All right, this guy may be moving in – in 20 days if my pals play their cards right.

Dad said if the kids were good and behaved for 20 days in a row, we could get a hamster.  That means my pals have to sleep in their own beds for the ENTIRE night, share their toys, eat all their dinner, not hit each other with toys OR hands, not talk “toilet talk”, keep their pants pulled up during dinner and not knock their baby brother down.  Oh yeah, they also have to wipe their own asses.

We already named him Curtis.  See you in 20 days Curtis.  This is exactly 480 hours.  28,800 minutes.  Wait, who am I kidding?  The chance of Curtis showing up here in the next 20 YEARS is slim to none.

Tonight, I was having a talk with my pals while they were in the tub about how I was disappointed on the lack of listening and fighting and just overall “not being good” today.  LA looked at me with his giant black olive eyes and I kid you not, said to me, “but Mommy, I am good when I am sleeping.”  No shit.  Although the other night he whizzed his bed so I could disagree.  It did make me laugh though.  I could not argue with that one.

I guess part of me would love to have perfectly behaved kids who eat all their pea’s and hug each other every 20 minutes but the the other part of me loves them just the way they are.  A little naughty and a lot funny.

There is a very slim chance we could get Curtis here in 20 days and I will do my best.  I think I want the damn teddy bear hamster more than the kids.  My husband is right though and I will admit it – he will end up taking care of the damn thing.  I can picture it now…..”what wood chip pee scent?  I don’t smell a thing.  What rusty wheel?  I don’t hear a thing.”

You know what I am most excited for?  This thing………

Which reminds me of the time my sister Sas took our hamster out back when we were little.  She wanted to get some sun by the pool with the hamster and then decided to go take a lunch break herself.  (She probably wanted mini corn dogs, one of those wheel barrel fake kool aid things and chips). The poor hamster rolled right into the pool while she was noshing. This is the same girl who whipped my cousin Kristen’s gerbil around by the tail like a lasso and the furry tip fell off.  Well, not fell off but ended up in her hand.  The hand that did the lasso move.  If I remember correctly, it looked like a hairy candy corn.

Should I be concerned that my daughter looked at me the other day out of nowhere and said to me, “Sas is my best friend.”  Sas is my best friend too so maybe I should be concerned about both of us.

I want to see Curtis peeling around my house in that platic ball.  I am not sure who will love the little gentleman in the ball more – me, my giant baby who looks like Chucky today or our insane Jack Russell, Enzo.

So, who is with me?  I am TEAM CURTIS.  My husband said I have to be all official and get a poster board chart and keep track of the days via stickers.  This sticker part is right up my alley but the 20 days, not so much.

So today, February 5th is day one.  Wish us luck……and why do I have a feeling every little tiny teddy bear hamster at every PETCO within a 5 mile radius is hoping to dear God this lady does not walk back in with her gaggle of pals.

You know you love it.  And yes, I do look like Homer Simpson.

So after a long morning of telling me he did not feel good and could not possibly go to school, I figured his cough was pretty bad and he did feel a little warm.   I relented and told him that maybe it was a good idea that he stays home.  So I bundled up his poor sister who was a little confused as to why she was going alone (someone had to bring the pink play-doh Mommy made last night).  She resembled a stuffed pastel sausage.

Then before she was out of the driveway, the cough mysteriously ceased and it was party time.  I cannot believe I fell for this.  What a little shit.  I can’t imagine where he learned this behavior. (cough, cough)  So now I am trying to make him stay in his bedroom in bed because that is what you do when you are sick, right?  Not a chance.  This kid is running around this house like it is his birthday and he knows the Publishers Clearing House van is ready to roll up with that old guy and a bunch of balloons.  He literally just asked me if I wanted to dance.

If I did not have a sick baby who should not be out in the cold I really would get him dressed and march him into school.  So I guess I am going to just have a free day with my boys.  I have a client this evening but today will be a day where LA can help me brush up on my acting skills.  The kid is good.  I am going to have to give him a few pointers though.  He told me he had diarreah but I am not sure I am buying that after the tap dance routine he just whipped out in the middle of the living room.  Next time I am going to need proof.  The stinky kind.

Well we had a very busy weekend filled with parties, shoveling snow, breaking up tiny kid fights, changing diapers, dealing with a hangover from too much red wine but most importantly – Eden learned to do this:

She learned how to cross her eyes but you would think she figured out how to split the atom.  She is very proud of this new skill set and will gladly show it off at a moment’s notice.  Just please don’t ask her to cross them and then dance or walk for that matter.  My walls have enough scuff marks.

I am not sure how she figured out that she can do this but I have to admit.  I love it.  It cracks me up every single time.  She concentrates very hard and it takes her some time but once they start floating inward, the look of success on her face is priceless.  “I did it!  I crossed my peepers Mommy!”

What is wrong with me that I think this is awesome?  I was just telling my sister that one of these days I am going to have to grow up….but it is not going to be anytime soon.  Somebody has to keep my husband and my mom on their toes.  I am in charge of my pals and they can be in charge of me.  I know there will be a day when someone cuts the cheese and I do not laugh but  don’t hold your breathe.  It won’t be today…or tomorrow.

I just got wind of it.  They have my picture up at the River Forest PETCO.  Do not sell any fish to this woman:

Actually, after closer review, do not sell anything that breathes to this weirdo.

I think I kind of look Homer Simpson in this picture and I am not going to lie – I like it.

Well, we tried.  We came home a couple days ago, exactly 37 hours ago with “Mommy” and “Buzz Superman”.  The nice stoned worker at PETCO assured me that I could do this and gave me instructions.  I instructed him that he had yogurt in his beard but that is not the point.  It was vanilla.

So here they were checking out their new home.  Pretty fancy and way better than that super crowded tank at PETCO.  I figured they hit the jackpot.

Upon closer inspection, “Mommy” (the orange one that was Eden’s) did not appear to be enjoying her new digs as much as Buzz Superman.  Eden informed us that “Mommy” was laying on her side.  Shit.  Not again.  She was still alive so we ran to Google and tried everything.  One lady told us to cut up tiny frozen peas for the fish (this did not work), one person said to shock it with new water (this did not work) and one person said to throw in the towel as it was 10:00 pm and hope for the best in the am (this did not work).

We woke up to “Mommy” floating at the top of her house while Buzz Superman just whizzed around his new house without a care in the world.  Eden was distraught.  LA was ecstatic.  “Yeah, now Buzz Superman doesn’t have to share his house!”  My sweet daughter cried and cried.  I explained to her that her fish was in heaven with her other 2 fish, “Mike Mommy” and “Molly Herman”.  The were up there eating salami sandwiches with Grammy and Uncle Bud.  This made her feel a little better.  She felt ok until I put “Mommy” in the toilet to  send on her way.

Then she decided she just couldn’t do it.  Then I couldn’t do it.  We shut the door for a while while LA begged for an hour straight to flush it down the toilet.  Even Abbott banged on that bathroom door like he wanted in on it.

After a couple hours, we went back in (mostly because I had to go pee and was too lazy to walk upstairs). We said goodbye to “Mommy”, shed a few tears, Abbott reached in and grabbed “Mommy” and then LA did what he had been waiting for.  He pushed that button and sent her on her way.  I am sure she is up in heaven with the other fish and my Grammy is making her homemade gnocchi and my Uncle Bud is building her a fancy new fish recliner to relax in.

So we are taking a break from fish for a while.  We still have Buzz Superman to keep alive and a dog, Enzo.  That just might be enough for us now.  Although I really do want a teddy bear hamster.  Aunt Sas has agreed to provide the rodent if we can get dad to agree.  Don’t hold your breath.