Umm, I'm a little busy here

First things first -
Ex-Mom is going in for surgery today so I'm praying my little socks off. I'd be grateful for any well wishes and good thoughts you might send her way.

Now, an update of sorts...

I have 400 unread blogs in my reader. Y'all need to slow the hell down with the writey writey thing. I can't keep up.

I'm emailing/texting/talking/dating 4 guys at the moment... That's exhausting, let me tell ya! I've been out with 3 and I'll meet the fourth this week (Just first dates. I'm not a whore, honest). I like them all for different reasons. I'm hesitant with all of them for different reasons. BUT, I am having a blast... when I can remember which one I'm talking to. 1 plays guitar and has a hobby farm north east of here. One coaches football and has a custom built home with a hottub south west of here. One looks like he's 24 (only he's not, I swear. I checked his ID this weekend) and another rebuilds classic cars for fun. One was a stripper in his 20's and one served in the first gulf war. One has a beautiful blonde princess for a daughter and one has 2 GIANT greatdanes. One works for the state and two are self employed. Are you as turned around as I am yet?

Thing1's basketball is in full swing. School concerts are filling in the calendar and both Things seem to believe they should have a social life and a personal driver (me!).

Work is kicking my ass all over the place. My desk hasn't fully recovered from the seminar in Colorado but we've already had another one up north and plans are full swing for the international trip. On top of that we are recruiting for our next group!

Bring on the holidays. Who needs to sleep?

Days of Grace (I forget which number)

Recently I have been graced by:

YOU

Yes you!
You all rock. I have gotten so many emails from you all wondering where I'm at and if I'm OK. I assure you that I am here, alive and well. Things are just hunky dory. For some reason I haven't been feeling very writer-ish lately. I'm hoping that changes soon because I do miss you all.

Just a real quick run down on what I should be blogging about soon:
1. Buffett and I broke up and went to dinner together anyway
2. My new furry coat
3. I got to go to a taping of Oprah (yes, there were prizes!)
4. The British lady who made me hit a construction barrel
5. Dueling Pianos and the "blind" date
6. The guy who wanted to pay me to rub his body
7. The guy who really really really wants to hear my voice
8. Making random friends
9. The Things and crap this parenting gig is HARD.
10. The guy who looks 24 but isn't and has the most phallic last name ever.
(Phallic like COCK9INCHES phallic. Really, I'm so not kidding!)

SMOOCH! Love you guys!

Days of Grace 46: Weekend Goodness Recap

The weekend was full of goodness. Everything from a night chatting with my dear friend Ex around a bonfire (sometimes in the general drudgery of living and raising kids we forget that we actually like spending time together) to a cold windy soccer game to winterizing the garden. The highlight of the weekend though was definitely the corn maze. The Family Von Sass joined the Buffett Clan for the time honored Fall tradition of finding the perfect pumpkin and other silliness.

And introducing:

...

...

...

BUFFET

Sassy Gets Real

Some of you might be operating under the misconception that living the life of Sassy is all glamore and crazy hot sex. Sadly, today I'm here to set the record straight. Officially, I do more than just have crazy hot sex and it's not always glamorous.



Exhibit 1-
Not sex and not glamorous
The House of Sass has been under a severe financial crunch of late. Ok, Ok, fine, that's complete crap. We've been in a fucking financial catastrophe and it has robbed me of my sanity, my smile, my sleep and my sassitude. In short, I have been in a very dark bad place.
I won't be shitting rainbows but things will get better soon. I had to burn my pride at the stake and go to my parents for a loan. They generously agreed to help. They assured me that I'm not a failure and that the economy is telling everyone to grab their ankles in one form or another. Things are still going to be tight but I will at least be making ends meet and I'm going to allow myself to be proud of that.



Exhibit 2-
About sex (sorta) but definitely not glamorous or hot.
No, definitely NOT HOT!
My parents came over for dinner last night and somehow the conversation went from hemorrhoids to anal sex. I had a conversation with my parents and my children at my dinner table, while eating cherry pie, about double dipping. Y'all are dying for an invitation to my house now, aren't you? While the talk was disturbing, my mother's facial expressions were down right horrifying. Every time a conversation comes up about things related to the arse, the bung hole, the sphincter, the crapper, my mom makes a face. It's a fish face. But, BUTT...
.
Please note the pen. I cannot cross my eyes without help and even then the results are rather sucktastic. That either means I'm brilliant or a complete fucking moron. I'm not sure which.







- - - - - - -

The Crapper Outtakes...

Days of Grace: 45

I'm going to make this short and sweet because I have precisely 4.7 minutes of free time to eat my lunch, pee and get a post up today. You all are of course a much higher priority than peeing.

It's Monday, Thank You Jesus and his second cousin Rufus. I haven't seen Buffett in over a week due to scheduling conflicts, children, sporting events and a minivacation. So tonight we'll be curling up on his couch and cheering on the Packers as they completely DESTROY Brett Farve. We might also be doing a few other things. Maybe.

To give you all a little Monday giggle (as opposed to a little slap and tickle), I did have the opportunity to pee earlier this morning before all hell broke loose in my office but it was complicated. Typically you undo a belt, unbutton, unzip and drop 'em. Mine didn't drop and I was quite confused. UNTIL I remembered that I'm wearing suspenders today under my jacket. Yeah, shaddup. Work might just be destroying the few brain cells I have left. Paying the bills is a good thing. Gray matter oozing out of my ear because OMGWhyWon'tMahPantsFallDown is probably bad.

OK OK OK, my Grace Moment happened yesterday evening. All day long I could not figure out why my jeans were fitting weird. They weren't too tight. They weren't too big. They were just fitting oddly. Cupping more in the butt and less in the waist. When I took them off I noticed the tag. They were Thing1's jeans. I fit my ass into the jeans of my skinny as a bean pole 13 year old son! I have been feeling so good about myself, my body and my health lately but little reinforcements like this are like great big cotton candy kisses from midget wrestlers. In other words, if fucking rocked!

Midget 'fro, it's hawt y'all.

Days of Grace 44: Thing2

My dearest Thing2

It has been such a good year. You are at that perfect age, that blissful sweet spot somewhere between uncontrollable child and asshole teenager. I want to soak in your energy and exuberance. I want to wrap up your innocense and protect it with my last breath. You make me laugh so hard my sides ache. You bring me more joy than I ever knew was possible.

When people ask me about you I still struggle to find the words. Without writing a book with pages and pages of quotes, stories and pictures, nothing seems adequate. You refuse to be put in a box that defines you. You are so incredibly smart but absolutely love to speak with atrocious grammar just to watch me twitch. You torment the ever loving hell out of your brother but truthfully want nothing more than to just hang out with him. You are a fierce competitor and the most generous and giving human being I have ever known. Still filled with childlike wonder over silly little things and yet wanting to be older and cool; I'm watching you shift and change before my eyes. I love to see you grapple with big issues and put them into perspective, to swallow the deeper meanings of people's actions and come back with a mature, adult understanding. I love to listen to you disolve into gleeful giggles over a fart joke. Pride doesn't even begin to encompass the huge emotion that tries to burst from my chest when I think of you.

Happy 12th Birthday Thing2! My baby, my little man, My Sunshine.

What the hell Sassy? It's Friday. Lighten the fuck up!

OK, so my last post was a bit mushy and introspective-y and annoying-y.

Let me redeem myself with THIS.
Thank you SneezeMan.
It will make you laugh. I promise.

And if you are a mother of boys it will make you laugh uncomfortably because OMG, SO TRUE!!!! Or your son is still very young and you should be laughing uncomfortably because I swear to GI Joe, your time is coming my friend and just you wait! The amazing ability for my sons to completely boggle my mind and gross me the hell out is astounding.

Stating the obvious

I was going to write a post all about how my 13 year old son has mastered the art of Assholery. I was going to revel you with descriptions of how his Asshole-ishness shat all over me and his little brother this weekend. Then it dawned on me that he is T-H-I-R-T-E-E-N. Discussing or complaining about his grand Assholerific skills would be the equivalent of this: "OMFG Sun, you are being so hot and bright? Why must you be all scorchy and melty and hot? Stop it already! You are making me crazy with the giant flames of hot, Sun!" Because at 13, being an asshole is pretty much just What. You. Are. It's not a choice. It just is. Complaining about it would make me sound like an asshole.

GrandFather

The entire time that everything was happening with Shimmy, the Things were in AZ with Ex's parents. They go for a couple of weeks every summer. While I am glad that they were not here during my emotional drama with Shimmy when things finally started to settle down, I was definitely ready to have my boys back. But alas it was not to be.

Ex got a phone call from his family saying that GrandFather had a heart attack while driving and was in the hospital. Things happened pretty quickly from there. The Things plane tickets were changed so they would fly to New York instead of home. Ex, his brother and sister-in-law made plans to drive out as well. All the while I was left here with my thoughts and my grief. I could have gone out for the funeral. I had the time to take from work. But I couldn't bring myself to intrude on that family time. I knew that Ex's girlfriend wanted to go too. She wanted to be there to support him. How crappy would it have been for me to go instead. I know I've mentioned before I close I am with Ex's family. MyHope is Ex's sister and so near and dear to my heart that I can't even put it into words. But I love them all and we are all still close. They would not have made me feel out of place in the slightest. I would have done that to myself. Boundaries. It's something I have been thinking about a lot lately. Ex is one of my very best friends. His family is still my family. However, we are divorced and I need to find a way to be a gracious exwife and not wiggle myself into family situations where it's just not appropriate. I think I made the right decision despite that fact that I wish I had gone. GrandFather was a wonderful man who I cherished. Even when Ex and I had our rocky start with his family, GrandFather decided right from the get go that he adored me. I'm not sure why but it always made me feel incredibly special. I loved that man, despite or even more likely because of his many flaws idiosyncrasies.

So, as I recuperated from the emotional upheaval of my very special Shimmy going through a trauma that broke my heart, I nursed another ache. An ache of losing a man who meant so much to me. Never again will I get a phone call on my birthday singing to me. Never again will I get his sweet letters telling me to be well, filling my life with family, love and respect. Never again will I be able to bring him a root beer and be greeted by his wonderfully tender smile.
It was a very lonely several days.

Bottoms Up

I have recently been asked to man several beer tents with the added perk of free beer, I think, or maybe they just said that to get me there. Whatever, WooHoo! Getting involved in my community should be fun. In addition to being a fund raising opportunity so I don't have to take out a second mortgage for my son's soccer addiction it will be a chance to meet more people in the small town where I live. I've been here for over 7 years and honestly the only people I know are the parents of my children's friends. Time to branch out a bit I think. A bonus, as I weather the shit storm that has hit my life recently a little beer numbness is always welcome.

If you're in the area of Cow Town, Wisconsin and can make it to a certain Blues festival outside of Madison next weekend, stop by and see me. I'll be ransoming beers on the late Friday night shift.

Hint, the price might be cheaper if you flash me or call me Sassy! Tongue kisses to anyone who does both.

Ps. I'm totally lying about the discount
PPs. I'm not lying about the tongue kisses
PPPs. Unless you are toothless and smelly. Then you have to buy ME a beer first.

Ego is a bitch until... UPDATED

***Updated with the right Moms Who Blog link. My bad. Thanks for catching it Bill.

I'm no Dooce, that's for damn sure. But anyone who writes on line really must admit, if only to themselves, that it's because they want to be read. They want to be heard and appreciated. Sure, I write what I want to write because I need to write, but I've journaled for years. Writing here satisfies my need to put pen to paper so to speak as well as stroke my not insignificant ego. I want you all to read me and to like it, damn it! However, I don't play in the same circles as the big dogs. I read them because, well, for the same reasons you all do, they are funny as hell or they speak to me in one way or another. But I don't network other than commenting (nowhere near as often as I should) and I have no idea who most of you are or how you found me, I'm just glad you stopped by.

With all of that in mind, I was a bit taken aback when I got an email from Jessica about doing an interview for Moms Who Blog. First, yes I'm a mom but surely I don't talk about my spawn enough to garner that title. After all, my minions are well past the cute cuddly crapping their pants stage. We're on to hormones, pimples and attitude. That's not nearly as funny as when a 3 year old says Fuck in the middle of the grocery store, and uses it correctly. Second, why me? I'd like to say it's because I'm a genius and my time is coming. Most likely she googled wrinkly old man butt (still my most popular search string, what the hell???) and poof, there I was.

As we wrapped up our Q&A I had a few questions for her. I got some info about the site she writes for, which I had looked into but wanted to hear about from her perspective and I found out who the other two bloggers were that she would be interviewing. Holy Shit Balls! Not just small timers like me. She has 2 biggies coming up that completely blow me the hell away. I read them and adore them to pieces. You should too. But I won't tell you who they are just yet. You'll have to come back and watch for the link to Jessica's article to find out.

The sweet little cherry on top of my interview cake? Jessica had a saucy voice that made me a little warm and squishy inside. Thanks for the chat Jessica. I enjoyed it immensely. Feel free to call and talk dirty to me any time.

Mmmm, honey

I am not the piss people off just for fun kind of person. In fact, I'm not overly fond of pissed off people in general. So, I do try to avoid making waves. I am actually a subscriber to the "You catch more flies with honey" way of thinking despite the fact that the addage makes absolutely no fucking sense whatsoever. You'll catch the most flies with a giant noxious pile of shit. I'm just saying. That's beside the point though - over there, smelling up the place. We're going to ignore the odor of the crappy addage and move on now. Ready? So, sweetness gets you what you want, right? Typically. I'm here to tell you though that there are exceptions. Sometimes you have to bust out the assholery to get anything done.

There's this event coming up. Plans have been set for months. I've been resting a little easy on this one. I was ahead of schedule. All good, people, all good. Relax, no worries. Have another cocktail - until - *Dun dun duuuun* The phone call. MsHotelBitch called me to explain that somehow our room had been over-booked and that we would no longer have BigAssConferenceRoom. Instead we would have the dark supply closet on the 13th floor behind the smoking lounge and under the sweaty gym towels. In response to this I tried to be nice. I tried to joke and commiserate with her difficult situation. I tried to gently remind her of the many emails we shared confirming BigAssConferenceRoom as well as the 3 month old signed contract. She was nice back. She joked back. She remembered the emails and the contract. She handed me the key to the 3x3 cupboard. And that was when I had had ENOUGH.

My children have always had a natural understanding of ENOUGH. I think it's genetic. Hard wired into their genes. Both ExMom and my momma used "That is ENOUGH" while raising us. Thus it was only natural that Ex and I use it and that the Things freeze in their tracks before the Fffff sound can even roll off our lips. In truth, I can send any one of their friends and most of the neighborhood dogs scurrying for home with a quiet "That's ENOUGH." -- This woman? She didn't have a single "ENOUGH" chromosome in her body.

She could tell that I was not going to walk quietly away, content to be conferencing inside a lunchbox. Still, she was insistant that she simply had to ignore obligations and accountability. Somebody's brother's uncle-inlaw was connected to the local firehydrant maker's union and they requested the room 2 hours ago. She had no choice, don't you see? As she was explaining how her hands were tied, somehow she let it slip that somebody, the one with the brother who has an uncle-inlaw; Somebody. Was. Her. Boyfriend. With that, she had pushed the teeny tiny button that would bring me to a screeching halt. I hung up the phone, put together a very professional email explaining how contractual obligations were being dismissed based on an employee's romantic relationship and a desire to fulfill favors. I called back and asked to speak to Manager. While on the phone, I requested Manager's email address and hit send. I then gave him my name and phone number, asking him to call me after he had read the email so we could discuss. Manager called me back after about 37 seconds. It would be handled. It would be taken care of immediately. I'm so sorry... sorry... free dinner on us...

So, I guess it should be noted that when Sassy has had ENOUGH! it is wise to remember that not only do I know how to dribble honey down a hot sexy body, I also know how to shoot to kill.
Quick. Easy. ENOUGH.

Is it ever just like in the movies? - making porn, I mean.

You know how some bloggers will try and talk about something personal but not really want to tell you exactly what they are talking about? They allude to a crappy marriage. They hint at an unwanted pregnancy. They skirt around a child with a drug problem. They pussy-foot around the worst sex of their life. Or the best sex with a complete stranger. Good choices, bad choices, bullets dodged or jumped in front of. Might - maybe - bad analogies. In the end you still don't know shit and they sound like a complete asshole.

Well aren't you lucky? I'm not going to do that to you today. There's safety in bullet points. I'm not talking until I'm ready to talk with full disclosure. I refuse to sound like a complete asshole. I sound like a partial asshole often enough.

The Weekend!

• Hanging out with Thing1 = Me having a web orgy with my laptop while the dog chases lightening bugs and Thing1 peruses Face Book... or porn.
• Being the mom who forgot to buy a gift for a kid party means that you have do something extra cool to make up for it. Water balloons are extra cool.
• So there's This Guy (TG). We've been out several times. I'm so not letting this go anywhere serious for many many many reasons. For right now, he's an interesting distraction. TG has a friend. ThisGuy'sFriend (TGF) has a lawn business, and a sweet little old lab, and a motorcycle, and a great sense of humor. He has a lot doesn't he? You know what else he has? A really good heart. He came over to my house this weekend and waged an epic battle with the dandelions. He stormed the castle and saved the princess queen. He was rewarded with a beer. Then we whacked my weeds and fixed my mower... and my screen door... and he was rewarded with another beer. End game, TGF. End game.
• I spent a couple hours being with and caring for my dying aunt. It will not be long now. My tears are for her pain and suffering. Because I love her, I hope she goes quickly. She lived her life with power and strength and being in a decaying shell is destroying her more violently than cancer.
• Harley has gained 1.2 pounds in 4 weeks. He also eats his own shit.
• Shimmy and I went to lunch and shopping and FUN! I adore that girl.
• If you haven't seen Zach and Miri make a Porno, then you simply must. But only if you are not easily offended. There was one part where even I was all "omg, omg, omg!" And no, not in that way, but in the "Holy ever loving buddahs butt, did you just see that?" way.

MomStyle? Is that like a personality profile?

And just this morning I was told that I have a "Wicked" sense of humor.
That's good, right?



T-Mobile Mom to Mom Quiz: "

Take the fun, Mom to Mom quiz and discover your parenting style.

"

One of them will stand up and fight...

I took the day off today to put my house back together after having the wood floors redone. Unfortunately when I got home this morning I discovered that they are still wet in spots. I'm putting up fans to help. Of course, the ground is also too wet to be working in the yard... a whole day wasted? Too much time to think...



I believe this. I believe it with every ounce of my being.


**On a happier note, my laptop should be delivered tomorrow. So this is an open warning to the FedEx man: I just might kiss you!

Mother of the year...

This is probably NOT what the Wedding Rings guy had in mind when he asked me to talk about his gorgeous loveley wonderful rings...


Thing1 still has the ring. (I however do not have pictures because until 3 days ago he thought he had lost the ring and that I would be mad because the Wedding Rings guy would be mad and make me pay eleventy kajillion dollars for not posting more pictures of the ring. Then, the ring was found. Hoorah.*) Last night, while out to dinner, Thing1's uncle noticed the ring and being the wonderful smart ass that he is (love him! ~ Hi Matty!) asked "Who are you married to?" To which Thing1 quickly responded: My Right Hand. I do not know whether he made the comment knowing full well what he was implying or if it took seeing his father and uncle's faces turning purple from laughter for him to realize what he had done. I don't think I like 13 anymore.

Not to be outdone, Thing2 proudly told his uncle (again, Hi Matty. Are you going to let me babysit your offspring some day?) that last week I hit him in the balls and made his tooth fall out. SIGH. OK, OK, while factual, my lovely Thing was being a bit misleading. The tooth was one we have been waiting to fall out. It was one the orthodontist was watching very carefully. It was hanging on by a spit thread. I did not knock out one of his firmly held teeth. Also, the balls were actually ONE ball. It was my big exercise ball that he was holding in his general ball region while seranading his brother with ACDC's Big Balls. I walked by mid-concert and while rolling my eyes, gave the thing a pop. This apparently startled my son so much his mouth closed quickly and the tooth broke loose. See, it's really not as bad as it originally sounded. No need to call CPS, I swear!

*I did not and will not receive any form of monetary compensation for pimping out Superior Wedding Rings. They sent me the ring and if I loved it, I would talk about it. I am not the one wearing it but I do still love it. It is regularly abused like only a 13 year old boy can do and there's not a scratch on it. It is shiny and gorgeous.


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Weekend Wrap-Up

The weekend was good. (And not good, but not good in an OMG, I am now laughing my ass off kind of way)

.

Friday I had a very bad first date. But when I compared my really bad first date to a friend's really bad first date, He won. I can't even begin to try and top a first date where drunk friends need to be driven to new bars and boobs are popping out uninvited. Just wow. But that's his story and he doesn't have an invitation to Sassy's house. MY date. Oooo, howdy. It was the really blind but not really blind date set-up. And holy shit do I wish I was blind. He was not the big muscled dream I was originally led to believe. He was in fact more round than big. And he was short which didn't help with the round. He had the Hulk Hogan mustache:

AND he tans everyday. So he was a round Hulk Hogan mustached LEATHERY guy. A round HH stached leathery guy who while complimenting me and telling me how beautiful I was and planning our summer vacation schedule was also reminding me how lucky I was to be sitting in front of him at all because he was THE SHIT. It was the money conversation that according to my mother should have secured him a place in my heart for all time and all I really wanted to do was run away. I was not able to run away fast enough though. Before my car door slammed I learned a few things. I learned that he tans in the nude so the only white place on his body is between his butt cheeks. He actually said that exact phrase to me. So I was taken there against my will and now so were you. To really do our time here justice, think about it for a minute. He is leathery EVERYWHERE except for in his crack...

.

.

.

Are you back? Draino poured in your eyes? Good, that might help with the rest because we are so not done yet. I also learned that he is not a tighty whitey nor a boxers man. Oh no. He loves the commando. So now you get to picture his leathery man meat rubbing up against his zipper trying to escape, with no other barrier to protect unsuspecting by-standers. I didn't actually see the leather schlong but what I see in my head is enough to make me want to pour Clorox in my ear and swish it around a bit for good measure. Top it off with the fact that before I got my car door shut he sniper kissed me with a bad bad bad kiss. And I'm trying to dance away from the much too thin zipper covering his leathery sausage. OMG!

.

Also on Friday I got to hear Thing2, who is 11, say, "And then they ate her out."

I didn't really need clarification to know he meant that entirely innocently and in fact has no idea what the phrase might imply. But still, it was a shock!

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Saturday I watched Thing1 in his play. He had the male lead. He was the nerdy good guy who got the girl. He had his first fight scene and on stage kiss. It was so cool!

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Sunday was nice. I had time with my Momma and time with my Things. Then I had time to just be Sassy. It was perfect.

.

And to wrap things up, I have one more funny for you.

I had plans to go over to LocalGuy's house to watch a movie. About 20 minutes before I was supposed to be there, he called me and asked, "Is it OK if I stay in my sweats?" ... boggle ... I really wanted to say "Is it OK if I don't shave my legs?!?!?!" but I didn't because, well, I wasn't sure whether he would be seeing my legs or not, and I had already shaved them. Then I assumed he absolutely must have been kidding. Upon arrive, he was most definitely not kidding. Top it off with the fact that he smelled like a burning barrel and you've got one hell of a good time folks. Astoundingly, I'm looking forward to seeing him again.

.

Is it Friday yet?

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Days of Grace: 33

It's been a while since I've done one of these, not because I haven't been graced by so many wonderful things but mostly because I'm a preoccupied self-centered bitch. Only not really. I swear!

1. The Truth - Sometimes it hurts. But when it's complete and not circled around or avoided things begin to make sense and there is often Release, Relief, and Peace.
2. A nervous phone call that turns into over an hour of GREAT conversation
3. Mom's homemade chili
4. Bathing suit shopping - no really! Feel the joy with me. There was a definite lack of wiggle-wobble and squoosh-mooosh. Things were flat and things curved in just the right places. I looked pretty fucking hot if I must say so myself.
5. A laptop - I ordered one. I shouldn't have but I'm positive it will give me endless happiness this summer when I can sit out on my patio looking at my gorgeous lawn and flowers while I blog.
6. Daydreaming about the hot half naked gardener that is going to give me the gorgeous lawn and flowers.
7. Tonight is soccer night!!!!!

____________________________________

My son the felon

Let me open with the stuff I didn't include in the email that I sent to some friends and family, that way those of you who got that email can skip the ending. Although you really should read it again because I Am Funny.

I did not email that:

• My day started with getting nailed... getting screwed... And it cost me $60! My mechanic repaired the hole in my tire and gave me a lovely lube job for good measure.
• I was looking forward to a birthday smooch only to discover that LocalGuy thought it was an appropriate time to mow his lawn! To be clear, he was expecting me, I did not surprise him. All I wanted was a minute or two of smooching. Smooching that did not taste like grass and smell like week old sweat. He did give me ice cream and did not chew my face off. A step in the right direction.

And now for the highlight of my birthday:
On the very first day of my 35th year I had to go bail my son out at the local police station. (Yes, yes I know it was my 34th birthday but technically that's the first day of my 35th year on the planet. Besides, It's my story. Shhh.) As I was relaxing on my patio waiting for my offspring to come home and cook me my birthday dinner, my cell phone went off. Bleep bleep bleep. It was Thing1. "I'm done with play practise and going down to the police station" That was it. OK, at this point I will admit that I was about halfway through my first beer but there is no way half a beer could have altered my thinking enough to come up with that. I'm not that much of a cheap date! Then - Bleep bleep bleep. "My bike was stolen." crap! So, being the wonderful mother that I am, I shot right back, "OK, let me know if you need me." That's right, I let him walk into the jaws of the police station all by himself. I did not immediately swoop in to rescue my Baaaaby. Judge me if you want but it was my birthday and it wasn't MY bike. About 5 minutes later - Bleep bleep bleep. For those of you who don't understand or don't like texting, just bear with me. It's how we communicate, even from one floor of the house to another. Thing1 finishes his shower in the morning and instead of dripping all over the stairs to come up and wake me, he sends me a message - a message that I quickly respond to by saying "Thing2 first." and then snuggle in a little deeper under the covers. And so our morning goes. "Mom, I'm kind of in over my head here. Will you come down?" double crap! I can't really ignore a direct request, can I? I mean, it's OK to not offer. He's growing and learning how to handle some things on his own. But when he asks for help I really do need to go. sigh And so the half empty beer went into the fridge and I hopped into the car to drive downtown. In the back of my head I'm thinking that if they lock me up for driving under the influence of less than a sippy cup of beer it would be the over-cooked-soggy-super-sweet-nasty cherry on top of my day. The woman behind the Plexiglas that had my son so completely freaked out looked like everyone's grandma. Clearly the very idea of having to go to the police station has shaken up my son. That's good. That's VERY good. But, simply by being there, I have given my child much needed confidence. He walked right up to the counter and began talking to the scary granny. I stayed several steps back and let him handle it. As I was drifting off in my own head to brownies that Thing2 forgot to make, Chicken Tetrazini Thing1 wouldn't have time to make and the frozen pizza I would most likely make I caught a glimpse of my son's ashen face. Serial Killer Granny was asking impossibly hard questions now. What color was the bike? crickets What brand? silence What style? nothing We've got nothing. Eventually, Thing1 did manage to describe it to her and we were out of there.

The likelihood of him actually getting his bike back? Pretty slim.
The likelihood that I will bust out the "police station - ON MY BIRTHDAY" guilt whenever necessary for the next 5, 10, 40 years? Guaranteed.

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Days of Grace: 32

1. Men who say what they are thinking
2. Getting the insurance company to finally agree to cover water damage from CHRISTMAS!
3. Destroying the Things in a nerf gun war
4. No matter the circumstances of the day/week/month/year, up or down, knowing that life is so good and that I am fucking fabulous!___________________________________