NORMA THE PIG

Once upon a time I remember reading about a rich Southern doctor from North Carolina who had a pet pig named Norma.  He carried Norma around in a limosine equipped with a bar, TV, and VCR.  He treated this pig like a VIP.  I saw a picture of the pig in the newspaper.  This was no piglet.  It was a sow!

This is not the way North Carolinians handle their pigs.  Surely this man had to be from another state (or another state of mind).  For North Carolina to be recognized for that was downright embarrassing.

It seems this fellow had a party for that pig and about 300 people came.  If that pig had been in my back yard, and 300 people had been there – well, you know what condition the pig would have been in!  My formula is:

1 pig + 1 festive crowd = Barbecue

SATURDAY MORNINGS

Everybody knows that kids watch cartoons in the living room on Saturday mornings.  That’s when mom and dad get to have coffee in bed, read the paper, and laugh at the cute things the kids have done that week.  Those are the moments I live for.  Why do I find the whole family in my bed on some Saturday mornings?  Even the dogs appear and put their greedy little paws on the mattress, just waiting for a weak moment when one kid might invite them up on the bed.

My newspapers get squashed and my coffee cup gets bumped.  Our TV gets turned on so everybody can watch cartoons.  (Our black-and-white TV must show better cartoons than the family color TV in the living room.)

If I dare forfeit my place to go for more coffee, it’s occupied when I return, without even an offer to share a pillow.

Ah, parenthood!

IF I WERE A MILLIONAIRE

I’m sure you have imagined what you would do if you had a million dollars. 

As for me, I’d put it on my bills as far as it would go.

My kids discussed it one day.  They decided they would put an amusement park in our back yard.  It would be closed during certain hours so they could ride without standing in line.  Of course, I would run the rides.  I asked why they wouldn’t hire someone to run it since they would be millionaires and all.  They said they would rather save that money to spend on fun things and let me operate the rides at no cost to them. 

They also planned to remodel the house.  There would be beds hanging from the ceiling, tile floors and mirrored walls for break dancing and gymnastics, and bedrooms large enough to hold all the toys in the store “except baby toys.”

Last but not least, they wouldn’t have to go to school if they were millionaires.  Ha Ha!

SAY GOODNIGHT, HUGH MOUSE

I wrote this when my kids were young.

Sorry folks, too tired to write.

I think I’ll just turn in tonight.

I’ve had a week – as mothers do –

Of ear infections, fevers too.

A mall trip in the afternoon;

The squabbling started way too soon.

We ordered hot dogs after that,

They never came, and there we sat!

My tired feet got a rest – and then

A zoo trip made them hurt again. 

Riding home was really great

Except for whistles and rubber snakes.

Then chores at home made me uptight.

I’m beat.  Hugh Mouse, just say goodnight!

ICE CREAM IN THE LIVING ROOM

Parents should have an animal training course before having kids.  Not that I’m making any comparisons.  But some basic training skills would help.

Case in point.  Kids will invariably, inevitably, predictably, and downright irritatingly leave their ice cream dishes in the living room.  (I know they aren’t supposed to have them there in the first place, but that’s another whole story.)  I have spent years cleaning up after them and fussing.  No animal trainer in his right mind would handle it that way.  He’d probably spend some time leading the critter through the movements, or SOMETHING!  What kind of things is a parent supposed to do?  Aren’t there some basic training skills I should know?

Maybe I could reward them with a goody when they get it right.  But when will that happen?

Maybe I could place the empty dish, soggy napkin, and sticky spoon in the child’s hands and oh so gently lead him or her to the kitchen sink.  But when will that happen?

Maybe after nagging and hearing “just one more minute” and “at the next commercial” six times (consistency, you see), I could yell, “JUST DO IT!”

I’ll just bet that an animal training course right after the rabbit dies is the answer.