For those of you who don’t read the comments

Sometimes people don’t dig into the comments section.  This was so funny I just had to post it.  It’s from our friend Troy who just spent a few days in THE MAD HOUSE I call home.

I just finished listening to a VM Mary left me yesterday – After I got done with her To-Do list – drain pipes eaten away compliments of some acid-wielding crazy lady, a couple of leaky faucets, a storm door closer torn from the door by some crazy lady’s crazy kids (supposedly), etc. I had left her an e-mail and a few notes yesterday explaining what I accomplished and what her family can do in the future to spare her pipes from that acid she loves to buy and use (drain cleaner that is) and hopefully avoid having to turn another snake or two lose in the drain pipes in the oldest part of her house. I started with the little wimpy snake a few days ago and even though my right-hand man KP thought it was really cool, it didn’t solve the problem. So I returned with the long power snake that you connect to a drill – KP thought this one was even cooler and KP, Mary and the cat all decided they needed to see this one in action!

Troy, the sink, the cat and the snake

Anyway, their desire to observe caused a serious dilemma for yours truly. You see rotary snakes are often the only way to clean old drain pipes, but the decision to use them is not free of several risks that can create much more serious problems for homeowners. You see, rotary snakes will almost always go down the pipe, but they don’t always come out. And if they get stuck really good, the drain will never work again. Which means if the homeowner has any intention of using the the sink, toilet and tub that all drain into the pipe that is now plugged with the stuck rotary snake, the only way for them to do so is to hire a carpenter to cut away the floors and walls where the old pipes run so they can be removed and replaced with new ones…

So there I was, sitting with the acid-wielding blogger, her camera, her son, and their cat all focused on my every move. All I could think about was how this situation was tailor-made for a good-hearted guy with considerable handyman skills and the desire to help out a neighbor in need to get a really good lesson taught to him re: why it is so important for contractors to be licensed and to carry insurance…. I could also hear my father’s words of wisdom in my ear – “make sure to take things REALLY SLOW when using a rotary snake as you are really F#@ked if you get it stuck in the pipe and can’t get it out.”

So should I give Mary the “buyer beware” talk that every licensed plumber would give her before proceeding? Or should I try the rotary snake VERY SLOWLY and see what happens??? I have to admit, if KP wouldn’t have been looking at me like I was about to save someone’s life with that damn snake, I would have probably told Mary “On second thought I think you should call a plumber or someone else who has better insurance – make that any insurance – than I do to do this for you.”

But KP was giving me that “your the man Mr. Auth” look that one can never walk away from so I pushed the trigger on the drill and began pushing the snake into the pipe. The deeper it went the bigger KP’s smile got and the more pictures Mary flashed. Little did they know that pushing the snake in is the easy part. Once it busted through the clog, I wiggled it around and then started pulling it out. It actually came out covered with black, greasy sewer pipe grime and the spring on the end was filled with all the crud that does such a great job of clogging drains. I breathed a sigh of relief and told KP and Mary I thought it worked – with produced a “Let me see that stuff on that spring” from KP and another string of flashes from Mary’s camera. I cleaned the snake up, put it back in my truck, put the drain pipes under the sink back together and couldn’t wait to fill the sink up with water and then open the stopper. The water created one of those tornado-like whirlpools like the drains in brand-new homes with brand new plastic sewer pipes do and the water disappeared so fast that Mary exclaimed “that drain hasn’t worked that well in all the years we’ve lived here”. Which made me smile from ear to ear. And then KP said “we need to tell PJ to quit putting her blonde hair down that drain” – which was the icing on the cake.

Who needs insurance when one has great neighbors and customers like Mary and KP…

Making your friend feel welcome

KP had one of his school buddies, Big C, over for a play date yesterday.

When we showed up for school this morning, Big C’s mom just had to share a little story that happened at their house last night.

When Big C was being put to bed, he told his dad that he better go lock the doors and make sure they were locked.

When his dad asked why, he said, “I was playing with one of KP’s big brother’s toys.   He told me that I better not because he will hunt me down.  So can you make sure the doors are locked.”

Yet another proud moment as a mother

There are so many Christmas stories to share, I’m not really sure where to start.  So…we’ll start a few days before Christmas.

We needed a little something to do, so I told the kids I would take them to see Santa.  Thinking by 3:30 pm all the littles would be home taking an afternoon nap and we could just breeze right in and lay it on down for Santa.

Well, not exactly.  There was eerily NO ONE in line but swarms of people everywhere.  So we walked up to the two Santa gate keepers at the head table.  Quickly we find out that there was a 5 1/2 hour wait.  When asked when the best time to see Santa would be, gate keeper number one says to me, “Well, that would be November 15!”  I almost kicked her in the teeth, smart ass, happy holidays, whore.  Oh goodness, did I just say that, sorry I digress.

We (ok…I) come to determine that Santa is so not worth that, so I gave them each a quarter to put in the gumball machine and the nod to take a quick tour through Build A Bear first.

We zip through the store and hit the wall of gumballs.  I realize KP is digging through his filled pockets (there are always treasures in there) to get at his quarter and there is something blocking his fat little fist from making it to the bottom.  He pulls something out, something I have never seen before.

When questioned about it, his first instinct is to lie, tell me it’s his, he found it, he brought it from home, some strange man in a red suit gave it to him.  After a few more questions he comes clean and tells me he lifted it from Build A Bear.  Swift, fast and undetected…it is truly a gift and not a good one (he does it at preschool all the time, we now pat him down before he leaves).

This photo is us marching him back into the store so he can return stolen goods (see right hand).

My life in crime

The mom with THAT kid

This morning was the morning that the train came right off the tracks.

PJ missed the bus, which puts everyone waaay behind the eight-ball.  Typically we have a whole hour for the boys to finish breakfast, get dressed, brush teeth, etc.  But if she misses the bus and it goes by without her, everyone has to be ready to pile in the car within five minutes.  That means they need to be ready for the day to start and yes, that includes me and my swim suit to haul it over to the gym to teach lessons.

So when we left, I at least knew KP was having pajama and pancake day at school.  I also knew that he was in PJ’s, which is one step better than last week’s GREEN day, which I forgot to put him in green all together.

After almost losing my voice from barking demands at my children, we got in the car.  We got PJ dropped off at school, and then CT, and finally KP with three minutes to spare.

So we sat outside of his classroom and I had a chance to take a look at him.   This is what I saw:  Spider-Man PJ top, two short sleeve t-shirts underneath that, green and blue dinosaur bottoms rolled over three times to ensure a good fit, too small tan and orange smartwool socks, three wrist watches, unbrushed teeth, non-combed hair and a crusty nose.

With that I walked him in, kissed him on the forehead and told him to have a GREAT day.

Kid’s questions

As I was folding laundry this morning KP said, “How does dad have BIG toots and holes in his underwear?”

Mean…like calling someone a Toddler

Yesterday after the marathon, after everyone showered up, dried off and took a deep breath, we headed over to a running mate of Adam’s for a little after marathon party.

There were a ton of kids there.  New kids.  Kids that my kids have never met before.  But the great thing about kids, that does not matter.  They just make it work. They play and scrap and find things to get into  and have fun and never even take the time to find out their new buddie’s name.

At the end of the night, while driving home, we asked the kids if they had fun.  PJ said yes.  Of course, we did find her standing up on a chair performing Chinese songs to the entire group while they falled about her giggling.

KP said the kids were mean.  Did something happen, I asked.  His response, “Yeah, they called me Butter Head!”

Shit, Butter Head or Butta Head (as it sounds like coming out of KP’s mouth), that is just perfect.  Thanks to the kid who coined that…it’s absolutely perfect.

Thursday

Ribbit

Leapfrogging at Target.

Summer in September

This was taken on Friday, September 26.

It was 85 degrees and HOT.

On the beach across the lake, a Coen Brother’s movie was being filmed.

The tree on the right hand side of the photo is just slightly showing signs of turning orange and changing for the season.

The toddler in red, squatting down on the right hand side of the photo, a few minutes before was plucked out of the water. He was face down, trying real hard to get up, but was just too small and just out a little too deep.

On this beautiful crazy changing day in September, I couldn’t imagine the sorrow of that mother having to leave the beach without her son, her life forever changed.

Thank God she didn’t have to.

Safety First

He is so going to be one of those people that IMs while they are driving, seeing that he is reading while he is in the middle of the crosswalk.

First day of the second year of preschool

I mean seriously…aren’t you just dying at how cute KP is in this photo of his first day of preschool 08?

Oh yeah, I don’t have one.

Why don’t I have one you might wonder?  Well, let me tell you.  Three minutes before we needed to get into the car, to get him to school, he started having a hissy-fit about the long sleeve shirt he had put on.  Mind you, this was the third outfit of the morning.  KP likes layers.  His dad doesn’t.  His dad was helping him get dressed (nicely).  And once they came to a truce on what that was, he liked it, for a little while, until he had to go to school.

Two minutes before he has to go to school, he continues crying over the shirt, then crying because he can’t find his backpack and then crying about his shoes.  I’m no help at this point because I’m annoyed and in a oh so motherly and nice way I say, “Well, if you had put it in it’s home, it would be where it is suppose to be.”  This causes more crying.

One minute before we are suppose to go, he wants his vesteses (for those of you who don’t know what vesteses is or are, it is when one wears more than one vest at a time – preferably two or three).  I then choose to ignore him and simply say, I’m getting in the car.

Once the tears were wiped and he got to school, he jumped in with so much excitment that you would have never ever known he almost didn’t make it.

Way to overcome KP, way to overcome.

I’ll fill in a fake photo later, he’ll never know.