Friday, June 11, 2010

Robin "Hood"

A dedication to my good friend, Meg.

I wasn't sure whether to Blog or Tweet this one......

Approximately 2 weeks ago, I was packing for a day at the beach, when I heard a frenzy of bird noise coming from the maple tree in the front yard. My super keen bird sixth sense, if you will, kicked in to full gear. I knew there was baby birdie danger about.

I sprang to my feet and made a mad dash out the front door. Sadie, my beagle/shepherd mix, was staring vehemently at the ground with her ears pricked up. All these factors could only mean one thing....a baby had fallen from the comfort and protection of his little birdie nest.

I scoop him up and assessed his condition. I am not a veterinarian, however, I do possess the unique talent of spotting animal injuries.....and broken wings are no exception.

He was stunned....silent and still, he lay in the palms of my hands. We would name him "Robin...Robin XI" . Yes, very poetic, I know.

OK, Ava, today you earn the right of passage, in baby bird nursing. " What...? I have to let the baby bird suck my boobs?" (oi)

I instruct her.... "Get a box, fill it with grass, and a small cloth. Put some dry dog food in a plastic cup and add water. This is what he will eat. You mush it up, put in on your finger and stick it down his throat. Don't worry, you'll get used to it

Now, in my experience , baby birds need to eat every hour or so. I truly didn't need this extra burden, but what was I to was either that, or leave it for my cats to murder...and I just couldn't do it.

After settling Robbie in his new, temporary home, I continued to pack up the car. I told the gang that the bird would be coming with.

Dave was appalled...and could not believe I was taking the bird to the beach. I had no choice. I explained to him the needs of the hatchling....he told me to get a job.

As we drove, Ava was very good with the bird. She asked if this was one of her birthday presents. I was about to blurt out in laughter, but the lightbulb went off instead. "yes...yes it is you only gift. Happy early Birthday (suckaaaa)

As we arrived at the beach, and unpacked, I carefully wedged the box in the jogging stroller. Emma had to be carried.

People didn't really notice....regardless of the fact that in big bold letters on the outside of the box read "LIVE BIRD". It wasn't until I continuously brought him out to feed did we become a true spectacle. It went so far as the stroller needing to be rotated throughout the day so as to keep Robbie from being dehydrated. I missed a rotation, and was eagerly awaiting an old lady anxious to tell me to get my baby out of the sun....just so I could have the pleasure of uttering the phrase "Its a Fucking BIRD".

At the home front, the most difficult task was keeping Robin from the three cats....two in particular who are known for slaughtering mostly anything smaller than a bread box.

The bird had to be kept in the girls bedroom, with the door shut. We skillfully wedged the box in the window jam and fashioned a perch. By the second day, he was ready to sit in a branch and look around, and the four walls of the brown box was not going to work.

With Ava at school, I was the sole caretaker of robin. I checked on him often, and fed him as needed. It wasn't much longer before he began testing out his wings and was able to fly a few feet at a time. Of course, he still was not safe outdoors. This meant a whole lot of bird shit and purell were in Ava and Liza'a future.

Several days and many loads of laundry later, Robbie was strong enough to fly high into the trees. We practiced with him by throwing him off the deck. He acted as a boomarang at first, but soon got the hang of it. I knew, per past experience, that he would come back for feedings.

What I hadn't accounted for was the fear of god he would afflict on my neighbors. It hadn't occurred to me that he would swoon at any human in earshot looking for food.

Picture if you will, Jessica Tandy or Suzanne Plechette, in Alfred Hitchcock's 1963 thriller, "The Birds".

As my neighbor walked innocently down her driveway, she had been unexpectedly bombarded with the likes of Robin. Diving into her head, she swatted and jumped into the back seat of her SUV.

This happened to a few members of her family, and regrettably, to a mother of one of her daycare students. For the next several days, she would call and ask where KUJO was before exiting her home. He husband made mention of whacking Robbie onto his hot grill....and I fear he is serious.

The task of keeping Robbie safe was getting increasingly more difficult, as he would fly from the trees to the deck railing and wait for me. Did he not realize the danger lurking? Did he not fear the canine/feline occupants?

With the baby hanging from one arm, Robbie on my head and a cat or two in the other arm, I frantically and was constantly trying to get the cats into the basement. It was no easy feat, and I teared a couple of times...and admittedly, but only for a moment, wished the cats would eat him just so I could have a little reprieve.

Two days ago, Robin came for his breakfast. I made him scrambled eggs (oh..the irony). I noticed that he had a bit of laryngitis and I was a bit concerned. He ate less then usual, and flew away into the woods.

It was the last I saw of him. I am now left to wonder if I raised him well enough to join his fellow robins in the wild, or if his laryngitis was a sign of something more serious. I checked on Webmd, but to my dismay, there was nothing in regards to wild birds with lack of tweet.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Muffin Top Mondays

There are three things that I collect in excess. Today, and given the time of year, I will share my love/hate relationship with bathing suits.

I was not kidding, when, in an earlier post, I mentioned my 100+ bathing suits catalogued in ziploc baggies in my drawer. Further, on the front of each bag (of the separates anyway) there is a little drawn picture of the contents (illustrated by yours black sharpie). There is also the letter "T" for top or "B" for bottom.

I unleashed the baggies from there winter hideaway...and as they lay strewn amongst the dust bunny's on my floor, Emma played as if she were in a giant, wonderful ball pit.... (except it was a giant wonderful bathing suit baggie pit)

I began to make separate piles. Black. Brown. Tops. Bottoms. Sets. Halters. Bandeau..and so on.

Next...the scary part. Trying them on. Obviously, they all fit when they were purchased. However, my body is a bit altered due to the accident I had in July, 2008. Moreover, my winter was spent in part with a Twinkie hanging from my mouth at all times....sort of like my own oral tracheotomy tube. (I may be one of the few people who actually gained weight AFTER the birth of a baby)

I certainly have enough suits to get me through the summer...perhaps even enough to NOT duplicate. However, the recent new "curves" will result in a majority of them being left alone.....alone in their little, airless baggies. Tops are not the problem. I can make most of them way or the other. I cannot, however, cheat on the bottoms.

After about an hour of torturing Ava with the swimsuit fashion show, (yet another item for her to add to HER therapy issues) I had pretty much figured the weeks suits out.

I put thought into the suits I wear...not unlike most women, I imagine. There are several factors that go into the my mother going, is there anyone (like an old school rival) that I need to impress, will i be swimming in the ocean, etc.

Additionally, each day of the week constitutes a different "fit" of the suit. They are as follows:


Most people attend the beach during the weekend. As such, they use Monday as a recoup day -A day of catching up on laundry, giving the kids a rest, and so on.
As such, the beach will be the least crowded on a Monday (unless, of course, it is a Holiday Monday)
It is on these days, that I will don a suit in which the bottom is a bit tight, resulting in the all to well known "muffin top".


Most of my suits are halter style...and I'm not ashamed...these days, the girls need a lift..and before I inject them with silicone or saline, halter suits are the summer solution to a good hoist.
As such, after 3 plus days of this style, the tan lines tend to get a bit significant.
It is this reason that tube top (a/k/a Bandeau) suits are attempt to fill in the faint white tan lines with a bit of color.

WOOSHIE WEDNESDAYS(wooshie - the female nether region)

This is simple - straight forward. It is by Wednesday, the the "Beachy Clean" of Saturday morning has grown in a bit. In order to avoid a mid week slashing, Wednesdays suit is usually skirted. The End.


I do not actually wear a thong (refer to the evolution of my underwear drawer). However, my ass seems to disagree with my brain and is constantly sucking the elastin (which is made to HOLD the rear end of my bathing suit) up into my grill.
HOWEVER, on thongy Thursday, I have been forced into a shave and will once again wear an unskirted suit. Thursdays are not generally crowded, either. I will once again wear a suit that MAY be a little small on the bottom. It is on this day that I choose to wear a bottom that displays a little bit of my butt cheeks. My reasoning for doing this AT ALL is because...lets face it...even when it is NOT thongy Thursday, wedgies are unavoidable. And I would rather have a couple of tanned cheeks, than blinding white ones.

Fuggedaboutit FRIDAYS

I leave Fridays open. I am usually exhausted and throw caution to the wind. All suits are eligible on this day. I may even wear a tankini on a give my stomach a rest from all of Monday through Thursdays sucking in.


Saturdays are when most people go to the beach. "Sexy" may not be the best adjective, but in all honesty, I do try and wear my "better" suits. The girls need to locked and loaded, no butt chunk can be excessively hanging out there. But there needs to be a bit of flare to the suit.... You never know if you are going to run into an ex lover....or high school frenemy. Am I too old for Sexy Saturday..probably.


Sunday is, and will always be...Family Day. Although approximately 35 family member attend our beach, Sunday is the day when most of them attend at once. Subdued Sundays bathing suit is similar to Sexy Saturdays, without the extra effort of looking too good....I would probably wear a skirt on this day as well. My mother has an opinion so its just as well to look appropriate for my age, marital status and motherness.

Ridiculous, or plain genius......this is just more proof that I may need to get a job. Surfs Up.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

The Mystery Ride Mayhem....

Anyone who knows us, knows of the "Mystery Rides".

Shortly after entering the world of the unemployed, I decided to take advantage of my time summer off with some good ole' fashioned family fun.

Rather than taking a full week of vacation time, Dave had decided to take every Friday off throughout the summer....these days would be known as "Mystery Ride Friday". I would chose a destination in New England, usually within a 2 hour car ride. Occasionally, we would do an overnight. The night before our trip, I would tape a list to the girls' bedroom detailing what they would need to pack (bathing suit, sneakers, warm clothes, etc). It was such a secret, they weren't even allowed to keep their eyes opened as we approached our destination (as they can now read.)

For example, they were not able to open their eyes until they were actually ABOARD the Block Island Ferry and opened their eyes only to me staring directly into the eyes of the Beluga whale at the aquarium.

It was so much fun, and provided such good memories that I had decided to extended "Mystery Rides" to extend year round...not every week, but at least once a school break or so.

It was Christmas break, and I had been dealing with some teenager related stress at home. Dave wasn't able to get away, however, I needed the break. I don't know why I thought taking the three girls away on a mystery myself.. over night... would be the break I needed, but I planned it just the same. It was going to be our "girls only" night. I packed a beauty bag full of nail polish, facial masks, candy and celebrity magazines and off we went. Destination: Boston. Agenda: Mall Shopping, dinner, mani/pedi & facials (give by each other in our room) swimming, and to throw a little education in there... the Boston Museum of Science.

The car ride there wasn't too bad...Emma, who mostly screams her head off in a car, slept most of the way.

We arrived at the hotel, checked into our room, and headed out to dinner. We did our girly stuff and went to bed. This was easy. Why was everyone making such a big deal about it? If Kate can do it with 8, I can certainly do it with 3...right?

We were in walking distance to the museum. Off we went. It was a balmy 32 degrees outside. Ava and Liza complained, and I had Emma buried against my body to keep her from freezing to death. I was pushing the stroller with one hand and holding her with the other. I hadn't anticipated the distance before hand.

Damn...there must have been 10,000+/- people there. It was a bit overwhelming.... and it WAS school vacation. Luckily, I had purchased my tickets at the hotel so I didn't have to wait in line.

About 20 minutes into the exhibits I remembered something. I hate the museum of science. Shit. Why did I do this. "Ok kids...lets make our way upstairs" (the chickens hatching is the one thing i DO enjoy...go figure.)

Emma needed to nurse. Luckily, there was a little monkey viewing area with stadium style seating. I parked myself and went at it. It took about 5 minuted before 4 snotty nosed kids were standing around staring at me. "Umm....I am not an exhibit...go find your parents" ...little jerks. I was so annoyed that I didn't notice Ava and Liza were missing. WTH. How am I going to find those kids in this craziness. I stood up, pulled my shirt down, and off we went. I figured they wouldn't leave the floor, so I focused my attention to the general vicinity of the chicks.

In my travels, I came across the human reproductive room. God, I hope to hell they did not enter here. What was I thinking? The entrance has a life like statue of a naked woman...and there are penis sketches on the wall. OF COURSE THIS IS WHERE THE LITTLE PERVS ARE!!

As I entered, I heard an all too familiar sound. Counting, panting, the sound of a woman straining, screaming. Oh God. Either TLC is on in the snack bar...or....

I entered the dark, circular viewing area to find a giant screen. With a giant vagina, and a giant head emerging from the giant vagina. I felt like I was going to pass out...but before I did, I glanced down to see Ava and Liza...eyes bulging, mouths open.

Lets go...right now! "but" I didn't want to cause a spectacle...nor did I want to get into this discussion at that moment.

I mean really, shouldn't they have an attendant...checking ID's or permission slips or something? Seriously, our children can't watch most 8 pm tv shows, but hey, show them some birth, and penis drawings on the wall and call it "science" and its no problem ??

After a couple of "stab me in the eye with a butter knife" hours getting educated, I was ready to leave. After all, it was New Years Eve day. (not that I had any big plans, but I figured we should be home to celebrate with the rest of the family)

I hadn't realized that it had begun to snow...and snow badly. It was bad enough that I contemplated staying the night. Nah...I had an SUV, it should be fine.

I knew it was going to be ugly when after 1.5 hours, I had only traveled about 2 miles...and hadn't made it to the highway. A woman aside of my was honking her horn with a vengeance. Cover your ears girls. I rolled down my window and yelled "Stop honking your fucking one can go anywhere". (Emma was sleeping at this point....and if that horn didn't wake her, my profanity wielding voice wouldn't have)

The kids were horrified. And I explained what adults were allowed to do when other adults were being unreasonable.

Another half hour, we had made it to the highway. Unfortunately, Emma had awakened and began her screaming. She wasn't letting up and it was making the rest of us unnerved. As soon as I could, I pulled off the highway. I had no idea where I was and could barely see. As I scanned the area, it was apparent we were not in a very good area. Emma was getting progressively more agitated to the point of actually choking herself. I was yelling at Ava to undo her belt and hold her.... I had no choice but to pull over and nurse her. There we the projects...pulled over in my Lexus with my shirt half off and my kids crying in the backseat. I gave her enough to hold her over until I could get somewhere safer. There was, what appeared to be an Inn a couple of miles up. As I approached the building, I noticed a bunch of shady looking characters coming in and out of the building. Ava expressed her level and discomfort and I agreed. We went on our way, and after 15 minutes, came across a strip of storefronts which appeared to be open. I pulled up to the curb and unloaded my cranky crew. No sooner were we out of the car when a large, dirty black man came barrelling towards us shouting barely audible profanities. The girls grabbed my legs and my eyes teared a bit...we are not city folk and were most uneasy about the situation. The man passed and a quick lesson on both crack addiction and tourette syndrome was in order.

We ducked into the pizza store a few feet in front of us only to find a gaggle of even scarier of which was staring at Ava like he hadn't had a meal in years and he was Hannibal Lector. Out of there we went, which, to our delight, was an Asian Nail Salon. Manicures for all.(except Emma...she just got more boob)

A young, fairly attractive girl was getting her nails I naturally struck up a conversation with her. I was surprised that she was in such a neighborhood, but after a couple of minutes, I realized we were very close to Boston University. She explained that the "Inn" I stopped at was in actuality, a Homeless shelter. And that the characters I met on the street were residents of the shelter. Ahh...that explains A LOT. (I still didn't like it)

After about an hour, we decided to get back on track. We walked out of the salon, only to find crackhead/Tourette guy loitering over my car with his buddies. He obviously had some sort of lung disease as he was incessantly hurling spit OVER my vehicle.....completely freaking me and Liza out. I shamefully looked at the young girl and explained that my KIDS were a bit frightened and that we lived in typical suburbia. She offered to walk us to the car. I gladly accepted.

We were safely in and the snow seemed to be letting up. Thank goodness because I had no more snacks, 1 bar left on my cell phone and maybe one more diaper.

Approximately 4.5 hours later we arrived at home. I was tired and stressed to my limit. The kids were happy to be home.

When asked about their trip, they did not recall the wonderful mother/daughter bonding time in the hotel room. No. The highlights were, in no particular order:

1. Mommy yelling the F word at a stranger
2. A black man on drugs trying to attack us
3. A man trying to kidnap Ava in a pizza parlor
4. A man spitting on my car making mommy throw up
and last, but certainly not least....the giant vagina.

We will all remember the night mommy took her girls on a mystery ride....and we will laugh about our adventure. Happy F'ing New Year Kids.