Hi, Neighbor! Can we talk about your dog a minute?

Today I have a "Sternly Worded Letter," (as my eHomey Luvvie would put it) for my neighbor in the brick house across the side street. Sometimes she stays doing the most...

Not FooFoo, just remarkably similar

Dear NeighborLady,


Hey, how you doooooin'? We have been on wavin' and noddin' terms for going on five years now. And we have both had our dogs for about the same amount of time. I must admit, your lil' Yorkie is the epitome of adorable.
He really is. And I don't blame him for the smelly, steaming messes he leaves in my yard. After all, he's only doing what dogs do. However, I have a couple of issues with YOU. 

See, the way I figure it, a dog who is housebroken will only do his business wherever he is allowed to do his business. 

Can you teach FooFoo how to do this? Or at least teach him how to Dougie?

That's where you come in, dear lady, being the dog owner and all. For the most part, I haven't said much over the years as I have watched you walk past my home, on the sidewalk, and your dog has lifted a leg on my trees. I have kept my mouth closed as I watched your precious lil' froofroo cop a squat on the curb side grass, and then watched while you walked away and left it to biodegrade in its own stinky time. Even though never ONCE have I, nor any of my family, taken Roger the Rat Terrier to defile your immaculate lawn.



Lately, though, you have been pushing the bounds of my kind and understanding nature. 


First, I noticed you come out of your house with the froofroo dog, cross the street, allow your dog to poop in my yard, and then immediately return to your house and go inside. 
Your dog toileting in my yard while you were walking him is one thing. Purposefully crossing the street with the intent of letting your Yorkie use my lawn for a latrine, though?


REALLY??


Today, however, you have surpassed all limits of patience and tolerance. My kindness and understanding came to an abrupt end at about 4:15pm.


It was then that I happened to look out my front window to witness you, dear lady, walk your pooch up my sidewalk and allow the hairball to lift his leg on my kid's bicycle!
To say I am aggravated, irritated, angered, or incensed is to drastically understate my level of pissedoffitude. 


See, here's the thing... I know I don't have the best landscaped lawn on the street. I know I have an eight-year-old that leaves his toys and stuff in the yard. I know my house is starting to need a coat of paint. But that doesn't mean I don't care at all. It means I'm a working mom, and when prioritizing my life, spending time with my kid takes precedence over yard work. It doesn't mean that I welcome your snookywooky's little biological care packages. 


It damn sure doesn't mean that I'm going to tolerate the blatant disrespect and unneighborliness you displayed this afternoon.


MY SON'S FREAKIN' BICYCLE, FOR THE LOVE OF SOCKS!!
NO MA'AM!!


See, I can't even let my son see how truly irate I am right now. Why?
Well, because you're a teacher at his school, and I'll be damned if he ever says a disrespectful word to you. 
Despite the fact that you let your dog defile his favorite toy.


I hope you're pleased with yourself, Mrs. A. I hope you are pleased. 
Again, I borrow from Luvvie... You, Ma'am, are a classless wonder!

Contemptuously Yours,
E's Momma

Reason #7483 that I love my son: constant source of amusement

Eli... cold, tired, and ready to go home. It dropped to 54 degrees this nite!

So a part of the culture of the Cornfield is the Du Quoin State Fair. It's part awesome, part redneck. But since we live in the Du, attendance is mandatory. I don't really have the time today to delve into the varied glories and atrocities of The Fair, but I wanted to share a convo I had with the boy.

E: Mama, what's wrong with that man?
Me: He's a carney, E.
E: Was he born that way, or did he catch it from someone?
Me: (sniggling) No, baby, it's not a disease... it's a job. It means he travels around everywhere and sets up and runs the fair rides.
E: Do you hafta look like that to run fair rides?
Me: (completely cracking up) No, I guess not, but since they travel all over, I guess it's not easy to keep looking nice...
E: Hmmmph... (mutters) laundrymat and shower... that's all I'm sayin'....
Me: (flatline)

The End.

So much to post, so little time....

First of all, hi! How ya been? Busy but good, here. Thanks for askin'!

A ton of blogworthy stuff has happened, and I can't remember all of it, but here goes what I do remember...

So you remember not too long ago, around the end of May, the post about E's new cat? Well, somehow, in his mind, the boy had it rationalized that since Graham Cracker (Cracka A. Craka, in a *Chris Rock voice,* in my mind) is a full grown cat, then obviously he still had a kitten coming to him. So I come home one day and he's brought this little ball of black fur with claws and teeth into the house. He shoves the kitten into my face and announces:

"I named him Blackie Chan!"


Oh really? Did you, now?

"What? You named him what?"
"Blackie Chan. Can I keep him?"
"Ummm... okay... and you came up with this all on your own?"
"Yeah. He's black and white*, just like me. And he has kung fu man moves, like Jackie Chan."



Okay...*look of profound resignation* Coz you see what I did to myself there? The stammering I did, trynna come to grips with my 7 year old naming a black kitten "Blackie Chan," I used the word "okay".... which naturally was interpreted as consent.

"Why Mom? Did I say something bad?"
"No... just nevermind. Wait... did you say the kitten has 'kung fu man moves?'"
"Yeah!! It's awesome, watch!"

Then the child proceeds to play with said kitten until he did indeed display some wicked cool kung fu action poses!

Needless to say, we now have two cats.  Cracka isn't all that fond of Blackie Chan yet, but that's the way it goes with cats. They're learning to coexist. It's a process. And please do not confuse this with social commentary. I promise there is no correlation between house cats and the state of "post-racial" society in general! I'm ok with that if you are.

What I can't come to terms with is the fact that my son chose two so appropriate yet inappropriate names for these cats....

*mama cat was black, daddy cat was white, so no, E, not JUST like you, the same but opposite.

Yes... that's my kid... *sigh*

It's been a minute.  For the record, school is OFFICIALLY kicking my ass.  I need better people, coz y'all shoulda talked me outta this summer semester nonsense.

Anyway....

I have blog material that has been marinating away in my wee brainy brain for better than a week now b/c I just didn't have a spare moment to post!  But tonight, I have broken away from my homework shackles and escaped into the blogosphere!!

So, it all starts with me at school last Tuesday.  I'm on my way home and Mr. Man texts me that there are power lines down on the side street by our house.  Power's out.  Storm is over.  Well, where I was in class, there were no clouds, much less a storm going on, so I hit him back for details.

Cut to me pulling up in front of the house.  Sure enough, the neighbor's tree is down in the middle of Peach Street, and it took the power line and two poles with it.  I also see my son, whom I love (honestly, I really do!) running around the yard looking like Mowgli... barefoot, no shirt, filthy, and dragging branches around the yard.  Before you ask, he was "building" a hut... no, I don't know why.  Sheesh.

Like any good mother, I tell him to get his little greenbean butt in the house and quit bringing everybody's branches in my dang yard!! I also told him to get a shirt and some shoes on.  Well, I get inside, and I think the boy is in his room playing with his matchbox cars when Mr. Man says, "Woooooow.... they sent a news crew."  Sure enough, a couple of the local stations find it necessary to cover the downed tree.  In all fairness, the storm took out power to a couple thousand homes and businesses, which considering we are in the middle of a cornfield is pretty wide spread, so I guess, since it is a cornfield, that counts as news.

Well the next thing I know, I see my dad (he lives in the basement) walking Roger the Rat Terrier past the dining room window.  First, that man never walks that dog.  Second, that man never walks that dog!!!  Did I mention the news crew?  Long story short: dad gets interviewed, my soul shrivels a little.

I see the news van pull off, and I think the worst is over.

No.  I am so totally wrong.

"Hey, there's another van... channel 3 this time," says Mr. Man.

"For God's sake, don't tell dad!" says me.

A very short while later, it hits me that the boy has been awfully quiet for an awfully long time.

"Ummmm, baby?" says Mr. Man, "You better look out the window...."

And what do I see when I look out the window?  

Lemme tell you.... I see Mowgli riding his bicycle on the street where the downed power lines and fallen tree are stretched out!!!  

"Oh for the love of God!!!!! Marc, go get him!!!!"

The child was riding down our driveway (about 25 feet away from any real danger), down the street smack in the middle of the news crew's shot, up the sidewalk and across the yard back to the driveway, over, and over, and over again in a blatant attempt to get on the news!  So Mr. Man goes and retrieves my media hungry child and brings his bad lil' butt back in the house.

It's not five minutes later.... "Daaaaannnnngggg..... baby, look out the window..."

Now before you think he was on his bike again, let me tell you, he does listen for the most part, and when the big man told him to put his bike up, he did.  However.... my child was in the yard, not 10 feet away from where the news crew was interviewing a dude from the county safety commission, serenading them ON HIS GUITAR with "Ol' Joe Clark."

"Dammit!! Get him back in here!"

We both go out after him this time.... bring him in, and tell him to stay put.

Another five minutes, and I hear the dog barking.  I look out, and the boy is walking the dog this time.  

"I got it baby..."  Mr. Man retrieves child for the third time.

I collapse in chair.  

The next day at work, my fellow nurses and I are talking about the storm and stuff.  The conversation turns to the news coverage.  One of the girls says, "I saw that on channel 3... and I said to my husband, 'Who let's their kid ride their bike around downed power lines?'"

And my soul dies a little more.... 

If you wanna see the kiddo's TV debut, click the link.  Forward to about the middle.... I'm so proud. o_O

Yeah.

The Biggest Kitten I've Ever Seen

So first we must establish that I am not above bribing my child.  Not at all.  I don't have a problem in the world with dangling a carrot in front of his face.  Some people try to call this type of parental Jedi Mind Trick by more acceptable euphamisms... positive reinforcement, goal setting, that kinda crap.  I say bullsnit!  Call it what it is, I say!  It's a bribe.  Plain and simple.  And I'm totally ok with that.  It works.


Now that we have established that I openly and unashamedly bribe the boy, we can get on with the rest of the story.


The boy got hit most severely with spring fever.  So the last couple of months of school turned into a challenge to his ability to sit still.  This resulted in his "turning cards" on a couple of occasions.  Mama doesn't like that.  At first, I tried the "hit him where he lives" method.  Taking away his Wii, his bike, not letting him go play with his buddies.  That was moderately successful, but in the long run, it made me feel like I was always coming in after the fact and being the bad guy.  I didn't like that.  So, I reverted to my favorite form of behavior modification... I told him if he could get through the last month of school without turning any cards, he could get a kitten.  (This is where I refer you to a previous post for further illumination.)


Well, I reminded him what he was working toward every day.  I also told him clearly what his responsibilities would be if he managed to get a kitten.  And he did it.  He pulled it off.  So I had to hold up my end of the deal and produce the goods... well, the kitten.


Now, I might hate that damb ASPCA commercial, but I do agree that there isn't any better place to find a new pet than a shelter or rescue center.  So off we went.  As expected, there was plenty of oooh-ing and aaahh-ing over the baby kitties.  Petting and holding and playing and general cuteness, allathat there... But there were also adult cats that he made over.  So after an hour or more, I finally asked which one he wanted to take home.  I really expected him to choose this little black and white ball of fluff with a really sweet face.
But much to my surprise, he pointed down at his feet.  "I want this one, Mama."


An adult cat.  A fat, snuggly adult cat.  "She likes me.  She wants to be my cat."  How do you argue with that?
The man who runs the shelter asked, "What are ya gonna call her?"  Without hesitation, E answered, "GramCrackers."


Yeah, I don't get it either, but it amuses me.  I like to call her Cracka A. Craka in a *Chris Rock voice*.  I've been quit by at least 3 of my friends over that one.  Mostly we just call her Crackers.  Considering this is the same child who named our rat terrier Roger, I'm actually kinda ok with the name.


Anyway... Meet the big "kitten."  

Now, I have the rest of the summer to figure out what I'm gonna use to bribe him next school year....

My Second 21st BornDay!

First the bad news... I gotta work on my BornDay. *boo*


Now the good news... Absolutely everyone I love and care about remembered it was my BornDay!  


Of course, many of them had Facebook reminding them.... but that's ok, too.  Because I am the absolute worst at remembering birthdays and anniversaries and whatnot.  So I totally don't consider that cheating!!  In fact, I think that Facebook's little birthday reminders are probably saving relationships the world over!  Kudos, Facey!


I'm at an age now where lots of folks, especially us chicks... don't front, you know I'm not lying... well, lots of us start hedging around the whole birthday/aging/real age topic.  Not me! It seems like a cliche, but most cliches are cliches b/c they are true at some level... anyway, life just keeps getting better!!  


Don't get me wrong, I still have the typical human type ups and downs, just like everybody else.  I just find that for the most part, I like who I am a lot more now than when I was younger.  I am more comfortable in my own skin. 


The older I get, the more I realize there isn't infinite time to get caught up in peripheral bullsnit.  
The older I get, the less likely I am to keep my opinions to myself.
The older I get, the more likely I am to stand up for what I believe.
The older I get, the better I am able to express myself honestly without hurting others in the process.
The older I get, the better I distinguish between what matters and what doesn't.
The older I get, the better I am at recognizing what is genuine. (No Ginuwine... this is a babyhurr free zone!)


Other awesome things that have happened since last BornDay:


I have developed and fostered several new friendships, many as a direct result of the Twittuh and Faceybook and Blogging!  #Shoutout to the ePosse!! 


I have learned how to let go and act a fool!! Interestingly enough, your sense of humor is a muscle, apparently, and it will atrophy with disuse... but trynna keep up with the wit of some of my eFamily has got that mufugga ripped!! Damb a six-pack, my sense of humor is sportin' a case, I tell ya!!


My creativity and love of writing and words has been tapped again!!  I used to dream of being a "real" writer. I guess what I never knew is that I already was a real writer... I just hafta work at it.  That doesn't mean I will ever actually be published, but hell... who needs that when the world has Blogger and Wordpress??  I'm good!  I don't ever intend to support myself by writing, it just makes me happy!  


So these are my Thank you for making my world a better place shoutouts:

• Eli, my son makes the world wonderful!
• Marc, my boo... drives me crazy in ways good, bad and ugly!! (Luv ya boo!)
• My Dad and Fathead Brother... they support me, aggravate me, entertain me... all the things a Dad and Fathead Brother should do.
• The ePosse, ThePBG, NaturallyAlise, and Awesomely Luvvie... these ladies have forced me to step up my Ig, sharpen my wit, stay relevant, and blog, blog, blog!!
• NaturallyAlise, individually, because she is not only my Cosmic Twin, she has been subjected to my poetry in all its varied states: good, bad, raw, crappy, unfinished, inspired, in development... you get the idea.  And she has never not even one time said, "HEFFA PUHLEEZ!!"  And for that I thank her!
• My Ranch/KFC homies! You guys make the work world an awesome place to be! Now, let's get out there and fix us some sick people!!
• Everyone who reads my blogs.  I am constantly and sincerely amazed and gratified that anyone anywhere gives a good gahtdamb bout what I have to say... much less that they enjoy it!  I love y'all, for realz for realz!!

Ok, that's about all I've got for today...

Make sure y'all remember to laugh and be ignant!!  Thanks for making my corner of the innanets a great place to live! 

More from the Side Eye Hall of Honor...

Last time we looked in on these hallowed halls, it was pretty much just a random happening.  This is a deliberate reprise.  Now, I will forewarn you, there is one Side Eye which is glaringly missing.  It ain't for lack of tryin'... but since she's had a lot on her plate, I'ma give her a pass (we have ferocity from eLuvvie, instead).  But despair not, I have Side Eye a-plenty!

First... we have the Lethal Look  reppin' the District of Columbia.  This look has been honed by years of laser sharp wit and a bullsnit detector bar none.  It screams, "Go head, then... if you're craaaazy..."

Behold The PBG! (Twitter @thepbg)

Our next two Side Eye Samurai hail from North Carolina.  Ignance is their stock in trade.  Please don't make the mistake of thinking you can prevail in a battle of wits with either.... they grow 'em merciless down there, apparently!


This gentleman makes one beg the question... is Rude necessarily Wrong?

Crownie McLocsface... Master of the Side Eye/Stank Face combo! Soul crushing, ain't it? (Twitter @crownieisRUDE)

Also hailing from NC, my sister from another mister... NaturallyAlise!!  Now this isn't a traditional, lookin' at you like you short style Side Eye.  
This is her "I'm slaying hoes effortlessly" Side Eye.  

NaturallyAlise trynna look innocent, but she knows she's bout to be on some ho-sh*t! (Twitter @NaturallyAlise)

This is the place where we should be dazzled by the brilliance of the Side Eye of Awesomely Luvvie.... instead, we have an image of one of her AwesomelyLuvvie Tees!  Getchu one... here's the link to her SpreadShirt online store:  LINK!

(Twitter @luvvieig)

And here's Luvvie's eSelf giving the Side Eye of Devastation!   

Now here's a Side Eye near and dear to my heart... It's because I can take credit for the nurturing of this Side Eye, it's development and growth... my own dear son.  No, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.  *Single Tear*

Awesome!

And it seems that he is making an attempt at the Side Eye/Stank Face Combination as well... must be a guy thing!


No Twitter for this lil' man... at least not yet!


And finally... one of my own.  I only aspire to have true Side Eye greatness one day.... in the meantime,
this is me.

(Twitter @amymay117)

Which is still closely related to this:

Yeah.... I love that Cat!!

Come back tomorrow for the BornDay Breakdown.... 42 and still acting like 35.  What? I was a late bloomer!!

By the way, click the pics of Peebz, Alise, and Luvvie for links to their fantastic blogs!

You can also check Peebz and Luvvie out on The Fresh Xpress!

Damb You, Animal Planet!!

So it seems like a safe bet to let the boy watch Animal Planet... no unnecessary violence, booty tootin', or foolishment.  Okay... so occasionally you're gonna catch a lion eating a gazelle or some such thing, but generally it's a damn sight better than what he could be watching.  

Except....

Yeah... so thank you, Sarah McLachlan!! Thank you, very stinkin' much!!  And I mean that most sincerely, as I repeatedly tell the boy, "No, you cannot have another pet."  As he begs with his lil' pitiful face, telling me how many dogs and cats die annually due to abuse and neglect.  As he reminds me that WE can make a difference in the life of an abused or neglected animal.  I swear if he grows up one day and joins PETA, there will be consequences and repercussions!  I'll find you, Sarah, I WILL FIND YOU!!

Sarah McLachlan... you have earned one of these:

The Store that Rhymes with "Paul Hart" Might be Hell's Lobby

So, yeah... you know what Super Mega-Lo-Mart retailer I'm talkin' about.  I don't trust those Ozark based corporate giants enough to use their proper name.  We'll just call it "the store."  And yes, I do believe it might be the Pier where the Ferryman for the River Styx docks to pick up his passengers.

On a normal day I loathe going into that store.  It's like a vortex of unintentional and largely unnecessary spending.  Even if you go in with a list and iron resolve, you almost always come out with at least one thing you neither needed nor wanted.... at least not consciously.  On a normal day, I go in for coffee, a loaf of bread, and toilet tissue and walk out with a picture frame, orange juice, and socks.  I'm sure there is a whole scientific explanation for that, involving magnetic fields and nuclear fission, but it gives me a headache to think about it.

Anyhoo.... Mephistopheles really laid out the welcome mat today.  The boy and I went in the store this afternoon to pick up a few groceries, shampoo, and other un-fun stuff.  Since I had the boy with me, I was counting on having one or two things in the cart I didn't intend to buy...  But I digress.

We're meandering through the store, not in any hurry because it was raining like crazy.  We came up on a clearance rack of boys' tee shirts, so I was looking for the kiddo's size.  That's when it happened.  In the boy's clothing department.

*sigh*

"Mama? What is this?  It feels greasy..."

I turn to see a puzzled, slightly disgusted,  look on the boy's face (think MC Serch, 3rd Bass-style Gas Face), and him holding, of all things, an unrolled, but (please Lawd, please...) unused condom.  A Magnum from the look of it....but that's neither here nor there.

"Put it down, baby.  Just put it down..."

"But what IS it???"

"Not now... Let's go wash your hands..."

"But Mama... what was it doing there? What is it?"

"Not now... go in the bathroom and wash your hands."

"Will you tell me later?"

"Yes... go wash your hands."

So he goes into the bathroom, and I find a sales associate at the back service counter.  I tell this 50-ish, very Pentecostal looking woman what my son found and where he found it.  She takes a deep breath and gives me a very put upon look.  At which point I'm seriously irritated.  Now mind you, she might have looked like a Pentecostal lady, but she works at the store, and she has an attitude that says she really doesn't want to be bothered, so she is clearly one of the devil's minions!  "What do you want me to do about it?"

What??

"Lady, I'm just telling you what and where it is, so someone can go dispose of it.  Please believe me when I say I'm showing restraint.  Coz I'm about a microsecond away from a full out tirade.  When I leave here, I have to explain this to a very bright and curious 7 year-old who isn't gonna fall for any bull.... and I'm not amused by that at all!!"

An eyeroll and a huff later... she's on her walkie talkie, presumably with the poor schlub who was to go on the Great Condom Seek and Destroy Mission.

So about 20 minutes and 1,000,000 questions later.... we're getting in the MommyVan.

"Mommy... what was that thing?"

This post is already a tome, so I won't go through the whole clumsy conversation.  Let's just say, answering one question gave rise to another, and another, and another...  The variety and complexity of the peripheral conversation solidified the headache that always starts when I go to that store.

And if I doubted it before, I'm absolutely certain of it now... that place truly is Hade's Lobby.

Haiti

Hey y'all... I know, I'm tardy for the party--again.  But at least I'm here!

I won't recap the devastation and destruction and the loss of life, safety and health that Haiti has experienced over these last days.  You have to be deaf, blind and willfully ignorant not to know what has happened there.  I will reiterate the need for continuing prayer, support and donations that nation holds.  If you haven't given already, or if you want to again, here is a link to a Google page listing organizations helping in the relief efforts.

Eli and I watched the Hope for Haiti Telethon last night.  At one point, after seeing the images of the people rescued from the rubble, the dead and the injured, the total chaos of broken buildings and disrupted life, E had a flash of panic.

"Mama! Are there kids there with their moms AND dads dead?"
"Yes, baby, there are..."
"Do they have grandpas and grandmas?"
"Some of them..."
"Who's taking care of them? The ones with no more family??"
"Well, there are people there trying to find all the kids who need someone to care for them, but right now, some of them are doing their best to take care of themselves."
"I bet they're scared and sad, Mama.  What happens when somebody finds them?"
"The people who are there to help will try to help them find some family.  They'll keep the kids in camps, for now, and places called orphanages later, so they can take care of them."
"But what if they can't find ANY family?"
"Some of the kids might get new families.  Other kids will live in orphanages until they grow up."

Note:  At this point, Mama is becoming uncomfortable and guilt ridden, so I sent another text to the Red Cross and one to Yele Haiti for good measure... I'm not even gonna think about my phone bill right now.

"If something happens to you, will I go to an orphanage?"
"No, honey... you have your grandpa, Aunt Dana, Aunt Kimberly, Uncle Mikey....."
"Marc?"
"Yeah, Marc, too... and Shannan, you have a lot of family that would love to give you a home."
"I hope nothing happens to you until you get real old..."
"Me too, son."  (this earned him a laugh and a side-eye).

I thought the conversation was over.  I was pretty sure that the crux of the issue was E's fear of being left orphaned to fend for himself.  I was wrong.  Half an hour later, I feel a tap on my shoulder.

"Mama, can we let some of the Haiti orphans come stay at our house? I'll share my stuff...."

I tweeted about this last line.  It put me in tears.  I don't know what I ever did in this life to deserve such a great kid, but for all of his faults (and he's got his share, trust me...) Eli's heart is solid gold.

I had no idea how to answer him, so I told him that I would have to find out how we could help the kids.  I'm hoping that answer buys me a little time.

In the meanwhile, I'll give what I can, pray all I can, and be thankful for the life I have.

And by the way, I don't care who declares that the "rescue work" is over, where God wills it, life will continue... so will the "rescues" even if the powers-that-be declare that it's "recovery mode" now.

Hi! I'm still alive n sh*t...

Eli's birthday party was held at the bowling alley this past Saturday. He and his little minions... I mean friends had a blast. He officially turns 7 tomorrow... Nov. 19. He's growing up so fast!! I love his lil' mocha self!!

So anyone who knows anything about me knows that I have a wonderful kiddo who I love more than socks, chocolate cake, grilled cheese sammiches and air! Eli is smart, funny, creative and sweet. And he luuuuuuuvvvvssss his mama!!

This post is dedicated to him because tomorrow is his bornday!

This is my interview with my son, Elijah. (Pay attention, he's gonna be famous some day!!)

Me: What is your favorite color?

Eli: Red because it's the same color of fire. (Not sure if this should worry me or not...)

Me: What is your favorite book?

Eli: Dinosaur books because they're awesome... their sharp teeth and sharp claws are cool!

Me: Who is your best friend and why?

Eli: I have two best friends. Who are they? First one, Eli H. because he's my neighbor. The other one is Garrick. He lives across the street and lets me play his video games.

Me: What is your favorite passtime? (had to explain "passtime" to him)

Eli: Playing video games.

Me: Even though you don't have a system? (Don't judge me... I would rather he read than play Mario or whatever)

Eli: I also like to tackle people!!! Whenever Garrick has the ball when we're playing outside, I always grab and tackle him. He can never get me.

Me: Do you have any special talents?

Eli: Yes. I can dance Hip Hop. I have really good football talent at tackling. I am learning to play the guitar. That's gonna help me get the chicks!! I write stories for you, Mom. I'm a good reader.

Me: Do you have a girlfriend? (yea, Mom's diggin' for info)

Eli: NO!! Well... Angela, she's a peach girl. I still don't have a brown girlfriend again, but I'm looking. (He's very color literal...*shrug*)

Me: What do you want to be when you grow up?

Eli: In the military. (He's seen GI Joe a few too many times) Or a Hip Hop guitar player, you know, for the chicks... Or a DJ *insert a mimicking of scratch/mix type actions and a fairly good beatbox beat of about 25 seconds*

Me: What's your favorite thing about school?

Eli: Nothing, really... Reading class and library.

So there you have it. Eli's first official interview. And before you ask, yes, he really is that girl-crazy already. I think it's all the hormones in the poultry. But that's a conspiracy for another blog!

Edit: Yes, those are turntables on his Tee... it's his current favorite. I'm just glad it was clean for the party or it woulda been some drama.

So I thought I could outwait them....

How can a child his age have such a proper side-eye game?? I don't get it!! He is truly lookin' at me like I'm outside my right mind!!

For those who don't know, when my mom died I inherited my Dad. Shortly thereafter, my brother's 3rd wife returned him (he wasn't a good fit, made her as* look fat or sumthin'). So, to paraphrase Robert Frost, he had to come home, and I had to take him in... you'd have to have known my mom to understand, really, why I still feel so obligated to her problem children.

But I digress... this isn't supposta be about my codependent tendencies (yeah, I see it, and I said it).

This is about a power struggle. A waiting game. A showdown. Me v.s. Them. A contest of wills.

I entered into said contest certain in my victory. This week, I have surrendered. I give. I just can't anymore.

I freely admit, my dad and my brother are far better at living in a pig-sty than I am.

It started because I was sick of cleaning up after their raggely as*es. I was done. I was fed up, exasperated, infuriated and exhausted... My plan was simple. Fuggetaboutem!! Let them get a taste of a house where no one cleans up after them. Let them see how bad it can get without me following behind them like their mama did. I was sure I would win.

BUT NOOOOOOOOOO....

At first, they didn't even seem to notice the layer of dust and the cobwebs. I think they did begin to notice the lack of clean dishes. They bought paper plates. But since clean dishes and a clean kitchen are necessary for my personal happiness, I soon exempted the kitchen from my strike.

I then thought the ring in the bathtub and the toilet would make an impression. Again I was wrong. And again, I found a clean bathroom was necessary for my personal happiness. So I exempted the upstairs bathroom from my strike.

Do you see the pattern here? None of it mattered to them. It could have fallen down around them before they would have lifted a finger. They were set in their way.

But then my son jerked me into reality.

"Mom, I'll help you if you feel like cleaning the house. It's kinda nasty."

Ouch.

So I explained to him that I was tired of cleaning up after people and was only cleaning up my own messes (and his) from now on. Do you know what he said?

My sweet, beautiful, almost 7 year-old son looked at me, threw back his head, and said......

"BWAAAAAAAAHAAAAAAHAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!! You're gonna wait a long time for THEM to help you!! But I know how to dust if you want me to...."

He then shook his head at me and chuckled for another good five minutes... like I'm ridiculous or something.

So Eli and I are cleaning the house. Coz WE like it clean...

Have I mentioned lately I love my kid?

It's called FLAG football for a reason, son!!

The little corner of the Cornfield where my son and I live is a town called Du Quoin, Illinois. It's mostly "famous" for the Du Quoin State Fair (which is totally the shyznitt!! ummmm...fair food!) and for high school football. The Du Quoin Indians are known in Southern Illinois for always fielding a powerhouse team. Twenty-five straight years in post-season playoffs ain't no joke!! This includes more than one trip to the "Big Show" that is the State Championship game. They lost a heartbreaker in the final last year.... I was soooooo bummed about that one...

But I digress....

Part of the fielding consistently good teams is that they start 'em young here. Which brings me (finally) to my topic... my son is playing flag football. But it's really "flag" football in name only. I mean, they all wear the little belts with the tear away flags. And they do grab the flags....eventually. However, those lil' beasts were straight up tackling each other! I stood in utter amazement as I watched these 6 and 7 year olds T-boning, bodyslamming and clotheslining one another. These children, who will whine and cry at a moment's notice when they are with mommy, were knocking the dog poop outta each other! Then there they were, poppin' up to their feet for more like they had springs in their butts!!

The teams are all coached by players from the high school team. I guess to build responsibility and leadership skills... Anyhoo...the parents lining the field were conversing about the positions these munchkins were destined for in 7, 8, 9 years when it is finally their turn to be high school football heroes... And please believe me when I say, these people meant that ish!! It wasn't just idle chit chat about some vague future team... these folks gots plans for the kiddos! Training regiments and the whole banana. They practically have the 2017 team roster finalized!

All the while, these kids are just knockin' the crap outta each other!! On the bright side, I've been assured by several people that Eli is a beast on defense and has a bright future as a defensive back coming down the road!!

I'm afraid of my brain...

Ok, this train of thought started this morning. It's another example of my self-diagnosed ADD. I intended at some point to write about how I start stuff and then get side tracked. But I got side tracked. First by the whole being a bad stan thing, then by Facebook (damn you, Mafia Wars!!) then by G-Chat with Alise, which led me to write something I sent to her.

Then of course, I had to attend to the little things in life, like, I dunno.... the fact that I have a child who must be cared for and fed and attended to and whatnot. Not to mention that he needed to practice his guitar, b/c his slacker of a mother didn't make him practice at all on Friday or Saturday.

Soooooo..... here I am, at 9 pm, writing what I intended to write at 7 am. Now, where was I?

Oh, yeah... my brain is a scary place. It is like an amusement park ride in poor repair. You know, like the travelling carnivals that make you pray they don't throw parts until after YOU get off the dang ride. That kind.

Anyway, I started to blame this on being a nurse. B/c when you are a nurse on a busy medical floor, you have to be able to juggle, multitask and prioritize simultaneously... patient A needs pain meds, patient B just came up from ER and has to be admitted, patient C is being discharged and is anxious to get home, D, E and F are just plain ol' sick and need stuff. You kinda just have to go and figure it all out on the run. Then I realized, no... the whole ADD thing started way before nursing. I'm pretty sure having it is an asset in that sense, actually.

But that doesn't change the fact that a person could get hurt up there in my ol' gray matter. It's cluttered and nothing stays where I put it. Kinda like my house. Which leads me to another thought... I really need to tackle my closets and Eli's room.

Eli's room is an even scarier place than my mind. It is literally a universe of its own. It has its own gravitational pull and nothing escapes it. Imagine swirling galaxies, if you will... it's a very young universe, therefore chaotic and lacking organization.

Sorta like my brain. Which leads me back to the topic... I can't stay focused on one thing longer than five minutes today.

Now what was I talking about?

I Suck as a Mom today......

Elijah in the car going to school... when I was still a good mommy..

So today Elijah went to First Grade! I got him ready like a good mommy. I gave the pep talk in the car like a good mommy. I gave him a smile, a hug and a kiss as I dropped him off in front of his school like a good mommy.

Then I did the stuff good mommy's do while their kids are at school (and they have a day off of work). No big deal.

So, imagine if you will, my horror when the school called and said.... "We have Eli in the office. School dismissed at 2:00 today."

Ummmmm.... yeah..... I missed the memo. We're going to McDonald's and the park to make up for that one.

Epic Fail!

I Better Never Hear "I Can't" from My Son....

I came across this story on another blog I follow. This young lady has been homeless all her life. And yet somehow managed to keep herself on track, graduate high school, and not only be accepted at some of the top universities in the nation (most of the Ivy League schools, matter of fact), but earned herself a FULL RIDE at Harvard. So the next time I hear Eli telling me he can't do something.....

KA-POW!!

I'mma whip out this story and tell him "ION'T WANNA HEAR IT!! Now get that homework done and clean your room.... and while you're at it, you best be praising the Lord you got it so good!"

Thanks for the inspiration, Khadijah Williams! Read the story on the link or go to the LA Times online and check it out.