Rats, Cats, and Bra Money

 "What? You guys did a party? There's a pandemic, did you know?"

The Husband is fully vaccinated. I am fully vaccinated. The Elder Son has had 1 dose. The kids stay with folks that are already in our circle. We carry sanitizer. We book outdoor parties. I wear a mask. The Husband wears a face shield. I'd prefer he wear a mask, but there's something about being a clown that requires makeup visibility. Ho hum.

Now that the snarky comment prevention has been done, we can get to the good part of the post! Our first party of 2021!

Location: Duplex home backyard. We've been there twice before to celebrate. To remind me which family it is, The Husband always says, "the Bra Money Party." There are some things that are unforgettable. One of those things is being paid cash straight from a sweaty bra in May. In Bra Money Mom's defense, it appears to have been a one time gaffe.

Plot Twist: weather forecast of heavy rain.

We arrive. After The Husband has dropped me and all our changarro off (parking spots were few), I proceed to find Bra Money Mom to ask which of the duplexes to set up in as it hasn't quite begun to rain and all attendees are still outside hanging out.

And I paraphrase:

Bra Money Mom: Inside? Do you really think that's necessary?

Me: It's your party. We'll do what you want. *pulls up weather app on phone*

Me: Ma'am? In 15 minutes, it's going to be pouring rain. I think you're going to want to move inside.

**************** 15 minutes later **********************

All set up, in a room with a scent implying a lack of hygiene, we begin. It's raining cats and dogs.

****************************************************

During balloons, I'm usually keeping one eye on my playlist while familiarizing myself with where we've stashed prizes, props, and tricks. I hear the song is ending so I leave the prizes to check which song is coming to make sure it works with the party's mood. As I step behind my table, a small, gray critter streaks out from under the tablecloth.

My brain immediately thinks of rats. Thankfully, I hold myself together. No one knows I'm FREAKING OUT, except for me. I am fully aware of the adrenaline situation I find myself in. I take a second look as the creature flees. It's a kitten. A very young, very gray, very rat-sized kitten.

Later, when we're packing up to leave I discover there is a full litter box under the cabinet next to where we had set up our table. Hence the smell; hence the rat cat.

It's always something at this home and I love it. It was such a fun party.

My Epitaph

I am amazing with bananas. No matter how little a stem our school district's food service leaves upon the bananas, I can still open them with my bare hands and without dirtying my fingernails. The first time I showed the 2nd and 3rd graders (I'm their Lunch Supervisor) how to accomplish this feat with an otherwise unyielding banana last year, I was awarded with the spontaneous applause of all 120 of them. I have since been known as the Fruit Ninja. Needless to say, this is among my proudest accomplishments. As I just opened a banana for the Son, I told the Husband how much I would like to have that on my tombstone. Yes, it will bewilder many a future genealogist, but what a great story for them to stumble upon! The Wife, Fruit Ninja of the Midwest! The Husband thinks I'm joking, but I am not. This expenditure is totally worth it because I will become a family LEGEND. My tombstone shall read, "The Wife, Amazing Wife, Mother, Teacher, & Fruit Ninja of the Midwest. Birthdate-Deathdate." Seriously, people. This shall be my legacy!

I may be making a How To Be a Fruit Ninja video on YouTube. Stay tuned.

$142!!!!

The school where I teach is an inner city school comprised of children whose families originally came from Mexico. As a shout out to the majority of our kids' heritage, the parent group at our school has a huge fundraiser in celebration of Mexican Independence Day. It's always a really fun event. Last year as well as this year my husband sold balloons (all proceeds going to the school of course!).  This year I kept all the tickets (see the picture below) so we could see exact numbers. He sold 142 balloons in under 2 hours!

Now let's hope all the people I had to turn away because the event was ending don't take it too hard. Let's also hope all the people I caught cutting in line and sent to the end also don't take it too hard. Clowning is a rough business and sometimes you need the Wife to stand up to overzealous customers. Now I'm off to make a "I'm the last person in line!" sign. (Although I've heard those don't always work. Sometimes people just keep handing it back to the next person to arrive at the line.)

Klutzy

I woke the Son up when I fell down the stairs (I fell LOUDly). He is back to bed and I do believe I only have rug burns, but it's hard to tell since I took an ibuprofen right away. When the Husband came home from the clown alley meeting, I told him what happened. His response, "Again?"
And people wonder why I don't even bother to learn how to do spinning plates...

Obsessions

I know a LOT about clowns now. I know different types of balloon twists. I can even tell you about the different styles of makeup. But does the Husband even know J.K. Rowling's name? No! What is wrong with this man? He is not a reader; I get that. He didn't grow up learning to love to read like I did. He never has and probably never will read Harry Potter. I'm not asking him to. What I am asking is that he know as much about my obsessions as I know about his because when I text him with "J.K. Rowling ghostwrote something!", he should not have to call me up and have me explain (he is however, allowed to not understand the word "ghostwrote" considering English is not his first language).

However, the Harry Potter movies are what will keep us together. (Thank you Warner Brothers). Happiness is when despite your husband's lack of J.K. Rowling name recognition, he still knows what a Golden Snitch is when you show him a picture of one. (Does he know what it's called? No, but he knows what it is.)

Egg Layers and Clown Tricks

The Husband asks the Son if he's (the Son) is wearing a diaper or underpants. "¡Calzón, Papá!" (Yeah, he's potty trained!)
Next thing I hear is a slap of elastic. The Husband exclaims, "Hiciste un huevo!" (You laid an egg!) Pitter patter. (I'm picking my battles. Sometimes making the Son wear socks just isn't worth it.)
"Mommy, Mommy!" The Son holds out a wooden egg. "This was inside of me and then it came out!"
Great. Now the Husband's clowning around has caused my child to think he's like a chicken. The Husband and the Son are now having a weird conversation about how that was a trick. I actually think the Son knew all along and was trying to mess with my head...

Transformers

The Son's been getting really into superheroes lately. During the previews for Captain America (yes I did too prep him for the scary parts!!!), there's an ad for the Transformers movie. He turns to me and asks, "Do you know how to say 'Transformers' in Papá's language?" Being naturally curious, I respond with, "No, how do you say 'transformer' in Papá's language?"
He looks at me very seriously and says "Transfoahma."