Time to rack up some points in the Russian Roulette game I call Get into heaven/avoid hell., which of course requires being nice to people, picking up trash, easting my veggies and the like.The only problem is that I fail at games, my attention span is never long enough for Monopoly and every time I have won it's because I've cheated. So in the game of life does this mean I fail or does this mean that the only way to survive is to cheat? I tried exhibiting some good karma this weekend but, all I learned is that life seems alot easier as a Christian.
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The good news is that I had a safe and fairly uneventful trip home this weekend. The bad news is that I came home to siblings that aren't even my own. Remember the Griffin's Egg-citing Egg-travaganza? In case you are blessed enough to have forgotten or can't tell by the title, their family is a bit too "egg-cited" about the notion of Easter. There youngest daughter is a parrot, mimicking every phrase of Easter agitation ever created. This Spring she graced us with her renditions of "Peter Cotton Tail". I too thought Peter was cute hopping down the --whatever it is that he hops down but, after singing the song 150+ times Morgan forgot the words. Most people who forget the words either hum or lowly mumble through the forgotten part but, not Morgan. Morgan blares out different variations, all with the same tune but, with very apparently wrong lyrics. Or perhaps the song really does go "Here comes mummy bunny fail, jumping down the egg trail, hippity hop and Christmas's on it's way!"
--Now play that back about 30 more times, with the sound of an 8yr old. Cute? I think not. Besides Peter looks like a pedophile to me. Then there was the Griffin's middle child, Danny. Ever notice how bad children have names that have a bite to them? Luckily for me, God answered my prayers and Danny had chicken poxes! I know think of my luck. Then think about how contagious chicken poxes are. *sigh* Because her other children haven't been exposed to chicken pox and the annual Spring Easter Olympiad just "had to occur" guess who's mother offered her daughter, the 'elementary teacher', to be of services as the Griffin's Weekend long "Nanny." I wouldn't have minded watching the Griffin's and the Cutter's children for about 12 hours but I wouldn't be surprised if one of them ends up prego in the next say 1-3 months.
Saturday I took the children put-putting and then out for ice-cream before I delivered them home. That was my personal way of 'repaying' my delightful neighbors for the 'gems' of children. But, when I took Morgan next door I noticed the fire engine red Mustang convertible in the driveway. Geoff. Geoff is the Griffins' eldest son. He's 24 and apparently going to become "something" in life. Really? Because in my experiences if your name is Jeff but spelled 'Geoff', like the freagin Toy's R' Us giraffe, the only thing you're going to become is a failure. Geoff is however a fortunate looking young man with an unfortunate case of DBMW (douche-bag-man-whore). Why pretell didn't he watch his siblings during his religious holiday? Because the neighborhood is conspiring against me.
At 16 we moved in next to the Griffin's but Geoff didn't realize this until the summer after I hit puberty. Now he thinks me "exotic" and "feisty." Feisty, is what he calls all females that loathe his very presence. Ah, yes nothing like a visit home to suburbia to remind you that you're still unwed and a little more than useless.
But Sunday I volunteered to take the kids to Mass. Why? Simple :
- Escape meaningless conversation with Geoff, he avoids the Church like it's the black plague
- I got paid.--I later found out the parents gave the children the $ to give to me. (2 lost it and one donated to Geoff)
- It's Easter and I was feeling generous.
Not being Catholic however, I was unaware the parking headache that is Easter Sunday in the 
Catholic church. Some might aliken it to the Muslim equivalent to Eid-al-Fitr. Bascially, everyone you haven't seen for the past 6-8 months or the last major holiday--whichever comes first--is there. Wasted? Unshowered? Not Catholic? No problem! Because that Church was at least 150 people OVER fire-hazard capacity which also meant no seats. So there I stood Hijab, plaid summer dress, and Chanel shades at a service not my own, in a place of worship not my own, celebrating a religious holiday not my own, with about 5 kid who were not my own when suddenly I got a whiff of an odor not my own.
The child in the seat in front of us had fallen asleep and urinated. Then this conversation ensued.
Child #1:"Oh Ms.A eeewww. He's wet!"
Child#2: "He's having a wet dream."
Child #3:"No no no. That's not how wet dreams happen. They come from your ears."
Of course all of this happened in Church, during silent prayer and needless to say we weren't too quite. Before the giggles got any squeaker, whispers got any louder, and glances got any more obvious I decided it was time for us to go. We arrived home and the main reason why I had volunteered (to escape the community-wide egg hunt) was STILL going on. 
Apparently Jake's Nanny, who was left behind(it was her day off) misunderstood Geoff when he said "oh yes, that Griffin's single." In case you missed it Geoff speaks in third person as most morons do. The Nanny however mistook Geoff's ignorance to mean his father was single. The nanny began hunting alot more than eggs, if you know what I mean and a huge fight ensued. But this is the 'burbs and so no crack or weapons were involved. But, Rx meds and pacifiers were flying left and right...or at least left.
Annoyed by the days activity and feeling the need to shower I avoided the front door, opting at an attempted break in to my own house instead. But, suddenly a heavy sense of guilt and moral obligation overcame me. This isn't what Easter's about. Whatever happened to setting a good example or learning self-control and patience? So, I backed away from the sun room window, doing the right thing and round up the kiddies to finish the "Where my peeps at?" section of the Easter Olympiad. The fact that as I jimmed the lock into the kitchen I heard the words "50$" and "Best-Buy gift card" may or may not have influenced this sudden epiphany.
As Geoff would say, "In the end it's not how many eggs you collected on Easter but "how many eggs you fertilized."
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