Happy Mothers Day

Happy mothers day to all the mothers out there.
This years mothers day for me was, once again, a total wash. Last night Geoff went out shopping after work, his obligatory trip to Wal Mart.
"I'm going to buy a Barbecue," he told me.
"For mothers day?" I asked, but as it turns out, he had wanted to Barbecue supper and, apparently, needs a new Barbecue in order to do so.
So he returned with a giant stainless steel barbecue for himself, two paperback novels for me, which look totally gruesome at quick glance ("The Killing Room" and "The Blood Game" Yikes. Do I sense some underlying hostility here??), a pair of Tinkerbell pyjamas bearing the caption "If I'm pouting DO SOMETHING!!" and a goofy card. Literally. A Goofy card with some dumb cartoony poem.

Today I was shopping for Mothers Day cards and came across one that had a beautiful picture of a newborn infant being cradled in the loving arms his mother. The card read "I still remember the first time you held our child in your arms. I never thought I could love you more than I did in that moment. But I do."
I wanted that card. I was tempted to actually buy that card and sign Geoffs name on it and give it to myself. I mean, why, for the love of God WHY?? Why did it always have to be some over sized card with cartoon characters? I've complained to him before about it, and he always says in his defense that he lets the kids pick the cards out.
That's why, for him, I let the kids pick a card from them and I pick a card from myself.
This, apparently, had never occurred to him.
So anyways, he spent the entire night last night putting together his Barbecue, during which time I kept the kids sequestered in the house, because if there's one thing I know about Geoff it's that you do not, NOT, disturb him when he's got a hammer in his hand, or any kind of tool for that matter.
He was off to work already when I woke this morning with the kids. An hour later or so he called to say Happy Mothers Day. Thanks,I said, sweeping the floor. Oh and by the way, he said, could you run out and pick up some steaks for dinner tonight? And maybe some garlic bread?
No problem, I said.
So there I was, shopping for steaks for my own dinner, with three kids in tow. Payton was crying because she wanted in the cart. Alex was crying because he wanted out of the cart. Gage was demanding that he needed a new video game. And some triple A batteries for his Ipod, which he still had plugged into his ears. Intermittently, he would sing the lyrics to some song called "Bedrock." Lyrics which sounded terrible, and I might add, inappropriate for a twelve year old.
I plucked the ear piece from his ear, for which he refused to speak to me for several aisles.
And then I hurry home to marinate the steaks. Which was fine.

"I just need your help carrying the Barbecue out of the garage and up to the deck" Geoff tells me when he gets home from work. So then there I was, lugging a barbecue up a flight of stairs.
And then he makes a big production of throwing a freaking piece of meat on the Barbecue, flipping it over once, while I'm in the house making the potatoes and the salad and the garlic toast and the corn on the cob.
And he made me dinner??
How does that make any sense??
But I suppose I should be thankful.
At least it wasn't another ham scented candle??
Well, happy mothers day, anyways.

Prognosis Negative

Mothers Day Update. Everyone has been asking how my mothers day went, eagerly anticipating news of whether or not I got the bedding set I so desired. OK, when I say every one I mean Jenn and Nadine. But that's like half my readership right there. So to answer the burning question: yes. I literally clipped out the picture of it and gave it to him to take to the store, so basically he couldn't go wrong. And don't despair- I ended up getting the Glade candle as well. The Glade candle is pretty much a sure thing for me, mothers day, christmas, birthday, you name it. So he did pretty good.
Onto other news. Yesterday I was sitting outside, relaxing with a book, enjoying the sun. And then Payton informs me of an emerging development that will shatter my peaceful day. "Mom, the dog's eating something, I think it's a mouse, I think maybe it's dead. Oh, no I think it's still alive."
So much for my relaxation.
I went down to the grass to see what she was talking about. What, precicely, I was going to do about the maybe alive/maybe dead mouse situation was beyond me- I am absolutely terrified of mice. But the she said "no, maybe it's a bird" and I was like "okay, that's a little bit better," but I was still a bit panicked as I got close to the thing. It was a sparrow. Mangled up from the cats, but the poor thing was still alive. I didn't know what to do. The cat was still outside and I didn't want it to get a hold of the bird again, so I went in and got Geoff. I was like "there's a bird outside and it's hurt really, really bad and can you pick it up for me and get it into the garage" which he was not overly enthusiastic about (of course), but he came outside with a little box with which he planned to scoop the bird up with. It was a very tense moment. I could hear it's feathers flapping like crazy, and Geoff kind of jumped back and I was like "Aaaahh, watch out!!" I didn't know if you could catch a disease that way or not, or the bird could somehow attack. But he managed to scoop it up, and we're like "well, now what?" I wanted to take the bird to the vet, but of course Geoff won't let me. He seems to think that it's a waste of money to spend a thousand dollars on a sparrow. Like, can you believe it?? So we put the sparrow in the garage in a box with a blanket, and the kids gave it some sunflower seeds to eat. Unfortunately, all we had was Dill Pickle, which the bird didn't seem to like. So then this morning, well, I'm sorry to say it, but the bird expired in the night. I don't know if it's from the dill pickle seasoning, or if it was mortally wounded all along, or if it was too cold (I told Geoff we needed to at least buy a heat lamp for it, but again- he wouldn't let me.) Anyways, the children are a little upset, altough we did try to warn them that the birdy probably wasn't going to make it ("I think he's really old and not feeling very good"). And now they want to bury it. So now we have to a funeral for the stupid thing. I mean. I didn't want to touch it when it was alive. I certainly don't want to touch it now that it's dead.
Good times in the Makepeace household.

Anyways. I guess I shall be going. I have a funeral to attend to.