You Wanna Piece of Me, Mr. Rainbird?

If you are one of the lucky people who have the ability to utter these words: Babe, can you start dinner?  or maybe these: Honey, can you scoop the poop outside? Hmmmmm, or something such as this: Sweetie, (insert name) needs a bit of help with her homework, then please let me hear this: THANK YOU.  THANK YOU.  THAAAAAAAANK YOU!

Seriously, when I got home two nights ago, it was typical, common, nothing outoftheordinary for an afterwork, afterschool, evening at 6:30PM.  Maycee and I came through the door of the Yellow Submarine (the name for my swimmingly simple pad) with the dogs hungry at our feet, leftovers from breakfast still on the counter, and toothbrushes lying on the sink in the bathroom-beautiful-just as we had left them.  I scrambled around putting down my work bag and purse, heading straight for the living room to open up the doggy gate so the pups could do their business outside, walked to the fridge to grab the chicken I planned to fry for dinner, grabbed the pan for the water to cook the rice, and kindly reminded Maycee of her “get home” routine: hanging up her jacket on the special little rack by the front door just for her, cleaning out her lunchpail, and getting out her homework for me to review after dinner. Oh, yes, and “if you are hungry, too, grab a snack until dinner is ready” I told her.  See, the typical, common, nothing outoftheordinary first 20 minutes of my every day evening.


After I prepped the kitchen for dinner, I went outside to scoop the poop, and in my line of site was the sprinkler, Mr. Rainbird,  I had finally gotten around to buying with my prized CVS bucks secretly tucked away in my wallet, waiting for that perfect moment of purchase.  I bought the sprinkler two days prior and had not had an ounce of time to even consider setting it up to water the one spot on my grass that gets hit the hardest by the sun and the dogs.  And, I wanted the grass watered.  I wanted it done now.  I decided.  Right…NOW.  That my was final answer, thank you very much, Regis.

So, into the dusk quickly becoming darkness I walked through my yard, hollering back into the house at Maycee that I’d just be a “minute”.  Ha!  A minute I told her.  Percy, my crazy obsessedwithisball dog followed me at my ankles wanting to play.  Mind you, I was still in my work attire, shoes and all.  I set Mr. Rainbird in the corner of my grass, his new home, and attached the hose just as I was supposed to do, and went to the back of the house to turn on the water. TicketytackityticketytackityticketyTACK!   TicketytacketyticketytacketyiticketyTACK!  Oh, my gosh, oh no, what is happening, oh, OH, OH! I ran back to my grass, now completely covered in black sky, and found Mr. Rainbird taking over my yard.  Water was going everywhere!  It was OUT OF CONTROL.  I ran up to him, grabbed on, and ticketytacketyticketyTACK right into my chest he went, soaked my pants, my socks, my shoes.  He went around and around.  No!  No!  This is not what I wanted. Oh my gosh, Oh My Gosh!  Percy barking: throw my ball, Mom, throw my ball, Aggghhh! Oh!  As the water kept coming at me.  I grabbed Mr. Rainbird again, frantically trying to turn the knob thinking he would stop.


Did I make the decision to put Mr. Rainbird down and go turn off the water?  Of course not!  I can do this!  I can BEAT THIS THING!

Within about a period of twenty minutes I realized that Percy wasn’t at my ankles anymore.  He wasn’t barking.  I couldn’t hear the jingle jangle of his collar.  His ball was no where in site.  One more “oh, no”.  Then, “Mayceeeeeeeeeeee!  Percy got out!  I have to go find him!”  Out through the back gate I went, turning off the water and calling his name. In the distance through the dark I could hear a his collar bouncing, the jingle jangle I needed to find.  Maycee came out throught the front door looking for me, so I told her to grab the doggy treats from the cupboard to help entice Percy to us.  Across the street I saw his long little shady body sneaking into the slip of another house.  Ugh, darnnit, I have to cross the street and trespass.  Geeeeeez!  After probably scaring my elderly neighbor half-to-death, I emerged with Percy in arms, Maycee calling my name now, “Mommy?  Mommy?  Where are you?!” as I hadn’t had time to tell her I was playing hide ‘n’ seek.  “Here I am, Honey, over here.” She ran up to greet us half way, treats in hand, and back to the Yellow Sub we went.

I was wet, still wet.  Percy was safe and sound, although his favorite ball MIA.  Maycee was now starving, and dinner hadn’t even started to be cooked.  7:15 shown on the clock (seems like it should’ve been later, don’tchathink?).  However, I had someone to contend with…

Mr. Rainbird.

I started the chicken frying, got the hot water for the rice heating, and stepped out into the backyard for one last go around.  You wanna piece of me, Mr. Rainbird?  The single working mom who dons a bright yellow cape in her mind equipped with BIG BOLD RED LETTERS across the chest “SWM”, swooping from dinner making, to poop collecting, to dog chasing, to homework correcting singlehandedly, ooooooh no you don’t.  Finally, as I picked up the sprinkler, water turned off, he was quiet.  I brought him over to the light of the patio (light, a new concept) and looked down at the dial where it said in teeny, tiny little letters: “min distance” with an arrow getting bigger to “max distance“.  Oh.  Okay.  I guess I wanted “min distance“. And, back to his new home Mr. Rainbird went.  Water turned on, half-way, he sprinkled his little heart out right on the one spot of my grass that gets hit the hardest by the sun and the dogs.

After a very yummy chicken and rice dinner, I corrected Maycee’s homework.  As usual (and I do consider myself EXTREMELY lucky just as I am-THAAAAAANK YOU), it was perfect.  Percy was sleeping.  The chores got done.  Now 8:30 on the clock, and time to get Maycee ready for bed.  The typical, common, nothing outoftheordinary end of my day.  Maybe I’d even go to bed a bit earlier, too.  After all, fighting rainbirds in the darkness of night is tough stuff.

Readers, I hope you enjoyed this verytruetale from my week.  Be happy, and give a chuckle!


Author: singleworkingmomswm

I love to write, and I love raising my daughter. The two combined have prompted me to create a blog about being a single working mom. Life's a trip, and I tend to take the windy roads.

4 thoughts on “You Wanna Piece of Me, Mr. Rainbird?”

  1. Kasey, I feel I know you somewhat now & I could picture you struggling w/ this sprinkler, determined to beat it and you did! Bravo SWM & thanks for the chuckle. Sometimes it’s the little things we overcome that give us the most satisfaction.

    1. Ha, Deb, I love how you notice the most intimate details of what people write and read between the lines. Correct, most certainly. In business, I’ve learned to read the fine print, in my every day life, I tend to blast right over it, and then I get to write about how hilarious it all is! 🙂

Now I'd love to hear from you...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s