Bookends of Crazy

The other day I posted a video of my children in the morning.  If you happened to miss it, you can check it out on Facebook :

BTW – This is a good day in my house.  I had written this post a few days before so it seemed fitting to send it out into the world now.  Maybe it will give a little more context to the video.

The plus side of having a houseful of people who have a lack of focus and an overabundance of energy is there is hardly any boredom.  Sure we have days where things go smoothly and not much happens, but most days are anything but dull.

Often my day starts and ends with crazy.  Not just chaotic crazy, but bat sh&@t, off the wall crazy.  Like two manic bookends holding in the calm that unfortunately, someone else gets the pleasure of witnessing, mainly my kids’ teachers.




The roughest times, understandably, are in the morning before meds kick in and in the evening when the meds wear off.  Basically, the bulk of the time I have my children.

Nights are usually filled with more meltdowns because my kids are usually exhausted from holding it together all day.  Mornings are more prone to involve activities with lots of energy and chaos, like skateboarding in the kitchen or a rousing session of gymnastics on the couch.

The other night, I asked the boy to get on his pjs, like I do every night shortly after dinner.

His response?

Throw himself on the floor, screaming “why won’t you ever just let me relax?!”

He proceeded to repeat this cry over and over and over for the next 20 minutes as he got himself ready for bed.

My daughter and I found this quite amusing.  The boy – not so much.

My morning can start at any time, be it 3am, 4am or 7am (although that is rarity and usually means someone was up from midnight to 4).  After 10 years of this, I have become well versed in recognizing how far up the crazy scale each morning will be.  Sometimes, its barely a blip on the radar and we all go smoothly into our day.  Other times, someone pulls the pin from the hand grenade and the explosion is intense.

Today was a fine example of a sh&($t storm in the brewing.  When I got up, my daughter was already on the couch with her head in her laptop.  Who knows how long she has been up.  My son, on the other hand, followed me downstairs at 5:45am and grabbed his iPad.

Electronics are banned in our house during the mornings.  We have plenty of other distractions each morning, there is no need to add something as mind sucking as electronics.  I’ve even banned myself (not very successfully) since I am just as guilty of losing track of time and having to rush to make the bus.

Me: Shut it down. No electronics before school.

YaYa: I was just looking up something quick.

Me: Uh huh.  How long have you been up?

Yaya:  I don’t know.  4 something, 5 something.  I don’t remember.

Me: You need to get ready and you still have homework to finish.

Yaya: SIGH!  Fine!

Me: You too, little man.  Time to get ready.

The boy:  Where are my clothes?  Did you bring them down?

Me: Nope.  Thats your job.  You didn’t do it last night so you have to run up and get them now.

The boy slowly slides down the couch onto the floor and proceeds to cry and kick and scream.

I know, its a shock to have to stop what you are doing an get dressed.  Its not like it happens…oh… EVERY. MORNING.   We even have a flipping chart on how to do it!  But every morning, its a surprise.

The boy rallies and gets dressed fairly quickly.  He decided to dress all in camouflage today “so no one will be able to see me.”  Awesome.  If I knew it was that easy to disappear, I would have completely changed my wardrobe years ago.

Everyone gets fed and the boy is ready to go so I let him have his iPad.  My daughter on the other hand, it still not dressed, homework is still undone and she is now under a blanket, reading a book.  It’s 7:05am.  Medicine alarms rings at 7:30 and Bus alarm is at 7:45.  Not looking good.

Me: Last time, you need to get dressed and finish you homework.  If you are not ready, you will miss the bus and get an incomplete.

Nothing.  Silence.  Not even a glance to know she got it.

Me: Hey!  We on the same page?

Yaya:  I got it!  Geez!

Oh how I love my tween!

Finally, my daughter drags herself off the couch completely wrapped in a blanket and sits at the table to do homework.

Yaya:  I can’t do this.  its too hard.

Me:  How can you tell?  You have a blanket over your head.

Nothing.  I’m just staring at a blue blob sitting motionlessly at my kitchen table

Me:  Would you like me to help you?


I reach for the paper so I can read the instructions…the blanket speaks,

“I was reading that!”

I push the paper back over and wait.  My daughter proceeds to slowly bang her head against the table.

It’s 7:15am.  I walk away.

She finally emerges halfway from the blanket and with a little cheerful prodding, she is able to complete her homework relatively quickly and with no injury to herself or others.

But she’s still not dressed.

Me:  Ok.  You need to get dressed.  I’m running up stairs to get my clothes on.  Then we will do medicine.

She pulls the blanket over her head, slowly slides off the chair and proceeds to slither her way into the living room.  She is going in the right direction so I dash off to get dressed.  That’s when I hear the boy say “hey, I want a blanket too!”  I cringe.  Go back down and break up what is sure to turn into a disaster or continue on to get dressed and hope to make it back before chaos erupts?  I choose to get dressed.

I can hear lots of laughter and its getting louder and more intense.  Never a good sign.  I am moving as fast as I can.  The phone rings.  I’m sure its my husband.  My daughter yells she’s got the phone.

I hear “Hi Daddy!”   This is followed by more crazy laughter with some banging and thumping.  Then it happens.  There is a loud crash and the boy starts crying.

I make my way back downstairs and turn the corner into the living room.

The phone is in the middle of the floor and I can hear my husband on speakerphone yelling, “Hello? Hello?”.  The TV tray table is knocked over, there is a blue blanket blob on the floor and my son is crying and holding his face while wrapped in a brown fleece blanket.

The boy: “I hit my face on the table!”

Me: What did you think was going to happen?”

YaYa:  I didn’t do anything!  He did it to himself!

I pick up the phone to save my husband.

Me: Hey.

Hubby: What the hell is happening?

Me:  They are doing that blanket thing.

Hubby:  Ah.  That explains the screaming.

Me: Yep.

Hubby:  So the morning’s going great I see.

Me: Fabulous!

It’s 7:25am and I’m exhausted.  My only ray of hope is that big yellow bus coming at 8am to take my children away and leave me in silence.  That is, if my daughter ever gets dressed.


Womb For Sale

UnknownMy hubby and I were watching the news over the weekend and a story came on about a woman who was born without a womb. She wanted to have a child so she had a womb transplant and was able to give birth to a baby boy. Isn’t science flipping amazing?!

Anyway, I got me thinking so I turned to my husband and said..

Me: Do you think I could sell my womb? I don’t need it anymore. I wonder what the going rate if for a womb?

Him: I don’t see why not. Its not like you’re going to use it again. And then maybe we can go to Aruba.

Me: Do you think if we were younger when we had our kids, we would have had more?

He looked at me with that face, like I had just told him there was a purple elephant in the backyard.

Him: Yeah right. Because three is such a great number. Someone is always left out. If you’re going have three, you might as well have four. Two is just fine.

Me: Yeah, and it goes against my rule: never let the children outnumber the parents.

Him: Exactly. Might as well get another husband and wife.

Me: So basically, you’re saying the best number for kids is two.

Him: Right

Then we both looked at each other and smirked, then said…    “or none.”

Then we both started laughing hysterically.

We often joke about what we would do if we didn’t choose to have kids. Going out to dinner or the movies without having to coordinate babysitters; taking trips to exotic places where we can lounge around and people wait on us for a change; more disposable income; less clutter. But we both know that life would be extremely dull and uneventful without our two, off the wall, crazy, challenging, amazing kids.

Beside, imagine how unbelievably boring my Facebook statuses would be?


Oh, and if you know of anyone in the market for a slightly used, “vintage” womb, I know someone who might be selling….

‘Twas the night before school

‘Twas the night before school
And all through my place
Roamed two grumpy children
Not one happy face

School starts tomorrow
And it fills them with dread
Making it twenty times harder
To get them to bed

Summer is gone
A flash in the pan
No more days in the sun
Say goodbye to the tan

Fun days filled with swimming
Seeing friends every day
Many late nights to bed
They wish summer would stay

So few rules, no routines
Having ice cream for dinner
I have to admit
Summer’s a winner

But all good things must end
Its time to move on
I am totally ready
For these kids to be gone

They complain they are bored
They bicker and fight
Send them off to school
Get them out of my sight

Leave me be with my coffee
I can finally drink hot
Hit the stores unencumbered
Try on clothes on the spot

Eat my lunch undisturbed
Catch up on the news
Take a nap if I want to
Do whatever I choose

Yes, the start of school
May bring little ones fear
But I’m sure moms all over
Will let out a big cheer

And Mine will be gone
From 8 until 3
After 10 grueling years
I am finally free!

Have a great school year!


Limping Towards The Finish Line

The last two weeks of school are the same for most parents.  We are ALL DONE. Spent from a year of making lunches, getting kids dressed, putting them on the bus, getting them off the bus, homework, book reports, science projects, band concerts and class plays.  We are over the novelty of our children’s first day of (fill in the blank) grade.  Their first day at a new school or their first school dance.


During the last two weeks, everyone goes into survival mode.  You can tell who the parents are by the dead, blank stare they possess – the walking dead.  Plodding through the last few weeks in an utter daze.  If you muster up the energy to say “hi”, you’ll likely hear them whisper back -“I don’t give  a sh#&%t.”  Don’t take offense.  It’s just the end of the year battle cry all us parents mutter.


We are like long distance runners, after months of training, the race is coming to an end.  We can see the finish line and it looks beautiful!   No more routines, no more packed lunches, no more tears over homework or school reports.  Off in the distance is the dream of long, summer nights by the campfire, mom with a chilled glass of wine in hand, kids off playing flashlight tag, days at the beach, sand in the car, and kids exhausted and happy at the end of the day.


Personally, I think I checked out around Memorial day.  At that point, I was all done with school and everything associated with it.  My lunches, once packed with mostly healthy foods had dwindled down to a handful of doritos, two oreos and a leftover donut.  The same goes for our hygiene routine.  Gone where the days of brushed hair and brushed teeth.  We were lucky to get out of the house with clothes on. I got to a point where I didn’t even remember the last time I bathed my kids. I think it was weekly, but I could be wrong.


The first weekend in June, my son came down with what we thought was appendicitis.  Turned out to be an inflamed colon due to a virus, but it got us a night in the hospital,  He was home three days, with all his original parts, then on his last day of preschool, he came home early with a fever, which  turned into the stomach bug.  My daughter then got the bug that night, but she recovered quick.  The boy did not and was back in the hospital the following weekend for dehydration.  If we had gone in one more time, we would have won a free bed pan.


In between hospital stays, my daughter had not one, but two class posters due.  The first one, about states, was due two days after we got home from our first hospital stay.  We squeaked that out and got it in a day early.  The second poster, about grey squirrels, was due the following week and by then I was seriously thinking the teacher had a death wish.  I mutter the end of the year battle cry under my breath and decided to just do the flipping project myself. My daughter was involved since she did most of the research before hand and did all the pasting, but rather than let her painstakingly type up three paragraphs with one finger, I typed the report and printed of the pictures.  I’m happy to say we got an A+  on that sucka!


Oh and did I mention the day we got home from the hospital trip #2, my daughter got the stomach bug AGAIN.  Yeah, that was fun.


The last week of school, Death Wish Teacher decided to assign homework – make homemade play dough for a volcano project the kids were doing.  Now you’re thinking, that doesn’t sound so bad – a little flour, a little salt, it will be fun.  It’s stuff you have in the house so how hard could it be.  Easy Peasy.  Ah no – because she wanted us to make 7 POUNDS of play dough.  No lie!  6 CUPS OF FLOUR.  2 CUPS OF SALT.  And a bunch of other things in quantities only bargain price clubs carry.  The thing weigh slightly more than a small elephant.  In fact, I drove my daughter to school the next day because I feared she would dislocate her shoulder if she carried it in her backpack.


So here we are.  The night before the last day of school.  It is a half day so no need to worry about packing a lunch.  I did bathe my children.  Well, actually I let them soak in the tub while I wrote this, but that counts, right?   I can see the finish line within my reach.  In less than 24 hours, victory will be mine.  And as I slowly limp across the finish line, battered and bruised using every last ounce of energy in my bones – I will raise my hands in triumph and yell for the world to hear – “I DON’T GIVE A S@%#$T!  Yee haw!


See you on the other side



Happy Father’s Day

After my wildly popular Mother’s Day video (actually I think only 6 people saw it), I knew I have to give all the dads out there equal treatment so I searched around and found this song.  I had grandiose ideas for this video, but alas, like most ideas in my head, the mental image and the actual product don’t always come out to be equal. This was mainly due to many unforeseen incidents.  The rest was due to lack of talent and staffing issues. 🙂

First, it rained – buckets – for days – so I couldn’t get outside.  Then the stomach bug hit our house.  Actually, it crushed the boy, who ended up in the hospital – twice.  This lead to my husband canceling his business trip two weeks in a row, leaving him wandering the house, paying way too much attention to what I was doing. 🙂  I thought my dreams were dead in the water until a little stroke of luck the day before Daddy Day.  My husband took the boy on an errand and I had a brief half an hour of free time to myself.  The following is what I accomplished in that brief moment of freedom.

So I hope you enjoy this little montage.  Or at the very least wonder if I was dropped on my head as a child.

Either way, Happy Father’s Day!


Trip To The Dentist

Let me just start off by saying this, this post has nothing to do with dealing with children and difficult situations in the dentist’s office. If that was what you were looking for, I’m sorry to say that you will be sadly disappointed. This is a post about my situation at the dentist’s office this morning.

When I was in grad school I had a professor who would run to work, not shower (that we could tell) and just slip in to other clothes before teaching classes or holding office hours. I will call him “Bobby D”. To compound matters, the graduate fellows had offices directly across the math hallway from the professors. The math hallway was narrow, as it was a not a main corridor, so the distance between offices was minimal. The office I shared with another graduate fellow was directly across the hall from Bobby D’s. My desk was set up so that I could not see in to his office, yet I always knew when he was in and when he had chosen to run in to work. My closest friend in grad school was Irish Twin. Despite having an office on the diagonal from Bobby D’s, Irish Twin often wandered over to my office with her nose wrinkled, shortly after Bobby D had arrived at school.

Well, today I pulled a “Bobby D.” Mind you, I did NOT go to work post run. I did however, put in a quick four miles (on a ridiculously humid day), hop in my car, change my shirt, throw on some deodorant, and head to the dentist. What the heck, I thought. I was only getting my night mouth guard. How long would it take?

Forty minutes. Forty minutes to adjust and readjust that mother, while the only two things running through my mind were Do I stink? I must. How can I not? and I’m going to be Tina Fay in Date Night pulling my night guard out of my mouth at the last minute offering to rally. “Oh… oh, no… We can still fool around.” Will Big Man fulfill the Steve Carell role and let me off the hook with “I will light up your life… next time” or are we just moving in to a new, sadly awkward stage of marriage? Forty minutes in the dentist chair. I’m not even one of those people who hates going to the dentist. I love it. I’ve almost fallen asleep in the dentist’s chair once or twice. This morning, if I wasn’t sweaty from my run, I was sweaty from the awkwardness of sitting there, worrying.

Did I mention yet that my dentist is a runner? My dentist is a runner who has often noticed when I have show up for an appointment in full on running gear and has asked if I have just come from a run. My response has always been “No, no. I’m heading out for a run after this. I would never run before coming here. Gross.” I think I even told him about Bobby D once. Of course, I did. Why wouldn’t I? I would never pull that kind of thing. Oh wait, but I did.

I’d love to blame it on motherhood and not having enough time to squeeze everything in, but really, who am I kidding? My kids are both in school all day. If I work, it’s as a substitute teacher and it’s not every day or even every week. I’ve got plenty of time to myself. Actually, as my kids get older they give me fewer and fewer excuses to use. I really only have myself to blame for the fact that there are more people out there who would never recognize me with straight, dry hair, make-up and normal clothes than without. It’s just that I am that girl who doesn’t give a crap. Unless, of course, I’m going to the dentist office…


Stuff That is Absolutely Scaring the Crap Out of Me Today (ok, not really, but I needed a title)

Hey. It’s Jen. I’m still alive, but Sue has been holding down the fort like a rock star, hasn’t she? These are just a few of the random scary thoughts running through my head this morning:

It’s May 30 and it was 55 degrees outside at the bus stop this morning. What the heck?

My kids have exactly sixteen and a half days of school left before summer vacation (including today). Then they’ll be home with me all summer. And it was 55 degrees outside this morning, on May 30. I’m a pool whore. If you have a pool and invite me and the kids over to hang out, the answer is always “yes”. (Unless we already have other pool visiting plans.) What does a girl like me do when the weather sucks all summer long? I know we had a mild, rainy summer a couple of years ago and I survived, but I don’t remember how. I think I’ve blocked it from my memory.

Big Man and I just ordered a new dishwasher and refrigerator (because our appliances always need replacing in twos) and I haven’t found a teaching job for next year yet.

My slightly-more-expensive-than-kitchen-appliances car will need to be replaced next. I don’t think sub pay supports new car purchases.

Ladybug started wearing deodorant this year. Things can only go downhill from here.

There’s no tequila in my house. There may or may not have been an evening when Big Man, Flippin Hysterical, and Betty’s husband saddled up to my kitchen table and polished off the tequila. Summer vacation starts in three weeks and there’s no tequila in my house.

There’s no tequila in my house, I’ve known this for months, and I keep forgetting to do something about it. I may have already lost my marbles completely.

Little Man hugs with his whole body. Arms, legs, whatever he can wrap around you. I love it. I can barely pick him up anymore. Then what?

I stripped the sheets on all of the beds today. Which means that at some point today, I will have to make all of the beds in the house. Bed making is my kryptonite. Add in the pressure of having to get it done before anyone can go to sleep. Things might get ugly.

Betty and I had a nice trail this morning. We went a little quicker than we planned/expected. The sun came out. I got a little sweatier than expected, but I’m not showering before I go to the grocery store, because it’s Market Basket and NO ONE will notice. No. One. This fact alone should scare everyone.

It’s all a little random. But these are the crazy mom thoughts I’ve got today. I’m trying to get back in to the swing of things. Be patient with me!



If A Parent Speaks in the Kitchen and Children are There, Does Anyone Hear What is Said?

Blah Blah Blah

About 90% of the things that come out of my mouth are a waste of time.  Why?  Because most of the time my words are never heard.  Whether I am speaking to my kids, my husband, or even my dog, the words coming out of my mouth often never reach my intended target.  It’s almost like I never spoke at all.


Recently, my kids and I were gathered in the kitchen for our morning medication routine.  After giving my kids their downers and popping my uppers, I decided things were going well enough to broach the subject of dinner.


I know – big mistake.  A) I should NEVER ask an opinion on dinner.  It always leads nowhere and ends with me pissed off with a headache.  And 2) Don’t ask about something that is more than 5 minutes into the future.  It’s a lost cause.  They’ll never remember the conversation and I am then badgered for the next 7 hours about what’s for dinner.


But on this fine day, I broke my rules.  The following that occurred is true.  Only the names have been changed for no real reason.


Me:  Hey guys, listen up.  Hey, guys, look at me…look at me. (touching each kid’s shoulder)    I have to ask you something.  You listening?  Everyone?


Them:  Yes.  (briefly making eye contact)


Me:  I was going to make kielbasa and rice tonight, but we had chicken and rice last night.  Do you want kielbasa or grilled cheese instead.


Now I know that is a long sentence and a lot of information followed by a choice, which throws my kids.  This was evident since by the time I said “kielbasa” the first time, the boy had gone back to playing with his lego figure and my daughter had turn to her brother and started an entirely different conversation with him, essentially talking over me.


Me:  Hey!  Hello?  I just asked you a question.  Did you hear me at all?


Yaya:  Yes. Of course!


Me; What did I say?


Yaya: ( blank stare)  Umm.  You said brush your hair and your teeth.


Me:  That was a half an hour ago.


Yaya: Oh.

Me:  (to the boy)  What about you?


The boy:  Umm, well, I don’t know because I can’t read yet.


Me:  Seriously?  I asked you a question.  I didn’t write anything down.  There was nothing to read.


The boy:  Oh.  Well, I don’t know because ummm,you know, I can’t talk so I, ummm, I don’t remember.




Me:  I asked about din…


Yaya:  Grilled Cheese!  I want grilled cheese!


Me:  Oooo-k.  That good with you, dude?


The boy:  No.  I want a hot dog.  And I want it shaped like a squid.


Yaya:  Oh me too! Can I have a squid hotdog?


Me:   Sure.  How about hot dogs with mac and cheese?


The boy:  Wait.  I want mine to look like a human instead.


Yaya:  A human?  That’s gross!  I still want a squid.


The boy:  No wait!  Can you make mine into a creeper?  That what I want!


Yaya:  Oooo!  I want an Enderman hot dog!


Me:  I’ll make it into the Statue of Liberty if we can just stop this conversation.


Great. Now I have a headache.



Treat Her Right, Fool!

Mother’s Day is this weekend and in honor of all the moms out there, I put together a little video to show how much moms mean to the world.

I actually made the video as a joke for a friend of mine. We have a little inside joke going. We used to get together in the mornings to walk our dogs then she decide to go an get a job and leave me high and dry. One of the worst things for me is to be left alone to my own devices. Spending every morning alone with just my warped mind and two dogs is a recipe for disaster. I need adult supervision.

Since I was walking my dog anyway, I started taking her dog along as well. I would send her updates on how her “daughter” was doing at “daycare” and it kind of morphed from there. I made up a fictitious name for my daycare, Panciocco Paws Academy and post pictures of things we did on our walks. Then came the commercial and, well, it just snowballed for there.

I hadn’t done anything in awhile so when I realized Mother’s Day was coming up, I had to do a video. I found the perfect song, performed by the awesome Mr. T and the rest is history. If you want to see Mr T’s version, here’s the link: Mr. T

I posted the other videos on my YouTube page if anyone would like to see just how starved for adult companionship I really am.

So to all the moms out there, this is for you. And for all you kids out there, remember to Treat Your Mother Right!

Happy Mother’s Day!


The Day My Last Brain Cell Died


Poor little guy....

Poor little guy….

It was actually uneventful really.  No fanfare, no pomp and circumstance, no bright lights or flashes of color.  It kind of just slowly dimmed until at last, it blinked out, like an old incandescent light bulb.  I expected it to happen really.  They say when you become a parent, your brain cells slowly start to die.  And if you are a stay at home mom…well, forget about it.  Those suckers practically fall out as quick as my peri menopausal hair.  Long days of singing “itsy bitsy spider” four hundred times, speaking in monosyllabic sentences, fielding incessant questions beginning with “why?” along with chicken nuggets and fries as my only nutrition…it was bound to happen.  Inevitable even.  In fact, I am surprised my brain lasted me this long.

My Brain

My Brain

My Brain as Parent

My Brain as a Parent


Oh, I tried to fight it.  I did crossword puzzles, played Luminosity every morning, and used big words like fastidious and paradoxical and h’orderves .  But it was no use.  Years of getting my news in 15 minutes snippits and learning just enough about a subject to get by had taken it’s toll.  The thing was on it’s last leg.


The day started as any ordinary day.  After conducting our normal 4 hour morning routine, it was now 8:30am and we were ready to hit the stores for some errands.  My ladies at Dunkins had my order ready to go when I walked in.  The future look bright as we headed to our first stop….the pharmacy.


Had to get the kids ADHD medication filled.  It was then that I realized something….nowhere in our morning routine today did I actually give my kids their medicine.  This became apparent as I stood at the counter while my daughter launched herself up and down like a kangaroo on crack while rapidly firing questions at the clerk. All the while, the boy was behind me, practicing his ninja moves on the reading glasses display.  I was impressed by the durability of the display as well as his moves.  I quickly debated on going home to get the meds, but decided to forge on.


As we were leaving my daughter informs me her “thighs” hurt then she points to her calf muscle.


Me: Those are called calves.

Her: Like a baby cow?

Me: Yes

Her: Well then my cows are hurting.


This was followed by hysterical laughter…. and then the mooing began.  The boy, of course, happily joined in, having no clue why he was mooing.  They continued the Laurel and Hardy routine – “my cows are hurting”  “MOOOO!!!” – as we drove to our next stop.  I threatened to drop them off at the closest slaughterhouse.


Now that the mooing was squashed, we hit Walmart.  There is usually never any good that comes out of a trip to Walmart.  Today was no exception.  I had a return to do and need 3 things.  My daughter announced that she can no longer walk because her “cows” hurt too much.  More mooing.  I ended up putting them both in one of those mack truck carriage that weigh 400 lbs and has no steering ability.  We headed to Customer Service to stand in line, because at Walmart, there is always only one person working the register.  I realized I left my receipt in the car.  Briefly debated on leaving the kids at the service counter, but thought better of it.  I might not come back.  So I pushed the big ass cart back to my car, found the receipt and pushed the cart back to customer service.  Return done, we grabbed the 3 things I needed and 97 things I didn’t and got the hell out of there.


I needed to make an exchange at the next store, but realized I forgot the exchange item.  Being one exit from home, I decided to shoot back, take a pee break, grab the bag and head out again.  Screeched into the driveway, grabbed the bag, ran in to pee and got back in the car.  As I opened the door, the dog jumped into the back seat.  The kids started screaming, the dog ran all the way to the back of the van and wouldn’t come out.  F$@%k it.  You’re coming with us now, a-hole.


Halfway to the store it hit me.  I left the f(*&*ing bag at the house!  AGAIN!


And that is when it happened….that poor little brain cell, hanging by it’s nails to my gray matter, finally gave out and let go, falling slowly, silently screaming as it died in my head. Poof! It was over in a matter of seconds.


Strangely, I don’t feel any different now then when I had a brain.  Maybe I never really need it in the first place.   I always considered myself as a somewhat intelligent person, but maybe I never was.


I am not sure what life holds for me going forward without a brain.  I am hoping I just roll along through life, blissfully ignorant to the world around me.  If that is the case then you might just see me riding around in my van, filled with the delightful sounds of mooing….and it may be me whose leading the chorus.


Peace and Moos