The Triumphant Return of America's Only Marsupial Blogger!
Greetings from the 33rd Parallel

Well, hey y'all! What a weekend--I bring you tales of stones and filthy lucre and the agony of defeat and that piker the Tooth Fairy and twin ties and slow moving post-ops and Little E and me and disturbing search requests. Man, a lot can happen in three days!

First, my wife's surgery went off without a hitch, (and thanks again to everyone who wrote to wish her well) although I was shocked to find maintenance guys out power scrubbing the sidewalk at the front door of the hospital at 6:00 bleeding o' the clock in the morning. I tried to explain to the valet parking lady that my wife had on a new pair of slippers and didn't want to get them dirty. "Go round them steps there." Oh. Of course, the steps were covered in filthy scrub water too, so she got her brand new fuzzy blue slippers with the little blue satin bow which were lovingly picked out by Middle Daughter nasty. She was hurting enough that it didn't really matter, she was just ready to check in. Got in, registered, sat down and waited for about an hour until she got called up to the surgical suite. Lots of poking and needles, and she was ready to go. The surgery itself lasted only about thirty minutes and the doctor was a man of his word, supplying me with the necessary materials to make a really cool set of earrings. What a guy! I know now why my wife had been so uncomfortable--having a gizzard full of rocks the size of acorns can't be very entertaining. (Although the kids thought they were interesting--the older two thought they were gross, but the younger two just HAD to hold them.)

While she was in resting in her recovery room, I ran across town and picked up our paychecks and went to the bank. Everyone I have written checks to was very grateful, and I got back just in time to take her home. From checkin to checkout--about 7 hours. I mentioned the short time to one of the ladies at church and she chuckled and said soon they're going to have drive-through surgery. I told her I was holding out for the do-it-yourself kit at Wal-Mart. We managed to get home without hitting very many potholes, although the slaloming necessary to accomplish this might have been a bit much on her delicate condition. I got her in the door and she piled up on the couch for a much deserved nap. I picked up the kids and took them back over to Grandmama's for one more night of relief from Herr Kommandant Possum, and shuttled Boy to soccer practice.

Saturday was a killer--two soccer games interspersed with the monotonous motorized meditation of the Murray Self-Propelled. It wouldn't have been so bad except we forgot Spring and went directly to Summer. 90 degrees, no wind, no clouds, and I forgot to put sunscreen on. Little Boy's team more or less wilted and wound up getting beat 3-0. Poor little guys hadn't had to play in such heat, and it really got to them. Lil' Bud also was preoccupied with the loose baby tooth in his mouth. "Quit wigglin' that tooth, son, and GO GET THE BALL!" On the other hand, Breck Girl Mom and her kids and her equally cute sister and her family sat right beside me, and the referee was one of the soccer players on the high school girls' team who had incredibly muscular legs, so it all worked out okay.

After his game, we rode home for some real fun. I threw him in the bathtub and I put on some sunscreen (finally) and walked outside into the blast furnace during the hottest part of the day to get the grass cut and the weeds sprayed before it was time for Middle Girl's afternoon game. I've mentioned before how mowing and meditating go together. This occurs only when it's nice and cool and the pollen's down. All I could think about this time was finishing. The one quasi-benefit was that my ears hummed and my arms and neck looked just like I had been at Talladega all weekend. "Yep, we come out strong, but we got slowed down after we lowered the deck height, then coming around the turns there it really got bogged down. We done real good emptying the grass catcher, though, and picked up some time when we decided to cut everything down and not worry too much about what we were a'cuttin'." And for what it's worth, I checked my referrer logs and sure enough, there were about ten different Google searches for "pics Talladega AND infield AND girls" (or variations thereof) --sorry fellows, NO pictures here.

Got through with that mess, then did some more laundry and took a shower and slathered on more sunscreen and went to the NEXT soccer game, in which Middle Girl's team played to a 2-2 tie. We were lucky to get that--again the heat was a killer, and we had some odd substitutions going on--my daughter has never played wing, even in practice, but for some reason the coach put her in at that position. She did okay, but it took her a while to figure out what to do. Finally got finished, went home, did more laundry, then went and got the other two kids, did more laundry and scrubbed the kids and doodled their ears and cut their grimy little fingernails and heard Boy triumphantly proclaim the liberation of his tooth from his lower jaw. Finally got everyone to bed, took one more shower, and fell into bed with wife who didn't appreciate a multi-hundred pound lummox falling into bed. "Sorry, sweetheart! I masldfb mmem zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"

Sunday. 6 a.m. Get dressed, get the kids up, get breakfast started, do some laundry. Little Boy looks at me with sad eyes.

"Dad?"
"Yeah, buddy."
"The Tooth Fairy didn't come last night."

Combination ice water and hot lead shoot through me. I had forgotten all about that derned tooth! We have a little pillow with a pocket for the tooth that the kids usually leave on their bedroom door. "I put it on my bed but it fell off and I left a note and everything." Crap, crap, CRAP! "Well, that's odd, son. She usually leaves something. Are you sure she didn't leave something?" "Uh-huh." Great big puppy dog eyes. "Well, eat your breakfast and let me go look." I figured there must be some way to sneak this thing around and he would be happy. I found the pillow on his bed and the note.

Dear Toothfary,

I want ten dolurs in a big traesur box.

Love,
Jonathan

Ten BUCKS! TEN?! But, at least I had an out. I went back downstairs, "Son, I think I figured out why the Tooth Fairy didn't leave any money for you--you're not supposed to ASK for money, you're just supposed to say thanks and stuff like that. It's a bit rude to shake down the Tooth Fairy." "But, Bailey said the Tooth Fairy gave her 5 dollars one time, and then 3 dollars another time." I wanted to say 'well, let's track down Bailey's spendthrift parents and give them a good lashing for screwing around with the tooth commodity index' but I told him if he wrote another nice note and said thanks that he would probably get something. "Okay."

Got us all to church, and managed to not wake anybody up with my snoring during services, then it was time to head home and get ready for the SOCCER MAKEUP GAME. We had one rainout at the first of the season, and yesterday was the makeup day. More sunscreen for both of us and out the door. Just like Saturday, it was hotter than Norah O'Donnell outside (and again, the other search requests I had over the weekend were for Miss O'Donnell's vital statistics--sorry once more folks, that info is a secret) and once more we played to a 2-2 tie. The girls keep getting better and better and have little fear about charging into a scrum and flailing about with their legs. All over with, and time to race (this being as close as I could get to anything resembling the stupidly-named Aaron's 499--missed nearly the whole thing) back home for showers, one more load of clothes in the dryer, and evening church. The Tiny Terror was in a foul mood, and wanted to stay with Mom. Yes, sweetheart, Mommy reallllllly needs a wired 5 year old to keep her from resting.

She fussed and cried, then promptly went to sleep in the van on the way. Small prayer of gratitude on my part, until we get there and I have to grabble her out of the seat like a sack of wet sand. She may look like a sweet little five year old girl, but actually she is a part of some odd government experiment to see if the mass of a black hole can be replicated in a child. I hoisted her onto my shoulder and grunted my way into the church building. It would be far easier in such situations to use a fireman's carry to handle her, but it's so unladylike to have fluorescent Hello Kitty panties shining for all the world to see. Not that she would care. I dumped her on the pew, and after a few assorted squinkles and fuss, she went back to sleep and drooled all over my pants leg. I was able to stay awake better this time, because the other three kids were all sitting together on the other side of me, demonstrating what happens when sodium and water mix. The oldest is now at the Vinny Barbarino/Sweat Hog phase--"Whah? Wheh? Whad I do? I din't do nuthin'." The other two content themselves with telling on her and crying. It's really hard, though, to have a proper knock-down, drag-out in the presence of the Lord, so they get The Look. Keeps 'em quiet for a little while. Finally, back to the house, and supper and time for bed.

The tooth pillow was carefully placed in full view so the cheapo Tooth Fairy could find it, kids tucked in, and I finally got to read the paper. It just isn't a good weekend if I don't get to read Prince Valiant.

This morning, Little Boy found that the Tooth Fairy does indeed exist, but that she was no more generous than in times past. "Hey son, did she come?" "Yes. But she only left a dollar."

Sigh.

Well, back at work, and having missed two days last week, I am now a week behind in my assignments. So, I will only be posting irregularly in the coming days. More than likely, this will mean no more than once a day until I get caught up, so please forgive the low quantity--at least it complements the equally low quality. Thanks again for stopping by.
posted by Terry at 11:37:00 AM