Really, you stupid freaking bird?

El bird, alive. In the morning. While playing baseball outside before school as we were all dressed and ready to go way too early. The kids were freaked out about this stunned bird. They wanted to help it. They wanted to, like, kiss it's mean, shiny, SHARP ass stunned beak. I held them at bay, and called my Mom. My MOM, who is famous for picking up snapping turtles and wounded birds who then peck her to death or get eaten by snakes, and other famous family incidents of "kindness". I figured that she would tell me to help the bird. She DIDN'T! She told me the bird was stunned, to take the kids to school, and that she would be gone by the time we got back. Awesome. Bird and beak freedom. So, I took it. We all were extra quiet and reverent due to the bird. I may actually buy a fake hurt bird and position it strategically around the house, now that I know what it is that I know. The power of the bird, and all.

So, the whole way home we talked about the bird. As she had moved from laying to standing before we left, I was 100% on team "better" for this freaking bird. So we talked about how the bird was probably at home talking about how she met this awesome family of baseball players and about how respectful they had been and whatnot. So as I drive my gigantic SUV into the garage I'm breaking my own neck to make sure that the bird is gone! It's gone! We all cheer! HUZZAH! El bird LIVED and is talking about our awesomeness in a beautiful happy little nest.

Except. Except that while I walked around to unbuckle Jake, Luke and Julia, (who let themselves out, now, thanks to Luke) ran into the driveway and tripped upon the dead freaking bird. Dead. Upside down. And super dead. Somehow my gigantic tires escaped rendering the dummie the final indignity of smashedness, but it wasn't pretty.

Of course, Jeannie and Henry, and the "dishwasher man" bringing us a new dishwasher, were all due in 15 minutes. No pressure, bird. Jerk.

I had to quickly shut the garage, rescind my plans of "you can play outside while I cook" and have like 30 awesome and spontanious talks about death! Because that is super fun! And when you say that you are going to bury the bird, and then throw it down a hillside with a snow shovel while your kids are eating, and they want to know where you "barrrrrried that birrrrrrrd", and you want to super stab yourself in the face for not remembering to dig a fake shallow dug up spot, you get really mad at birds. I had to explain how she died, too. It went something along the lines of "she was looking to meet a husband........" and really went downhill from there. I give my kids way too much info. If you are that parent at school who doesn't want your kids to know about where babies come out or how birds mate, don't send them to my kdis school. I don't even mean to be honest, it happens by accident. How the heck else do you explain some vain ass birds death in our driveway? Shooting? No.

Playground. Day 1. We are now in the eve of day three and I Love my life in new ways. Spring is where it is AT, baby.

Yes, that was me who accidentally dressed them all the same. Weird how that happens, literally unintended. Will say, learned a new lesson ~ At the playground (or pool) we are going color coded. As we spent 3 hours at the park with friends that afternoon it was SO easy to find my kids!

Three big kids on swings!

Three cheers to death, and to death visiting us in our driveway! Thanks, bird! Happy week over 70, to everyone on the east coast. This is some crazy wonderful stuff, and I can't believe it. The kids are already turning blonder and I have sock tan lines. Crazy.