where i teach the neighborhood kids a lesson on the circle of life

I was trying to be an awesome super-mom today, and I allowed the children to "help" me plant flowers. OHMYHOLYHELL. They were using sand shovels, flipping dirt into their own eyes, the side of the house, the windows, the grass, etc., and there were so many requests all at once: Mom, do you have a flower for me? Mom, which flower did I just plant? Mom, can I get some water? Mom, did you get me a lemonade? Mom, can you bring our lemonade out on a tray because that's how that do it on tv? Mom, is it okay that I pulled the flower off this one? Mom, I have to go potty. Mom, did Haney pee her pants? Mom, can I use your shovel?

Deep cleansing breaths.

I did much better than I usually do when so many requests are made all at once, and I managed to enjoy the experience a little, while also allowing the children to do their thing. Which is actually my thing. But whatever.

Once the older kids got home from school, the child population in my yard swelled to 12, then began to dwindle again as dinner time approached. We had pared down to my four plus two friends, when another neighborhood friend and her mom stopped over while walking their dog. Everything was all adorable and peaceful. The children played hide and seek, and I talked to the other mom while covered in mud and smelling real nice.

That's when I noticed our cat, Rex, leaping and dancing around on the driveway like a maniac. He had caught a mouse. It was like a train wreck, attracting and repulsing the children all at once. Rex carried his mouse onto the front porch to throw it around some more, and it landed an inch from Miss A's school bag. She began to cry, and didn't stop for about an hour.

The other mom struggled to tear her daughter away from the spectacle. I ordered my children inside, and Miss A screeched, "LET GO OF ME! DON'T TOUCH ME!" and I wanted to smack her. I didn't. Instead, I  forced Rex inside once he grew tired of his unresponsive mouse, and I found a shovel and took a few deep breaths and shifted my contact lens so I couldn't see clearly, and I disposed of the mouse in the ivy by the mayor's garage.

(I can't find where I've blogged about how the mayor allows his dog to poop in our yard. But he does.)

Naturally my children want to talk of nothing more than the dead mouse. Mom, why did Rex do that? Mom, does Rex have mouse germs? Mom, why is Rex inside? Mom, Rex caught a mouse. Mom, can I call Daddy? Mom, Haney won't stop talking about the mouse! Mom, can Rex live outside? Mom, Mom, Mom Mom Mom Mom Mom Mom? Um, I forget.

I hope the parents of the other three horrified children are pleased with the important life lesson imparted at the Diagnosis: Urine household today.