TheMommyBlog

The weekend dragged like a queen, but tonight was action-packed; I feel as though I've been a million places already.

This evening the little ones wanted to go to their brother's game, so we packed up to go and then… crap. They were going to want to eat at the Snack Shack for dinner. "Anyone want some of what's left from last night?" I asked a little desperately. Nope. WANT GAME.

I didn't have any money. Not a single dollar bill. And no checks. And no money in the accounts to cover a check, anyway. I think there were fifty-six dollars this morning. It might let me get to payday, if I keep my breathing shallow.

"Mom! I have eight dollars!" Dylan was the man. "I can buy you dinner, and us too! Eight is enough, isn't it?"

"Oh, honey, that's not the issue, it's just that I can't believe I can't even get you a two-dollar dinner at the ballpark. It's a little embarrassing. Wish I were a better provider."

"You're the best mom, ever. Hey Mom, did you ever think about working real hard on Pear Soup, and making money from that?"

Um, yes. The thought had occurred.

"Wait! I have a check from the blog advertisers! It's at least a hundred dollars!" I bet they never have this conversation at Dooce's house. "It's–wow–a hundred sixty dollars. Woo hoo! We'll drive by the bank on the way."

"Mom, I want good things to happen to you. I hope you get to earn more money soon." DO NOT CRY, I told myself. We are going to a LITTLE LEAGUE game. Gah.

And just now? I was reading Stone Soup to Daphne (and taking notes) in bed when Logan had a series of outbursts. "What the HECK?" And then, "Oh my GOD."

"Logan, watch the cursing. What's wrong?"

"Mom, I think you'd just better come in here." The neighbor was blasting Aerosmith through our open windows (It's hot. We don't have air conditioning. Shut up.). I listened just through the guitar solo… a little kiss like this!

"Mom?"

"Okay, I'll go over and ask them to keep it down."

I stood in the yard. "Guys? Hey GUYS?" I walked around the corner to the front door. Rang the bell. More accurately, pressed the button and was not surprised it did nothing. So I knocked on the door. The music was definitely coming from the garage, though I had no idea what he was doing in there, or if it was the father or the surly teenage son. Logan had said they were mowing the lawn. Not at nine p.m., they weren't, but there were definitely power tools involved.

I banged on the garage door. "ROB. ROOOOB." I looked around to the side yard at the "Warning! Dog–Keep Out!" sign and figured the dog was the least of my problems. I went through the gate and knocked on a window to no avail. Then I heard a WHIRRRRRRR coming from the back and crept into the yard a bit further. There was my neighbor, with a leaf blower, cleaning off his patio with the stereo on eleven.

"Rob?"

"Oh, hey!"

"Rob, my kids totally can't sleep. They have tests all week, they're in bed and everything, but they'll never sleep with the noise. Can you keep it down?"

"Oh! Sorry, Mindy, I'm sorry!" He dialed the stereo down, waved, and started up the leaf blower again just as I turned and walked back toward the gate. I wasn't going back there, because I heard doggie footsteps coming behind me. Slow, because his master was right there, but steady. I didn't want to have to deal with the dog, too. There have been a few issues with neighborhood dogs here, the most recent culminating late at night with Rob in the yard, drunk and barking for an hour straight to show our other neighbor how annoying her puppy was during the day. Police were called, and called back, and called a third time. The surly kid then threatened the neighbor in person. That was the farthest I've ever seen that kid travel outside of his Bad Boy pickup. It has a lift kit that would make your mama weep.

Anyway, I came back through my garage and heard skittering there, too. "Daphne! You little sneak. Back to bed!" I went to the boys' room and leaned over the dresser to close the windows. Hey, I got some of the noise to stop, I may as well meet him halfway. Logan was staring at me with a huge grin on his face. "Mom, you really yelled at him! I could hear you!"

"I was calling for him, not yelling, just trying to be heard over the noise."

"It sounded like you totally yelled at him. You're my hero."

"Well, call anytime you need a can of whoopass. Sweet dreams."