The Love of a Sarcastic Mother

I was sitting in my office today when a friend of mine sent me a text message on my phone that had little hearts and said "I love you". At the bottom it instructed me to send it on to all of my friends. So, I did. I sent that bad boy to everybody, including my teenaged boy, who hates that kind of crap.

About 20 minutes later, my phone rang.

"Hola!" I answered. I have caller ID so I knew it was my boy, Matt.

"Hey! Guess what!!!!" He said, all giddy and excited like.

"Uh... what?" I played along.

"My phone's workin!!!" He exclaimed.

You see my boy has a really bad habit of tossing, flipping, pitching his phone..(along with other various forms of abuse). About two weeks ago, the phone, in an act of ultimate retribution, just up and quit working. He could still send and receive text messages, but not talky talky.

"No shit?!?!" I get giddy with him. "You mean the phone you called me from works?!?!?"

"Ha. Ha. Ha." he retorts. "But I wanted to let you know."

"Well, very cool, baby. I'm glad its workin." I tell him.

And I am genuinely glad it's working because he's been on an "I want a new phone" kick for about 2 months now. So right at this second, he's thrilled to have one he can speak into and hear from.

Then it hits me that he's calling from school, because I can hear all the chatter of teenaged boys in the background. So I ask him, "Why the hell are you in school?"

"Cuz we're rednecks and apparently we don't vote up here." He says as serious as can be.

"Did you get my text message?" I ask him all lovey dovey.

"Yah. Yah." He says trying to put me off like teenage boys do when they are confronted with the "L" word.

"Well? Do you love me, dammit?" I push out of sheer enjoyment knowing he was squirming in front of his buddies.

"Come on, Matthew. You can say it." I prod.

"Oh, God." He said. "I gotta go."

"Fine. Love you." I tell him. He knows I really do love him.

"Ya. Ya. Bye." He said and hung up. I'm pretty sure his eyes were rolling in back of his head too.

That's ok. He has to come home sometime.

Somebody Just Shoot Me... Thanks!

So, after the boy's football game Friday night, I'm tired and I feel just nasty. I was full of Italian Ice, as I had engulfed like 5 during the game trying to cool of. I'd had sweat running from my neck, down my back, directly down my butt crack. That, my friends is not a nice feeling.

Even with feeling grody and tired, I still hoped to go home and get a little lovin after a nice cold shower. Know what I mean? I think ya do.

But, no. Why is it that I can never seem to get rid of both of teen-aged-mutants at the same time? Amanda, my girl, was spending the weekend at Jessie's (the child that claims me as her other mother).
But, the boy couldn't stand it, he had to stay home. Worse yet, he had to stay awake. So, we get home, I go take a shower and I go to bed.... to sleep.

Hell if I didn't wake up early, before the boy. So, I poke Anthony and told him wake up and GET R DUN!!! Door was closed and I was under the blanket. I got too hot, so I go and throw/kick/pitch/toss the blanket in the floor.

Well, Anthony's cell phone was in the livingroom. His phone rang. Matthew decided to answer it. Matthew decided that he would just bust into MY bedroom to tell his dad that Mario was on the phone.

Sweet Jesus. Now up until that point in life, I don't believe anything has ever both made me absolutely furious and at the same time nearly given me a heart attack.
BUSTED!

This non-knocking problem we are having is getting a little bit on my nerves.
Admittedly, I am most likely the most sexual natured I know. I dig it. I want it.
I just can't help it.

But even my horns are nipped in the bud knowing that kid is in the house lurking. There have been numerous times I've just decided to forego play time just because I'd hate to think about anybody else in the house knowing.

GRRR!!!! Can we say frustrated???

I mean, I swear, I think he has a sixth sense when it comes to knowing if and when we may be even considering having sex. It's like he goes that extra mile to keep trying to drive a wedge of any kind between me and Anthony.

Makes me nervous to have anything in my room, let alone my happy drawer.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Then this happened:

So, I get started to get over getting busted by the boy. And I go outside to start working on the cleaning out of the shed. This shed is barely a shanty. It is missing the bottom boards on the walls, so it's wide open to anything and everything that wants in.

Ok, now there is a reason that shed was in the shape it was in. I don't dig going in it and flat refused to go in it for three years.
Not to mention the fact that I'd seen various critters and rodents zipping in and out of there. *shiver*.

But, the time had come. We have a week to be getting all of my crap up and out of the house. Which means the shed had to be cleaned too.
I get the broom, the hair spray and my lighter and head out back where the shed stands.

I stand outside, looking to see what sort of arachnid may be lurking up above my head or down below my feet. Ewwww. Dark, scary and spider infested.

So, I finally take the broom, poke it inside the shed and start swingin like a wild woman at whatever might be in my path. When I didn't feel that was enough, I took the hairspray and lighter and started blow torching anything that appeared to be an insect of any sort. The smell of sizzling spiderwebs is a lovely one.

My spider problem apparently taken care of, I forge ahead. Looking at the piles of shit that were piled into this shed nearly three years ago when I moved into the house. I decided that if it had been in the shed for damn near three years and not missed, that it wasn't ever going to be missed. Rahter than digging through the boxes, I hauled them right out to the bed of the truck. Locked and loaded for the Knox County dump.

I had gotten most of the crap our, when I thought I heard something. It was a rustling around sound. I stopped and assessed what it might be. I didn't see anything. So, I turned around to get another box and IT ran over my foot.

Well, I'll swear I thought it was a 2 foot rat. After nearly having the second heart attack of the day and hearing IT run into a window thinking it was a way out of the shed, I saw it. A baby rabbit.

Still when I'm confined in an icky space where I'm already paranoid, I don't even want the cutest of furry woodland creatures hippity-hopping over my foot.

Woot! Go Cougars!

The weekend started with a nice drive to Campbell County. It was the Campbell County Cougar's season opener against the Union County Patriots. My step-son to be is a Cougar and my ass promised to be there.

It was hotter than 10 hells on Friday and I was not dressed to go to a football game straight from work. I was in a short, black skirt and dressy tank top. Not exactly the gear I'd prefer to be wearing whilst resting my ass on 110 degree concrete bleachers.

The fun part was that my friends, Duck & Debbie, well, their son plays for Union County. So there we are... Me & Anthony and Duck & Debbie. Rooting for our respective kids. When the guy on the P.A. makes the announcement that the kids in the league are encouraged to have good sportsman-like conduct, and how we as parents, should be the same way.

I looked at Debbie and told her as soon as Union County scored I was gonna punch her right square in the mouth. Well I didn't get to pop her a good one because I had no more than said that when Campbell County scored, twice, in the second quarter.
Good sports-man-ship my ass.

It seemed like we were gonna be pulling splinters out of the boy's ass from his riding of the bench, but low and behold, the last 3 minutes 22 seconds of the game they finally put his ass in. He made a serious tackle and assisted in a final touchdown. Go Boy Go!

I decided not to tell him that the majority of the Powell team was there watching them play. I reckon they wanted to see how hard it's gonna be to whoop up on some Cougar ass.

I don't know what to do when Powell and Campbell County play. I gradu-ma-wated from Powell several moons ago. But the boy is a Cougar.
I suppose I sew the back of a Powell shirt to the front of a Cougar shirt and be for both.