Today my dog got kicked out of the groomer.
I feel, I think, much the way that one would feel were their child to get kicked out of preschool: You realize that your kid is a total hellion sometimes, and you are embarrassed and question your parenting, but you also expect that a place whose BUSINESS it is to deal with children could...well...DEAL with children.
Aren't dog grooming places equipped to handle dogs that bite? Especially when they have known this dog for a year and I openly discuss her bitey-ness and her nasty poodle attitude at EVERY dropoff? And can a 6-pound dog bite through a muzzle? Because that is what they tried to tell me. I'm not sure if I'm more annoyed with the groomer or the dog. What I AM sure of is that I have a ridiculous looking, half-shorn, smug little wench that dropped tufts of cut gray hair all over the seat of my car when I took her home today. She has alot of nerve, that one.
In news of Superman, things have been going....well, they've been going. He takes anxiety medication now in addition to the ADD med. He's been doing much better at getting his work done at school, and he's got a really great teacher this year. She's really good about communicating with me and I feel like she genuinely cares about him. A few weeks ago I was talking to her and she said, "You're SUCH a good mom," and so I promptly burst into tears. Guess you could say I've been taking everything pretty hard lately.
Superman follows me around the house chattering away like a monkey, most of the time. He came into the closet with me the other day and said, "Mommy, when I have a computer of my own, I'm going to have a password. And I will tell you what it is." So I bite: "Oh really? What will it be?" "S-MAN ROCKS!" skip a beat, "Most of the time. Except when I have incompletes..."
Our cat Nicki sits in the hallway and meows like a siren when she wants attention. Instead of waddling her fat cat ass into the living room to sit with us, she wants someone to come and join HER. Needless to say, this can get very annoying. At dinner the other night, Superman was telling Best Fella that he didn't want him to have to work late, that he wanted him to be HERE, at HOME. When Best Fella asked why, he said, "I just want you to be here all the time, so you can say, 'SHUT UP NICKI!' to the cat when she meows." Best Fella and I appreciated this, but I'm pretty sure Nicki did not. I'm just speculating, of course,but she left a trail of cat barf in the office for the next couple of days.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Cloudy With a Chance of Insane
I attended Superman's first parent-teacher conference of third grade last week. I had high hopes...but alas, they were dashed. This conference turned out to be just like every other conference that I've had since first grade: disappointing, disheartening, frightening.
On the one hand I know how lucky I am that I've got this awesome little boy who is happy and funny and friendly and the biggest joy of my day. On the other hand, it's really fucking hard to hear that your kid doesn't keep up in class, doesn't get his work done, most of the time has no idea what's going on, and that the teacher is genuinely worried about what will happen to him in the next nine weeks.
We visited his pediatrician again last week after an epic meltdown over loud noises, with me thinking surely there is some developmental or sensory issue going on here--there has to be some explanation and effective treatment for these issues. The pediatrician diagnosed him with an anxiety disorder, and stated that anxiety and depression go hand in hand with most ADHD personalities. SUPER SWEET.
So we're trying an anxiety med for a month, in hopes that it will help him have more confidence and in turn be able to try/persevere at new things instead of losing interest immediately if he's not great at it. I'm also having the teacher fill out an evaluation for the pediatrician so that we can see if we need to up his ADD med. LAWD, this sucks. I'm trying to keep it in perspective. But I am terrified of what his future holds--or doesn't hold.
On the one hand I know how lucky I am that I've got this awesome little boy who is happy and funny and friendly and the biggest joy of my day. On the other hand, it's really fucking hard to hear that your kid doesn't keep up in class, doesn't get his work done, most of the time has no idea what's going on, and that the teacher is genuinely worried about what will happen to him in the next nine weeks.
We visited his pediatrician again last week after an epic meltdown over loud noises, with me thinking surely there is some developmental or sensory issue going on here--there has to be some explanation and effective treatment for these issues. The pediatrician diagnosed him with an anxiety disorder, and stated that anxiety and depression go hand in hand with most ADHD personalities. SUPER SWEET.
So we're trying an anxiety med for a month, in hopes that it will help him have more confidence and in turn be able to try/persevere at new things instead of losing interest immediately if he's not great at it. I'm also having the teacher fill out an evaluation for the pediatrician so that we can see if we need to up his ADD med. LAWD, this sucks. I'm trying to keep it in perspective. But I am terrified of what his future holds--or doesn't hold.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Good'n Disjointed
Yesterday was Superman's first day of school. As we drove down the street, he counted down: "We will be there in 10..9..8.." once we drove into the parking lot, he exclaimed "FINALLY. I have been waiting to go to third grade for like my WHOLE LIFE!"
And guess how his first day went? "Awe-SOME!"
He was slinging his messenger bag around on his shoulder this morning and asked me which way looked cooler-- this side, or THIS side. sigh
As we reached the stop sign to leave our neighborhood this morning, I happened to look at the front door of the house across the street. There was a little pug standing on its hind feet looking out the door. The house was dark inside, so there was this little light dog with its perfectly round black face peering out at us. You really had to be there, but Superman laughed and said that is HILARIOUS OHMY GOSH I WISH MAWMAW WAS HERE SO SHE COULD SEE THAT I WANT TO CALL HER AND TELL HER ABOUT IT!!!
So when I told him goodbye at school this morning I grabbed him and said oh wait, forgot to tell you something (whisper in ear) "PUGFACE!!" A great sendoff for the second day!
As he was petting our obese cat Nicki and she repeatedly rolled over on her back, he informed me:
"She just always wants to have her fatness rubbed."
To which Best Fella replied, "Hey, there's nothing wrong with that..."
And guess how his first day went? "Awe-SOME!"
He was slinging his messenger bag around on his shoulder this morning and asked me which way looked cooler-- this side, or THIS side. sigh
As we reached the stop sign to leave our neighborhood this morning, I happened to look at the front door of the house across the street. There was a little pug standing on its hind feet looking out the door. The house was dark inside, so there was this little light dog with its perfectly round black face peering out at us. You really had to be there, but Superman laughed and said that is HILARIOUS OHMY GOSH I WISH MAWMAW WAS HERE SO SHE COULD SEE THAT I WANT TO CALL HER AND TELL HER ABOUT IT!!!
So when I told him goodbye at school this morning I grabbed him and said oh wait, forgot to tell you something (whisper in ear) "PUGFACE!!" A great sendoff for the second day!
As he was petting our obese cat Nicki and she repeatedly rolled over on her back, he informed me:
"She just always wants to have her fatness rubbed."
To which Best Fella replied, "Hey, there's nothing wrong with that..."
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Just Because He's Awesome
I’ve been full of angst and sadness and anger and feelings of bitterness and inferiority lately. But with summer (finally, Thank God) coming to a close, I am going to turn over a new leaf, as they say, in my attitude. No more dwelling. No more taking everything to heart. No more giving of a fuck what certain people say/do/don’t do.
I am Superman’s Mommy! Hear me roar!
Ahem. Yes. So anyway. I am so grateful for the awesome little human that is my boy. I’ve never been able to type out a birthday tribute to him. I always end up dissolving in tears about two sentences into all of the wonderful ways that he is Superman. Therefore, I am going to throw out a few of the things that make him so funny to me. Some of the Supermanisms that give him the quirk that I love so much, but that also worries me endlessly.
Superman thinks the part of the song ‘Abracadabra’ that says black betty with an angel’s face actually says Blackberries with a Ninja’s Face.
He loves muscle cars, and thinks they are all called Mustangs. He is also dying to have a motorcycle, but won’t ride his bike or on the four wheeler with Best Fella.
I asked him what was wrong because it looked like he was in pain. He said, “Nothing. My butt just itches ‘cause I farted too loud.” Charming!
He likes to turn the volume on my phone all the way up and have the noise of his game and a song playing at the same time, but fireworks make him cry because he says they hurt his ears.
If he had his way, the boy would eat corn dogs three meals a day, seven days a week.
From the bathroom: “Mommy! I just threw up!” I walk in and he’s still sitting down, not pale or clammy or any of the signs that usually say ‘throw up’…..Skeptically, I say, “What?” (because I’m eloquent like that). “I did. I threw up from my butt.” Oh.
His favorite songs, in no particular order: Eye of the Tiger, Country by Jason Aldean, Bad to the Bone, Just the Way You Are by Bruno Mars, and The Joker by the Steve Miller Band.
A limousine and a movie room are the ultimate measures of wealth to him.
Superman can watch the same movie(s) or TV shows nine thousand times in a row and never get tired of them.
He is pretty sure that when he grows up he will be an actor, a boxer, or a ninja.
When we’re in the middle of acting silly and laughing at each other he will either say, “Mom, I love you.” Or “I just want a big hug!”
He can’t stop himself from looking over our shoulders or asking what we’re doing the second we pull out our phones or ipads. When I say, “You know what?” He’ll answer with, “None of my beeswax.”
When I pick him up after work I always ask him how his day was. Ninety percent of the time, he answers with a singsong, enthusiastic “AWE-some!”
This boy of mine. Magoo, McGillicutty, Sneezy McGee, Superman, Rocky Balboa, Geebs. The coolest kid in my world. My most favoritest ninja ever.
I am Superman’s Mommy! Hear me roar!
Ahem. Yes. So anyway. I am so grateful for the awesome little human that is my boy. I’ve never been able to type out a birthday tribute to him. I always end up dissolving in tears about two sentences into all of the wonderful ways that he is Superman. Therefore, I am going to throw out a few of the things that make him so funny to me. Some of the Supermanisms that give him the quirk that I love so much, but that also worries me endlessly.
Superman thinks the part of the song ‘Abracadabra’ that says black betty with an angel’s face actually says Blackberries with a Ninja’s Face.
He loves muscle cars, and thinks they are all called Mustangs. He is also dying to have a motorcycle, but won’t ride his bike or on the four wheeler with Best Fella.
I asked him what was wrong because it looked like he was in pain. He said, “Nothing. My butt just itches ‘cause I farted too loud.” Charming!
He likes to turn the volume on my phone all the way up and have the noise of his game and a song playing at the same time, but fireworks make him cry because he says they hurt his ears.
If he had his way, the boy would eat corn dogs three meals a day, seven days a week.
From the bathroom: “Mommy! I just threw up!” I walk in and he’s still sitting down, not pale or clammy or any of the signs that usually say ‘throw up’…..Skeptically, I say, “What?” (because I’m eloquent like that). “I did. I threw up from my butt.” Oh.
His favorite songs, in no particular order: Eye of the Tiger, Country by Jason Aldean, Bad to the Bone, Just the Way You Are by Bruno Mars, and The Joker by the Steve Miller Band.
A limousine and a movie room are the ultimate measures of wealth to him.
Superman can watch the same movie(s) or TV shows nine thousand times in a row and never get tired of them.
He is pretty sure that when he grows up he will be an actor, a boxer, or a ninja.
When we’re in the middle of acting silly and laughing at each other he will either say, “Mom, I love you.” Or “I just want a big hug!”
He can’t stop himself from looking over our shoulders or asking what we’re doing the second we pull out our phones or ipads. When I say, “You know what?” He’ll answer with, “None of my beeswax.”
When I pick him up after work I always ask him how his day was. Ninety percent of the time, he answers with a singsong, enthusiastic “AWE-some!”
This boy of mine. Magoo, McGillicutty, Sneezy McGee, Superman, Rocky Balboa, Geebs. The coolest kid in my world. My most favoritest ninja ever.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Hello, my name is Repressed, and I'm a Rageaholic...
I took the kids to our neighborhood pool yesterday after work. A little girl was playing with Princess in the water, and they were chatting about what school they go to, etc.
Princess pointed at me and said, “She’s not really my mom. She’s my stepmom. And that’s just my stepbrother (pointing to Superman). HE’s my real brother.” (pointing to Wiley)
Ouch. Comments like this have been made before, and although I realize that they are true, they still hurt.
This summer has been really hard for me. I’m feeling the division in our families more than ever. It seems like Superman and I are on one side, and Best Fella, Wiley, Princess, and Their Mother are on the other. This is not a good way for me to feel, but I don’t want to say anything, because I am trying not to be the shrill harpy bitch that Iam would sound like if I say what I want to say.
The truth is that I am sick to death of Their Mother. I hate her never ending phone calls, text messages, photos when we have the kids. I hate how she quizzes them on the phone about what they did (or didn’t do) and what we had for dinner, and the leading questions that I know she is putting to them. (Example from Wiley’s side of a conversation the other night: ‘Oh pretty good. We just played. No, we didn’t have a field trip today…Yeah, that’s all we did. We had chicken pizza. It was good. No, chicken on pizza. Yeah. I had never heard of it either…)
What the fuck, whore? I don’t make deep fried fat and lard gravy every night like you do, okay? I actually get off my ass and go to work every day, then come home and get something on the table so we can get into bed at a decent time. I know you don’t know what ‘bedtime’ is, but we do. And just because I made the food doesn’t mean it was wrong. Bitch. (Who me? Bitter? The hell you say!)
So anyway, I’m still feeling like a pretty horrible person, and knowing that she’s driving home the point that Superman and I are LESS THAN Princess & Wiley’s ‘real’ family just drives me over the edge.
I guess that’s probably the hardest part of being a stepmom. You still have to do all of the things a mother does (and more, because you are trying SO FUCKING HARD to be perfect) but you get no return on it. Oh sure, you get the return of knowing that you’re doing the right thing for these children who deserve it, but you don’t get the love that you get from your own child. Superman thinks I’m awesome. He is happy to see me, happy to spend time with me, wants me near, loves everything that I do for him (with the exception of that idiocy I call ‘being responsible’…he could definitely do without that!) But with the other kids, no matter how much I do, it’s usually just wrong. Because I’m not Their Mother. And I couldn’t be more different from her if I tried. Thank the Sweet Lord. Ahem.
So the other night Princess was being a major…um…princess. Best Fella had sent her to her room for whining and griping and (fake) crying about everything from the moment we sat down to dinner she wouldn’t eat all the way through after dinner TV. Then Their Mother calls, and Princess has a tearful extended conversation with her in her bedroom with the door closed. Afterward, T.M. talked to Best Fella. Princess had told her that her daddy was mad at her because she wanted to see T.M. To his credit, Best Fella did not raise his voice or even get angry. He calmly told her that that was a lie, that had never been brought up, and the real reason(s) that Princess was in trouble, which he had also explained to Princess when she was sent to her room. This bothers me to no end, because I feel like the kids have picked up on the whole playing sides against each other, and that is horrible. However, Best Fella said nothing about it, and for me to ask about goings on with T.M. pretty much makes him uncomfortable, so I am holding it all in. Wonder how many calories internal seething and turmoil burn?
Whew. I sort of opened up a floodgate there, didn’t I? My blood pressure is high just thinking about all of this again, but I feel a little better. Hopefully I will hold onto my sanity, and count days off on the calendar until school starts (twenty). ARRRRRGGGHHHH.
Princess pointed at me and said, “She’s not really my mom. She’s my stepmom. And that’s just my stepbrother (pointing to Superman). HE’s my real brother.” (pointing to Wiley)
Ouch. Comments like this have been made before, and although I realize that they are true, they still hurt.
This summer has been really hard for me. I’m feeling the division in our families more than ever. It seems like Superman and I are on one side, and Best Fella, Wiley, Princess, and Their Mother are on the other. This is not a good way for me to feel, but I don’t want to say anything, because I am trying not to be the shrill harpy bitch that I
The truth is that I am sick to death of Their Mother. I hate her never ending phone calls, text messages, photos when we have the kids. I hate how she quizzes them on the phone about what they did (or didn’t do) and what we had for dinner, and the leading questions that I know she is putting to them. (Example from Wiley’s side of a conversation the other night: ‘Oh pretty good. We just played. No, we didn’t have a field trip today…Yeah, that’s all we did. We had chicken pizza. It was good. No, chicken on pizza. Yeah. I had never heard of it either…)
What the fuck, whore? I don’t make deep fried fat and lard gravy every night like you do, okay? I actually get off my ass and go to work every day, then come home and get something on the table so we can get into bed at a decent time. I know you don’t know what ‘bedtime’ is, but we do. And just because I made the food doesn’t mean it was wrong. Bitch. (Who me? Bitter? The hell you say!)
So anyway, I’m still feeling like a pretty horrible person, and knowing that she’s driving home the point that Superman and I are LESS THAN Princess & Wiley’s ‘real’ family just drives me over the edge.
I guess that’s probably the hardest part of being a stepmom. You still have to do all of the things a mother does (and more, because you are trying SO FUCKING HARD to be perfect) but you get no return on it. Oh sure, you get the return of knowing that you’re doing the right thing for these children who deserve it, but you don’t get the love that you get from your own child. Superman thinks I’m awesome. He is happy to see me, happy to spend time with me, wants me near, loves everything that I do for him (with the exception of that idiocy I call ‘being responsible’…he could definitely do without that!) But with the other kids, no matter how much I do, it’s usually just wrong. Because I’m not Their Mother. And I couldn’t be more different from her if I tried. Thank the Sweet Lord. Ahem.
So the other night Princess was being a major…um…princess. Best Fella had sent her to her room for whining and griping and (fake) crying about everything from the moment we sat down to dinner she wouldn’t eat all the way through after dinner TV. Then Their Mother calls, and Princess has a tearful extended conversation with her in her bedroom with the door closed. Afterward, T.M. talked to Best Fella. Princess had told her that her daddy was mad at her because she wanted to see T.M. To his credit, Best Fella did not raise his voice or even get angry. He calmly told her that that was a lie, that had never been brought up, and the real reason(s) that Princess was in trouble, which he had also explained to Princess when she was sent to her room. This bothers me to no end, because I feel like the kids have picked up on the whole playing sides against each other, and that is horrible. However, Best Fella said nothing about it, and for me to ask about goings on with T.M. pretty much makes him uncomfortable, so I am holding it all in. Wonder how many calories internal seething and turmoil burn?
Whew. I sort of opened up a floodgate there, didn’t I? My blood pressure is high just thinking about all of this again, but I feel a little better. Hopefully I will hold onto my sanity, and count days off on the calendar until school starts (twenty). ARRRRRGGGHHHH.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Just Keep Swimming, Swimming, Swimming
After what has seemed like the longest, most painful, most chaotic summer in history (the history of me, anyway), as of Friday, I became inexplicably childless for a week. OK, not really inexplicably, I just like using that word. I know exactly where and why the children are gone for a week. It just seems sort of…unreal. And quiet. And a little bit empty. But also, I don’t have to share my food! I don’t have to hide in the closet or out in the garden when it’s 107 degrees just to get a moment to think. So there’s that.
Superman is staying with MawMaw & PaPa this week, going to Bible school at our old church. My mom sent me a couple of pictures that were taken of him on Sunday evening. In one he is sitting with a little girl who made it known to everyone when they were in kindergarten that she is going to marry Superman. In that picture, he looks slightly shy and serious, and a little bit older than eight. In the other picture, he is with another little boy, and employing his patented head tilt/goofy eyes/tongue out pose. I am pretty sure he’s been having a good time.
I just got off the phone with my mom. My nephews have been spending the night with her and Daddy while Superman has been there, so I know their house has been a zoo. I could hear it on the phone. Before we hung up, Mom asked Superman if he wanted to talk to me. I heard him say, loud and clear, “Nope, not right now!” Little urchin. Hmph.
Best Fella and I have been enjoying having a little time to ourselves over the last few days. We have been to restaurants, been shopping, stayed up very, very late, and spent time at the pool without constantly counting heads. It’s been fun feeling sort of like newlyweds, lavishing attention on each other without having a small person jump in the middle of us every 90 seconds.
Wiley and Princess are at their mother’s this week. We will get them back on Friday for the next two weeks, which is the summer schedule. Two weeks on, one week off. It’s great to have extra time with them during the summer. Best Fella is an amazing father, and he thrives when they are around. It’s also a little hard on us, though. Their mother doesn’t (won’t) work, and so at her house there is really no schedule. No bedtime, no get up time, no obligations to do anything they don’t want to do. So coming to our house where everyone works and there is a schedule and getting up and going somewhere every morning of the week is a little rough at the beginning of every two weeks.
The drama has really taken a toll on me for some reason this summer. I’m finding myself feeling horribly angry and bitter at their mother for being lazy and living solely off of child support, and I get weary way too quickly at the kids when they whine about everything we have to do. I haven’t liked myself very much this summer, and I’ve been consciously struggling to change my feelings. This ‘vacation’ week has made a big difference in my attitude, and that sort of worries me. Am I a mean old hag of a stepmom who can’t handle having my stepkids full time without losing my usually happy disposition? I do not want to be that woman. I’m going to make a real effort to hang onto my normal personality and not succumb to stress and fall into a place where I’m frowning all the time again. I don’t like that. No more frowns! Smiles all around!!
Superman is staying with MawMaw & PaPa this week, going to Bible school at our old church. My mom sent me a couple of pictures that were taken of him on Sunday evening. In one he is sitting with a little girl who made it known to everyone when they were in kindergarten that she is going to marry Superman. In that picture, he looks slightly shy and serious, and a little bit older than eight. In the other picture, he is with another little boy, and employing his patented head tilt/goofy eyes/tongue out pose. I am pretty sure he’s been having a good time.
I just got off the phone with my mom. My nephews have been spending the night with her and Daddy while Superman has been there, so I know their house has been a zoo. I could hear it on the phone. Before we hung up, Mom asked Superman if he wanted to talk to me. I heard him say, loud and clear, “Nope, not right now!” Little urchin. Hmph.
Best Fella and I have been enjoying having a little time to ourselves over the last few days. We have been to restaurants, been shopping, stayed up very, very late, and spent time at the pool without constantly counting heads. It’s been fun feeling sort of like newlyweds, lavishing attention on each other without having a small person jump in the middle of us every 90 seconds.
Wiley and Princess are at their mother’s this week. We will get them back on Friday for the next two weeks, which is the summer schedule. Two weeks on, one week off. It’s great to have extra time with them during the summer. Best Fella is an amazing father, and he thrives when they are around. It’s also a little hard on us, though. Their mother doesn’t (won’t) work, and so at her house there is really no schedule. No bedtime, no get up time, no obligations to do anything they don’t want to do. So coming to our house where everyone works and there is a schedule and getting up and going somewhere every morning of the week is a little rough at the beginning of every two weeks.
The drama has really taken a toll on me for some reason this summer. I’m finding myself feeling horribly angry and bitter at their mother for being lazy and living solely off of child support, and I get weary way too quickly at the kids when they whine about everything we have to do. I haven’t liked myself very much this summer, and I’ve been consciously struggling to change my feelings. This ‘vacation’ week has made a big difference in my attitude, and that sort of worries me. Am I a mean old hag of a stepmom who can’t handle having my stepkids full time without losing my usually happy disposition? I do not want to be that woman. I’m going to make a real effort to hang onto my normal personality and not succumb to stress and fall into a place where I’m frowning all the time again. I don’t like that. No more frowns! Smiles all around!!
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
George Lopez
This weekend Best Fella and I took the kids to Six Flags and Hurricane Harbor. Despite the fact that it was over one hundred degrees everyday, we had a really good time. I had fairly low expectations for this trip, considering the way our precious darlings tend to whine about...hmm...everything. But, I was pleasantly surprised. Wiley, Princess, and Superman played together and got along pretty well for the entire trip.
I was very impressed with Superman's bravery this weekend. Despite the name, he tends to be more cautious(chicken!) than hero when it comes to new! And exciting! Experiences. He rode roller coasters and water rides and gigantor slides. I have never been one to go to amusement parks, much less ride rides, so this was a fairly new experience for me as well. I found that the best approach was to tout his bravery and strength at every opportunity, especially immediately before and after the rides. Watching him on the rides that I could keep my eyes open on was the funniest thing. While Princess and I laughed and screamed our heads off, Superman sat silently, eyes huge and lips sealed tight. I thought that was quite hilarious.
Perhaps the best thing that came out of the weekend was the name for our next dog. Best Fella's uncle, who was our gracious host for the weekend has a lovely (and looney) dog named Ginger that incessantly stalked he kids while they were in the pool. Superman inexplicably re-named the dog George Lopez. Pronounced George Lo-PAZ. I have no idea why, But hearing "c'mon, George Lopaz. Jump in!"...and "heeeere, George Lopaz..." was endlessly entertaining to me. And so we have agreed to name our next dog after that wonderful Mexican with the potty mouth. The End.
I was very impressed with Superman's bravery this weekend. Despite the name, he tends to be more cautious(chicken!) than hero when it comes to new! And exciting! Experiences. He rode roller coasters and water rides and gigantor slides. I have never been one to go to amusement parks, much less ride rides, so this was a fairly new experience for me as well. I found that the best approach was to tout his bravery and strength at every opportunity, especially immediately before and after the rides. Watching him on the rides that I could keep my eyes open on was the funniest thing. While Princess and I laughed and screamed our heads off, Superman sat silently, eyes huge and lips sealed tight. I thought that was quite hilarious.
Perhaps the best thing that came out of the weekend was the name for our next dog. Best Fella's uncle, who was our gracious host for the weekend has a lovely (and looney) dog named Ginger that incessantly stalked he kids while they were in the pool. Superman inexplicably re-named the dog George Lopez. Pronounced George Lo-PAZ. I have no idea why, But hearing "c'mon, George Lopaz. Jump in!"...and "heeeere, George Lopaz..." was endlessly entertaining to me. And so we have agreed to name our next dog after that wonderful Mexican with the potty mouth. The End.
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