Friday, November 28, 2008


Husband:"So I see these dudes when I'm out running, they are in a camouflaged kayak, and they've got these rifles"

Me : "What the?? People can't hunt around here? Anyways, what are they going to do? Strap a deer on the kayak??" (thinking, how dumb can people be?)

Husband : "No. They're probably shooting birds, dummy"

Me : " " nothing, I"m laughing too hard.

Me : "What the?? You just blast the Hell out of the bird? And then what?"

Husband : "You go find it, stick a pepper up it's butt, wrap bacon around it, and grill it"

Me : " " Nothing, I'm not breathing at this point.....

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Bus 14

I can say I have thrown myself in front of a bus for my child.

Because I did. Got it out of the way already!! And, it's been, like, only 6 years into the game! Done it! Bagged it, mark me as complete.
It was the first day of Kindergarten, or is it garden? Whatever, but it was, for the boy, well, his first official day, of kindergart/den, because he did "super"kindergarden the year before, and this was bus time. Real school. Tax dollar supported.
It (the bus issue) got off to a rocky start, as I didn't even get his bus assignment until 6:45 the night before, but, I'm nothing, if not faithful, in my fellow man, so I went with it...

It was a half day that day, for some reason, they have to eassssse into school, so it was a half day.

I already had the girl, she goes to a different school for various reasons, just to make it easy on us parents, really. So we set out on the wait, at the end of the driveway, waiting for the boy. I'm experienced. I know that there are kinks. I know when they say "11:40 drop off time" especially on the first day of school, that that could mean...11:50...maybe even, say...noon.

I got the boy at 1:15. School let out at 11:20. Here's what transpired between when they let my only son out of the doors of his school, until the time I jumped in front of his bus...

I sat. Zack and I sat. Daughter and Zack and I sat. Daughter and Zack walked back to the house. Zack came back, licked my ear, sat down. Daughter came back..brought me the phone I asked for, I needed 2 phones, just in case..

I called the school at noon.

Me: (in a weird high voice) "Uh yeah,, I know it's the first day and all, but I was just wondering if my son got on the bus alright??"

(I give his name, try to act all cool, and not nervous, like I'm not trying to poop my pants, at all)
Them: "oh yes, he got on the's just the first day, new route for the driver, she has the biggest route...just give them a little time!!"

Me: (again, with the voice, only this time, with a quiver.) "oh yeah!! sure!! right!! I just wanted to make sure, you know, he's little and what not...bwah bwah bwah"




And he's still on it.

And I'm reasonable...I'm's going the opposite direction...ya know, self?? They have to turn around, so he's dropped off curbside?? Safety FIRST??? right Zack?? Zack is snoring...Zack is deaf....never even heard the bus go by.

But Daughter did....and she's like, screaming..."WE HAVE TO GET IN THE CAR AND CHASE THAT BUS MOMMY!! Like, NOW!"

But I refuse to let panic invade ALL of my bowels....which are threatening to let loose at any moment..

I let 6 minutes go by before I call the school again..

Me : ( I sound like I'm sucking helium at this point) "Hi, me again....the bus?? It drove by my house? It hasn't come back...?"

Them : "Ok, sureeee..let's try to raise them on the radio, hang on a sec..."

So, this is where it starts to get all blurry...and time and space warps, and melds into a big fuzzy purple haze..yet it didn't feel good. I wanted OFF.

So...ok. I'm told that they can't "raise her on her radio" There may be a "problem". "with her radio" And I'm like, thinking "do I just call the po po? myself?"

I'm on hold, for 20 minutes.

Daughter is WIGGING.

I'm just trying to hold the poop in.

Finally, around One-ish, they say, "maybe you should just call Dispatch"

Which, all I really kind of hear is "your baby boy is lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost"

But the Obdulla Moondogalla part of my brain heard "maybe you should just call Dispatch"

So, I did.

I talked to this lady, and all she said.
Lady : "This about Bus 14?"

Me : boy.....mwaaaahhhhhh........

Daughter slaps me across the face, and I pull it instantly together, because, I mean, really. Really.

Me : Uh, yeah. Seriously. Where's the bus? It's driven by, it's been almost 2 hours. What the??

Them : "We can't raise her on the radio. We have one of our officers out looking for her. We have about 30 other parents calling in looking for the bus too..."

Say WHA?



Instantly, my head whips to the sky to search for any helicopters...surely there's copters in on the search? But they just aren't in the area yet....or maybe they are on stealth-mode..because I can't see them... or hear them, but I'm sure they are there...

So I tell them I had seen the bus. That got their attention, buddy....I think I'm patched through to def-con Eagle Alpha Beta Beta.
Them : "Which way was it last heading?? How many kids were on the bus??"
Then get comes the bus. Again, from the wrong direction..

Me: "I SEE THE BUS!!!!"


ME : "OK!!"

If I had ninja stars, I'd have used them as stop-sticks, but since I didn't, I jumped out in the middle of the street, madly waving my arms, because, the woman was NOT going to stop again!

But she did!! She DID!! I was all like...

Me: "You got a problem with your radio??"

Her : "yeah"

Me: "They got cops out looking for you!!"

Her : " know where Ivy Knolls is??"
Me: "I need my boy..he's 6, only a boy. Just a little boy. Just give him to me."
(ok, I just gave her his name, and he walked off)

And out he came....just fine. The first words were, "Wow, that was a long bus ride"

I was so composed....he never saw me upset...never saw me flinch. Never noticed the fact that I had a fresh load in my pants (sorry to be crude, but really)

I never saw the bus again. I saw it heading west, with a full load of kindergart/dners. I alerted the authorities.

I pray for those little kids...I do. I couldn't save them all. I tried. Lord knows I tried.


Tuesday, November 25, 2008

blahg DOG

This is a new blog. I'm blogging. Look at me blog! Who the hell is going to read this?

So I will write. Not blog. Blog. What a word.

It rhymes with Dog.

I recently lost my dog. Not, he's "lost". But, you know, lost. As in..."yes, Dr. Vet. it's time".


He was 14. A German Shepherd. He was a good boy, him was. And it was time. And just so we're all on the same page, as far as the kids know, his "heart gave out" at the Vet's office. Ok?

Got it? oh-nay ention-may of-ay ot-shay. okay? Euthanasia is not on our kid's Atlas, if you get my meaning...

It sucked...I got him when I was 19, living in Chicago...potty trained him on my fire escape...

He went with me to Phoenix....and then to Indy...he welcomed my kids into the world..he liked to play ball..liked to have his ears scratched..liked to walk around with dead squirrels in his mouth. I can't tell you more about him right now...talking about him is too much. So, I'll talk about his death.

He grew old, and his hips grew old and sore. He couldn't walk....I didn't want him to suffer, or struggle to get up on my account. So I brought him in to the Vet. The vet, who I see at the Petsmart...who I still, in my head, label "Dr. Death", which isn't fair, I know, because, I did, ask him to do it...and I signed a paper, and my husband paid for it...but in my immature part of my brain, it screams "Dr. Death" over and over and over...but anyhoo..

We discussed pain medicines..but I boy deserved relief. And dignity. He had other issues....he was also deaf...had potty problems. Oh man, my heart is clenching as I type..

So we did it...he died in my arms.

We cremated him. Or rather, you know, someone else did. My husband paid some (unknown to me) expense to insure that we got JUST his ashes...not some communal cremation..consisting of turtle, gerbil, Siamese, labradoodle potpourri mix..and I was faced with some questions from the kids.

Them : "What did they do with his body?"

Me : "We'll get his ashes"

Them : "How do we get the ashes?"

Me : "We just do"

And then I walk out of the room. Quickly.

Not the most mature, motherly sort of thing. But, I'm pretty sure I never had the big "sit down and talk about cremation" talk with my parents. I just figured it out somewhere along the way, and I turned out just fine. I mean, what do you say? "Well, kids, they take your ruffkins, and throw his body into an oven".




So, I just had to keep changing rooms as they followed me around going.."but how do they?" Eventually, they just gave up.

I cried for 3 days straight. In the past year and a half, I had held my grandfather's hand, and then my grandmother's hand, nine months later, in my hand as they had died. My lost to me too, but in a different way than described earlier. I've lost a lot this year. My dog going was the last straw. Kind of like, really? The dog too? Seriously?

No one answered back. God didn't take my dog...or my grandparents...or make my brother an addict...

God just sat there with me while I cried. And God's hanging out with my dog. And my grandparents....all good things to hang with..and God is watching my brother, even if he doesn't know it..

So, eventually, I stopped the crying.

Until, the ashes came. I had to have my husband pick them up..I hadn't been able to go back to Petsmart since the incident..(the Vet's office is in the Petsmart) and so he'd even been on cricket purchase duty (we also have a gecko, named Danny), husband has been a champ through this...So the ashes came, in a really amazing box, in a gift bag, with a really amazing card, WITH scripture, FROM the was all, so meaningful. I wanted it to be meaningful for the kids. I was trying to be sensitive...afraid I would arouse strong, sad, "honey, guys?? I have something to show you, you need to be strong" all the while, I'm sniffing, and teary eyed..yet with a stiff upper lip..

So, this is the boy's response :

Boy : "what's in the box?"

Me : "sniff...Zack"

Boy : (smiling) "can we open it???"

Me : "NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" (running out of the room crying)


Girl : "what's in the box?"

Me : "sniff..Zack"

Girl : "can we open it?" (she's older, more mature, she knows better than to smile)

Me : "OH to HELL WITH IT!! MICHAEL, Come let them open the DAMN Box!!, I'm NOT going to be a part of it!!!"

I wasn't sure what was in the box. Maybe I imagined a poof of dust...I don't know, really. All I can tell you is that I did not want to be around for the unveiling. At. All.

So. They did it. They got it out of their system. Weeks later, it all hit them. Late at night, when your kid says "why can't God just send Zack back to us?" and he's really really crying. Like, real pain, tears, it just sucks. And I remind the boy that Zack deserves to be where he is..and that God isn't doing anything bad to us, and that God will help his pain, and...and...
man....really? I just let him cry it out. He needed to cry. And then I got that awesome box of ashes, and let him hold onto it, and sleep with it..
I could do this, because I found out, it was all wrapped in plastic, so even if the lid popped off in the middle of the night, I wouldn't have to be doing laundry in the morning........................

Love you fast.....