This lovely, glorious week is BOYLESS. It’s spring break, and the boys went out to Gramma’s (God bless her heart). Most Hawsum.

Hunky took Monday evening off to go out to dinner with me to our favorite steak place. Would you believe that I spent an entire dinner NOT cutting someone’s food, NOT getting up to fetch something, NOT raising my voice even once (actually, we signed the entire time), NOT leaving the table in complete and utter disgust, and (bonus plan, baby!) NOT ONCE did I have to utter any of the following oft-repeated phrases:

“Would you stop that!”

“Don’t fill up on milk. You’re not getting any more until your [insert vegetable here] is gone.”

“Oh, for the love, quit teasing your brother!”

“Don’t worry about the dog. Worry about you.”

“Don’t you dare chew until it’s so gross you throw up. I WILL just get you more.”

“Well, if you would ignore him, he would give up and quit teasing!”

“You took that much, you finish it.”

“That is disgusting! Knock it off!”

“Because I’m the mom. When you’re paying your own mortgage payment, you can make the rules.”

“What the… get up off the floor!”

“That was NOT the cat. Why can’t you go in the bathroom and do that?!”

It was heavenly.

After that, we were on our way over to WalMart to pick up a couple things, and I told Hunky I had to pick up some paint samples to take home and compare to the tub/sink and then bring back to pick out a new bathroom set that doesn’t clash. You’re all quite intelligent; I trust you can see where this is going.

Exhibit B in the whole “Tom’s a chick” trial.

Dory: So don’t let me forget.
Hunky: I’ll try.
Dory: I wonder what they were thinking when they picked that color out. It’s such a weird, gross mauve.
Hunky: [matter-of-factly] It’s really more of a coral than a mauve.
Dory: *looks at Hunky* *blink* *blink blink*
Hunky: I am just a big girl, huh?
Dory: *nods slowly and solumnly*

I swear I did not make that up. If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’.

Last night, I went to deaf club dinner without having to worry about what to make the boys for supper and if the house would be standing when I got back. Then I went to a hockey game without refereeing my own fights up in the bleachers.

Tonight, I plan on doing absolutely as little as possible. Household chores can wait… I have a quiet evening ahead of me. There will be a wonderful glass of merlot and a book and/or a movie blissfully sans interruptions. Tomorrow night, we’re taking the boys back for a short time to take them to see Thousand Foot Krutch. Friday I’m going to go visit my new niece and then go to a CMA meeting. Saturday is an all-day activity for CMA. While I would prefer to have the entire day to myself, at least I don’t have to take the boys to the kids’ room and worry about who they’re going to emotionally scar forcibly apologize to for leaving dents where they’ve ricocheted off the walls.

Yesterday my manager came up to me, tapped me on the shoulder, and said, “Can you come over here with me?”

That was exactly what I was asked before I got laid off a few years ago. I instantly got wet pits and started hyperventilating. Then I remembered that the temp agency would just find me something else less like watching a video of How To Watch Paint Dry.

“I’m really sorry to bother you with this, but I need to have a quick meeting and we can’t find our interpreter. I hate to ask you to do this, but would you interpret for Elle?”

Elle is a friend I met in Deaf club. She works in the next department over. She’s full Deaf, and a really great ASL teacher to boot.

“I’ll sure try.”

So I stood right next to my manager, speechreading and interpreting simultaneously. Now, I’m kind of slow, but my vocab’s not too shabby. But at one point my manager said, “And we had a bunch of people call in sick; Jane, Mary, Tom, Dick, Harry, Ethel, Fred, Bertha…” (No, I don’t work at a nursing home – I just had to make up names.) I turned to Elle and signed – MANY PEOPLE CALL SICK – MANY MANY NOT SHOW-UP. My finger-spelling skills suck too much to even attempt to keep up with a long list of names. She knew. She just smiled.

Rip it, roll it, and punch it, dude. Friends don’t let friends drink and ride the EAC.

Today when I picked up the boys from school, Rocky got into the car very upset and told me a classmate had been calling him names. I asked him what she called him, thinking I’d hear the standard “buttmunch” or perhaps “fart knocker.” Then I took a moment to feel a little bit guilty that HunkyDory watched a tad too much Beavis & Butthead when Rocky was a toddler. I sheepishly remembered the day we pulled up the back of his t-shirt collar to the top of his head and taught him to say, “I am Cornholio!” and run around the living room in circles. Good times, good times. *blinks* Wait, what? Ah, yes.

He said, “She called me a Jew, and I’m not a Jew, I’m a Christian. I tried to tell her they’re different, but she just kept yelling over me ‘Jew Jew Jew Jew’!”

Seriously?! WTH is this kid’s parents teaching her?!

I had a talk with Rocky to make sure that we were on the same page- calling someone a Jew is not an insult but it can get you in some deep, deep trouble, etc. etc. When I got home, I sent WFGT (Wonderful Fifth Grade Teacher to the uninitiated) an email.

——————————————
I think somebody needs to have a little talk with XXXX. Rocky said she was calling him a Jew like it was an insult. 1 – Rocky is a Christian, not a Jew. 2 – Calling someone a Jew is not an insult. 3 – Jews are good people. 4 – Calling someone a Jew in a sneery voice could possibly be construed as racist and could potentially get her punched in the mouth by a less tolerant person.

Thanks.
——————————————

Was that ok, emailing the teacher, or am I ‘That Parent’? I know that I would want to know if Rocky did something like that.

A couple weeks ago, WFGT asked if it would be OK if Rocky talked to the kids in the classroom about his ADHD and AS. She thought it would help if his classmates knew what he had, and hopefully they could better understand him and be more tolerant. I said that was fine with me if it was fine with him. Today, Rocky said he and WFGT had a discussion with the class where he disclosed that he has ADHD and AS, and what that’s like for him. When I asked him how that went, he sadly said “the other kids are being even more bossy with me”.

Faced with these two incidents that were causing my child such distress, the Mama Bear in me woke up from hibernation with a craving for Little Kid and Dumplings. Hearing Rocky’s troubles makes me want to waddle into that classroom, emit a deafening, hair-raising, soul-piercing Mama Bear roar, and then make a couple of those kids my first meal after my long winter’s nap.

But I realize that I’ve got to let him learn to advocate for himself, so I suppose I’ll just go back to my cave and hit the snooze button for another six weeks.

5:20am this morning.
My loving husband has gotten up with me. He’s either really brave or really stupid. Let’s go with brave.
I pull what I think is a green shirt out of the closet.

Hunky: Are you gonna wear that?
Dory: Um, yeah.
Hunky: If you’re thinking of wearing green for St. Patrick’s Day, that ain’t green.
Dory: It is too green!
Hunky: It’s really more of a teal or perhaps aquamarine.
Dory: Well, it’s in the green family.
Hunky: A raccoon is in the bear family, but that doesn’t make it a bear, now, does it?
Dory: You’re just a great big girl, arncha?

Rip it, roll it, and punch it, dude. Hawsum.

Hey, folks; I apologize for the blazing mania in that last post. I get a little wonky when I’m PMSing. It usually swings the other way so I was just as surprised as you. *snorts* Usually I can keep the Can ‘O Crazy tightly lidded, but oops, a little leaked out.

Whirlwind trip to STL; down on Friday, back up on Sunday. Here’s the post-game highlights.

On the way to St. Louis…
[HunkyDory passes a sign stating "<-- Eolia 2 miles"]
Dory: Did you see that town name? Eolia. E-OOOOOOH-leeeee-ah.
Hunky: Do you realize that name has only one consonant?
D: What, were vowels on sale on town-naming day?!
H: What if someone named their baby daughter that? You just know she’d hit middle school and the kids would call her Areola. Or just Nipple.
[laughing like 13 year olds]

A little later… [Dino has been talking non-stop for about three hours straight.]
D: Hey, Rocky.
R: [voice completely saturated with sarcasm] What, Oh Lord Of Everlasting Babble?! What else could you possibly have to say?!

[Boys camped out in Gramma and Grampa's living room. Lights out. Hunky went in there to get a box of kleenex]
Hunky: [stage-whisper] Go to sleep. You are rotten little boogerheads.
Rocky: [doesn't even miss a beat] Boing, Fwip.

We went to BodyWorlds3 which is very serious and educational and somber. I sent MelodyAnn a very naughty pic I took at the exhibit, because sometimes I’m 12. (Of what? Give you three guesses and the first two don’t count.) I’ll opt against posting it here now since I really am 35 most of the time. But I thought about it. I probably won’t be able to stand it and post it later anyway.

We got to see my folks’ new house and it was 72º most of the weekend. On the way home, we watched the temperature steadily plunge until we hit Iowa City where it was 34º and raining/snowing, which prompted a serious discussion on the possibility of a move to St. Louis.

On the way home…
[In the homestretch. Boys have resorted to telling each other really stupid jokes. Over and over and over.]
Dino: Knock Knock!
Rock: Who’s there?
Dino: Interrupting Cow!!
Rock: Interr–
Dino: MOOOOO!!!
[then they both got a serious case of the giggles and it all went downhill from there]

And, folks, I’m very happy to announce you helped me make it through February. For the last several years, February has been a very tough month for me to get through. The Black Monster usually gets the best of me, but not this year. I won, this year. Awesome. :)

Rip it, roll it, and punch it, dude. Watch out for the freezing rain, though. Road may be slippery when wet.

Dory: [leafing through the Crossing Book Club Catalog] How can I become the woman of your dreams?
Hunky: Breathe in and out. You’re doing great.
Dory: No, really, what else can I do to be a better wife?
Hunky: Just keep up that breathing thing. That’s all.
Dory: [keeps leafing through the catalog]
Hunky: And take it in the ass.
Dory: [eyes get big and blink-blinkblink]
Hunky: [laughs until his face is red and slaps his knees] I love doing that to you.
Dory: Yeah, but that’s not bloggable.
Hunky: Oh, sure it is!

And so it is.

I’m so proud.

Well, folks, winter went on a weekend long bender and threw up all over Iowa. And it has a nasty hangover.

All that snow that got dumped on us Sunday, 4-8 inches worth, is melting and it’s not pretty. There’s slush everywhere. And it’s supposed to get below freezing tomorrow and all that slush will be solid ice. And another 6-8 inches on top of that. Perfect.

Last night I was driving home from Chicago and just before we hit the state line, the snow started. What should’ve taken an hour took four. There were no lines to stay in; the game was Guess Where the Lane is and Pray the Passing Semis Don’t Kill You. It’s just great. The losers are easy to find. They’re the ones in the ditch or median. The winners are the ones that manage to stay on the road and live to tell about it.

I planned to be home in time for the start of the Superbowl, but I had to settle for listening to it on whatever AM station I could pull in. Just as the game was really getting interesting, I lost the station. And then my head exploded. Oh, wait, no; I just ran into the house, leaving all my belongings out in the car, and slid a little into the living room with my boots and coat still on. It looked a little like I was stealing second base.

Hunky: [quickly] We’re in the fourth quarter with two minutes 46 seconds to go Tombrady 14 Giants 10 and they have the ball.
Dory: [emphatically] Awesome. [crashes on the couch in rapt attention to the game]

Because we’re so mushy and romantic like that.

Anyone that drove by our house and glanced in the big bay window got treated to HunkyDory actually jumping up and down and screaming at the TV. But if they’re from around here, they weren’t surprised.

After the game and post-game wrap-up is when we need to do the “I’m so glad you’re not dead in a ditch” “I missed you so much” “And this semi passed me and I might have soiled myself a little” “Mom, did you get me anything” thing.

Oh, and one more time… Suck it, tombrady. Ha Ha Haha Haaaaah.

Aaaaand highlights from the trip. Sorry, I don’t have any of me white knuckled, clenching the steering wheel, face against the windshield. But maybe next time.

Ikea five. *snap*

Not sure why, but I find this cart escalator quite fascinating.

Everybody wave at the Fabulous Brit Sisters!

Limo from dinner to party… fabulous.

Playing “Bullshit” in the bar.
Because we’re too old for the stumbling drunken barfing stupor thing, that’s why.

Mm mm mmmmmm, Raspberry Mocha Mocki…something or other. It’s a big cup of caffeine that tastes like a luscious after-dinner dessert, that’s all I need to know.

Quite possibly the best cheeseburger I’ve ever had in my life. Yeah, that’s the “Cheezburger Cheezburger Cheezburger” place made famous by SNL.

What a dreary day. Didn’t stop us from enjoying ourselves, though.

So there ya go. There’s more pictures if you’re bored.

I’m cooking up a PhotoShop post, coming soon to a computer near you! I’m sure you’ll all be on the edge of your seat, waiting with bated breath. Or not.

Rip it, roll it, and punch it, dude. Rock on wicher bad say-elf.