In Stitches

The boy: Dad, can you throw the football to me and L. ?

My husband: In a little while...

The boy, grinning: Dad, it's Easter, don't you want to spend some quality time with us?

MH: Fine, but for TEN minutes only. And I'm only throwing...not playing.

TB: Awesome!

Two throws later....

Screams of pain coming from the backyard - my husband cradling my boy on the ground yelling at me to start the car and we need to go to the hospital.

Apparently, in diving for the ball my son landed on his knee square on a rock in the yard. Guys, let me tell you - I've NEVER seen a flesh wound quite like what he got. Gaping. From one side of his knee cap to the other. And so deep, it didn't even bleed.

Dudes. I saw flesh or tissue or something that SKIN is supposed to be covering.

My heart stopped for about five seconds, we covered his leg in a damp cloth and drove him right to the E.R. The boy was remarkably brave crying one minute and joking the next. He handled himself well until they started working...it wasn't pretty but he got it done. I think I will be haunted for awhile with a memory of my son, tears streaming down his face while he hangs on to his dad...and then he turns to me, eyes wide and says "Mom, I'm just so scared" Me too, baby.

Thirteen stitches in all. A huge dose of antibiotics being pumped into him daily (hello, MERSA) and he's got strict instructions not to run, bike or skate for the next four weeks. Which, the no skating thing? He cried and he cried. I'm sure he's not done crying about it but he's coming around.

So, that was our easter.

Honestly, I would've preferred boring but I'm sure in ten years, when he's showing us his scar we'll all have our own memories of this - his father with the guilt: "It was a bad throw" Me: "I can't believe his pants didn't even rip!" The girlie: "Mom and dad totally spoiled you that week" And the boy: "Dude, I saw INSIDE my body"

Easter, eh?

It's not exactly a favorite of mine - it seems like Thanksgiving. With a basket.


I don't even mind hiding the eggs or making the baskets. I just want to stop with the bunny already. But I can't - I worry that the rabbit and Mr. Claus are firmly linked in the psyche of my kids and to give up one would expose the other as a fraud. So. The bunny will come.

That being said - the tooth fairy really should've remembered to visit my daughter last night. She's sabotaging the whole damned thing.




We're trying to determine if my husband's/son's hockey team finished the season in first place. In doing so I find myself rooting against another team of ten year olds - hoping they'll lose(and lose badly...so we can get a lock on the goals against average too). There's a special place in the bad parenting hall of fame for moments like this.

Giant Time Suck

Click here.

And don't say I didn't warn you.

High score?

Thank you guys so, so much for your kind comments yesterday. I just want to spend my days on the couch with his big fuzzy head on my lap, scratching his velvet ears.

But I cannot.

And I cannot even think about it another moment because I'm liable to burst into tears.

So, then.


I signed my husband up to chaperone the gym activites at the yearly luau. The luau, that LAST year, had me crazy with the talk of dates and gifts and other nutso crap.

So, I sign my guy up thinking he'll just be watching the dodge ball game to make sure no one's pegging balls at the other kid's heads and as the guy who is most likely coaching the Middle School Hockey Team next year, we kind of agreed it would be nice for him to be known to some of the parents in town. (Our current hockey league is a mish-mosh of kids from six or seven different towns)

And then the emails start.

They need a chairman for the gym committee. Some guy steps up. Now, this guy is married to that lady. You know the one. Her name is in every school publication as having volunteered for this and that and she's also spearheading this committee and that fundraising effort and she's single handedly knitting book covers for all the curriculum books for first through third grade. Okay, that last one is a lie but she's that type - that kind of makes you gag.

Well, her husband? IS THE EXACT SAME WAY.

Oh, sure there'll be dodgeball but now there'll be volleyball too. In half of the gym. Two games.

But wait! There's more!

It's Survivor! There's going to be all these little mini challenges set up. And there's rules LOTS and LOTS of rules. About single round eliminations! And who to report the winners to! And the value of the prizes! And it's a surprise! Kids must NOT find out! And the adults ---hawaiian clothes, please! He has extras (of course he does!) to share with strangers! And come early! But don't bring your kids! It's a surprise!

Now, I realize that the vast majority of you don't know my long suffering husband. He's a good man and a great father. But. This may just push him over the edge.

Baxter went in for surgery this morning.

It turns out there's nothing they can really do for him.

The tumor is too large to remove, it's invaded the tissues.

He has, hopefully, a few months left.

4:45 a.m.

And I'm up. Actually we're all up.

Let's hear it for youth hockey!

Important Decisions

The Container Store? Or not?

Pancakes for dinner? Or French Toast?

Season Two of Big Love? Or My Sims on the Wii?


See? Ice fishing CAN be fun. For me.

When You've Got Snow Envy

Stay away from all of those Mainer blogs. Jiminy, they've hit the jackpot this year. We've had a lot, LOT of rain. Bore-ing.

My husband is headed up there this weekend and while they might normally snowmobile in to this particular camp...this year they've got to take the SnowCat in first.

So they don't sink or whatever. Who knows...they're men.

I'm taking the kids bowling. Where, last time we went, I scored a whopping sixty freaking four. And sadly...that was with the bumpers. The woman next to me was stinking just as badly and we both looked at each other and said "How can we be pro bowlers on the Wii and this is the best we can do?"