Moment of Truth: No, I Don’t Actually Want to Be a Vampire

I told my husband he’s never allowed to go business travel ever again. EVER. Because something always happens while he’s gone that I am not equipped to deal with don’t want to handle.

• First, the boys clogged a toilet.
• Another trip another toilet.
• Then the basement flooded. A foot or so of water.

That’s not even the worst. Okay, technically, it was the worst because stuff was ruined, and it was expensive to fix.

The worst was…

• A flippin’ bat in our bedroom in the around 5 AM.

I wish I had reacted like this:

But no.

I reacted like this:

Please just don’t get in my hair.

I screamed “I’m don’t want to be a vampire anymore!” (a whisper scream because Scout’s room is right across the room from ours and waking the baby is never an option) and ran out of the room. I did pause to pull Scout’s bedroom door shut (read: motherly instinct to save the baby).

In my panic, I did have some coherent thoughts, such as…

• Vampires don’t like light, so turn on all the lights!
• Maybe the bat is Bill Compton, and I can reason with him.
• Isn’t a bat just a mouse with wings? Maybe Esme Kitty will catch it. (The answer is no. My lazy cat will not catch it. Black cats don’t catch other evil creatures because they’re on the same team.)
• Call Dad.

Yes, that’s right. Even women in their mid-30s need their dads sometimes.

Then the bat flew into the living room. I couldn’t wait for my dad, and I had to take matters into my own hands.

With a few Mission Impossible-esque somersaults, I made it to the front and back doors and opened them. After 5 minutes of taking cover from a bat that didn’t like ceiling fans and more whispering screaming from me, the bat finally made it outside.

 

Move Over Mel Gibson! Scout Is Braveheart

Before it got chilly, Scout and I played outside. Her favorite game is called Baby Tries to Eat the Grass While Mommy Yells, “Get It Outta Your Mouth.”

It’s fun. No, really.

Then we discovered the soccer ball.

My initial reaction was Scout’s baby gibberish loosely translated to “You may take our lives/soccer ball, but you can never take our freedom!”

But maybe that was too hasty. Maybe she was really saying…

• Are you blind, ref?!?! That ball was out!
• Put me in coach! I’m ready to play…today!
• What the heck, Mommy! I can’t fit this soccer ball in my mouth!

What do you think Scout is saying? Or what do you think Ozzy Pups is thinking?

Piglet Frenched My Daughter: A Mommy Fail

Scout spends her days climbing over Ozzy Pups and crawl-chasing Esme Kitty. Because she loves animals so much, I took her twice (with different “boyfriends”—Kiefer loves it when I say that) to a petting farm.

She especially loved the piggies.

No, I mean she really loved them. And they loved her. Literally.

Piggy Kiss!

Oops.

So was this a Mommy fail? On one hand, she was exposed to some dirt and germs to build up her immune system. On the other hand, ewwww! Germs!

Not to mention the future dating standards. What if Scout never meets someone who can kiss better than that pig? What if he set the bar too high?

Tea Party or Plan to Take Over the World?

About a month ago, Scout started rice cereal. The other day while I was mixing it up, someone stole my seat.

“Move your meat, lose your seat.”

I have no idea what they were talking about, but I’m pretty sure it can’t be good. Esme Kitty is…well…evil a bad influence.

I hope Esme wasn’t trying to corrupt Scout’s innocent little mind.

What do you think Esme told Scout?

• A. Throw me all of your food, ok? Forget about the dog.
• B. If you promise not to grab my tail, I promise not to scratch you. Maybe.
• C. We’re the smallest people in this house, we have to stick together.
• D. It’s fun to trip Mommy. Don’t worry, she likes it. She also likes it when we attack her ankles.
• E. Other

Note: Starting Monday, thoughtsappear.com changes back to thoughtsappear.wordpress.com.

Where’s the Kitty?

Ozzy Pups and Esme Kitty like to play hide and seek.

Only…they’re not very good at it.

Ozzy likes to look in all the logical places Esme might be: like her cat carrier.

Or maybe he’s trying to hide here. I’m not really clear who is hiding and who is seeking.

Esme, on the other hand, prefers to try to squeeze into places she can’t fit.

“If you had less clothes, I would totally fit in here.”

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “Luckily our dog that chases things is terribly inept at it and wouldn’t know what to do if he caught anything. The other likes to only eat already dead things. We’re so lucky and blessed!”—The Cannibalistic Nerd