Posts Tagged With: Love

~ 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.

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~ 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.

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~ Varmint and Critter and The Bee ~

Posted on April 25, 2012 by mamaboe

What a weird evening.  I spent it at a spelling bee.

Both of my children entered the Monocacy Elementary School Spelling Bee.  Both of them made it to Finals.  Both of them made it to the winner’s circle.  Varmint got 3rd, and Critter got 2nd.

Understand something….let me be VERY CLEAR:   If it were not for Spellcheck, you would not be able to discern half of the words I write on Mama Boe.

Clearly they got their orthographizing talents from their father.

I was not looking for an entertaining evening.  I mean, let’s face it, I’ve gone from exciting nights out on the town in my 20’s to an evening at the elementary school spelling bee in my 40’s. I really did not have high expectations for the evening.

But talk about excitement! Holy. Stinkin. Moly! It was more stressful than going to the racetracks.  I mean, I was on the edge of my friggin’ seat.  And to have BOTH of my kids going head to head on the stage…there isn’t enough Xanax in the world for that kind of pressure.

Varmint got taken out by the word ‘Cemetery’.  Critter got taken out by the word ‘Stomach’.  Neither one of them will ever ever ever spell those words incorrectly again, that I can promise you.

And then at the end of the evening, the school had a raffle.  One of the prizes was “Vice Principal for the day.”  Critter won it, and was overjoyed.

Before we left, I asked Varmint how she felt.  She was pleased that she had given it a try, and pleased that she had gotten to the winner’s circle.  I could tell that she was a little disappointed, though.  I had watched her study the word lists, and watched her nerves and hopes throughout the process.  She was a real trooper and doing her best to be mature about not winning first place.

Then I asked Critter how he felt. He said it was good that he got Second place, because red is his favorite color and that was the color of the medal around his neck, but what he was REALLY psyched about was winning Vice-Principal for the day.

So, let me get this straight:  He survived longer than all but one of the many contestants on the stage after several gruelling rounds of spelling bee, but what he was most proud of for the evening was winning a raffle? Winning a game of chance?

I thought Varmint was going to punch him for sure.

It’s a good thing he’s fast.

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~ My Side of the Bed: A Tale of Woe ~

Posted on January 14, 2012 by mamaboe

Lets make one thing perfectly clear.  My husband is a Captain, Station Commander, Firefighter, Task Force Team Member on the Maryland Task Force One Urban Search and Rescue Team, and Paramedic.  This means he is gone at least one night out of three, and often two nights out of three (because he has to work overtime to support his wife’s Dollar Store Habit…its very sad).  It makes sense, then, that HIS side of the bed gets less use.  Add to that, before we were married, My side of the bed got use from yours truly for… the better part of a decade. In short, my side of the bed has been USED.  His side of the bed is only slightly used.

Why is it, then, that the fact that MY side of the bed being sunken, soften, lumpy,  SMOOSHED and creaky makes me feel rather, um, LARGE.  Why is it that his side of the bed being firm and straight and downright comfortable makes me feel chagrin?  I mean, heck, look at the first paragraph!  The disparate usage alone would create the glaring differences in the conditions of our individual sides.   Common sense demands that it would have to be a very special mattress that did NOT show a difference in the usage wear and tear.

And yet, I can’t help but draw a similarity to the condition of my side of the bed, and my used, lumpy, soft, smooshed and creaky body, and his side of the bed with his firm, straight and comfortable body.

Its just not good for my self-esteem.   Something must be done.  The way I see it, we can either buy a new mattress and use it until I crush it, too, or he can be a good sport and gain some gosh darn weight. He’s in his mid forties, for pity’s sake.  He can let it go a little bit.  Soften around the middle.  Maybe love me enough to actually sport a muffin top or something to prove to the world that his wife can actually cook.

Its more likely that we’ll get a new mattress.

*** Sigh ***

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