Are you my mother?

I got the call last night. The one every parent dreads when their children learn to drive, or go off to college, or spend the summer in their first rental house.

Well, not really a call. It's 2008; it was a text message. Four a.m. and I was sound asleep for a change. But, even when "sound" asleep, I'm still a light sleeper, which is why, I'm sure, my son sent me a message. He knew I'd hear the phone. And here was the bone-chilling, earth-shattering text conversation that followed:
(Pardon the language, or hint of such. Tough times call for tough language.)

Ryan: I just woke up to a possum crawling on my back in my bedroom. What the f?

Me: Wow. Are you ok?

Me: Are you alone?

Ryan: Yes, it just scared the mess out of me. Ben and I caught it in a laundry basket. It was small. Only like a foot long.

Me: Ok, good. Did you scream? LOL. I can't stop laughing picturing it. How did it get in, I wonder?

Ryan: I jumped up, yelled OH S&%#! Turned on the light grabbed a laundry basket and a shoe. i had him cornered and stuck. I called Ben on my cell phone in the next room.

Me: Ok. I'm going back to sleep if I can stop laughing now. Glad you're ok.

Ryan: Yeah thanks. I think I found the line between a college house and roughing it! Good night.

I have never laughed so hard at 4 a.m. in my life. Every time I started to relax and think I might be able to fall back asleep, I started again and had to grab a tissue to mop up the tears. I, personally, would never be able to fall asleep in the house again. You know, the amazing house.

(photo credit foreversouls'/creative commons license)

Products you can't live without

I can see why these are at overstock dot com.

Oh, how they grow

It amazes me to realize this is the fourth year I've blogged on the birthday of my baby girl, who is not so much a baby any more. I just broke my middle child's heart, though, by commenting that I haven't been so faithful about blogging on her birthday. In typical middle child fashion, she hung her head and slunk into her room, then giggled. Then I reminded her she gets a national holiday and a three day weekend around her b-day every year. Blog schmog. Of course, then the younger daughter announced she gets a whole summer vacation.

For her birthday this year, we plan to remove the sign we put up over the window last year. Every now and then we notice it and comment, "We should probably take that sign down sometime. Naw, maybe next year after Kristen's birthday. Why waste a good sign?"

So, here she is, my blue-eyed beauty, another year older, another year bolder, eating our national family food, fresh pineapple, and sporting a hairdo of her own making. I told her when she's 16 or 17 and going to prom, her friends are going to hate her for that curly hair. Let's hear it for the girl.

Sorry for the photo quality. I'm loving taking pics with my cell phone and sending them right to my inbox and have gotten quite lazy.

Thank you ... thank you very much

For exciting news about my alter life, check this out on my other blog!

Expired, more or less

We are not the best at scanning the pantry for expired items. In fact, I've been known to use items if they're within reasonable reach of the expiration date. (Like, you know, a couple of years if it's not obviously perishable. Or sometimes, within a few weeks for cold stuff. Case in point, we are all still alive.) I tend to think of those dates as "guidelines." And don't worry, if you're a guest in my home for a meal, I'll serve you only the freshest food.

But it came to my attention this afternoon that we've been overly lax. My daughter was digging through the pantry and stopped to stare at a box of Hamburger Helper Lasagna. Now, I've scanned this same package many times (I shudder now to think how many) and never found an expiration date, but the thought of making lasagna from Hamburger Helper just doesn't appeal. So, I pass it over, but leave it alone ... just in case.

I heard an exclamation from the kitchen: "GROSS!"

After a few minutes, when I was ready, I responded: "What?"

"Mom, this box of Hamburger Helper has a Jurassic Park sweepstakes that ended October 31, 1997!"

Dang.

I told her to throw the sauce mix away, stick the box on the recycle shelf, and put the pasta bag back in the pantry. I'm pretty sure pasta doesn't ever die, but I'll check to be sure in a few years.

Bow to the Queen in Charge of the Cat's Delicate Stomach

At 7:30 a.m., I dragged myself out of bed to take the middle kid to colorguard camp, which she has every day all summer. nearly every week all summer. (It feels like every day.) As we walked through the front hallway, she asked, "You know there's cat barf there?" and pointed to the very edge of the carpet--the half inch that comes right before the tile, because that's how our cat rolls.

She has kidney disease and frequent hairballs and pukes a lot. We're not sure from which affliction, but at least a few times a week.

A few minutes ago, my younger daughter passed through and pointed to the same spot. "You know there's cat barf there?"

I predict that before the day is out, my mother or husband will point to the same spot and say, "You know there's cat barf there?" Well, maybe my husband won't. He might actually clean it up because he's cool like that.

If my son hadn't already absconded after only one year of college, he'd probably stroll through and say, "You know there's cat barf there, right?" (He'd add the "right," just for kicks.)

And I even know what you're saying. "Julie, you know there's cat barf there, right? And you haven't cleaned it up a full seven hours later?"

To all of you (minus my reading audience, unless you are one of the other mentioned parties), I say, "YES! I KNOW THERE IS CAT BARF THERE. BUT IF I AM APPARENTLY IN CHARGE OF CLEANING UP THE *FAMILY* CAT'S BARF, I WILL CHOOSE WHEN AND HOW TO CLEAN IT UP. IF I FEEL LIKE PASSING IT BY AND CLEANING IT UP LATER, DAG NABBIT, I WILL. AND ... BESIDES ... HOW AM I ANY DIFFERENT FROM YOU?"

Hmm?

Really, I'm not bitter. I'm not rebelling. It honestly just cleans up better after it dries and gets hard and crusty. Then you can just scoop it up, spray a little Oxy miracle spray on it, and voila! No cat barf or nasty stain from scooping it while it's ... okay, never mind that detail.

But, still. I'm just saying.

Bored already?

Here is a sign that summer vacation may already have gone on too long. While I work and ignore them, the children are practicing piano. In their pajamas. At 3:45 p.m.

While balancing footballs on their heads.