Skip to main content

A Stolen Moment

October 11th, 2016

Dear Todd,

Since my last entry I have observed how smelly boys can be and how mean girls can be.  This next 'bout of parenting seems awesome.  I'll take smelly over mean any day.  So if our house is super stinky, remember to be thankful it's not super mean. Cuz I won't do both. We are going "All Stink. All Day. Hold the Emotionally Nasty."

Also...our Dog is Typhoid Petey. Don't know where or how he got Kennel Cough, but he's sharing it with every dog within a 1 mile radius---even those with the bordatella vaccine. He's a giver. What makes this awesome is I'm now the "Mean Girl" who holds her dog tightly on walks and won't let him meet passing dogs or say hello for fear of "sharing." And I can't take Petey to the dog park because he will share with all the dogs. And then they will share. And so on. And in little to no time, I will go down in history as the woman responsible for the Poudre Puppy Plague.
But he needs to run. So I may have to run. He's gonna make me get in shape. Damn him. I hate running.

BUT I DIGRESS...

Really I wanted to tell you about a moment that is not full of my usual sarcasm, rather it was a stolen moment with our youngest that will be forever imprinted on my heart. It took place right after the rest of you left the movie theater. There we were...the last two in an empty theater. The music was still playing as the credits rolled and instead of leaving, he ran right to the front of the screen. I was still standing in the dividing row, that faced him from a few rows up. We faced each other, dropped our empty cups and popcorn containers on the ground, and danced. Danced like we were in our own living room at home. Spinning, jumping, mirroring each other. When the song stopped, we had tears of laughter and couldn't contain a loud giggle as we ran past the stoic employee coming up the hallway to sweep popcorn.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Our naked boy is a GMO

October 24th, 2016 Dear Todd, I'm not really sure where to start.  The headline on this one sort of sums up my Monday.  And as I make dinner right now, we still have a half-dressed 9 yr old who opts to "thrust" from time to time because his pants are off which, and I quote, "Makes me feel like a man." I'm in over my head. Out over my ski's. And any other bad metaphor for "screwed without a solution." It's that time in a working person's day when you "clock out." You shut down the computer, you decide to face the world again in the morning with a warm cup of coffee.  But he's still walking around. Half dressed. Now weilding a knife, cuz he's making his lunch. But, for your reference let's get back to the removal of the pants. All of our kids had fabulous plans with friends after school today.  Upon picking up our eldest and dropping off our youngest's friend (all possible at one house as they are broth...

This Bud's for you

December 14th, 2016 Dear Todd, We went to see the Budweiser Clydesdales yesterday.  It was cool. They are seriously large horses--like Tyranahorses. Pretty sure that's what they're called. Pretty sure. And if I call them that enough, it will stick and they will be known as the Budweiser Tyranahorse, because we are living in a world where we can say whatever the f**k we want and not only will there be no consequence, but the word will be added to Webster's top Fab Five Fictious Phenomenons. But I digress... So we saw the horses. And as we were making our way back past them for the second time--aka "our farewell tour"--practicing our parade waves---one of our children shrieked and proceeded to shame Eric, the Clydesdale.  It would appear that Eric was giving me yet another teaching moment wherein I could explain the origin and meaning of the expression, "Hung like a horse." And so, I'd like to say, "Thank you, Eric. I really don't...

Story Problems

October 4th, 2016 Dear Todd, As the household proclaimed "linear thinker," I have a math problem for you. Or the world's longest run-on sentence... If a woman is awoken at 5:15am by a nightmare of a toxic/sewage smelling snake sliding up the side of her body rapidly encroaching on her breathing, and slowly opens her eyes to look around so as not to startle the snake, only to find that the snake is a pair of size 4 male feet and the toxcitiy is coming from the 70lb farting dog in the bed and thus she slides out discreetly thumping onto the floor and army crawling downstairs as to not disturb anyone else in an attempt to have a cup of coffee by herself only to be followed by the farting dog that proceeds to vomit a 32inch diameter puddle on the living room rug, waking the size 4 feet that rapidly descend to request a peach for breakfast. The sound of the youngest running down the stairs wakes the oldest (who has never woken up on his own before 7am unless it was a Sun...