A Quote That Tickled Me Pink.

Spoken reverently by The Boy just now...

"Mr. Bean is a great actor."

Move over Brando, Nicholson and Newman,

You've been replaced by The Bean.

Rowan Atkinson

It's The Little Socks That Spoil The Vine

All photos from Google Images

Socks. I hate them. Especially baby socks.

Yesterday it turned cool so I wore long slacks to work and socks with my clogs. Do you think I could find one matching pair of black socks anywhere in this house? I finally settled on a matching navy blue pair knowing that it is so dark in some of my clients homes...well...I can hardly find the client at times. At one house I stand perfectly still until they put on a light fearing that I will go head over heels over the sofa, baby, dog, whatever. Times are tough and many folk just do not use electricity for much of anything where I go.

Yesterday, however, there was enough light to illuminate the two holes in my glaringly navy socks against my black slacks. No surprise there.

It's a sock curse.

As you already know I did not use my IRS return for anything glamorous except the purple carpet and African braids for the Teenager. The rest went towards oil changes, paying off the car, stinking garbage disposals, bills and socks.

Boy Socks

Teenager Socks

Mom Socks

And those wretched, wretched baby socks.

For over one year I have had a wicker basket clogging up my living room full of socks. Dozens and dozens of socks. Socks with no matching sock because as we all know if we put 3 pairs of matching socks in our dryer only 3 un-matching socks come out. Desperate, single socks longing for their soul mate to come along. Wasn't it Erma Bombeck that told her children that the missing socks went to live with Jesus? This can't be right. I don't think Jesus even wore socks so why would He want them now?

Freud felt that "psychoanalysis is for hysterical pathological cases, not for silly rich women who should be learning how to darn socks." Being the unabashed cocaine proponent that he was I think he may have been too stoned to realize those hysterical, pathological cases were that way because they couldn't find their socks.

Once in a while you will find a mate stuck to the back of the sofa, in the Lego bin or static clinging to the giant dog butt as she goes galoomping along. Galoomping. Yes, it is a word because i just made it up. Mostly, however, socks just sit in the laundry basket destined to be single.

Last week I picked up the basket and turned it upside down over the garbage can and threw them all out. It is a very freeing thing to do. Has it helped?

No.

Because all of the mates have turned up over night.

Where did they go? Here's what I think:


I never saw the movie Poltergeist but I'm pretty sure it was about missing socks wasn't it?.

Be Ye Thankful For The Toad Turds

On the way home from school today The Boy asks, "Would you be mad at me if I told you something?"

It depends on what you are about to say.

He weighs his options. Is it worth confession?

"I brought a toad to school today."

Mental note: Begin frisking child prior to drop off at school in the mornings again.

Where is the toad now?

"It's in the garden at school."

How did you transport the toad to school?

"I put it in my pocket. I was very careful when I sat down so i don't know how it got lose."

Mental note: Be sure to pull uniform pants pockets and shake out toad turds. Remind self to remain thankful that they are only toad turds and not squashed toad entrails.

Did you get in trouble with Mrs NeedsToBeCanonized?

"No! She said it was ok to bring fogs, toads and furry little animals but no snakes or lizards because she had a lizard down her blouse once and it bit her."

Brrrrrr. I got the chills.

Mental note: Write Mrs. NeedsToBeCanonized a note informing her of the explosion of fruit rats in our neighborhood this year. She may want to revise her list of acceptable show and tell critters by removing "furry little animals."

We really don't want her canonized sooner than she should be.

April Come She Will

The kids played outdoors all day. Swinging. Smelling flowers. Running.

Watching the Monarch caterpillars munching on Milkweed. Fascinated.

Greedy grubs fighting over the last scraps of Milkweed and then weaving their green and gold pupa's like little Rumpelstiltskin's.

The Baby played under the jasmine arbor. Picking leaves and flowers and flinging them into the herb garden. I call this "pruning."

I found a chicken in my back yard and although it wasn't exactly what I long for in a chicken it was a lovely substitute.

The April breeze is soft and fragrant with China berry blossoms, and Grapefruit blossoms. I won't even attempt to describe it. I'm not a poet.

I was reminded of an old song. A beautiful song from Simon and Garfunkel.

Do you remember it?

Light My Fire

Feel free to play the music while reading this post. It adds to the ambiance.

A year or so ago Iris/Virus gave me a vintage Jim Morrison shirt to sell on e-bay. Shortly after she gave it to me it disappeared into the bowels of someone's closet.

Three days ago The Teenager walks past with the words, "Try To Set The Night On Fire" emblazoned along the back of her shirt. I was a little taken aback.

"Where did you find that shirt?" I asked.

"Isn't it cool? I love this shirt. Set the night on fire!" she whoops.

Two days ago she walks past with the shirt on again.

"Set the night on fire!" she laughs.

Today she takes her bath and comes out in the shirt. Again.

"You need to lose that shirt." I groan.

"What? I LOVE this shirt!" In other words no way was she losing the shirt.

And i saw it very clearly at that moment. My lovely teenager who functions on the social level of a 5 or 6 year old was displaying signs of...gulp...teenage rebellion!

I had to smile. If my mom was alive she would be laughing herself silly. She hated the Doors...The Beatles...The Rolling Stones...Frank Zappa...

My 92 year old dad who endured my teenage rebellious hippie days has a saying when special moments like this occur with any of my five children.

"I've waited a long time for this day," he smirks.

Popi, this moment is for you. You may not want to listen to the song, however. Just a little FYI.

Shinguardophobia

I received a call from a fellow adoptive mom who needed a break from one of her more challenging children. Her daughters name is Aziza. I handed my friend a copy of When Love Is Not Enough and she handed me Aziza.

For two solid days I've heard variations on the name Aziza from two of my charming children who have some serious "long term memory retrieval issues" especially if it's longer than five minutes.

The Baby, who does not have long term memory retrieval issues has been pointing to Aziza for two days asking, "what's that?" We'll work on manners later.

"Azalea, do you want to play hide and seek?"

"Akeelah! Let's swing!"

And my personal favorite while they were roasting marshmallows over the fire tonight from the teenager...

"Camellia, do you want another marshmallow?"

Camellia? How lovely! Remind me to name my next parakeet Camellia.

I'm concerned that tomorrow when we return Aziza she will no longer remember her own name.

Round about 9 pm listening to the echos of ...

"Aiesha! You're it!"

...I decided to bang my head against a wall.

Fortunately for me and unfortunately for The Baby our 10 year old neighbor who was sharing our cookout chose this time to step out of our pool clad in his unusual pool garb. A bathing suit and shin guards. Don't ask.

The Baby took one look at those shin guards and had a most bizarre meltdown. She went totally ballistic. Screaming and shaking violently. Pointing at the shin guards and climbing up my side clinging to my neck.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Yes. The child who flings alien bugs at their owners ...

puts a 90lb dog in it's place daily... gets immunizations and lab work without even flinching....adores the explosions during the Indiana Jone's Epic Stunt Spectacular at Hollywood Studios...

Shin guards completely did her in. Two hours later she is still occluding my carotids and pointing out the window fearing the return of the neighbor and his evil shin guards.

I'm trying to be sympathetic. I realize what I saw coming out of the pool:

was obviously not what The Baby saw coming out of the pool:



I'm also a little disappointed as this means The Baby will not be playing special needs soccer with the rest of the gang. It also means I won't be able to bring her to special needs soccer to watch the rest of the gang due to the abundance of shin guards in one area. Can you see me explaining to the other parents during the disruption she will inevitably cause that it is because she has shinguardophobia?

I've had enough for one day. I'm going to bed.

Right after I tuck in The Boy, The Teenager, The Baby and Ikea.

West African Braids, Purple Carpet and Sping Break Numero Uno

Thanks to all of the wonderful friends and followers who wrote asking if I was still alive. I am.

Not sure why but I've been in a blogging slump. It happens to everyone I guess.Took this week off from work since the kids were on Spring Break only to discover that The Boy is not on spring break until April 21st. This turned out to be girls week at our home.

I will be forced to take another week off in April. Someone twist my arm.

Income tax return arrived minus a large chunk since The Teenagers birth mother claimed her. No, she hasn't been legally involved since 1997 but that hasn't stopped her from defrauding us on numerous occasions. Social security fraud. Medicaid fraud. You get the picture.

Is she in jail? No but I can guarantee you if you or I did such a thing we'd get a life sentence. I confronted her after the second or third time. "I would NEVER do that! That's why my mama is in jail."

hello

I called IRS when my e-file was rejected because "someone" had already claimed The Teenager. They stated they would pay both of us. In 2 months we will both get a letter in the mail telling us that one of us has been very naughty and we need to confess and pay back the moooola. And then in 4 months if no one confesses we'll get a letter asking us to prove who the legal mother is and then whoever isn't will have to pay back the money or suffer the consequences which include being banned from filing for 10 years. How many think the birth mother will still have any money left in four months? Can I see a show of hands? Anyone?

I hung up with IRS knowing why our country is in deep financial ruin.

Oh! I think I have the perfect solution, however! Let's just take money away from the poor, elderly and disabled and give the rest to crooks.

Never mind. That's already being done. Can anyone think of a better solution? I'm stumped.

I've been plotting for many moons regarding where my refund would go to.

I paid off my car. Had been doubling payments for 2 years at great sacrifice to get to this day. I'm happy this day arrived at long last.

We all got new underwear and socks.

The plumber came and fixed the garbage disposal which hasn't worked in 5 months.

The van got an oil change.

The Boy got new uniforms shirts.

We found West African Hair Braiders and spent 2 hours and 45 minutes getting a new do for The Teenager. It was a fabulous cultural experience complete with a 2 hour and 45 minutes marathon of the charming tv show, Cheaters and seven children who were on spring break and "working"with their moms. A darling little boy was riding his bike with training wheels through the small shop and crashing into the walls for one solid hour. I timed him. The week old baby pooped and graced us with an earthy aroma. For one hour. I timed the aroma. The odor of beans cooking made me homesick for Haiti along with the dialect that was heavy on the French.

Oh, ki jan mwen manke ou Ayiti. Oh, how I miss you Haiti.

The Teenager also got purple carpet. She wanted "big and bold" in her bedroom. She got big and bold in lime green and purple. We went yesterday during the tornadoes to chose brown carpet. And there it was...

The most fabulous shade of purple I have ever laid eyes on. Drool. Slobber.

"Honey would you rather have brown carpet or purple carpet in your room?" I asked coyly.

Purple won and was installed today. The carpet guys came down the stairs shaking their heads. "It's pretty bright up there."

No. It's "big , bold and beautiful." Just like The Teenager.

The Baby has been sick for weeks and missed one week of school. Made our second trip to the pediatricians yesterday only to discover her ears were bulging with fluid. Whatever bug she had she gave to me on Tuesday. Thanks for sharing, sweetie.

And speaking of bugs... The Boy has been up to his old tricks.



Three questions probably come to mind while viewing the above collage so I will answer them for you. 1.) Yes. That is a real bug. 2.) The torture device The Baby is strapped in to is called a "prone stander" and is used for non weight bearing children to be able to weight bear thus strengthening bones and keeping things in alignment. 3.) No, The baby was not afraid of the bug crawling on her chest. She picked it up and threw it at The Boy.

Don't mess with The Baby. The Baby has some serious attitude. Especially as she is weaning off of her Phenobarbital.


The Teenager has had an increase in seizures and is now on Lamictal at night and Zonegran during the day. It's not an exact science so we continue to grasp for the correct combination of anti-seizure medication.

Spring has sprung in our neighborhood.

Work is busy. After months of no referrals I have more than I can handle.

That about sums it up.

So how have you all been?