or Thomas and Friends.
6. Hold a 30 foot ladder with my eyes shut so Ben can clean the gutters.
7. Make a decent pie.

7 THINGS I CANNOT DO:

1. Watch Ben climb a 30 foot latter.
2. Remember any of my math classes from high school.
3. Sit through a bad movie without verbally ripping it to shreds.
4. Eat raw onions or tomatoes.
5. Pack Henry in the car and go without having to run back inside for at least one forgotten item.
6. Design a cold fusion machine.
7. Pole vault.

7 THINGS THAT ATTRACT ME TO THE OPPOSITE SEX:

1. Good sense of humor.
2. A clean shaven upper lip (I hope Ben reads this).
3. Assertiveness.
4. Willing to work hard even if he doesn't have to.
5. Patience.
6. Good with kids.
7. Polite.

7 THINGS I SAY MOST OFTEN:

1. Crap.
2. Henry!
3. Ben!
4. Stop it right now.
5. Go to bed.
6. Stay in bed.
7. If you get out of bed one more time I swear I'm going to lose it!

7 CELEBRITY ADMIRATIONS- I don't necessarily admire them but like something about them:

1. Jamie Lee Curtis- she's all old and all and she doesn't care.
2. Dolly Parton- she's all old and all and she gets tons of plastic surgery but doesn't care what people think.
3. Christopher Walken- he's funny.
4. That chick who played LaFawnduh in Napoleon Dynamite.
5. James Taylor- not that I especially like his music, but he's bald and hasn't tried to hide it.
6. Fran Drescher
7. Billy Barty

7 FAVORITE FOODS (I had to limit these to the things I absolutely couldn't turn down even if I'd just eaten and was completely full):

1. Blueberry Pie.
2. Homemade chicken pot pie.
3. My mom's enchiladas.
4. Fresh out the oven homemade bread.
5. A nice ripe peach.
6. Fettucini alfredo from Ragazzi's (but not the one in Cary because they're nasty).
7. Keilbasa.

7 PEOPLE WHO NEED TO DO THIS:

Kiki, Sally, Angela, Naomi, Alyn, um, do I even know seven people? Anyway, you know who you are!

Saturday is a special day... it's the day we bail water out of the basement

First off, we are now sans cat number two. The neighbor's cat wasn't coping in our environment (i.e., she wouldn't willingly go downstairs so we couldn't move her litter box to the basement) so Ben took her back to the neighbors'. I have recouped a small smidgen of sanity. No more upstairs litter box, no more stressed new cat to worry about. And Dori's back to her bloated complacent marshmallow self.

Yeah, so Hurricane (or was it tropical storm?) Hanna visited our neighborhood Friday night. Not too much wind, but we got about five inches of rain. Ben and I spent a few minutes in preparation on Friday rolling up carpets and stacking everything on the couches and moved them to the center of the basement. So Saturday morning Ben went down there to check things out and of course the basement had flooded. This has happened at least two times before. A couple years ago we caulked up the floor around the wall where it leaked before and that stopped one leak. While we were sweeping the water out the basement door we could see two or three spots on the other wall near the floor where water was squirting in. Makes me wonder how much water had backed up behind the basement wall. At least we know now where the other leaks are, so hopefully before the next deluge we'll have it fixed.

By Satuday afternoon it had stopped raining and the basement had stopped flooding, so we went out and visited Ben's grandparents. Around four we walked down to their neighborhood park for one of Henry's friend's birthday party. It was nice and sunny and super humid. Ben brought his grandparents' dog with us. She's this morbidly obese poodle/Jack Russel terrier hybrid, what I think people call a jackapoo. Ben tried to run with her on a leash once and I think she almost had a heart attack after about fifty yards. Henry took the leash and led the dog up the play ground equipment and took her down the slide with him a few times. Then Ben took her back to his grandparents' so she could return to eating and lazing around and borrowed a walkman so he could listen to the NC State football game. I told him he didn't need a radio- he could know how bad they were doing by just listening to the boos and collective forehead slaps of the spectators at the stadium down the road. Henry had a lot of fun, ate a hot dog and candy and cake, and got to smack a pinata.

Today was nice because we're back on the morning shift at church. Every September our Branch shifts schedules with the two other wards meeting in our building. So for the past two years we've been on the sacrament-meeting-last schedule, which really wears me out because Henry has already been trying to behave for primary and his Sunbeam class, so sacrament was almost always a huge trial. Today, as we will from now on until next year, we had sacrament meeting first. I was very happy because Henry was very good for the most part. The about ten minutes into the gospel doctrine class I was asked to sit with Henry in Primary because he was acting up. Then he didn't want to go to his sunbeam class and cried and pitched a fit, so I brought him with me to Relief Society. I warned him it would be boring for him because everything was in Spanish but he didn't care. I figured he'd want to leave after a few minutes and rejoin his class, but he didn't. He sat there very nicely beside me and I didn't have to say a thing or make him sit in my lap or anything. In fact he was all cuddly and cute. I figured he must be getting sick or something, but as soon as we got home he stripped down to his underwear and started running amok. Probably the time shift has messed with his internal craziness clock. Oh, well. We'll see what happens next week.

I doubt they'll ever be snuggly, but at least there's been no bloodshed.

Coco, the cat. The polar opposite of Dori: thin, athletic, and claw happy.

New Addition?

A couple weeks ago the neighbors adopted a couple new kittens. This would have absolutely no bearing on my life whatsoever, save for when I go over there when they're out of town to clean litter boxes and let their two dogs out. Except that they talked Ben into taking one of their cats that wasn't enjoying the loss of space (it's one of six cats and two dogs living under one roof with two humans). Ben's always wanted a Siamese cat so I relented, under the same stipulation that went along with our other inside only cat, i.e., Ben has litter box duty. We took her on a trial basis because we had misgivings about how our cat Dori would react, having been queen of the domicile these past four years. To be honest, we didn't want her going psycho like our first cat, the one we had before Dori.

Yes, for those of you who don't know, Ben and I were the owners of a psycho kitty. It was our first real pet, aside from the goldfish somebody gave us for Christmas one year that died after a few days. Since Ben had never in his whole life gotten to name a pet, I let him name her Smeagol. You, know, after the scary weirdo in Lord of the Rings. Anyway, Smeagol was a perfectly normal cat for a year and a half or so until we moved into our house. Oh, the irony of that name. Just like in the book our innocent cat turned into a creature of evil. Ben took her outside a couple times and one time she got a look at the neighbor's cat and went crazy. After that Smeagol would randomly attack us, turning from a puring lap cat into a squalling ball of fur and claws, lacing right into our feet. Scary and not fun. I took to wearing my shoes all the time. We really loved Smeagol, aside from her evil alter ego, and tried some behavior modification that seemed to work. Whenever she'd get the crazy eye and poof up we'd just ignore her and she'd go back to normal. Then one day she attacked Ben's mom and Ben intervened and got bitten pretty bad and had to go to the doctor. I had just had Henry, so as much as we loved her, we decided that Smeagol and her craziness had to go. It was very sad but pretty much our only option was to have her euthanized because none of the cat rescue places would take surrenders, and she'd just end up getting put to sleep at the pound anyway. Ben was pretty sad, so his mom bought him Dori. It took me a few months to fully trust her and to stop being paranoid when I walked barefoot beside the bed. She's turned out to be a good, laid back cat who's only flaw seems to be occasionally puking up her cat food. So now you see why we were nervous about taking in another cat.

We've had this cat, Coco, a couple weeks now and she still won't willingly venture downstairs. For the first week she hid under the bed in the guest room. She's very affectionate, but she's the biggest chicken of a cat I've ever seen. I tried to take her down to the living room the other day and got a scratch on my arm as a result. Then I wrapped her in a towel and tried again. She stayed for about two seconds and ran back upstairs. It's really annoying beacuse I want her litter box in the basement with Dori's so I never have to see the thing. But if I can't even get her to downstairs there's little chance of her going into the basement. Speaking as the Queen of Laze, if she doesn't conform to my wishes soon, I have a feeling we'll have to give her back to the neighbors.

Newlyweds, in our one room shanty at E.S. King Village, Raleigh, North Carolina.

Ben And Sarah Through The Ages

Last week was our ninth anniversary. Miraculously I remembered, but neither of us felt like going out, so we hung out at home with Henry. Yes, we're super romantic, I know.

Our story:

Ben and I met in 1992. That year I was very grumpy because my parents decided to move halfway through the second semester of my junior year in high school. We moved an hour from the town I grew up in to the even more podunk town of Ramseur. Maggie and I were in the same chemistry class and instead of letting us be lab partners, the teacher made me sit next to a tall skinny strawberry blond kid named Ben Tilley. We were going over balancing equations, something I hadn't done yet at my old school, so I asked Ben how to do it. He said he didn't know how to explain it, and that was pretty much our last real conversation of the year. The next year my sister Beth took an interest in him and they started dating. Ben and I became friends after that and drew comics and joked around a lot in our physics class at the expense of the teacher, Howard Johnson. For some reason I told Ben about seminary and the hilariously bad church videos we got to watch. The next thing I knew he started going to seminary. He and Beth were pretty much set on getting married, and in May of 1994 Ben got baptized. The next year Beth and Ben broke up and I didn't hear from him in a while. We were still friends and started hanging out, but not dating or anything. Then right before he went on his mission he confided his amorous feelings for me, which I'd honestly been oblivious of. I wasn't quite prepared to hear what he had to say and had no idea what to say in turn. Ben took it as a rejection and left for his mission not knowing if he'd ever see me again. I felt pretty lame about the whole thing, so I wrote him a letter while he was in the MTC and explained myself. Then I went on my mission the next year and we wrote each other until I got home in October 1998. He proposed in February 1999, we got married in the Washington, D.C. temple August 7, 1999. After I survived three weeks of marriage in our one room studio and didn't kill Ben or myself, I realized I hadn't made a horrible mistake after all.

A few weeks ago we were watching some home improvement show on TV and these guys were moving a big glass door and one is explaining, "This door is three hundred pounds, it weighs a ton." Ben and I both opened our mouths and said pretty much the same sarcastic thing, "No, it weighs three hundred pounds."

Yes, we were made for each other.

Let's Go To The Movies

The other day I took Henry to the movies. I decided to do this knowing full well from previous experience that it wasn't going to be 100% fun making Henry stay in his seat, prevent him from running all over the theater, and keep him from bolting at the end and getting lost in a crowd of a hundred kids. Well, the movie was an older one but it was free, so I figured why not. Seeing how the theater lures people in with the free movie so they can make money on their overpriced candy and popcorn, I felt like I should be a jerk and not get anything, but Henry, having been to the movies with his grandmother recently, ran right up to the concession stand so I caved and bought some popcorn and raisinettes. I ordered a cup of water, because we all know what happens to Henry when a little soda is added. The chick asked me if I wanted a bottled water and I said no, tap water in a cup could be fine. Who wants to pay for freaking water? So we met up with our friends and I secretly was hoping that they'd want to see Wallace and Gromit because I've seen it already and can stomach it, crossed my fingers that they'd already seen Alvin and the Chipmunks, because having seen one scene from that movie in a McDonalds made me want to puke. So we end up going to Alvin and the Chipmunks. Yeah. I didn't complain too much, I was mostly busy keeping Henry in his seat and making him sit back down, stop bothering the people in front of us, stop sitting next to the teenager at the end of the row, find his missing shoe ("Mom, my shoe is missing! Mom, my shoe is missing! My sock is getting sticky!"), retrieve his cup of water from underneath the seat, grab him and make him sit in my lap, all while trying desperately not to scream "This movie sucks!" at the top of my lungs. Then to my immense relief the screen faded to black.

I turned to my friend, "Oh, man, I didn't think I was going to make it." And then another scene comes on and there was a few more minutes of annoying chipmunk agonies to endure.

It was kind of funny when Henry yelled at the top of his lungs about six times, "That girl looks like a hippy!" And his loud obnoxious laugh whenever anyone got smacked in the head or a chipmunk farted. So I guess torture can have its moments. And yes, I'd probably do it again, just to see him have a good time, even at my expense.

Then when we got home Henry found the receipt in my pocket and I glanced at it when I took it away from him and noticed that the concession stand chick had charged me a dollar for a freaking paper cup of water.

"That (insert biblical swear here)!" Whoops, I guess I shouldn't have let that one slip out. Henry laughed and repeated it like five times. I apologized and explained that I shouldn't say stuff like that even though I was angry. A dollar for a paper cup of tap water...

Next time we go to the free movies I'm smuggling in my own snacks.

MEMORIES...

I stole this from Barneckedlady's blog:

MEMORIES...

Fun if you want to participate.

1. As a comment on my blog, leave one memory that you and I had together. It doesn't matter if you knew me a little or a lot, anything you remember!

2. Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you. It's actually pretty funny to see the responses. If you leave a memory about me, I'll assume you're playing the game and I'll come to your blog and leave one about you.

The doorbell rang this morning, and this is what I found staring at me through the storm door. I think he's supposed to be Batman, but I could be wrong. He really is getting miles and miles out of that swim vest.

Mommy's Happy Hour

After I spent all morning and afternoon dealing with the adventures of the psycho tornado formally known as Henry, Ben decided to go out and see the new Batman movie with a friend, leaving me with our adorable little hell-beast. All was fine until dinner time when the whining started and every culinary suggestion I offered was shot down with complaints galore. Moments like these often cause me to contemplate and reflect upon the horrible luck doled on me when my son decided to quit napping at about 25 months. I made dinner in spite of his avowal that he didn't like pizza (a flat out lie, since it's one of the few things he'll actually eat) and when it was ready I found him zonked out in the recliner. I made a half-hearted attempt to wake him, i.e., I brushed him with a finger, and when he didn't stir I gleefully let him sleep for an hour. Of course, thanks to his nap he was wide awake when Daddy got home.

Happy Birthday USA

Independence Day was spent at home since both Ben and Henry were laid up with colds. Henry actually asked to take a nap a couple hours after he got up that morning and he and Ben slept until well after one p.m. Fireworks were definitely out since the menfolk were so beat, so we busted out the sparklers instead. I'm not sure that Henry got the whole Forth of July thing, but he thought the sparkler was pretty cool, once he figured out it wasn't going to ignite him. I guess I should have told him it was our country's birthday, which he'd totally get. Too bad I always think of these things long after the fact. Oh, well.

Ahh, back on flat ground. Can't tell if I'm any whiter than normal, but my hands sure were sweaty

Family Vacation

Ben took a few days off and we went on vacation. We didn't go very far, just to Pilot Mountain and we camped out at Mom and Dad's again. Henry didn't get to play with all his cousins this time, but he did get to help babysit Wesley, Maggies' cute little three month old. He got in a tractor ride, boat ride, a couple of movies and got to feed the ducks before we called it a night. I slept really well since we skipped the air mattresses this time and used a foam mattress thingy. Henry drifted off, well more like crashed off, to sleep about ten thirty, and woke bright and early at about five.

"It's morning!" he said perkily into my incredulous, blinking, bloodshot eyes.

"No, it's not," I said and rolled over.

"It is morning! The birds are tweeting!"

Stupid birds.

We packed up the tent and stuff and left about nine and drove over to Pilot Mountain where Ben's paternal grandparents live. We spent the day with them then went up to the mountain to find a camping spot. This involves driving up a narrow windy road with hairpin curves and minimal guardrails, so I was a little queasy by the time we reached the top where the hiking trails and look outs are. We wanted to hike around the knob, which Ben and I did many years ago in the pre-Henry era. Of course, watching Henry fearlessly check out the view on the edge of the drop off did little to ease my nerves.

"Can I climb on that rock?" he asked, pointing just outside the fence.

No, imagining that didn't make me want to faint and puke at the same time.

I get completely stressed at home when he runs around on the back deck, which is about fifteen feet above a cement patio thing.

So we start our hike, Ben taking charge of Henry and the camera, me carrying the water.

"Have these sharp, slippery looking rock steps hanging out into open space always been here?" I asked Ben.

Of course, they must have been there the last time we hiked, but I honestly didn't remember them or getting vertigo that quickly before. I opted not to watch Ben leading Henry up and down those steps, pretty much because whenever I did my heart seized and dropped down somewhere in my knees. We'd gotten about a third into the hike and were working our way around bare rock when I decided I'd had enough. I think if Henry hadn't been there I'd have been okay. I mean, I've hiked it before and it was really fun. But watching my only child, who by the way only up until recently couldn't walk across a room in flip flops without tripping, climbing on pine needled covered rocks next to a very steep drop off sans hand rail or trees... Okay, the stress was killing me. So I was done. We turned around and went back and I kept my eyes on my feet the whole way.

At a much less stressful point where the path was soft and flat, and surrounded by trees we stopped for a little rest. Henry announced to a couple coming up the trail that his mommy was afraid of heights. Heh, heh, heh, ya little weasel. Just you wait until next time we go to Chick-fil-A and you're too chicken to climb to the top of the indoor play house...

Since I was a bit stressed, Henry had acquired a runny nose and the weather was supposed to be a bit cooler that night, and you could hear the highway noise all the way up the mountain, Ben suggested that we drive back to Mom and Dad's. Henry had left his hat there anyway, so we all agreed and drove back to Seagrove, arriving at Mom and Dad's right after seven. We ate our campfire dinner: Chef Boyaredee straight out of the can ( I heated Henry's in the Microwave) and we put Henry to bed and ordered pizza and watched movies.

Now we're home and Dori is happy and full of wet cat food.