hockey mom ... with an attitude

[That's what it says on the hooded sweatshirt the kids gave me for Christmas -- it totally rocks!]

"Dude, what a great game! That goal you made was incredible!"

"Yeah, it was kinda crazy how the puck bounced off that guy's head and flipped in."

"Did you hear me cheering for ya when it went in?"

"Ummm, mom it was kinda impossible NOT to hear you; your screaming was echoing off the walls. Why do you have to be so loud."

Pause.

"Well, I'm loud. I like being loud. And the your teammates' parents like me being loud. It's a bit of a joke that I'm the momma mouthpiece for the team. Besides Colin (the goalie) LOVES IT when I cheer for him; he waves up at me every time I give him a verbal standing ovation!"

"Yeah, well, you really don't have to be so loud. It's embarrassing."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Maybe you could tone it down a bit."

Pause.

"OK. I'll try. But it'll be real hard. Remember, I'm loud. And I love watching you play. And I get really excited and I can't help myself. It's a bit of an out-of-body experience really. But I'll try. I promise. Maybe I'll save my loudest, most enthusiastic cheering for your little brother's games ... he could really use the encouragement."

dirty little secret

Well, maybe it’s a dysfunctional clean secret.

The thing is my family is forced to live out of laundry baskets. Not for sleeping or eating, of course, but for the purpose of temporarily housing clean clothes. The practice of sifting through perfectly folded items of apparel in cleverly arranged chest of drawers is an alien concept to my family -- to find something to wear, they must all “fish for fleece” as the saying goes in our household. Folding laundry and putting it away (on a semi regular basis) is really unheard of around here. I mean, for criminy sake, they’re only going to get it all dirty and then I have to wash/dry everything all over again. What’s the point of that! Folding and putting away laundry is the most pointless waste of energy I can think of (well besides mopping floors and weeding garden beds – but that’s a disclosure I’ll save for another post).

So if I had a million dollars …

… I’d hire a friendly Ecuadorian laundress who’s happily supporting a humongous family back in Central America.

… I’d locate a professional organizer who could put my mess of a house into some semblance of order (especially my overstuffed and neglected dresser drawers, closets, attic and basement spaces).

… I’d donate heavily to my local thrift store, because if it weren’t for them, I would have despaired of disposer’s [AKA polluter’s] guilt a long time ago.

Even though this particular housekeeping practice may be rather dubious to most folks, I had to pick a system that made the most sense to my family -- even though it occasionally drives me crazy.

ho ho *hack *hack *hack

Sorry I've been offline for so long (Pos, the nag-o-gram was happily received!) but I'm still under the weather and things have been brutally hectic in the run up to Christmas.

The kids and I had school up until Friday the 21st (the day of the big Christmas program. When you go to a church school, the Christmas program is a big deal). Needless to say, organizing dressier-than-normal threads for young boys can be a bit of a nightmare on the morning of said event. "No. You have to wear khakis. Then wear a belt for heavens sake! No, you can't wear a skater shirt -- wear this! Dude, you missed a button. Yes, you need to tuck in your shirt. You look like crap with it pulled out. Fine! Look like crap. See if I care!" All I can say, I'm awfully glad that my daughter has to wear a uniform to her school.

As a special treat for enduring yet another pre-traumatic Christmas program, I took the kids to a local shee-shee market and bought us all sushi! And then I had to promptly whip my house in shape (absolutely NO small feat of manic activity) and cook two big pots of Jambalaya for an informal dinner party that I was hosting for 9 adults and 10 kids. And poor Pos came home that afternoon with this evil cold, went to bed for a much needed nap and was unable to work his kitchen cooking magic for me. And the real shame is that I didn't drink nearly as much as I should/needed to and therefore I went to bed feeling a bit deflated.

Currently Pos and I are in a serious pre-Christmas scramble mode. We went last minute shopping last night and got some much needed stuff; however, the whole experience left me feeling overwhelmed, exhausted, and a tad bit discouraged with having to choose among all the picked over merchandise. And unfortunately it looks like I need to throw back a stiff drink and launch myself back out there one more time before I'm truly done. I won't even mention how much wrapping I haven't done!

And to top everything off, we've had not a one, not a two but a FOUR hockey game weekend this weekend with our hockey-playing boys. Me driving in one direction, Pos driving in the other and rarely the twain shall meet (except to the final game where the outcome is expected to be close). I try to bundle, I end up freezing. I holler and scream and lose what little of my voice I have left. In the end, however, there's joyous spectator fun to be had by all.

Well folks, that's a sampling of how nutty the last week and a half has been. I expect that after Christmas morning things will settle down to a nice dull roar and pajama wearing will be the order of the remaining holiday. We'll read, watch TV, snuggle, walk the dog, nap and in general slug about (as we're prone to do when we have time off).

I sincerely hope all of you have a Merry, merry Christmas and a wonderful new year and I thank you all for stopping by and visiting me on occasion. It's been a joy and an honor to share my life with you all and I look forward to next year's written adventures.

Best to you all!

Molly

waiting for the poop to drop

Yep, folks, more glorious pics of the pooch. This time some live action shots (usually while waiting for him to complete one of his daily constitutions!)

He's a regular pouncier -- look out if you happen to be a bag of kibble.

We've discovered a new use for the unused rope swing in the back yard: a self-propelled chew toy for a very sharp-toothed puppy.

"What!? You're supposed to do something in order to get a Beggin' Strip. Looking cute only gets you praise and people talking at you in funny little voices."

"Where's the ball, Max?! Where's the ball? Go get the ball, Max! The ball ..."

not listed ... yet

Not on America's Most Wanted, Craig's List, or on eBay. So far so good.

These pics are for all my blogging pals who were (understandably) concerned about my mental health and were (understandably) concerned about the status of my pooch. Well, here he is ... in all his napping glory. Enjoy!

I lovingly refer to him as "batboy" when he crashes out like this.

Here he is with his brother, Casey -- the blond spaniel-like, long-eared wonder. You should see these two go at it!

Our stance was going to be "not on the furniture!" We were adamant about "not on the furniture!" We always looked down our noses when others couldn't keep their dogs off of the furniture.

We quickly caved, retracted our dictate and are now the proud partakers of crow; you can call us your friendly neighborhood hypocrites.

slow and sure insanity

I am absolutely positive.

I'm going crazy.

In addition to feeling like crap, every time I try to sit down and attempt to write a post, I have to hop up and see what the puppy is into. I've pretty much given up on the pine green upholstered chair sitting in our living room -- let him chew it up if it gives me ten minutes of peace.

And bodily functions, I'm sick to death of trying to keep track of his peeps and poops every minute I'm home. He's already peed at least five times and pooped four times on my watch in the house and it's only been two and half weeks!

The kids try -- when they're home. The husband's a real trooper -- when he's home. However, I'm a guilt-ridden, house-bound nutjob with a (probably typical) puppy that's pushing me to the edge.

Even though this may not be as bad as sleepless nights harboring sore and cracked nursing nipples -- it's getting pretty damned close!

I wanted so bad to write about the drama of my fourteen year old getting her contact lenses last night ...

Couldn't. Had to freeze my butt off while waiting for one of the dog's innumerable bowel movements to occur.

I wanted to post an inquiry to you all, my blogging pals, about writing styles and ask you questions about how you deal with plagiarism

Couldn't. I had to clean up yet another doggy mess.

I wanted to chat about this morning's MarketPlace report regarding the U.S. economy and how the Europeans are flipping out about it.

Couldn't. I have to retrieve large fluffy stuffing from out of my puppy's mouth.

I wanted to post a nifty little poem about autumn and the endless chore of leaf raking.

Couldn't. Damned dog has figured out how to knock over the safety gate and bust through to the other side.

I desperately want to indulge in this mentally liberating activity of thinking, writing and sharing ...

But I can't ...
because my brain can't form coherent thoughts when I'm always worrying about the dog.

I hab a coldt

pardon me while I blow snot into a tissue

oh rats! some landed on the screen.

gross!

I live in an infected house.

and I'm the last to be infected.

I'm sorry

mothers shouldn't get sick.

surely there's a dictate or universal law

prohibiting said state of maternal illness.

therefore, which lawmaker should I lobby

to make official

a decree

protecting moms against

possible germ invasions.