Fiddledeedee

Recently, our local zoo held it’s annual fundraiser. The tickets were priced at a low low $150.00 dollars each. I would have loved to have attended; however, I opted to fold laundry instead. And use the money we would have spent, on something frivolous, like the electricity bill.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for supporting your local zoo. I’ve lived in larger cities that have amazing zoos. Zoos with exotic animals that my children might not otherwise ever get to witness. Zoos which support animal conservationism and all that brouhaha.

Our little local zoo is taking a bit of a different approach. The fundraiser was also used as Grand Opening of sorts, to promote their latest wildlife exhibit. The suggested dress for the evenings festivities was something “macabre.” Also, it was to be a catered affair. It seems that our intrepid zoo has acquired a new exhibit which features The Vulture.

Interesting choice.

I think I could have saved them a lot of time and effort if I had informed them that the two lane road at the end of our subdivision, leading to the main thoroughfare, is an excellent Vulture Exhibit. (Pssst, and it’s free.) Why just a couple of days ago we were traveling on that road and came upon a whole family of vultures dining on an armadillo. Vultures love this particular stretch of roadway, because hapless armadillos and turtles, which move at the speed of smell, often meet their untimely demise halfway across. I’ve seen The Vultures doing things to dearly departed animals that I NEVER want to see again. Particularly after I’ve just enjoyed a breakfast burrito from Taco Bell. MY EYES, MY EYES. Images now seared into my brain. I try not to look, really. But like a train wreck, it’s hard to avoid. When the children were smaller, they would holler, “Look at the birdies! Mommy, what are they doing to that squirrel that’s asleep?” “Oh, they’re just saying hi,” I would lie. “And bon appetit,” I would add under my breath.

I haven’t been to our local Zoo in awhile. I’ve been considering getting a family pass for us this Fall. But, I’m curious. Is the Vulture Exhibit located near the Food Court? Something that our Zoo likes to promote for the patrons, is special feeding time viewings. They do this with The Alligator exhibit. Which I avoid. Both the exhibit and the feeding frenzy. I wonder if they will have something similar for The Vultures? I mean, if you can get beyond the gag reflex, it could get interesting. All along the paths are Vending machines, filled with food for the various animals housed at our Zoo. For example, if you stick in 50 cents, you’ll get a handful of food pellets to throw at the Flamingos. Will they have little Vending machines for the Vulture exhibit? You can insert a coin and pull out say, a tasty dead rat for the Vultures to enjoy.

With the exception of a few beautiful Giraffes, our Zoo has mostly animals that can be found in back of our fence in the Nature Preserve. Or Rat Heaven. If fact, you might find many of these creatures in the confines of our own backyard. Although, their life expectancy is dramatically shortened if they find their way onto our property.

All of this has got me thinking. I may open my own Zoo. And charge admission. Raising three children has given me special extensive experience in dealing with wild animals. And, I’ve been looking for a way to add a little extra income to our coffers.

I just have to figure out how to get it past the Homeowners Association. With the extra traffic from my Grand Opening and all.

The following is a conversation that I overheard today, between the two sisters.

Cailey: (after watching her sister intently for a few moments) “Emme! Don’t do that! Don’t stick a tissue up your nose!”

Emme: (with said kleenex and accompanying index finger still up her nose) “Why not?”

Cailey: “Because it’s gonna get stuck up in your brain.”

Emme: (doubtfully) “How do you know?”

Cailey: “Because, it happened to me!”

Finally, a reasonable explanation why the child refuses to use a kleenex, and instead deposits her boogers on the furniture, or unsuspecting family members.

Today I took a photograph of the arm of the couch, which was littered with tiny Cailey sized boogers. Fiddledaddy made me promise that I would not post the picture. On the grounds that it would cross the boundary of “good taste.”

Folks, that’s a line I mowed down about 30 or 40 posts ago.

But don’t worry, I won’t post the picture.

In other news, I just got my van back from the shop after nearly two weeks. So, my weekend plans include joy riding, with my head hanging out the drivers side window, like a dog, catching bugs in my teeth.

Or hosing down the couch.

Have a wonderful weekend everyone!

Emme lost another tooth. If she keeps losing teeth at this rate, I’m going to have to start feeding her a steady diet of porridge and take out a loan.

After a week of watching this snaggled tooth, so loose that it hung out of her mouth, and listening to much wailing and gnashing of other baby teeth, she finally yanked the thing out of her head. We all offered to do it for her. The list included parents, cousins, and a couple of aunts. Just so the complaining might stop. Cailey especially was eager to give it a try. “Emme, just let ME do it!” she a little too gleefully hounded. Ad nauseum, as she followed her sister around each day. Hoping above all hopes that her big sister would change her mind, and her mother would grant her the use of pliers.

No such luck.

The adult tooth was impatient, waiting for the baby tooth to fall out. So, it’s my theory that Adult Tooth just shoved Baby Tooth out of Emme’s mouth, as it is already halfway up. We placed the tiny tooth in a sandwich baggy and I wrote Emme’s name and the date on the outside. I expect to have many such baggies before the three children reach puberty. This is a wonderfully clever way I’ve found to keep track of the teeth, and idea that I got from Meritt quite a while back.

After the extraction or murder (depending on how you look at it), Emme sat down to pencil a letter to the Toothfairy. We’re beginning to study Writing Composition, and the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. The letter was two pages long. She had quite a lot to tell the Toothfairy, evidently. Mostly about the pain and suffering she endured waiting for the tooth to fall out. She took her two page letter and baggied tooth, and placed them under her pillow. To await the Toothfairy.

Who never came.

You see, the Toothfairy hasn’t been getting much sleep lately, and isn’t quite up on her game. It was another rough night with Jensen, and when I stumbled out of the master suite this morning, I remembered. Oh no. Emme was already up having her “coffee” with Fiddledaddy in the front reading room. Her “coffee” consists of whole milk in one of my favorite coffee mugs. This makes her feel very civilized and mature.

Maybe she forgot. I know. But a mommy can dream. I rifled through my purse and could only find a five spot and some change. I considered just using the five dollar bill, perhaps to alleviate some of the guilt, but reconsidered. This would be setting a precedence that I might never financially recover from. Do the math. Each kid has about 20 teeth to lose. Times three kids. I then raided Fiddledaddy’s cash stash and only came up with a five plus change. But I was able to put all the change together to make one dollar. I stuffed the coins into a sandwich baggy, labeled with her name and date, and quickly scribbled a note which cleverly said something like “Good job Emme! T.F.” And stealthily tiptoed into her room to make the exchange hoping she would think that she overlooked it.

Later I found out that she did indeed notice the absence of money under her pillow and sadly reported her findings to Fiddledaddy. He offered two explanations. “Probably the Toothfairy had a really rough night and couldn’t make it.” She looked at him doubtfully. So, then he added:

“Or the Toothfairy heard Jensen screaming and it scared her off.”

A more plausible reason for a 7 year old, I think. Thusly taking the heat off of the poor bedraggled toothfairy. But then, when Emme went to make her bed, she found her baggy of loose change and the note. Excitedly she came running out of her room. “She came, she came after all!”

No questions asked.

A tired tardy toothfairy is better than no toothfairy at all.

I’m a light sleeper. I always have been. All conditions must be perfect in order for me to find slumber. My sleep number bed is set to the proper degree of softness. I have my favorite pillow hollowed out to fit my big fat head exactly. The white noise is fixed at the perfect decibel. And all is right with the world. Except for one thing. Well, really two things. The two year old NOT sleeping down the hall, and any kind of light will keep me awake. Even the light up dial on the digital alarm clock. I’ve solved the problem by wearing a black slumber mask. Call me Zorro, if you will. Without eye holes.

But then, the mask disappeared.

Emme was sick last week, so we all played musical beds for a few nights. In the shuffle, the mask went missing. I searched the house from top to bottom. No Zorro mask. I even tried fashioning a black headband into an eye mask. It just cut off the circulation by squeezing my head. That’s never good.

Enter Fiddledaddy.

After the children were asleep, he offered to drive to Wal•Mart for a replacement mask. He has learned after 10 years of marriage, that if momma isn’t happy, ain’t nobody gonna be happy. So, he saved the day, or night as it were, by bringing me home a deluxe slumber mask. It is by Protégé and is called the Contoured Eye Mask. It even comes with complementary ear plugs. Which may just solve the problem of the two year old. Y’all, this is the top of the line in eye mask fashion. It is molded and “allows you the capability to open, close or move your eyelids.” It is even adjustable, so as to not squeeze my head. And it cost less than five dollars.

When my daughter spied it the next morning, she exclaimed, “Mommy, is that your booby caps?” If you’ll recall, “booby caps” is code for bra at our house. I guess if one is desperate, it could be converted into a strapless bra. If you’re 7.

I am a vision of beauty at night now. With my contoured black slumber mask, retainer firmly placed on my pearly whites, feet besocked after first being slathered by Crisco, and hands housed in white cotton gloves. It’s easy to understand why Fiddledaddy continues to sleep in the bed next to me. Lucky lucky man.

So, if you’re like me and are a light sleeper, try a slumber mask. But if you have to make a mad dash down the hall to tend to a two year old, don’t forget to take it off first. I’m just sayin’.

For more Works For Me Wednesday tips, gallop on over to Rocks In My Dryer!

Yesterday afternoon I saw Cailey dart down the hall after exiting Jensen’s room. All was peaceful. Odd. “Cailey, where’s Jensen?” I call after her. “I dunno,” she replies, settling herself into her favorite chair. An investigation is warranted. Judging from the quiet. I walk down the hall into Jensen’s room. No Jensen. I walk over to his closed closet bi-folding door and open it. I hear a gasp within. As the light shines into the closet, I see a wide eyed Jensen standing there, wearing his “My Mom Thinks I’m Cute” bib, clutching his bottle of Neutrogena lotion in both hands, with the evidence dribbling from his lips, down his chin, and onto his bib.

He’s an addict.

As was documented in this post written a few weeks ago, this has been an ongoing problem. Afterward, I wised up and began storing the coveted pump bottle way up above his little grasp. However, someone must have retrieved it for him. The most likely suspect goes by the name “Cailey” and is a well known enabler in this house. She stands 4 feet tall, has sparkling mischievous light blue eyes, long strawberry blonde hair, dimples, and freckles. She, by the evidence I’ve witnessed, is his supplier.

As with any addiction, once you start sneaking into the dark of the closet to act upon your impulses, and it is a known fact that you are even afraid of the dark, you have a real problem.

But don’t we all? Really, it’s only a matter of time before Fiddledaddy stumbles upon me, in the dark of my closet, wearing my “I Use To Be Cute” bib, clutching an empty container of Ben & Jerrys. And a spoon.

Confession time. When the light shines in the dark recesses of your closet, what would we find you with? And don’t forget, y’all, this is a family-friendly blog.