Mortified. Literally.

Sorry about the writing hiatus.  We’ve had quite the time getting accustomed the new schedule with school and such and so forth.  But I’m back now.  So, stop complaining.  You’ll be sorry in a minute anyway. 

I wasn’t going to write about this.  It’s way disturbing. In fact, only a select few close personal friends/family members even know the first part of this story.  It was the stuff of nightmares.  But I gotta come clean to you guys.  It might make you understand just EXACTLY how crazy my house and my life is sometimes.  Maybe.

Every Sunday, Teen C and I go to church.  We leave the house at 9:30 (ish) and come home at 12:30 (ish).  If Zohrhubby is at work (as he frequently is, on Sunday) then the care of the WeeZohrchil’ren is entrusted to Big E.  I know, Cringe, Right?  Well, it’s just what has to happen, people.  Don’t judge me. 

Anywhatevertheheck, on this particular Sunday (last Sunday, not yesterday…keep up, Zohrpeople, this is riveting stuff) before we left the house I sat down for a moment with Big E to explain that it was IMPERATIVE that he actually WATCH the little ones, as opposed to turning the volume down only slightly on his XBox so that he would be alerted to only the LOUDEST banging or smashing or crashing sounds.  The reason was that Little B recently started a new medication that COULD have made him more aggressive, so we were trying to keep a closer eye on him, especially when he was playing with Little A.  Big E said he understood…and promised to watch them.  [NOTE: Foreshadowing.]

Fast forward 3 hours, and I walk back into my house with lunch in hand, whereby I am immediately greeted by two squealing children, and Little A is holding a limp, dead animal in one of her hands.  My heart sank, my jaw dropped, and utter chaos ensued.  In next twenty minutes, the baby squirrel was disposed of, the little kids were questioned at length about how this happened, detoxed in the bathroom using lots of soap and water and a little bleach, and Big E lost his XBox.  The kids had apparently snuck outside, undetected by Big E’s keen (not) senses, spotted the dead baby squirrel in the canal behind our house, climbed the fence, got the thing, and brought it inside. 

I was mortified.  And pissed.  And mortified some more.

We ate our lunch in silence.  No one wanted to discuss the disturbing event we’d all just witnessed.

 

I didn’t tell Zohrhubby about it, for obvious reasons.  In fact, I did everything in my power to forget about it completely. 

For the record, in case you were wondering, Little B has done very well this past week, save for the rescuing of the dead animal, and his week at school has been wonderful.  His teacher actually said that it’s the first time she’s been able to breathe since school started.  I don’t think she’s being dramatic, at all.  I think she’s seriously relieved.  So, yay!

YAY!!

Last night, after a much-too-fun-filled weekend, I was trying desperately to finish sorting, folding, hanging, and putting away laundry, so that I could get into bed and watch the latest episode of Real Housewives of New Jersey before Zohrhubby declared it was time to go to sleep…when Zohrhubby called me into the living room.  “Do you smell that?” 

“No.  I don’t smell anything,”  and I tried to walk away.

“Wait!  SMELL!”

“I did.  I don’t smell anything.  I gotta to get this done…”

“WAIT…SMELL OVER HERE!”

He walked around, making overly loud nose sniffing noises.  I was required to stand there and smell along with him.  I honestly smelled nothing.

Then, he moved the couch.

There, on the floor, under my couch lay a dead….baby…squirrel.

I spent the next 4.5 minutes answering his question, “HOW THE HELL DID THAT GET THERE?!” with the final answer being, “apparently…there were two.”

And then I went to my room, turned off the light, and turned on the television.  And you wonder why I watch mindless tv.  It drowns out the disturbing disturbing things that go on in my house. 

Empty nest syndrome, my ass.  How about FULL NEST SYNDROME.  Now THAT’S A DISORDER, people.

We shall never speak of this incident again.  Ever.