Posts Tagged With: fun

~ A Matter Of Grave Importance ~

Posted on March 23, 2013 by mamaboe

We stopped at McDonald’s for a healthful Shamrock Shake, and My Captain brought his Kindle Fire so Critter could show him what the big deal is about MineCraft.

Not really that interested in the game, I sat across from them and watched the male mind work.  Oh, and I took pictures to tease them with later:

2013-03-01 08.11.11The set up. (Explaining game rules).

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Task Force Staging (Designing his fort).

2013-03-01 08.12.55Conflict Strategization.  (Building forts with defense from zombies in mind.)

2013-03-01 08.13.04Crisis Management. (Zombie Attacks.)

2013-03-01 08.13.14Disappointment Mitigation. (The zombies ate him.)

2013-03-01 08.13.58Overcoming Obstacles.  (They started over.)

Look at those faces.  Serious stuff, man.

Add a boatload of paperwork, some lawyers and politicians, and you’ve got a FEMA task force in the making.

Only with Zombies.

Categories: Family | Tags: , , , , | 1 Comment

~ Social Climbing ~

Posted on January 29, 2013 by mamaboe

I just wanted to do something unusual with my family AND at the same time, see some friends we rarely get to see.  Our friends, Paul and Heather had a gem of an idea: Wall Climbing at EarthTreks in Columbia, Maryland.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!” was the response from the under-age peanut gallery at the little cottage.

“You’ll enjoy it!” I promised, as I packed snacks and drinks.

“NOOOOOOOOOO!” They cried.

“It’ll be an adventure!” I urged, as I organized everything into the car.

“NOOOOOOOOO!” They pouted.

“Get in the damn car!” I barked.

And off we went, just like that.

Life really is so much easier when you just get straight to the barking.  Everything else is just for show.

Varmint was honestly scared.  She is not a fan of heights.  We could rationalize everything ad nauseam:  My Captain has a ton of rope training and experience from his time on Maryland Task Force One, he would never leave her side,  the ropes are incredibly strong, the floors are very padded, the harnesses will not give.

It didn’t matter.  She was shaking, quite literally, with fear.

Critter, on the other hand, does not know he is mortal, and we have to take the opposite tack with him:   Yes, you have to wear a harness.  Yes you have to wear a rope. No, you may not jump down from the top.

And so the day began.

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This is Paul.  Paul is demonstrating two things:  1) how strong the harness is and 2) how strong he is.  You may remember Paul from the Bethany Beach Fourth of July Blueberry Pie Eating Contest.  He rocked it three times in a row.  He’s my hero.  I’m going to be him someday.

With less facial hair.

Hopefully.

Varmint got ready, looked her fears right in the eyes, shot me a dirty, reproachful, “HOW COULD YOU MAKE ME DO THIS?” look, and started ascending the wall….   2013-01-27 14.40.44

…..hating me every bloomin’ step, and muttering to herself quietly enough that I could not discern the exact foul language she may have been employing.

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My Captain had her safely in his belay the whole time, and she eventually trusted that.  But she still hated me for being so dadburn pushy and overbearing.

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That is, until she reached the top.  And then she beamed.  And she glowed.  And she decided to climb up the wall a few more times without me pushing her into it.

And she proved to herself that she had more ability than she ever fathomed.

Oh, she still hated me, but I can take it.  She’s only eleven, after all.  I’ve got a few more years of being hated to go, I reckon.

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Critter, on the other hand…..

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…is blissfully unaware of his own mortality.

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And is wickedly adventuresome….one might say, beyond the voice of reason.

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One might even venture to say he is foolishly, zealously, brazenly over-confident.

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And rather callously unconcerned with his little ol’ mama’s skipping heart.

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In fact, you might say he’s an imp.

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A cocky one, at that.

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This picture has nothing to do with the story.  I just like the looks of My Captain in a climbing harness. 2013-01-27 15.42.57

Paul’s daughter, Zoe, reassured me that there was no need to worry about Critter.

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“Aw, there’s nothing to it,” she promised.  “He’ll be fine.”

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She said this as she herself scrambled like a monkey up the wall….as if gravity were optional.

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This picture has nothing to do with the story either.  I just love his arms and shoulders, and, er backside.

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“Hmmm,” muttered Critter, “I bet I could do that faster.”

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“Me, too!” answered Paul.

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And then he did!

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Rather nimbly, I might add.  Not bad for an 85-year-old man.

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I just wanted to look at this guy again.   BOY HOWDY.

Can you believe he is married to me?  I sure as heck can’t.  I keep waiting for him to realize the enormity of what he’s done.  But in the meantime, I’ll enjoy the view, thank you very much.

Wait, what was this post about again?

Categories: Family | Tags: , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

~ Is Something Burning? ~

Posted on October 22, 2012 by mamaboe

We were at our new friend’s house tonight.  They had bought a wonderful hundred-year-old farm-house on a few acres, complete with a big red barn worthy of any children’s book.  (Go find The Big Red Barn if you have never read it.  Then come back to this post and go “AH!”)

It was a cool, crisp, clear night…one that was supposed to be full of shooting stars due to a rare meteor shower.   All of us had lifted our eyes to the stars, sipping Hot Cider that Jackie and Dave had ever-so-kindly warmed for us in a Dutch Oven over the bonfire.  The dogs were out running around the barnyard with Critter and Jeremy and Jesse.  Varmint and her friend Julia cuddled near and were, like us, searching the night sky.

The crickets chirped and sang.

Wood smoke wafted through the air.

And then…

“AUGH!!!”  Varmint rocked back too far in her campchair trying to better see the sky, and fell (as my Dad would say) ‘ass-over-teakettle’.  All we could see were her feet flailing wildly in the air as we gasped and laughed.

And then…

“AUAUAUAUAAHAHHGHGHGH!”

In her descent, Varmint’s chair had caught the camp table behind her…… the table that held the hot dogs and condiments and cider.  And it was all slowly dumping on top of her!

My Captain rushed over to help her.  Jackie and David rushed over to help her.  Even the dogs rushed over to….well, I think they were in truth looking for the fallen hot dogs….but me, I sat where I had been, laughing so loudly and forcefully, it caused my rump to sing.  (That’s polite-talk for ‘fart’.)

Which made me laugh harder. … because I’m immature and love potty-humor.

Don’t judge.

They got her up, brushed her off, and got all the furniture set to rights.  Varmint was, as always, a good sport and I was very proud of her behavior!

But something didn’t smell right.

At first, of course, I figured it was me.  I mean, I was the one who had just had the singing-butt.

But the smell didn’t dissipate.

In fact, the fart stench started to smell like a burnt fart stench.

I glanced down at the fire.  There, in the middle of the blaze, was one of Dave’s fireproof gloves.  It had evidently gotten tossed into the fire in the fray and frenzy of Varmint’s upending.

And, er, it turns out that, well……

They ain’t so fireproof.

They had burned.  Everyone started saying things like, “I WONDERED what that smell was!”  and I was relieved no one actually pointed at me.

Now, what I want to know is this: What in tarnation is in those fire-RETARDANT (because fire-proof they surely are not,) gloves to make them smell like the fart of a middle-aged soccer mom?  Or, conversely, what is in my rectum that makes my fluffies smell like burning fire-retardant-treated leather?

Someone figure it out and get back to me, please.

Thank you.

Categories: Fire and Rescue, Urban Search and Rescue | Tags: , , , , | 1 Comment

~ Parental Chaperone From Hell ~

Posted on September 12, 2012 by mamaboe

Through a process entirely unknown to me, I find myself signed up for a three day/two night John Poole Middle School outdoor education camp…and I’m going as….get this….a parent chaperone.

BAaahahahaahAHAAHAahaahahahaAHAAHAHAAaa!

I don’t honestly know how it happened.  It was a blur.  My friend….or at least, I thought she was my friend, Wendy, cajoled and flattered and finagled me into it somehow.

I’m not speaking to her ever again.

Or at least until I see her again. And even then, only if she is bearing coffee and chocolate for me.

I think she said something along the lines of, “You’ll be so good for the kids!  Your daughter needs you there!  It will be good for you to make new friends!  There will be s’mores!”

I heard this: “Yada, yada, yada, blah, blah, blah, S’mores.”

And the next thing I knew I was signed up.  Committed.

My Captain, the love of my life, said he would come too, without hesitation.  Not because he isn’t already SERIOUSLY over-committed.  Not because he relishes the idea of a complete and total lack of privacy for three days.  And not because he is crazy, though the thought crossed my mind.

He is doing it because he loves my kids. He’s doing it because he loves other kids…all kids.  He is doing it because he is driven to teach and model and encourage.  He is entirely selfless.   He is doing it because he is truly, honestly, sincerely a hero in every way.  Yes, he is a hero as a firefighter and paramedic.  Yes, he’s a hero as a rescue technician for the Urban Search and Rescue Maryland Task Force One’s Collapse Rescue Team.  But for an infinitely more important reason, he’s a hero because he has an enormous heart.   No one had to cajole him into this venture.

Me?

I’m in it for the S’mores.

Categories: Family | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

~ Critter Vs The Rooster ~

Posted on July 24, 2012 by mamaboe

We are taking care of chickens this week.  For a friend. A friend who thinks we are responsible and trustworthy.  A friend who thinks enough of my children to invite us into this wonderfully fowl world of hers.

So we gather eggs.  We change water.  We spread calcium pellets.  We scatter feed.

We watch out for the resident black snakes who are known to show up from time to time.

And we avoid the rooster.

The Rooster.

THE Rooster.

Let me tell you something, my critter is not a calm child.  He is a bundle of energy, full of impulse and joy.

Roosters, apparently, do not appreciate these qualities in a human caretaker.

We had finished up the work and egg gathering portion of our visit this morning, and were embarking on our talking-to-the-hens portion, when Critter, in his usual exuberant fashion, bounded from the door of the barn to the coop.  The Rooster, who was coming in the exact opposite direction, took umbrage to this and attacked Critter’s calf.

There was horrible squawking.  There was gut-wrenching crying.  There was blood.

Fortunately, My Captain had come with us this morning, and hightailed Critter to our car and it’s very-oft used first-aid kit.  Critter’s wound had to be well cleaned because Rooster claws are full of, well, CRAP.  Nasty, bacteria-ridden chicken crap.

Varmint and I stayed at the coop and calmed all the occupants down, with a watchful eye on The Rooster From Hell, otherwise known as RFH.   Frankly, it was already business as usual to them.  Even the RFH, who simply strutted and cocked around like “That’s right!  And there’s more where THAT came from!”

Critter eventually stopped crying and asked me in the most pitiful voice I’ve ever heard him use if we could boil the eggs we gathered this morning so he could eat them for lunch.

“That would make me feel a lot better, Mom.  It would serve him right, too.”

I guess the lesson here is that revenge isn’t best served cold.  It’s best served Hard Boiled.

Categories: Family | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

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