Tag Archives: life

Holy MOTH’er’ Trucker

The other working blog title is “Why I need a man”

Two days ago, the kid tells me there’s ‘THE BIGGEST MOTH I HAVE EVER SEEN IN THEKITCHEN‘.

Like any good parent, I go and investigate.  12 seconds in, I can’t find it and I quit.  Moths are like ninjas, silent assassins.  Or, as one lovely man told me yesterday ‘just think of it as a grey butterfly’.  Sure, I said.  An undead Zombie butterfly.  Pft.

So last night, it’s 10:30, the kiddo is just letting the dogs out and I reach for the vertical blinds in the kitchen when OUT FLIES THE BIGGEST MOTH I HAVE EVER SEEN, except it was no longer one moth.  THERE WERE TWO.

So like any responsible adult I shriek and start laughing hysterically.  The kid is outside and she hears me and yells OH MY GOD KILL IT.

Here is how it went down:

I run to the closet, grab a broom and an oven mitt.  I don’t know what good the oven mitt will do, but it seemed like a damned good idea at the time.

K (from outside): KILL IT

Me: I’M TRYING.  IT’S DODGING ME.  IT’S GOT THE FLIGHT PATTERN OF A DEMENTED BAT.

K: *scream* THEY’RE OUT HERE TOO.  THEY’RE DIVING AT MY HEAD

Me: Get inside!

K: NO!  IT CAN CORNER ME INSIDE.  I CAN RUN HERE.

Now, keep in mind it’s 10:30 at night and all the windows are open.  Why didn’t a single neighbor come and investigate?  I’m actually anticipating a visit from the police.  And I am truly sorry for my actions.

K: CALL SEAN OR DARRYL!  CALL SOMEONE.  OH MY GOD KILL IT.

Me: SEAN IS IN TORONTO AND DARRYL…well, I was 3 minutes away from calling Darryl.  Sorry, Debbie.

At this point, one of them has found its way into the dining room and I chase hot on his tails.  He hides behind the mirror, swings rapidly around the chandelier, bobbing and weaving, taunting me with his moonlight ballet.  Finally, I clip his wing with the broom and I BEAT HIM LIKE A RENTED MULE.  He dies.

Lisa 1 Moth 0

Back to the kitchen, that stupid bastard moth flew into my light fixture.  A globe fixture, and like a boss I trap him.   And he will stay there until he dies, or someone kind-hearted like you comes and frees him.

Seriously. He’s trapped. In my light. GET HIM OUT.

 

Fun Treat!  I decided to depict the event in MS PAINT!  (note the laser eyes the moth had.  It is to scale)  Enjoy!

This is how it went down. I am a warrior.

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Stop licking the carpet

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Being a parent is glamorous, and if you have pets and no kids you can totally relate.  If you have pets and kids, you’re my kind of crazy because that shit just gets wild.

Sticking with the life is unpredictable theme, I thought it would be fun to reminisce about all the glorious, soul enriching experiences that are to be had as (fur) parents.

I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up; I still don’t, but I know those fantasies looked nothing like the reality I now face.

It isn’t until a little furry or squirmy being relies on you for sustenance and existence that you fully grasp how incredible life is.

For example, it wasn’t until I had a dog that I ever even imagined that I would yell things like “STOP LICKING THE CARPET” or maybe “WE HAVE COMPANY!  LICK YOUR BALLS SOMEWHERE ELSE”.

There is the all-time crowd pleasing question of “Honey, are you farting or did the dog shit in the hall again?”

Then there’s the wild array of questions thrown at you when the kids finally learn to speak (silence IS golden.  Appreciate.)  You get to say things like, “No, snot is NOT a vegetable.  Yes, I know it’s green, it’s still NOT a vegetable” and “It only looks like chocolate.  Don’t taste it”.  If you’ve got boys, Jeebus help you, they’ll thunder out loud at the most inopportune time.  Like during silent reading time at the library.  Things like “MOMMY!  MY PENIS GETS BIGGER WHEN I PULL IT LIKE THIS!” and he WILL proceed to pull it, just like that.

You’ll sometimes feel as though you’ve dodged a bullet.  Your child, against all odds has never embarrassed you.  Never let your guard down, that’s when they strike.

Picture it, Christmas.  Holiday best attire, the finest china and all your uptight relatives gathered around the table.  You’re part way through asking Aunt Sara to pass the potatoes when you hear your little angel telling Grandma “MOMMY AND DADDY MAKE A LOT OF NOISE WHEN THEY GO TO BED AT NIGHT. WHAT DO YOU THINK THEY’RE DOING?” or if you’re really blessed “I SAW MOMMY AND DADDY WRESTLING NAKED!  IT LOOKED LIKE MOMMY WAS WINNING.  SHE WAS ON TOP”.  Please, Sarah.  PASS THE FUCKING POTATOES.

You learn to dress in black; or white depending upon what colour fur the dogs have, and what colour puke the kids have, you artistically arrange furniture and buy plants to place over the stains in the carpet, because try as you might purple-koolaid-puke-does-NOT-wash-out, you convince yourself that greasy-chic hair IS cutting edge, sleep is overrated, fashion is underrated and the various stains are just an organic new pattern.

When you have dogs and kids, it gets a little trickier.  You have to make sure that neither the child nor the dog eats the presents in the cat box, that the kid doesn’t eat the dog food, that the cat doesn’t eat the kid.  You will be sweeping, mopping, vacuuming, and sobbing on a daily basis.  There are boundaries.  The cat can go here, but not here, the dog isn’t allowed over there, and the kid must be secured in a bubble.

One day you’ll be half way to the vet and realize the kid is on the leash, the dog is in the baby carrier and the cat is driving the fucking car?

Welcome to adulthood.  Your future looks furry.


I wear helmets and seatbelts but that won’t help me when inevitably, a meteorite crashes into my house killing me instantly.

Notable: This post contains more coarse language than what is standard.  Do not be fooled, the blog has not been hijacked by sailors, I’ve just discovered pee in my cornflakes.  Read on!

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Life is funny.  Sometimes in a side splitting, knee slapping, life fearing, holy shit I’m going to pee myself RIGHT NOW type of way, and others in the more traditional I just broke my fucking funny bone way.

Regardless of how it unfolds, there is a constant truth that plays out.  No matter how prepared you think you are, you are never ready for the curves life throws.  Never.  They don’t teach you what you really need to know, and they can’t because life is a funny bitch.

My life is so unbelievably different from a short 21 days ago that I can barely grasp my bearings, but you buckle up, get back in the saddle etc etc and you ride on.  Chin up, dust off and come back swinging.  Thrust up your middle finger, toss your hair and remind the world that your kindness is not to be mistaken for weakness.  You will in fact cut a bitch.

Taking the bull by the horns so to speak and just re-channeling energy.  Notable events:

May 27th: Air Force 10K – My first ever run.  I’m gonna shake my tail feathers in fabulous fashion.  Get fit.

June 17th: 1/2 Marathon: I’m scared to death.  My training has been nonexistent for 3 weeks.  I need to get moving or I will die.  DIE.  Like dead, and rotting.  Worm food.  So gross.

August 17th: Sky diving. Extra Elevation! 11,000 feet meaning a 45 second free fall.  holyshitwhatthehell.  Want to join me?  Either party in the drop zone bbq area or strap yourself to a virtual stranger and jump!  Let me know, it will be LIFE.CHANGING.

August 18th: Dirty Donkey 5K Mud Run and Obstacle course.  Hit shit. Get fit.  I don’t even know what to say about this except for I must be on drugs.  Their work outs are psychotic and they do these things called CHURPIES FOR FUN.  So essentially, it’s a burpee that leads to a chin up that finishes in a toe touch AND WHO DOES THAT?

Join my team! MuddFlappers!

So tell me, how do you deal with adversity, and won’t you get fit with me?  Also, I make great waffles, so we can just fuck this fitness stuff and CARB LOAD.


Make it count

They grow so fast, kids.  And you quickly realize the age they are now is the best age they’ve ever been.  They marvel, they question, they infuriate and they grow.  God, do they grow.

As they march into the ages of 11, 12 and 13 your life as a parent is rocked.  They may still hold your hand a time, but they are reaching with their other for freedom, for a world beyond you.  And you prepare to let go.

Cherish the little moments. Relish in every second they choose to spend with you, it won’t last; it never does.

If they rest their head on your shoulder while watching TV, breathe it in.  They will one day lift it, and your shoulder will never know it’s company again.

Life is busy, and we are selfish, thinking ‘tomorrow. we will spend time tomorrow.” When you put off your child to tomorrow, what they hear is ‘I’m not important enough”, and let me remind you tomorrow never comes.  We are promised nothing but this moment.  Make the most of it.

5 years from now, your friends will still text you, the Packers will still play on Sundays and the house work will still need to be tended to.  Your child though, will be an adult, one who was formed by the decisions you made and the actions you took.

Don’t just hear them.  Listen.  Don’t just look, but see.  They are Imageasking for more than your time, they’re asking if they are enough.

If you’re lucky, you’ve parented in a way that will give you the privilege of being a friend down the road, so do yourself a favor.

Turn off the game, put down your phone, tune out your technology and dial in to your child.  For one morning you will reach for their hand, and they will be gone.