I've managed to start to define my image in the new neighborhood. NOT in the "isn't she fun, funny, cute, interesting and always put together" way I was hoping. More in the "did you hear about our crazy neighbor" sort of way.
I started slow, but built up steam as the day went by. To get you through this very long post, let me just say that by the end of the day, I was yelling profanity in my backyard loud enough that Daddy-O probably heard me in Florida. How's that for a teaser? (I've mentioned this before, but I just want to re-iterate, I'm not a cusser. No, really. I'm one of those people who says "yikes" or "dang.")
My mom came to visit this morning. She was traveling and didn't get home until late last night. When I talked to my sister late Thursday, she wasn't even positive mom would come. Sweet Pea's been sleeping pretty late most mornings. She woke up this morning at around 5 am soaking wet. It was all my fault. She was giggling so hard drinking the water coming from the faucet in the bathtub that I couldn't tell her no. Plus, I had to get it on video. So, I changed her and we both went back to sleep.
What seemed like just minutes later, I was jolted awake by the doorbell. It was 9:15 and my mom was at the door. I still can't believe we slept that late. Since Daddy-O is out of town, I'm free to give in to my night owl tendencies and I've been staying up unpacking all the boxes in the basement (okay blogging and reading blogs too).
My mom and I are really close, so it's not like I needed to have a clean house and be dressed and ready to go. But, I was a little thrown. I was so sound asleep that I had that shaky, jolted awake feeling. So, I woke up Sweet Pea and a few minutes later, my sister and my niece were at the door. We'd planned on just hanging out at my house all day with the kids.
So, I'm in my sweats with a big t-shirt, no bra, old glasses, uncombed hair - sort of at the bottom of my range of put togetherness. I was in one of those states where you can't really figure out what to do next. Finally, I figured out that Charlie probably needed to go outside since she hadn't been out since about 9 pm the night before. I walked out the door, looked over and there was Neighbor on her deck looking like maybe she'd been up a little longer than me and had probably even showered. So what did I do in my still confused state? The logical thing - dart back inside and hope she hadn't seen me.
Am I in high school?
I ran back upstairs and put my contacts in, combed my hair, added a little makeup and changed clothes into the only thing I could find. On a sidenote, it is so hard to figure out what to wear in this weather. It's hot and humid, but too early to wear anything too summery. My choice? A pair of khaki pants - not quite capris, not full length, and sort of wide all the way down. I've had them since college and that's inching close to 20 years ago. I matched those with a t-shirt that I bought from Target yesterday. I need some clothes so badly. I don't think I have ever been as continuously out of style as I am now.
It was the best I could do given the weather so I was ready to face the neighborhood. As soon as I walked downstairs, my sister (who knows about my Neighbor crush) told me that Neighbor had left a few seconds after I went upstairs. It turns out this was a really good thing.
Jump forward an hour or so . . .
We were all outside playing on the swingset. The girls were having a good time, but could not have been more filthy. Sweet Pea looked like a mechanic she had so much dirt smeared on her face and hands - which contrasted nicely with the 15-20 bows she had in her hair (why she wanted every single bow we own in her hair, I don't know. But, if that's what makes her happy - who am I to stomp on her fashion sense? She'd just have to check out my pants to know I might not be an expert.
All of the sudden, Charlie starts going crazy. Then, we see her with a bird in her mouth. Then, it gets away. Charlie is on the hunt. She flushes the bird out of the bushes and almost gets it again. She's circling the bushes and this poor bird keeps trying to get away, but can't get off the ground. She keeps catching it, but it keeps flapping out of her mouth.
I am freaking out. I am yelling at the top of my lungs for Charlie to stop. I can't remember exactly what I was saying, but I know it was loud (really loud), hysterical, and frantic. I'd run toward her and then when she'd almost catch the bird, I'd run back to the swingset. So, not only did I sound like I was insane. I looked it too. My mom was trying to be the voice of reason. She kept telling me that "Charlie's a bird dog (a Lab). Of course, she wants to catch the bird."
At the height of hysteria, the last thing you want is for someone to try to reason with you, especially to tell you that what is freaking you out is totally normal.
Oh, okay. As long as it's just normal, I'll let her catch it, toy with it for a while, eat it and then, come lick Sweet Pea's face with her blood-soaked mouth?
She's a city dog! Doesn't she know that? She can't even manage to go up a flight of stairs because she's too scared. She's not supposed to be able to actually catch a bird. Sure, Charlie, knock yourself out trying to catch one. Get nice and tired so you don't bug us while we're trying to eat. But, don't actually catch one because I'm not a hunter. And, you're a CITY dog.
In defense of my hysterical drama queen reaction to this - - -
- I really hate birds.
- Since Daddy-O is out of town, he wouldn't be able to help me clean up Charlie's blood soaked fur.
- Charlie is already sending me over the edge because her neuroses are making double the work for me.
- The last few weeks of late night unpacking, insomnia and my night owl hours since Daddy-O went out of town have made me tired. When I get tired, I get a little emotional, a little dramatic, and sometimes, a little hysterical.
So, this bird hunting thing was just about more than I could take. About the third time I went scurrying back to the swingset because I couldn't watch what was happening and because Charlie was paying ZERO attention to my hysterical commands, I yelled at the top lungs . . .
F***!
My sister and my mom were laughing so hard that they could hardly control themselves. Their whole bodies were shaking. The two of them can cuss like sailors, so they always think it's funny when I cuss. In my obviously fragile state, they weren't quite sure how I'd react to them laughing, but they just couldn't keep it in. Lucky for them, I could almost see the humor in the whole thing pretty early on.
Meanwhile, Cousin and Sweet Pea (who loves birds beyond belief) are just staring at the whole thing with their mouths open.
Finally, my mom grabbed the leash from me and managed to clip it onto Charlie and drag her away.
I'll tell you, this is mother's love. She hates birds more than anyone I know. She's the oldest of four girls and her sisters will tell you she was kind of mean. The only thing they could do to get even with her when they were young was to chase her around with dead birds. A few years ago, a bird got inside of her car somehow while she was out of town and she made my stepdad drive an hour and a half to come get it out. You never would have known it though. She just marched over and took charge.
It's about this time that I realize that I have been yelling at the TOP OF MY LUNGS. Not just yelling, but yelling F*** at the TOP OF MY LUNGS. In front of the neighbors . . . oh god. Okay, in front of my daughter and my three year old niece, too. But, in front of the neighbors. My sister helpfully pointed out that it might have sounded like I was beating the dog if you couldn't see what was going on.
Thank goodness Neighbor was gone when the whole thing happened. She came back about a half hour later and I fell all over myself telling her what happened. I wanted to get my side of the story out before she heard it from one of the other neighbors. I can only imagine them telling her how her new next door neighbor yells and screams and cusses at her dog at the top of her lungs. After a few times through, the story would start to get embellished and pretty soon the whole neighborhood would know me as the crazy new neighbor who beats my dog, cusses at my sweet mom, and keeps my sister locked up in the basement.
Again, am I in high school that I'm so obsessing about what people are thinking about me? Logically, I know that everyone has much better things to do. But, when I saw Neighbor's next door neighbors talking to her a little while later, I was pretty sure I could see them making the crazy sign and pointing in my direction. Plus, they were sitting on their deck which is kind of hidden behind Neighbor's deck, so I'm pretty sure they heard the whole thing.
Do you think I might just be so bored that I'm creating drama?
Tomorrow, I'll thrill you with my blinds open, blinds closed dilemma.
