Wednesday Morning

Okay, so I roasted another chicken over the weekend.  I meant to post this yesterday, but I had other stuff come up.  Like work.  REALLY ANNOYING.  So I’m going to tell you about the chicken today, but first, I have to tell you what happened this morning.  Let me start by saying that all of my Monday – Friday mornings function in a state of controlled chaos.  I have approximately 9,539 things I do each of these mornings to get myself and 3 kids out the door by 7:30 (that’s actually my goal time, but we usually leave around 7:42).  In addition to those 9,539 things, I also spend a good deal of time listening to 4th grade drama, answering random questions like, “Mom, do tigers dream?”, and breaking up fights at the breakfast table.

By the time I leave for work, I’m ready to relax.

Today started out like every other morning, except I’m having one of THOSE days.  Ladies, you know what I’m talking about….my hair’s gross and ugly, my clothes are gross and ugly, and I’m gross and ugly.  I hate those days.  So I’m in the process of trying on my 7th outfit in a somewhat panicked state because it’s 7:34 and I know this shirt is just going to suck like all the others I’ve tried on, and I hear this shriek from the kitchen.  I think nothing of it.  Shrieks are heard often in my house.  Then it happens again, this time with a “MOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!!!”

“UGH.  Can’t they see I’m having a clothes meltdown?” I think to myself as I go into the kitchen to see what’s happening.

In approximately one second, I forget about my wardrobe troubles.  There, in the middle of the kitchen, is my cat Ronald.  Here he is in case you’ve never met him:

Don’t I look happy and serene in that photo?  And look how pissed he looks.  But more importantly, isn’t he fat?  Honestly, I don’t even know how the following events happened, mainly because he’s such a fatass.  So Ronald is in the kitchen, and in his mouth is a live, adult bird….that is freaking the f**k out.  All I can see are feathers sticking out of each side of Ron’s mouth and bird feet kicking frantically. 

“What are you going to do, Mom?!?!?” one of the kids yells.  I don’t even remember which kid….it’s all a blur.

What am I going to do?  I don’t even know.  So I just do what comes naturally.  I join in the shrieking and yell for Trent.  Duh. 

So Trent comes in, all nonchalantly.  He assesses the situation and says, “Just let him kill it, then we’ll take it outside.”  The bird must have understood this, because he immediately started squawking loudly and pooped all over the floor. 

“Noooo!!!!” the kids and I scream.  “You can’t just let him kill it!  Dooooo somethinggggg!!!”  This was a really upsetting moment for us.  We did not want to witness a murder. 

Then, fate decided to intervene.  It was actually kind of beautiful.  Ronald, for whatever reason, decided to release the bird right at that time, apologized for his actions, the bird accepted, they hugged it out, and the bird gracefully flew out the back door as one of the kids held it open. 

The end.

Just kidding.  That’s not really what happened.  Ron did decide to release the bird, and the bird did fly out the back door, but it certainly wasn’t graceful.  It more like an erratic what-the-f-just-happened-I-better-get-the-f-outta-here kind of flight.  But first, I need to crap all over the place again.

So the bird flew off.  I can’t put into words how glad I was that he immediately went outside and not through the rest of my house, because I really didn’t feel like Spot Shotting bird shit off my couch. 

After my heart rate got back to normal, I surveyed the kitchen.  There were feathers and poop everwhere.  Some of the feathers were wet with cat saliva, some were still sort of fluttering around on the floor.  There was a large smear of some other bird fluid in the middle of it all.

It’s 7:36.  I do not have time for this.  I also did not have the presence of mind to take pictures of it all, so for that I apologize.

Anyway, how was your morning?

P.S. The roasted chicken post will be up shortly.


2 comments so far

  1. Tara on


  2. dad on

    Sh*t happens

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