Diva Gardening: The Critter Chapter UPDATE

By nightfall, I was unable to coordinate chicken fencing to go around the garden to keep out those who think it is a Chinese Buffet. I had to do some imaginative thinking to save the few items that survived the day's attacks.

The blasting iPod kept the thief away for the afternoon. But the battery died. I decided to stick with the "noise theme," however.

Then it hit me. Down into the basement I went to unearth the THREE Tickle Me Elmo's Baby Boy has received as gifts that I quickly forbid to see the light of day.

Until now.

You get within breathing distance of those fuzzy basterds and they are more than happy to share their horrible ways with you. There they lay, snuggled between the lettuces and basil, awaiting their pray like Navy SEALS.

Sweet dreams, groundhog/bunny/mole. I do hope your midnight snacks are surprisingly loud.

Diva Gardening: The Critter Chapter

Summer 2011: Out with the green nail polish. In with the Green Thumb.

My lovely veggies were finally starting their ascent to the sun despite a month of rain and my general ignorance on how to properly plant something.

"You just need seeds and dirt," I said to DH. "How hard can that be?"

Apparently a cute hat does not a gardener make.

This morning, I was shocked to find all the kale, spinach, cucumbers and peppers not only ripped up from their roots but broken in half.

I gently repaired what I could and envisioned the world's largest salad with the rest.

Then it happened again while I was walking the dog--so he at least was off the suspect list.

My choices here were two. I could pull a Bill Murray a la Caddy Shack, planting myself in the bushes with cammo and a Super Soaker. But, really, who looks good in that color green?

So, I set up beach chairs along the garden with my iPod blasting so they would think I just ran inside to grab a drink and a BB gun. I only hope this sect of critter doesn't appreciate Yo Yo Ma as much as they did my romaine.

The Birds and the Bees...(Not What You Think)

We had my side's family reunion over the weekend. My brother left early, so I was the only one that had a kid still in the single digits. Ask me how thrilled the innkeepers were that the thinness of their walls and transparency of the lace blinds were pointed out to the whole building at 5:30 each morning.

By Sunday Baby Boy and I were pretty much blacklisted from the "quaint farm" with "rustic touches" e.g. thousands of stuffed, ceramic and bronzed rabbits that my three-year old could not comprehend why he couldn't play with them.

So that morning we packed up, and much to my Darling Husband's dismay, went to a Science Museum. "But it's Father's Day and I wanted to go boating," he pouted. Happy to ignore yet another whiner, I pulled out the map of the outdoor section where it appeared there was a huge treehouse.

Baby Boy spent almost two hours in the treehouse climbing all around. By one, DH was ready to divorce me if we didn't leave. "Try to get him out," I said.

DH stuck his head up the tree and yelled, "I just saw a bunch of bees fly in the tree house! If you don't come out right now they are going to sting you all over!"

Sadly, this message found it's way not only to Baby Boy's ears, but to the 17 other children in the tree.

I think being blackballed from two places in one weekend is a record even for me.

You Know You're a Mom When...#33

So, DH and I are going to a cocktail party at the country club he won't let me join. I hope if I look fabulous enough they will just give me a membership.

I just tried on this stunning black flapper-style vintage dress. Hair: smooth. Shoulders: tan. Boob: Hello! Legs: I look like I just got done playing soccer, field hockey and croquet against pros without shin guards. This is thanks to Baby Boy climbing up the front of my body trying to get me to pick him up. (He weights over 35 pounds.)

I guess pants it is.

Boo.

Hot Summer Tip of the Day

Dear Daddies,

No matter how hot the weather, power washers are not intended to double as a sprinkler system for your kids to run through.

Thank you.

Ba Ba Black Sheep, Do You Have GPS?

You are now quite aware of Baby Boy's special love toy, a armless and legless sheep creatively called BA.

The only house rule I have is: DON'T LOSE TRACK OF BA.

Well, today someone peed all over BA at school. Thus, BA had to go to the spa i.e. into the washing machine on the hottest available setting followed by an anti-bacterial drier spin that takes about 93 minutes.

This all before a much needed naptime.

The banning of a urine soaked BA from bed did not go over well.

I promised BB that I would put BA into his bed as soon as he was dry. Since the temperature on my porch was 94-degrees, I laid BA out in the sun to bake--I figured it was faster.

At some point during his sunbathing excursion, typhoon-style wind picked up.

BA is no longer on the porch.

Or the yard or the garden or the trees.

The other option is the lake.

I have a feeling this will be a long evening with a search party (and by party I mean me in the neighbor's woods with a flashlight and bottle of gin.)

The List

When Baby Boy was 10-months old, Darling Husband and I took off for a long weekend getaway.

My brother and his wife watched him. I typed up 7 single-spaced pages of minute-by-minute instructions plus a whole trouble shooting glossary.

It took 6-hours to write. I made them 4 copies laminated in color coded binders. I had a $650 phone bill by the time we returned.

Skip ahead three years.

DH and I are going away to celebrate our 5-year wedding anniversary.

This is the list I am leaving the sitter:

"Don't let him fall into the lake."

Ah, the slippery slope of motherhood.