Sigh…

But it’s sooooooo true, and Blake, you know it!

Rory, in an effort to keep Houdini from escaping yet again (won’t get into that or you might just see an offer for  a free hamster), decided to try and ‘ham-proof’ the cage. 

What?  He’s only three?  Yeah, I know.  but he is his father’s child.

I found rubber bands, paper clips, Kleenex, and a bandana, among other things, strapped, tied, and taped to the cage.  that poor little hamster.   He did his toddler best to jury rig that thing  closed. 

Too bad he doesn’t understand that’s not how she’s been getting out.

To make matters worse, Blake encourages him.  Constantly.  So, he struts around in his tiny camo pants, mini cowboy boots, and baby flannel, swaggering just like his freaking daddy, and grinning at me.  I’m so gonna be in trouble in about two years, once he starts putting real sentences together.  *sigh*   I’m counting the days until I hear him tell his sister, “Whatever, Cookie, but you OWE me…”

Why me?  Why couldn’t he have been *gasp* more like his Mama?  In this case, it’d almost be worth it.  Having Blake is bad enough when he’s on a roll.  But a Mini-Blake too?  Lawd help me.

Please?

But, on the other hand, he DOES have his daddy’s wild curls, his blue blue eyes, and that damn intoxicating smile.  *sigh*  I just can’t win, can I?

~Ali, helpless and resigned

When Shopping Carts Attack

Or, how I got arrested in Toys ‘R’ Us

I swear, no matter how hard I try to be good, the gods are working against me.

Case in point: I manage to get a few minutes away from the children (thank you Grandma Rogan) and make it a point to get some early shopping done. So, I head out to Toys R Us and battle the maniacs. I’m standing in an aisle, looking over some stuffed animals (sorry honey, but they ARE still kids) when my cart slams into my side.

I look up, apology on my lips, thinking I hadn’t pulled my cart in beside me and was blocking the aisle. I HATE when people do that, so if I got slammed for blocking the aisle, okay. But when I look up, I meet the blue eyes of my arch nemesis, a.k.a. The Ex. Yeah, Leslie. In MY Toys R Us. Why the hell couldn’t she have stayed in Tennessee? I mean really, no reason for her to be here after all. She’s the one who foisted her child off on his daddy and never looked back. What the hell kind of trouble could she be stirring up now?

All I know is that I’m not putting up with this crap.

“Oooops,” she falsely apologizes, batting her fake eyelashes at me in a parody of remorse.

“Whatever, Leslie, now go away.” I turned my back and reached for a large stuffed moose before I smacked the crap out of her anyway. Forgive and forget, I always had to remind myself. Besides, not only did I have her man, I had her son too. When I was slammed in the hip a second time by my errant cart, I lost it. “What the fuck are you doing?” I bellowed, much to the astonished horror of a mother or two on the adjacent aisle.

She batted her plastic eyelashes at me again. “Don’t look at me, the cart did it.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, “all on its little lonesome too, I’m sure.”

Leslie grinned at me in a saccharine sweet sort of way and nudged her cart against my leg one more time. I dropped the moose into my cart and reached for the closest item. A life-sized stuffed baseball bat and swung, smacking her in the head. Being almost a foot taller than she, and a hell of a lot stronger, she flew backwards and landed on her little round ass, fuming. “You’ll get it for that,” she spat.

“Whatever,” I replied, pushing my cart off the animal aisle and went in search of a video game for my brother, the eternal child.

Security apprehended me on the Lego aisle and now Blake’s refusing to bail me out. Oh well, Shana said she’d be right over, I heard her in the background. She at least gets it, even if I won’t be getting any until my Cowboy calms down. But I’ve gotta admit… it was SO worth it.

And hey, don’t look at me, the stuffed bat did it all.