The three of us went out to dinner Saturday night. Our original plan was dinner at Matt’s Bar and catching a 7pm showing of Moneyball at the Riverview Theater. Apparently everyone else in Minneapolis was in the mood for burgers with molten lava cheese squirting down their throats, because Matt’s had a line out the door. We drive down to 5-8 Club and only had to stand in line a few minutes before we got seated. We put the kibosh on the movie plans and decided to hit a Redbox instead. Dinner was lovely. Burgers were consumed. Football was watched. Then we decided to pick up some candy and ice cream to have our own movie night at home.

We walked into the front porch and it instantly smelled like burning plastic. It smelled RANCID. We headed straight into the kitchen and this is what we found.

We have no idea what happened. We hadn’t used the stove since Thursday evening, so I’m sure we would have noticed had we left the burner on that long. The General pulled a knob off from the non-charred side to try to turn off the stove, but there was no way that was happening. The Kid and I took the animals outside to get them some fresh hair, since they’d been inhaling burning plastic smoke for God only knows how long. While we were outside, she pulled it away from the wall and unplugged it. And then we all took a breathe, because everyone was okay and nothing was damaged past the stove.

Riley was kenneled. Marshall can’t even jump onto the bed without using the bedside stand as a step. No idea how it started. No idea how it stopped. And absolutely no idea how the stove was the only thing that was damaged.

We’re considering ourselves so, so, so, so lucky. I maintain my theory of last week that we have a couple of grandmas and three grandpas in heaven making sure the three of us are safe. Between the five of them, I think they probably have some degree of pull up there.

I called the landlord to give her the heads up and we’re working on getting that taken care of. The General is busy figuring out how to get the smell of charred stovetop out of our clothes, and we’ve been living with the windows open for the past 24 hours and ignoring the fact that it’s a might bit cold for the first time this winter.

I’ve always been a sucker for kids. Kind of always felt the need to be a protector of some sort, because someone had to stand up for them, you know? Having one that came with The General and planning on having another one with the next couple of years has made me even more aware of how just downright mean some parents are.

I was never a victim of child abuse in any kind. Unless you count riding around in the back of a truck in the 80s as child abuse, which I think people might now. And I can’t imagine ever inflicting any kind of abuse. The Kid, however, might argue that saying taking out the trash, cleaning out the litter box, and picking up after dinner could be borderline child abuse.

This graphic kind of blew my mind and I can’t get some of the statistics out of my head. It’s not just babies or teenagers or boys or girls dealing with abuse and it’s not just moms or just dads dishing it out. The numbers below kind of make me sick to my stomach.

Via: MSW Programs

Well, it does. But because I’m pretty sure the kids he hangs out with know how to use Google (even if it is just to search for manga, Star Wars or boobs), this is how I can sum up what raising a teenager is like:

[REDACTED]

High school is tricky and it would have been cool had someone told me that, you know? His grades are seriously great and so far improved over last year, thee are times I can’t believe it. He has some pretty cool friends. He’s so smart. He’s developing into this guy that’s fun to hang out with and I forget I’m supposed to be helping raise.

With high school comes social stuff and awkward growing and dating and homework and all this other stuff that I super loved in high school (minus the dating), so it’s cool to see him deal with all of it in his own way that just works best for him. And man, oh, man, do I want to blog about ALL OF IT.

But I don’t, because that is so not cool.

The last five days in Sedalia, my mornings went like this: wake up on my own around 7:30. Try to go back to sleep a little bit more. Never happened. Wake up and go downstairs. Take Riley out, usually wearing no shoes and a t-shirt (optional pants). Go back inside. Have Grandma’s chocolate pie for breakfast. Get dressed. Take Riley out again and walk across the street to visit Grandma and Grandpa. Drive a golf cart to my uncle’s horse pasture and drive back while he leads one of the horses next to the golf cart. Eat some cookies for second breakfast. Continue on my day.

This morning, my morning went like this: wake up several times throughout the night because I was scared I’d sleep through my alarm. Stare at the new alarm clock The General got me for Christmas, because it projects the time on the wall/ceiling and I love it. Finally wake up. Try to find black socks. Apply hair product. Scrape the ice off my windshield. Shiver during my morning commute. Find myself behind a FARM VEHICLE. FOR THREE MILES OF MY FIVE MILE COMMUTE. (My commute goes from urban Minneapolis to downtown Minneapolis. I was very confused.) Delete 14,000 emails. (Not an exaggeration. I got a note from IT saying do it or die.)

If I could combine all of the things of my regular morning with a daily walk over to my grandparents’ house, it’d be kind of perfect.

It’s usually night like tonight, too.

Drive home from work where The Boy and I yammer away about homework, cleaning his room, a kid at school that’s kind of a jerk, and Minneapolis city curfews. The Boy does his math homework while we run to the store for paper towels, a prescription, and a winter scarf Riley can wear to his first visit to Santa on Saturday.

The three of us stand around in the kitchen. Well, The General cooks, I open things and taste test new recipes. The Boy, in his attempt at talking his way out of cleanup duty, tried to say he helped with dinner prep by “providing conversation”.

Dinner at the table, discussions about hot sauce and what size shoe The Boy’s dad wears. Then it’s off to bathe for The Kid and some program watching for the adults.

Now I’m in bed with little Thelma. The Kid has a Panic at the Disco CD on repeat while he sleeps. And The General and Riley are closing up shop downstairs before coming up to bed.

Nights like this have become my life and I don’t have a complaint in the world about it.

Pretty much every night this week, The General and I started out watching TV in the evening. This resulted in me falling asleep in what was usually a very special looking position on the chaise lounge. It’s not conducive for doing much around the house, but I’m definitely getting used to sleeping at a angle that nobody can get comfortable in.

So, I don’t have anything to say or much time to say it before midnight roles around. I did find this awesome picture I want to share. It’s a picture of downtown Minneapolis taken from pretty darn close to my work parking lot and I love it very much.

(via bigboxcar)

His name is Fipsy, or at least that’s what we’re calling him when he’s not in the room. He’s a doctor who specializes in women’s health and reproductive medicine. He reminds us both of a mad scientist and we couldn’t love it more. He’s from the east coast and I appreciated that when it came to his straight to the point demeanor and dry sense of humor. I <3 Fipsy (even though he made me get blood tests today, too!) and his degrees from MIT, Johns Hopkins and Harvard. I don’t want some dummy knocking us up, you know?

I don’t know how much I’ll write about this whole process on here. It’s obviously super personal and incredibly sensitive. And I don’t necessarily know that all of my family is on board with the whole process, so sometimes that makes it a little hard for me. I know that no matter what happens, though, this little bundle of poopy diapers will have two parents that adore him/her, an incredibly sweet big brother, and all the awesome aunts and uncles in the world, whether it’s blood or not.

There’s still a lot of time to go before all of this becomes a reality. After all, we do have a trip to Vegas planned in February, where nobody needs to be knocked up. Maybe time will do everyone involved some good, you know?

Late Friday night, The General and I were discussing our Punkin Patch plans for Saturday morning. We’d got the OK from The Kid that it’d still be fun, even at the age of 14, so we were trying to shake out something fun. My requirements (a corn pit and corn dogs) were not placed very high on the scale of requirements (and for good reason, I’m sure), and we tried to fit in The Kid’s wishlist (corn maze) and The General’s (a petting zoo). I would have also picked pony rides, but apparently that’s just for kids. We decided on Apple Jack Orchards. Quick review: Two thumbs up. A++++. Would do business with again. (I rank everything in my life just like I do Ebay feedback.)

We navigated the corn maze somewhat successfully:

And then we poked around until we found 89 pounds of pumpkins that we needed. Mind you, only three of them have been carved at this point.

It’s not obvious The Kid was tired of pictures at this point, is it? He better get used to it, because this little trip just got turned into a family tradition. I don’t care if he is over six feet tall next year. He’s still getting in that damn wagon for a picture. (I rule at parenting, no?)

Earlier this summer, I realized I hadn’t been back to Missouri since Christmas of 2010. I tried making plans over the 4th of July weekend, but that didn’t work out due to work obligations. Then, I got a card from my grandma at the beginning of September, which happens at the beginning of every month. This particular card said she was homesick to see me. So, you’re darn skippy that I planned a trip back to Missouri faster than I’ve planned any trip back to Missouri. So, now from 10/5-10/10, the we will be in the Sedalia, MO/Belleville, IL area.

Our schedule thus far is as follows:
10/5: Leaving work directly following a staff meeting to visit my friends I-35 and Iowa for the first time this year.
10/6: Visiting my grandparents, my aunt and uncle, and anyone else I can cram into one day.
10/7: More visiting during the day, perhaps getting new tires, attending a high school homecoming football game and then driving midway through MO.
10/8: Visit the Arch when it opens, head to Belleville for an all day, city wide Chili Cookoff.
10/9: City Museum. All. Day. Long.
10/10: Heading back to the 612.

And I’m back to the point where our vacation will need a daggum* vacation.

*I can’t stop saying daggum lately and I’m not sure why.

I have approximately 4.5 billion things that I need to write about. I keep starting blog posts in my head (hello, nerd!) and then never putting them into WordPress. If I could get a trained monkey to take care of that for me, I’d be forever appreciative.

Last weekend was one of the most fantastic weddings of all time. I’m totally always a bridesmaid, by the way. Twice that’s been my role in the whopping five weddings that I’ve actually been to that I can remember. In other weddings, I’ve been a candle lighter and a guestbook attendant. The fifth wedding was a Catholic wedding and I’ve blocked most of that out. (More on this latest wedding later.)

I had three days of fever over a week ago, started waking up with sore throats, tons of muscle fatigue, etc. Went to the doctor, stole some medical supplies while waiting, and then found out it’s nothing. THANKS, DOC. Since then, I’ve managed to lose my voice. If you know me in person, you’ll know how much of a travesty this is. It’s slowly working it’s way back and I’m slowly no longer sounding like a prepubescent boy.

Yesterday, the General and I went to the Lynx playoff game. I won tickets via Twitter from a VP of the Timberwolves. They were in a suite, which was way, way awesome. And I think being that far away from the rest of the fans probably prevented me from screaming my fool head off and losing my voice all together. The Lynx won and they’re headed to the Western Conference Finals, starting tomorrow, and don’t worry. We’ll be there. I even ponied up the cash for these tickets. (And more about this to come as well.)

The Kid’s been a rock start in high school so far. He’s got some new friends and the ones I’ve met have been super awesome. It’s weird to think he’s hanging out with people that are old enough to buy cigarettes and porn now.

The whole damn family is heading toSedalia,MO/Belleville,ILin a couple of weeks to catch a high school football game and a city-wide chili cook-off. As always, it’s sure to be action packed and loads of fun.

More blogging. It’s coming. I promise.