Just Like Castrating A Calf

I hit the ground running, early this morning and am JUST NOW at this very moment getting to sit down and relax. (And if you know me, you know that by early, I meant before 10 AM.)

There are four laundry baskets overflowing with clean clothes at my feet, but instead of folding them, I decided to write a blog post. Does anyone really care if our “draws” are wrinkled?

Earlier, I mentioned to McDaddy that my sister-in-law and I tried to watch the Wild Wonderful Whites of West Virginia on Netflix this weekend, but for some reason the TiVo is no longer on speaking terms with our internet connection, and in the world of people who know anything about technology, basically, that means that Houston, we have a problem.

All I know is, that in three short days my TiVo will no longer be recording the shows I have on my daily docket unless McDaddy can work some magic over there in that corner.

I am sitting here on the big, blue, bloggy couch freezing, but I don’t dare say one word about it to McDaddy because yesterday morning I woke up to a 77 degree house (SEVENTY SEVEN, AS IN ALMOST EIGHTY!) and I frantically texted McDaddy to ask if there was something wrong with the thermostat. Much to my dismay, he texted me back and said something about it not being hot enough outside for the air to kick on, but the humidity outside was making it [miserably] hot inside, and all I heard was blah, blah, blah, because I was busy wiping sweat beads from my brow and holy hallelujah, why can’t we just TURN THE FRIGGER DOWN?

Oh, and I forgot to mention I also had a huge, honkin’ zit on my left eyebrow that ached every time I wiped the sweat.

What am I? Fourteen, again?

Between the huge, honkin’ zit and my crazy fit, it’s probably pretty obvious that the tenth of each month should be declared a national day of disaster around here.

And maybe the eleventh, too.

At any rate, I’d rather sit here with my teeth chattering, than reach for a blanket.

With the exception of a death in my family, I had an awesome weekend.

And now McDaddy has busted out the iPad in an attempt to figure out how to re-acquaint the TiVo and the Router.

A few weeks ago, McDaddy mentioned something to me about rock-climbing. He had heard from one of his brothers that there was a really cool place a few hours away, and after a little research, thought he’d ask his dad and brother if they were interested in going. Next thing I knew McDaddy had confirmed that both brothers, his dad, his sister, and our friend Brian were all going on the rock-climbing excursion.

My reply was, make sure your life insurance is paid up and ROCK ON dude!

Pun intended.

In the meantime, my sister-in-law Michelle and I concocted a plan for her and her four kids to stay at our house while the fellas went to climb some rocks. Stevie had his last ball game of the season on Saturday and Alex had all-star practice on Friday night, but we live literally two minutes from the baseball field and so I was pretty sure them staying with us – even on this busy weekend – would work out just fine.

So, on Friday, Michelle and her van full of kids pulled into my driveway and we had as much fun as two moms with six kids could have. Before becoming a Stay-At-Home-Mom, she was a Physician’s Assistant for a cardiologist here in town. She has four kids, but LOOKS LIKE she’s fifteen years old. She dresses like she just stepped out of Vogue. In fact, my nick-name for her is June Cleaver. She is beautiful on the inside and out.

See, I told you.

June Cleaver.

Remember I said she has FOUR kids.

And she never raises her voice.

When we made a quick trip to Home Goods, she wore this cute little yellow skirt with a fashionable top that I wouldn’t even know to wear together. I had on my black Yoga pants (which have never seen the first yoga class, mind you!) my baseball mom sweat shirt and wore flip-flops because I have an ingrown toe-nail that hurts like you know what when I cram this foot into a tennis shoe.

Michelle is hot.

I am a hot mess.

Anyway, so June Cleaver and I went to the Home Goods. She herded all four kids in and out with ease and patience and never raised her voice not one time – and I don’t think I even heard her ever say STOP, QUIT or DO YOU WANT ME TO BUST YOU?

On top of that, she did minor surgery while she was here. Right in my darn dining room.

I’ve had two skin-tags for a number of months right on my waist line.

Sheesh. Who admits that on their blog?

Unfortunately, she left her Doctor bag at home, but when I mentioned I had two skin tags and asked if she could take them off, she was all, I’ll need something sharp, some alcohol, and some gauze.

Next thing I knew, McDaddy emerged from the basement steps yielding a crazy-shaped razor blade and Michelle began wiping it down with alcohol. I pulled down my waist band, exposed my midsection, and before I knew what was happening, June Cleaver in her hot little yellow skirt was sawing away at my skin-tag. I say “sawing” because McDaddy’s razor turned out to be not the sharpest razor in the medicine cabinet or wherever he dug it out of. It hurt like crazy, but seeing as how Michelle was saving me a couple hundred bucks, I couldn’t complain.

Yes, that might be a first.

A few months back, my friend, Cindy suggested I tie a piece of dental floss or thread around the skin-tag and leave it for a couple of days. Eventually, she continued, the blood flow would be cut off and the skin-tag would fall off. She said it would be “just like castrating a calf” but at that very minute, two measly skin-tags didn’t seem like such a big deal after all.

Oh, and its worth mentioning that Michelle rolled her eyes when I mentioned that I visit Diagnose Me Dot Com on a regular basis.

Early Saturday morning, McDaddy’s parents came out and brought three of our nieces. The kids had a great time running and laughing and playing while the adults sat around waiting for pictures of our husbands / kids to magically appear on our iPhones via text to confirm that they were still alive.

I wish I was kidding. But these were some HUGE rocks, y’all.

It’s all fun and games until the kids are all hovered around the hamster cage asking “Why is Apollo on his side?”

When I went over to check it out, I knew exactly why Apollo was on his side.

Apollo had checked out and moved up to his DE-LUXE apartment cage in the sky.

And so I had to act all casual and pretend that he was just resting comfortably until I could get my kids into the bathroom to break the news that Apollo was gone.

A few months back, one of the hamsters began bullying the other one. I did some research on HamstersGoneWild.com and discovered they would have to be split up. So, for the last few months, I’ve been cleaning TWO cages.

I’m embarrassed to say that one of my first reactions to Apollo’s passing was that I was back to cleaning only one cage.

Sad, I know. But that big cage is a pain in the rear, and to be fair, I only signed up to clean one cage.

And I know that at least three of you just went to Google to visit Hamsters Gone Wild Dot Com.

I made the decision to leave Apollo in his cage because it seemed better than the alternative.

Michelle and the kids left after Stevie’s game, but before Alex had All-Star practice. We were at the baseball field until well after 8 PM. We ran through McDonald’s and came home to eat before taking care of business. As the four of us sat around the dining room table, we talked about how much we’d miss Apollo. That’s also when McDaddy mentioned that he had removed Apollo from his cage and placed him in a Ziploc bag and placed him out on the deck until he could dig a hole. When Stevie asked if we were going to put Apollo in a box, I mentioned that we didn’t have a small box appropriate for a proper burial. Stevie – a problem solver at heart – immediately held up his Quarter Pounder box and suggested that is was the perfect size for Apollo.

And so Apollo McHamster will always be remembered as the hamster we buried in the Quarter Pounder box.

Which is crazy, because he was a dwarf hamster and that’s just about what he weighed.


  1. Jean says

    Bye, Apollo. It was quite apropos that the littlest Mc was buried in a Big Mac McBox. Just sayin’. And what a house full of McKids! Lots of love and laughter! 💙💙💗💗💙💗💗💗💗!

  2. Traci says

    Sounds like a great time at your place! And I just love that I am not the only person who would rather endure some pain to take care of business myself rather than pay big bucks at a doctors office (have taken care of several warts…and those suckers run deep!). Glad to hear you had some fun with family!

  3. says

    You are so sweet! You talk me up too much, thank you! Glad I could help you, next time I’ll bring a sharp blade, no sawing. Haha can’t wait til next time.

  4. Tina says

    Oh my word! I haven’t laughed so hard in a long time… Umm maybe it’s not appropriate to laugh when someone’s hamster dies… but I can’t help it. The burger box is TOO FUNNY! May he rest in peace. 😀

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