Guilty. Caught.

My life has become insane; not me, just my life  It makes me a little sad to watch it spin chaotically around me and threaten to derail constantly but I'm holding it together. Here's how:

My favorite place is out doors.  Shocked? Nah. I know you know that. So it would not surprise you to hear I was out playing in the mud and weeding my beds getting ready for the "big dig".  I left the toddlers inside but had the screen open (Birdie hates not having me in her sight).  I was jamming to my music and soaking up the quiet sunlight.  I heard her scratch and whine.  I heard her stomp and chuff.  I looked up, said a few soothing words and went about my business. She got more agitated and aggressive and I mean along the lines of "What Lassie? The sheriff's tied up and the jail's burnin down????"

My son came home from school and told me what a good day he'd had; "Uneventful" he called it.  I find this one particularly funny since he missed detention by one of his award winning smiles. He'd asked to go to the library, was told "not yet" and immediately asked to go get a drink... upon receipt of a bathroom pass, he went? Ohhhh yes. To the library. Unless he had disrobed and attempted to replenish his aquatic requirements via epidermal osmosis, he was gone a leeeeetle too long...

My son also has a revolver cap gun.  It's quite a hoot.  He's a quick reloader/shot. He's awakened his sister on a weekend, scared the living crap out of his mother while she was trapped in the bathroom and wound the dogs up so tight their eyes are still swimming from fear. All of us have fallen victim to the deadly stealth of this sure shot. The town's people decided enough was enough; eye for an eye...

Now ~ what do these all have in common? Well, hold my hand a little longer and let's giggle together.
....
One:

I try to soothe the Nubian Princess but am unable.  She is growing more and more irritated and anxious.  I go in to the house and walk around my kitchen island. I am heading for their water bowl, thinking they might be thirsty, need something to eat, have to go potty. No. Birdie was telling on her brother. 

Winston had broken in to the pantry (nosing the door open) and had SOMEHOW opened the Ziploc sealed back of protein powder Cheech uses before his workouts.  It tastes and smells fabulously like vanilla.  How do I know this? Well the bag had been squished to fit a very small,round face. The scoops we normally use to get the stuff out had been removed` OBVIOUSLY creating too much of an obstacle to the irresistible  prize.  Then there was the culprit himself: one twelve pound dog with goo dripping from his face. He appeared battered; like a pancake. and he was licking it off as fast as he could; not to mention the fact he'd run out of the house and to the middle of the grass where he stood; snorting, licking, wagging and .... waiting.

"WINSTON!" I called.  Nothing. More wagging and licking.  I stepped out on the porch and headed for the batter dipped dog.  "Winston" I said more softly.  His wag slowed, his head dropped and he took a step toward me.  I got down on my knees and asked what he'd done.  I asked if he needed to say sorry.  He instantly began to belly crawl toward me and push his face against me; as if shamed.

Guilty. Caught.

Then my son the genius, who snuck to the library on a bathroom pass.  This type of dishonesty is normally an instant detention.  The teacher who caught him was conflicted.  My son has never had an issue, trouble or problem ... ever.  So she called me at home to tell me.  I am guessing that the word has gotten around if you want to REALLY panic the kids and frighten them, tell their mom what they did.  There is no punishment the school can dish out worse than what they will THEN receive upon arriving at home.  I waited for him to come skipping and whistling down the steps.

"Good day?" I asked.

"Yep.  Real good." he answered ignorant to the stink eye I was sharing.

"Anything interesting?"

He paused. I saw the look of question wavering.  It was do or die.  "No." he said and I think he wanted to reach out and try take back the lie, but it was too late.

I walked right up to him and looked down in to his brown eyes. "Really? Nothing?" my voice was soft and he knew the jig was up.

and I quietly said it. "If I'm asking? I already know"

He turned white as snow and began to stammer; certain his demise was near and eminent. By the time his punishment was exacted, he wished for detention.  He wished for a luxurious weekend at Guantanamo.

Guilty. Caught.

So we had all suffered at the hand of the notorious gunman Boo the Sureshot The gun was loud and obnoxious and he reveled in the chaos it caused; every time. So I  began to inquire how such a sure shot could do it so quickly, efficiently. Where did he keep his bullets, were they special bullets... on an on.  Did he sleep with his "true love" or did he keep her preciously hidden from all who would want to admire her beauty and power. He patiently answered my questions and went about his routine. 

That morning, at our usual ungodly hour of rising, Cheech and I snuck in to his room and began to look for the noisy vixen.  We searched the drawers, the shelves, the boxes .... everywhere but came up empty handed.

"Where does he keep the caps?" Cheech whispered.

"In a box." I replied.  We were both rummaging like heroin fiends in an unattended evidence room.  "Didja find it?"

"No... You?" we were whispering a little louder.

"Nothin.  Go figure ~ the ONE THING he's decided to put away in his young life..."

"Uhhhh Guys?  I'm awake and I hear you." My son's voice crept gently between our ears.  We froze and watched as he peered at us from the side of his bed.

Guilty. Caught

Life is hard, unkind and very messy.  This is just a glimpse into a day of mine. I'm sorry we've not been able to hang out lately.  I hope that changes all for the better very soon.

I miss you, my friends. I hope you came and giggled with me even if just for a moment or two.  Enjoy what is left of your weekend.