3. Your in-home sanctuary is the very tiny Master bath.
And I do mean "very tiny" by the way. Its occured to me that if you go into that itty bitty bathroom, close the door and turn on the exhaust fan, you hear nothing else in the house. NOTHING. No crying. No screaming. No "ITS MINE!" Not a thing at all.
4. You consider starting your children a pots-n-pans band that rehearses at 6am Sunday mornings.
Last year, the day of Logan's 2nd birthday party, an authentic backhoe showed up in the yard of the house behind us. It dug them an inground pool. Something we can not FATHOM how it fits in that small space, but fits it does. Anyway, so far this summer they have a party every. Saturday. night. A loud, drunken, rukus of a party that extends past midnight most weekends.
I fight to muster the maturity each Sunday morning NOT to hand my children wooden spoons and frying pans as I let them sit in the back corner of our yard banging away - as loud as they can. They only thing convincing me NOT to do so are the other houses around us that suffer the way we do. Now, if I could get *them* to join our noisy band, we've got another story.
5. People talking to you on the phone have heard you yell "TASHA get the OUT of my garden NOW!"
This isn't actually a sign you're crazy - just that people may think you are. Maybe.
My dog, she's weird. She hunts vegetables. Some dogs hunt small animals. Mine tends to stare at them until its clear she has no chance in hell at catching it - then she makes a big show of charging at it's fleeing backside while barking up a nice storm. Veggies, on the other hand, are not safe - ever.
Last year I planted my first real garden and last year the dog had a her fill of cucumbers. They, apparently, are her favorite snack. She'd hop the small fence and help herself to whatever she could find. This year we changed out the fence for something we thought would be more of a deterent. Its not. It has gaps. She sticks her face between the spacers.
I have small growing cucumbers now. They're not nearly any where near ready to pick. . .unless your the Siberian Husky known as Tasha. Two down. Who knows how many more to go.
6. You begin to think that you're going to get kicked out of the Mommy-group because you're tired of just shaking your head and not saying a word.
Its a story so long, I won't get into it. I've spoken up once already today. I'm about to do it again. I am going to find myself without a playgroup - which is really ok since I hardly end up at most of the groups activities anyway. It just seems like such a badge of shame - having to admit that you once got booted out of a Mom's group.