The back yard needed to be spiffed up. So this Monday, I decided this was The Day to tackle all of the leaf raking — at least in the outdoor play area. I raked and raked, formed leaf pile after leaf pile, then started stuffing the leaves into some lawn bags. And then… IT happened. I felt a split-second of moving sliminess in my hands. Then I saw this little grey-brown snake rapidly curl itself in the wad of leaves between my hands. It inadvertently rolled over, its bright orange belly a stark contrast to the brown/black leaves. 

This is not the kind of snake I like to have in my hands…

I let out a girly-girl shriek, dropping the snake and leaves. The little thing landed and just laid there. At first I thought I’d seen a rattle at the end of its tail. So I poked it with a rake to get a better look. Then I poked it to see if would strike the rake. It just sat there. Then I got the camera. Then I poked it again to see if it would move. Then I poked it for fun. (Ok. Just kidding, Peta peeps.) I let the little guy go. He seemed harmless and scared.

Later on, thanks to Google, I learned all about this ring-neck snake. They are typically nocturnal. They love to hangout in decomposing leaves. And they usually keep to themselves. (So don’t take their social avoidance and awkwardness personally. They’re SHY!) But what did make me freak out a little was when I learned they live in a community den. Meaning there’s more than just that little one around. One itty bitty snake is fine. But a whole bunch? Well that makes me nervous.

You know what that means, don’t you? I probably need to buy an entire case of Depends before I do anymore leaf raking!

The hubby and I were one of those couples who couldn’t wait to find out the sex of our baby. I remember the moment we laid eyes on our little boy — and his privates. There he was in black and white, grainy glory — giving us the finger.

My first thought was “What in the WORLD am I going to do with a boy?” Its not that I didn’t like boys. They just sort of scared me because I didn’t understand the them. 

Now that I have a little boy, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Its been an educational and entertaining journey to say the least. But then again, I still don’t understand the boys that are older than Seth — especially the ones that range from 8 to 12-ish.  I call that ”the meat head stage”. Why is it fun to beat the crap out of each other? Why is it hysterically funny to fart in someone’s face? Just. don’t. get.

A few days ago, three neighbor boys (in this age range) were hurling aluminum bats at each other. They weren’t running away from the bats, they were trying to CATCH them. For fun! (These are sweet kids with great parents, by the way.)

Last week Seth’s play date Nick was telling us about his big brother’s best friend “Scooter”. And how Scooter once knocked Nick down and peed in his face. At the time I assumed Scooter was a dog. But nope. Scooter is a person. (Don’t know anything about Scooter. But my guess as to Scooter’s future? Involves at least two trips to jail and if he’s lucky, a stint in some ”g0lden sh0wer” type porn. )

I know my sweet, albeit squirrelly, little boy will have us visiting urgent care facilities in a few years due to his own meat head antics. It seems to be some rite of passage. But thinking about it makes my palms sweat. Who knew the temptation to wrap a kid in 32 layers of bubble wrap could be so strong? 

P.S. Just reviewed a cool new kids toy thanks to Parent Bloggers Network. For my review, click here.

The little next-door neighbor girl came a callin’ yesterday. She and her family are the owners of  Maddy, the dog we secretly nicknamed “Sneakashit” last year.

“Sneaks” is a power pooper who likes to roam the neighborhood and leave “presents” all over our yard and on our back patio. (Once she left a big ole steaming “gift” on our patio two-minutes before a bunch of rambunctious 5-year-olds invaded the house for Seth’s birthday.)

Sneaks also enjoys getting into our trash. If our garage door is left open for even a few minutes, she considers it her obligation to seek and destroy. She also loves to spread other people’s trash — aka the neighbor’s USED maxipads – all over our yard. Although Sneaks otherwise is a very sweet pup, she’s not our favorite dog in the ‘hood.)

Anyway… Here’s the conversation the little girl and I had.  

Neighbor Girl: I got a new puppy today! I want to show Seth.

Me: You did? Uh, Wow! (Confused. Almost too scared to ask.) What happened to your other dog?

Neighbor Girl: Oh we still have her.

Me: So now you have TWO dogs?

Neighbor Girl: (nodding excitedly) YEAH!

Me: Ohhh… (Silence. Glad NG is only 6 and can’t recognize an “Oh Crap!” expression when she sees it.) Sorry sweets but Seth isn’t here. He’s at a friend’s house. But I’ll tell him you got a puppy. He’ll be really excited for you.

Neighbor Girl: Ok. (Turns around. Stomps off. Starts screaming at the new dog.)

Me: (Watches her leave. Feels very sorry for this new dog.)

Anyone know where I can find a truck-sized pooper scooper. Wonder if Amazon’s got those?

*** We are thinking of going to Dallas/Fort Worth and Houston for spring break. If any of you live in that area and want to meet up, pretty, pretty PLEASE let me know!

Last night a bunch of us girls went to the Alton Belle to see these guys.

How was the night? Let’s put it this way… None of us have to worry about taking calcium supplements for awhile — in a few short hours, we got enough CHEESE to last us at least twelve months.

Being that I despise casinos and these sorts of shows, I wasn’t originally going to go. But at the last minute I realized that this sort of opportunity makes for blogging gold people, GOLD!

The highlights:The nine chicks I was with were alot of fun and feeling pretty sassy.  If you happened to be at the show? I was with the rowdy wimmins who kept chanting, “Take off your pants! Take off your pants!”

Note to the Chippendales:We paid $21 a ticket. Less crappy dancing! Less singing from that one guy who thinks he can sing! And less lip-syncing. MORE TROU DROPPING. There was one time you all actually dropped your drawers. And then you turned around so we could only see your (covered) butts. TURN AROUND NEXT TIME. The women are there to see what kind of heat you’re all packing. Why do you think there were a bunch of chicks shouting, “take off your pants!” 

Second note to Chippendales:You’ve underestimate us women. It is totally fine to not be 6 feet tall. Wearing Tom Cruise shoes (the kind with soles that are at least three inches thick) doesn’t make you look taller. It makes you look like a dweeb. Plus, we are women. Who told you we wouldn’t notice your stupid shoes?

So funny, yet incredibly gross moment: Watching these guys stick their faces in womens’ crotches. And they didn’t discriminate. They were even seen on the balcony level sticking their faces in the crotches of women far, far beyond the age of 65.

What I learned: Even women far, far beyond the age of 65 like having the face of an oily beau-hunk up against their crotch.

What I also learned: Apparently to these guys? A dollar’s a dollar, no matter WHO it comes from. Ick.

New business idea of the night: While a few of us were waiting in line for beers, two of the girls in our group got to talking. If they owned a bar, what would it be called? “The Fun Hole” of course.

To sum up the evening? Mixing booze with oily “cheese” should be tried once. But odds are, you probably won’t want to repeat the experience. But if you find yourself in such a situation, grin and bear it, then blog about it!

About a year ago, during Seth’s playdate with an adorable little girl, the two decided to play a new game. The young lass, who loved all things Disney Princess, wanted to be “Ariel”, from The Little Mermaid. Seth was to be her honey, “Eric”.

At some point, there was a communication glitch. For some reason, Seth began calling his friend ”Areola.”

At one point, she realized he wasn’t calling her the correct name. But apparently, she liked the new name better. I guess it seemed more exotic or something. Because whenever she came over, she continued to be “Areola, the little mermaid”.

And I continued to fluctuate between, “Should I tell her that’s a name for a boobie body part or should I just let it go because that makes me laugh out loud every time.” To be honest, I let it go for awhile. Basically because I needed a good laugh. But at one point, I told her that “Ariel” was a much prettier name for a princess and that ”Areola” was really the name of Ariel’s stinky pet hamster. And no one really knows about the hamster because it farted so much, they couldn’t include the hamster in the movie. 

God only knows what she told her parents that night at the dinner table. But after that, “Ariel” returned. We never heard about “Areola” again.

We had a bit of a scare on Monday.

After Seth and a few of the other neighborhood kids got off of the bus, I got to talking with another lady about her upcoming vacation. During this time, we noticed a strange young man ambling from house to house. He kept walking past various houses in a seriously creepy way. He even walked into a person’s open garages. He walked up to some kids playing a pick up game of basketball. Within a few minutes, the group had scattered, with each boy going into their respective homes.

We kept watching this young man. And he knew it. At one point, he walked past us and tried to talk. His words were so slurred we could barely understand him. His eyes were glassy and unfocused. He didn’t understand the questions we asked him. His pants were baggy. He kept his hands in his pockets and seemed to be playing with some sort of item inside them. (No, not pocket pool.) He walked away and went into the garage of another person’s home. At one point he came out. He asked us if he could use the bathroom at one of our houses. We looked at each other uneasily. We didn’t say a word. He walked about 30 feet away.

We talked a bit longer, keeping our eyes on this young man. But the other lady was eager to get back into her house because she knew her garage was open. The kids were reluctant to leave. Upon hearing us say we were going back into our homes, this man decided to follow me to mine. With a whining protesting child slowing us down, the young guy caught up with Seth and I within a few seconds. He was one step behind us within 10 feet of our porch. I ignored him. He followed us right to the front door. I let Seth and the dog inside. There was NO WAY I would let this guy in. I had no idea who he was and what substance he was on. I had no idea if he was violent or if he could turn violent in a flash. I had no idea if what he was carrying in those baggy pockets was could be used as a weapon.

“Can I help you?” I asked timidly but politely.

“Come on, let me in. I just want to see your bathroom,” he slurred.

I said, “No. I don’t think so. I don’t know you.”

“You know me,” he said. He leaned in, his face now closer to mine. The grin he threw me caused the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “You just don’t THINK you know. But you know me.”

“No,” I said firmly. “I don’t.” I turned around, opened the door a sliver, got in, shut it behind me very fast and locked the door. Then I ran to the back door. Then I double checked the car doors to ensure they were locked. This whole time, he stood there, looking through the large glass windows of our door. (To see the door click here. But this may load slowly.)

I called the police. At one point during the discussion, I saw this guy in the neighbor’s van, rifling around. He must have gotten bored because he soon went across the street and starting rifling through that neighbor’s car doors. That neighbor caught him in the act.

At this point, I called another neighbor — a freshman girl I knew to be home alone. I told her to lock her doors — this strange guy was on something and had been in her garage. She explained that this man was her brother’s friend. He had gotten kicked out of his house so her mom let him stay there a night. She went next door and led this guy back to her house. I told her I had called the police.

A police officer arrived. He handcuffed the guy and brought him around to several of us neighbors to identify.

Found out later from the neighbor that opened her house to him – she didn’t know the guy. He was a friend to one of her kids, so she let him stay. This neighbor is a very compassionate woman. It sucks that her generosity blew up in her face.

That night I couldn’t sleep. This guy knows it was me who called the police. And my husband was several states away on business. Was this guy already out of the police station? Was he pissed off? Would he come back that night to my neighborhood to get some revenge? Are my tires going to be slashed at some point? Is my little boy or dog going to get hurt because he thinks I’m a bitch who gave him a big ole legal hassle?

Nonetheless, something good came of it. When I close a door that leads outside (even the door to the garage), no matter what time of day, I immediately lock it. Its become this habbit that I don’t even realize I’m doing at the time. I lock my car as soon as I step out of it. Part of my evening ritual is locking the doors, rechecking, then re-locking each door no less than five times a night. I do it with the vehicles too. (Yeah, this could be mildly OCD-ish.) All of this door locking drives my husband crazy. And I know he rolls his eyes because I won’t let Seth go down to the cul-de-sac, a mere four houses away, by himself.

But on one sunny, unassuming day, some stranger did come into our happy little ‘hood and approached children. This stranger went into people’s garages and cars and turned life upside down for a number of people. Now I no longer have to apologize for locking the doors to the house or vehicles. And I don’t have to explain why this mama’s not ready to give her little boy the freedom he’s opining for. At least, not for a while.

This morning as the hubby was leaving for work, Seth, Abbeydog and I followed him out, waving our goodbyes. While on the front porch, we noticed bunko babe/neighbor/friend Jess pushing a stroller with her two-year-old son at her side. 

We waved and she came over to visit a bit. Her son, Caleb, climbed up onto our porch to pet Abbeydog.  He was SO excited to see her! His face was ablaze with happiness. He was enthusiastically talking and pointing. And he was petting her much more lovingly than Seth ever does. It was a sight that would melt the blackest of tarry hearts. Norman Rockwell couldn’t have created a sweeter scene.

That is, until Abbey turned her body a bit to reveal her back end. Adorable little Caleb noticed that dark circle under the root of her tail. (You know where this is going, don’t you?) In true toddler form, he decided to um… check out it out. Using… what else? His fingers.

Well, I don’t think dogs worry much about alien probes. But if they’re smart, they’d be more discerning about inquisitive two-year-olds.

Upon seeing two of Caleb’s little fingers “poke around” for a second, I told Jess. I washed his hands while she stayed outside with the other kiddos. He screamed the entire time. He was upset that I whisked him away from the dog, scared that he could no longer see his mom and indignant about me washing his hands. (That kid’s going to be 16 someday and he won’t understand why he’s so leery of me.)

Abbey hardly reacted. I’m largely relieved. But I have to admit that I’m also a bit alarmed too. I can’t help but wonder –did Seth, as a two-year-old, desensitize her to this sort of thing? And if he did, how on earth does he still have all ten fingers?

Its probably a good thing Abbeydog can’t talk. But if she could, she’d no doubt, be able to commiserate with those getting colonoscopies. Or gyno exams.

A certain neighborhood dog I call “Sneakashit” (or “sneaks” for short) runs loose in our ‘hood on a regular basis. “Sneaks” often tries to get into our house whenever we open the door (to let our own dog out to pee). “Sneaks” poops alot. And when she does so, prefers our yard and has shit not only in our house but several times in our garage. (Guess why I’m so anal about keeping the garage door closed!) Since she’s been hanging around our house most of Sunday and Monday, I decided to clean out the fridge.

And what to my wandering eyes should appear but some canned chili, refried beans, and chopped raw onion. So thanks to “Sneaks”, who was more than happy to eat up the leftovers, our fridge is a bit cleaner. But “Sneak’s” owner’s house? May be a bit stinkier….

And that’s completely ok with me. Recently these people showed up in our backyard, unwelcomed and guilted my hubby into inviting their child over for a playdate. Then, they LEFT FOR SEVERAL HOURS without telling us. When they showed up to claim the child (A SIX HOUR PLAYDATE!) they offered the lamest of excuses. They HAD to see a certain movie. And they told their oldest child — THE ONE WITH A DRUG PROBLEM — to watch said child. He didn’t. He left. Which would explain why, when we tried to called over there, no one answered.

Sadly the aforementioned instance is just one of many, many stories I could tell you regarding this certain family. Why yes, I AM resentful of the way they have repeatedly taken advantage of our kindness without so much as a “thank you.” I’m also resentful of how now that we aren’t so willing to help them out they force themselves upon us anyway. So while I’m not proud to admit my passive aggressive tendencies, I do have to say, thinking about the stink that “Sneaks” has unleashed in their house on a night far too cold to open the windows? DOES make my day a little brighter.

Several weeks ago, Seth and I celebrated the unseasonably warm weather by playing in the backyard.

At one point, the dog went into “Crazy Abbey” mode — running around the yard in large circles, until she found what is in this photo. Can you guess what it is? Anyone? That’s right, a deer torso.

There are alot of coyotes and assorted wildlife near our ‘hood. I’ve always heard coyotes are lilly-livered scavengers. So when I’d walk with Abbey at night, I didn’t worry. But apparently if they are hungry enough, they get pretty brave. And this makes me a little nervous now. Cause if they saw me? They’d know a pack of 20 could feast on my butt for a full MONTH. And in cold weather? They wouldn’t even need a fridge.

The bright side? (Click on the pic for a more detailed look.) See how cleanly they picked the bones? Methinks the critters that ate this deer also have a mother who told them about all of the poor starving coyotes in India that don’t have any food to eat. And when that didn’t work, she lost her temper and threatened them with extra chores… Or an early bedtime… Looks like the latter tactic works as well with four-legged critters as it does with human ones.