Death by Python

 

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haydensanimalfacts.com

 

Headline today…… missing man found inside body of giant python.

I’m not sure how it happened. This guy was a farmer, his boots and some tools etc.. were found where he was supposed to be working, but he was missing. Someone noticed a really fat python in the area soon after. Snake was cut open, and there he is….. the missing guy.

Not sure how I feel about that. Obviously it sucks that he was eaten, but I do feel bad for the python. Does anyone feel bad for the snake? He didn’t know better…and must have been really hungry because I read that it’s pretty rare for them to eat people.

Now curious, I Googled just how rare is it…..

Ugh. Although pretty rare, it does happen. Even if your python doesn’t completely eat you, it can attack you and more often attack pets and children because they are smaller.

The python in question was 23 feet long. One website reported that usually the shoulders of adult humans are too wide to swallow, but if the snake gets big enough… everyone is fair game. In fact, smaller animals no longer have as much appeal at that point because the paltry calories aren’t worth the effort.

Sometimes a greedy python might misjudge…. there is record of a Burmese python trying to swallow a whole alligator, but actually BURSTING in the process, and dying as it tried to eat it’s prey. Gluttony on a whole new level….

I have no idea why this interests me… or why I’m sharing…. consider it a public service announcement in case you didn’t get alerted on your Facebook feed.

Do it like a girl

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I took the kids to see a movie today, and noticed something while watching the previews.

Have you noticed there are more movies with leading female roles? Strong, tough, hard-ass females? There is some wonder-woman movie coming out, looks GREAT. And some kind of transformers movie, with a strong, young female lead. In the preview she’s actually saying how she used to get made fun of for doing things like a girl…. fighting like a girl, running like a girl. As she’s talking, you see her basically saving the world all by herself.

The preview ends with her saying yeah, she does do all those things like a girl…. don’t you?

Oh! Good one!

I really love that we are seeing this, that my daughters are seeing this. While feminism still sounds like a bad word to many, there are more people understanding what it means as well. I’m still figuring it out…

I still find myself saying things like “he was crying like a little girl….”, which is obviously something I would be kidney punched for if said in the wrong company.

It’s something I need to work on.

The other day, I was seeing a patient…. a very ornery older man, and at one point I called him “honey”. He wasted NO time telling me that he is NOT my honey. I thought it was a great lesson for myself, because as much as I don’t like strange men saying that to me, I somehow thought that my being a female, maybe also a mom, gave me the right to be that familiar with someone. Because it must be clear that I wasn’t hitting on him, or trying to make him feel inferior…. cause I’m a female, and therefore just comforting and maternal, right?!

Why should I just expect him to think that?

For all he knows, I’m some lecherous woman who has a thing for very sickly and elderly men.

Clearly I need to rethink my view on many things.  A comforting hug to me could be seen as a furtive grope to someone else. Yikes.

Now, in this case, his virtue was in no danger from me. He didn’t seem to feel threatened or uncomfortable….. just a guy, looking for any way to express his distaste for all human kindness… but this is the closest I’ve ever been  to the other side of that pervy encounter that so many females have endured. So I’ll use it as a lesson anyway, and think twice before I’m so generous with my “honey’s and sweeties”…

Chalk it up to this equality business.

 

 

How much do I love vomit? Let me count the ways…

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The past month or two, the youngest two are competing for title of “sickest kid”. This isn’t sick in a good way,this is just sick, regular sick.

Highlights include Sammy missing three days of school in a ROW, followed by Jenna waking up in the middle of the night to vomit in bed (two nights in a row).

I’ve mentioned vomit before, as I’ve had plenty of run-ins due to my excessive progeny. I used to call it puke, but I’m feeling less than friendly and I think vomit is a little more reserved. So it knows I’m not very happy with it.

Two nights of complete bed changes, bathing and hair washing, you think you know what’s up… you think you’ll be ready next time 3am rears it’s ugly, nauseous head.

But again, vomit likes to surprise us. Poor kid is sitting on the potty the next day and ends up vomiting all down the front of herself, getting the stuff everywhere in the bathroom EXCEPT in the toilet.

It’s fine, really. She’s a trooper, and thankfully that ended her surprise attacks of emesis…for now…..

Today, I’m here to report that we have moved on to Strep Throat. It’s official, and she gets to start the pink medicine we all cherished in childhood. I have to fight the urge to take a swig just to see if it’s the same as I remember.

People are starting to forget about us though… as we’ve been trying to avoid all human contact as soon as new symptoms start to show up so we don’t infect the earth.

Playdates, birthday parties, any social activity…all on hold…. every weekend we end up isolating ourselves to save our loved ones from the illness we have been wallowing in.

Uh oh.

As I type she has just announced to me that her belly hurts and taken up position lying on the kitchen floor. Not sure what is going to happen next…. but I’m considering a plastic wrap to cover the entire house. Just to be safe.

Wish us luck friends!

 

 

 

 

 

No longer a doormat

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I am a different person than I was say, 20 years ago.

I mean besides the obvious differences that are affected by things like age and gravity and too much chocolate (ok, too much chocolate…that’s not actually a thing…..)

I was shy, and quiet, and I really wanted people to like me. I think I tried to change things about myself to suit others, and never thought much about what I actually liked or wanted.

Grade school years weren’t my best. Punctuated with moments of being teased about my clothes, my shoes, my hair, I just didn’t know how to defend myself. I lacked the bitchiness that girls these days seem to need to survive. I didn’t know how to respond to bullies, or people who weren’t exactly bullies, but just wanted to get their way.

I walked away from confrontation, which is not always a bad thing….. but even when I should have defended myself, or my ideas…. I didn’t.

And then, I had my first child.

Suddenly, I had the purpose I lacked. I had someone to fight FOR.

I remember when I realized how much I’d changed….  when my oldest was 3, I came to pick her up at preschool. She was in a large room with most other kids waiting for their parents to come. Seeing me, she got up and hugged some of the friends near her goodbye.

A teacher on the other side of the room yelled out for my child to stop disrupting the kids and stop hugging right now. She was very bitchy about it.

And then I felt the rage. didn’t help that I was pregnant and possibly hormonal.

The old me would have apologized and walked out of there probably angry at that teacher for yelling about something so silly, but more angry at myself for not defending my child.

The new me, the person I had become COULD NOT walk out of there. Not without looking that teacher in the eye, and asking how hugging a friend goodbye was hurting anyone? Was she really going to tell my child that she couldn’t give anyone a hug goodbye!!?? It didn’t seem to disrupt anyone but that teacher.

She stuttered, and backpedaled. And said she was sorry, and of course she could hug her friends. And so she did. My daughter  decided that she should probably then hug every damn kid in that room goodbye…..

And so the doormat phase ended…..  thanks to my firstborn who taught me not only how to stick up for her because I loved her so damn much, but to love myself too. Because SHE loved me that much. And guess what??? I still love her that much, and more.

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Over my head over here

 

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Looks are deceiving

 

I find the kids really annoying today.  It’s true. Kids ARE annoying.

Usually we all manage to put up with each other, as I’m sure I might possibly annoy them too.

But today…..

It has been a day of them egging each other on, teasing and poking each other, being loud and obnoxious in public….. Today they are the kids that people who don’t have kids see, and then think to themselves “I’m so glad I decided not to have kids”.

I think the last straw was in the hardware store. I just needed to get ONE THING. Well, two things.  A battery for the fire alarm that won’t stop chirping (also annoying) and some hardware to fix my towel rack.

As I walk with them, I stay between them so they can’t poke and tickle each other and try to keep their volume to a minimum. Jenna refuses to walk in a straight line, and at one point just collapses on the floor in a giggling heap. Pulling her up is impossible, she keeps her knees bent and won’t bear her own weight.

They find this hilarious. Me, not so much.

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My whispered threats of beatings once we are out of the public eye are not taken seriously, they know I’m bluffing.

They’ve reached that point of silliness that just doesn’t stop. We’ve all been there. The point where the laughter just doesn’t end, no matter what danger it may put them in.  They needed something to snap them out of it, a shock to the system.

Getting them buckled into their seats, I see the answer.

I had just bought them each a small box of valentine candy at the chocolate store. I glared at them, grabbed those boxes, and took them to the front seat with me.

I ignore their renewed attempts to annoy me. YES, they were now doing it on purpose! I open a box, and start eating it piece by piece, keeping my eyes ahead of me. Suddenly they aren’t laughing so hard.

“You can’t eat our candy!”

“Oh YES I can. I bought it. It’s MY candy.”

Seething from the back. From Jenna especially, you don’t mess with her chocolate.

To further illustrate how I am the boss of them, I pull into the Starbucks line. Order myself a tea and NO CAKE POPS.

I drive away and smile to myself as they sit, stunned, in the back.

Jenna is absolutely outraged.

She starts on a rant about how I don’t even love them because I took their candy and I’m not a good mom. Of course I have to return with how good kids listen to their parents and they weren’t being good for me.

“So, you don’t love us!” She’s not asking. She’s accusing.

“You don’t love us and maybe you don’t want to be our mom!”

I’m amused now, chocolate and tea has restored my humor. So I respond:

“I never said I don’t love you, are you saying you want a different mom?”

She doesn’t come out and say it, but she’s heading in that direction. I get a speech filled with 4  year old logic about how it’s physically impossible for a parent to actually love a child if they take candy from them. And maybe it’s time for us to part ways. Not that she doesn’t love me, but maybe we need a break. And besides, if I send her to a different house, they’ll probably have a dog.

I promised her there would not be a dog. She’s stuck with me, and her chocolate was delicious.

 

 

 

 

Political Stress Relief

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Tired of your Facebook feed blowing up as we hurtle towards the end of true freedom as we know it?

Sick of speeches against Trump, speeches supporting Trump, rallies for and against, Starbuck boycotts, Uber boycotts, Muslim boycotts, and the boycott of basic human decency?

Are you nauseous trying to sort through real reality and alternative reality, trying to figure out what’s, you know, real?

Well, you’ve come to the right place. We’ve got some tried and true methods to get your mind off the battle between Democrat and Republican, between Muslim and Christian, Between Good and Evil… ’cause that’s what it’s all about, right? No more gray area, and we all have to PROVE we’re the ones who are RIGHT. (or LEFT…ha ha ha).

Ok, so… Get on a plane. Go to Syria. Get off the plane.

Are you with me? Great.

Now time to de-stress. Get your mind off Twitter politics for a while.

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Take a leisurely walk. Probably avoid Aleppo. But regardless, no matter where you go…. notice the people around you. Oh….do they look kind of jumpy? No worries, bombings and random shootings will do that, but I’m sure YOU’LL be ok. Just avoid….everything…

See? Haven’t thought about Trump yet, have you?

Nowhere to stay? Right, forgot there may not be a thriving tourism business right now. No worries, you can stay with my family in Damascus. What, you think it’s weird that all the adults are home, and not working? Well, that happens when your entire business was actually destroyed, bombed, looted and there are no prospects for work because people are just trying to stay alive right now as much of the economy has been shut down. Upside, more family time, yay!

Don’t mind the lack of electricity for several hours a day. It’s actually a very complicated plot to ensure that residents (and the occasional vacationer) disconnect from social media and really connect with each other. So be grateful, and polish your conversation skills, it’ll be fun! And bonus….no Kellyanne Conway or pesky celebrities with actual opinions of their own.

Lack of running water… don’t think of it as a problem. Rather, think of it as a SOLUTION. I promise you aren’t going to be sucked into reading post after post on Facebook for a while, or making comments trying to defend your opinion on recent executive orders. You’ll be too busy making trips back and forth to a public water supply with everyone else in the area who still wants to drink, bathe, cook, or just gargle.

At the end of your stay, provided you survive, you will have developed all sorts of coping mechanisms. Once back home (cause you’ll be allowed in) they will help you deal with the stress of the common American. The daily stress felt by those safe enough to have time for it.

Deep breathe…. you’re welcome.

Am I sick, or do I just hate everyone?

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Yesterday was supposed to be a great day. The husband didn’t have much going on at work, so we had “talked about” going to a mall across town with the little ones.

We’d stroll around, basking in our love of each other. Hold hands over pretzel nuggets in the food court. Find all the pants we could ever need for Sammy, the kind for skinny boys who need an adjustable waist but also very long legs. Find the perfect jean skirt for Jenna so she can wear her blue and white striped tights with red hearts on the knees.

Goals, I had goals yesterday.

Then, yesterday actually happened. I did my usual Sunday stuff. Cleaned, washed floors. Took Jenna shopping for groceries. Came back. Built a model of the Eiffel tower in toothpicks. Cured cancer…… all while the husband was……somewhere…….doing whatever he was doing in the house. On the phone with his family, on his computer, drinking his coffee…..

At 2pm I asked him, as he stood in his wife-beater and shorts, if he was planning on getting dressed today? He thought he might eventually. He always seems so surprised to find out the actual time after he’s putzed around for hours.

 

 

We didn’t get to the mall he wanted to visit, but instead he insisted on rushing to the mall close to our home to see if we could at least find pants for Sammy. Dreams of pretzel nuggets were dashed.

It didn’t go well. I was annoyed, as I often am when faced with someone who has different time management strategies than me. I DID find the jean skirt for Jenna that would have been perfect with her adorable striped tights, and a pair of pants for my tall, skinny boy.

Unfortunately, my black mood would not allow me to be courteous to the rude lady manning the cash register, and I chose to leave all the clothes behind in a fit of pique that only hurt myself as I walked away. The husband was wandering around in other departments at this time, and so without knowing it, was saddled with the burden of somehow being responsible for me not being able to buy the clothes I wanted as he wasn’t by my side to smooth things over with the mean monster lady in the kids department.

The drive home…silent. We had a dinner to get ready for and I was thinking of what I needed to do for me and the kids to make it on time. Also thinking about that jean skirt. And pretty much disliking everyone and everything in general. Ever feel like that?

It wasn’t until we pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant later….  I realized that my crap feelings weren’t just psychological. I also FELT like crap. My nose was stuffy and getting stuffier, and starting to leak like a faucet. I had a weird feeling in my throat, like a pre-tickle…. just a little taste of something to come. My eyes were glassy…

I was getting sick!!  No wonder I felt like kicking someone. It all made sense, and actually made my mood better-as I realized I probably did still love my husband after all.

Whew.

 

 

Caskets of gems….

Moenich World Coin Grab Bag - 50 Coin Assortment

So last night, it was a stay up late night for me and the husband with the two little ones. Sammy had been playing his kindle, and I let him….. and then I checked my email before heading to bed around midnight.

I find 29. TWENTY-NINE amazon digital receipts… for things like “pile of gems”, “bag of gems”, “casket of gems”, and coins, all sorts of coins and containers of coins. “Unlimited energy”….. how much were these things? I opened the first email. $20.00!!!!!!   second email. Another $20.00!!!!!  Oh, wait!!  $53.99!!!   Gems are expensive!!!  Lots and lots of expensive gems, and coins, to the tune of over SIX HUNDRED DOLLARS. REAL dollars…. charged to my Amazon account.

Needless to say, bad words were said. Hands went flying…. Daddy intervened, saving a life I’m sure. My hands shook as I called Amazon digital customer service, who thank GOD are open 24 hours a day it seems. And miraculously, the guy on the phone, Luke, fixed it for me.

First he laughed. And laughed pretty much throughout the call. I told him I didn’t realize the kid could purchase anything because I had parental controls set, no purchases without a password!

Apparently, since I gave him access to the games he was allowed to play, he can STILL purchase apps within the game. And extra lives, coins, gems, all that good stuff. In one hour, he spent a total of $691 and change. Why? Because he wants to be better than his friends at this game.

The game by the way, which doesn’t exist in our home anymore. Kindle is on lockdown forever. FOREVER.

I would like to say that he learned his lesson…

I KNOW that I learned mine.

 

 

We like nuts

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The 3 year old is going to be 4 in a matter of days. It’s pretty exciting, especially since each of the ninja turtles has called her personally-so she says-and they are in fierce competition with each other to get her the best gift. I can’t wait!

She’s growing up, uses the word “actually” a lot.

Like last week…. I picked the two youngest up from school and she is dying of starvation in the back seat. Begging to eat right now. NOW! So I decide to take them to a local place and eat with them, then bring dinner home for their dad.

As we get our food, I say to her “….and you were crying about being so hungry….”. she tell me, “actually, I wasn’t crying. I was whining.”

Touché.

She makes me laugh, and I’m enjoying it and also sad because this age is so awesome and goes so fast…… and she’s the last one, the last one!!!

Today though… takes the cake.

She’s reading, at the point where she can read simple sentences and is learning rules about letter sounds. She got how “SH” together make the sssshhhhh sound, and “TH” have their special sound. Today was a very special lesson about the importance of the silent “E” at the end of some words.

Her teacher sends some books home for her to read each week, I laughed at the title of one of them “We like nuts”. Of course, that’s just my mind in the gutter…..

She’s reading to me today, as I cook dinner. Sounding out her words like a champ. She gets to the nuts book….. opens and starts to read.

I hear “I lick nuts….”

!!???!!

We talked about the silent “E”.  How it makes the “I” have the long sound…. because we LIKE nuts….we just like them. that’s all.

 

 

 

Sweet rewards of parenting

 

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My teenage son has contributed to the vast majority of my gray hairs, and although I love him a crazy amount, he also makes me crazy.

From his special ability to only see things from his own viewpoint, rendering himself the victim in every possible scenario….. to his disregard for a clean organized room and bathroom which is all I really will ever want from him for Christmas….

It is sometimes quite a challenge.

And, you know, he’s a teenager. So multiply everything by 5 million because if those two chin hairs are any indication….hormones are raging, and rational thought is out the window.

Something is happening though…

Here is an example of something that kind of gives me hope that he might come out the other side of puberty in a good place.

He was at his dads house Monday, because that’s one of his nights with his dad. I get a call from him, around the time I need to put the little ones to bed, asking if I can iron some clothes if he brings them over because he forgot he needed to dress up for school.

“Don’t you guys have an iron??”

He doesn’t want his dad to iron his clothes, and he doesn’t want to….because neither one is capable of doing it well, not as well as me.

This is true….but also designed to inflate my domestic ego so I can’t resist demonstrating my mad ironing skills.

It works. He comes over and hands me a shirt that looks like-and probably was-balled up somewhere before it was fully dry, and a pair of pants with questionable history of cleanliness.

I iron them both, he takes them and leaves.

Later that night, I get a text.

Good night mom, love you. Thank you for everything you do for me. By the way  you need to step it up, you’ve been slacking lately. JK, love you but for real pick it up get your head out of the gutter, JK love you. Tell Gasan to keep up the good work, he’s been ballin lately.

Interpretation: I love you mom. I’m 15 and on the verge of being a man, but still kind of a little boy and I know maybe I’m hard to deal with but I’ll never actually admit that…but we can both just “know it” and I’m going to cover up any expression of feelings with little odd remarks about you not doing your domestic duties well enough and a nod to your husband for being a cool guy.

Progress people. I’ll take what I can get.