Jean and Jack Day

It’s not too late to talk about Mother’s Day, is it? Because I’d really like to talk about Mother’s Day. See, Sunday wasn’t just Mother’s Day in Stimeyland, but also Jack’s birthday. We were only a silver anniversary away from the perfect storm of celebration.

Wait a minute! Maybe we can achieve this perfect storm of celebration if I show you this slightly blurry photo of Gerbil Mother’s Day:

Although it probably doesn't count if I took the photo a month ago, does it?

Although it probably doesn’t count if I took the photo a month ago, does it?

Mother’s Day was pretty much overshadowed by Jack’s birthday, which was totally fine with me, especially because I got the best handmade cards and gifts I could have possibly gotten. Sam made me a paper Minecraft cake and sang a song to go along with it, complete with an illustrated companion book.

Jack made me a bead necklace and a paper flower, along with a note that I had to hide from my other kids because it mentioned the secret iPad time he gets in the morning if he has good behavior at school the day before.

Quinn typed up a little note that said, “I love you and you are good. So I think you should get to sleep in 5 more minutes than you usually do. Then get dressed, come downstairs and fix us breakfast.” Then, he poked at me, said, “I regret putting my thumb in your armpit,” and ran to the bathroom to frantically wash his hands. Because I have cooties, evidently.

Also, Alex got me the best Mother’s Day card that he could possibly have given to a non-hugger autistic person like me.

I laughed and laughed. Alex gets me.

I laughed and laughed. Alex gets me.

We then moved on to Jack’s big day. He opened presents and then all the males in my house played Minecraft together until I threatened to walk out of the house and go on Jack’s Big Birthday Outing all by myself because we were going to a petting farm and I wanted to pet some farm animals, thank you very much.

Also, Minecraft is stupid.

I finally bent my entire family to my will and we headed out to the farm. Where did we go, you ask? Why don’t we let Sam tell us?


He asked me to take this photo. It was the best Mother’s Day gift I could have asked for.

Wait. Where did you say you were again?


This would only be better if spoilsport Quinn had shown his face. God, I love my family.

There were all kinds of animals to pet and feed at this farm. Unfortunately, Jack was unexcited about all of them.

Wait. I mean he was SUPER excited about all of them.

Wait. I mean he was SUPER excited about all of them.

We started with the fowl. My kids think chickens are really funny. Except Sam. Sam was a little bit afraid of the chickens. That’s probably a smart move seeing as how chickens are exceptionally pointy. In reality, however, chickens are probably more scared of us than we are of them.

This chicken in particular.

This chicken in particular.
He was trapped in a Team Stimey-chicken sandwich—otherwise known as a chicken sandwich.

We saw every animal at the farm. We were allowed to pet all of them except for the zebras. I assume this is because every time I have seen zebras in captivity, there is a sign that warns people that fingers look like carrots* and you shouldn’t stick said fingers in zebra pens because zebras are assholes and will eat your hand.

Naturally, I asked Alex to put his finger in the zebra pen.

He's really half assing feeding his finger to the zebra though. You can tell from the photo.

He’s really half assing feeding his finger to the zebra though. You can tell from the photo.

We also saw the pig race.

I felt that this was a little demeaning, but they didn't seem to mind.

I felt that the race was a little demeaning, but the pigs didn’t seem to mind.

One of those pigs was galloping. The other one sort of ambled at a fast trot. Once they raced, they ate out of their little piggy bowl and the first one snorted angrily and shoved the second one every time the second one tried to eat some food. I was all, “Hey! That first one is like me!”

There were a lot of baby animals at the petting farm. There were baby birds, pigs, llamas, bison, goats, a cow, and sheep.

This baby sheep made a whiny, complainy bleat that sound EXACTLY like Quinn.

This baby sheep made a whiny, complainy bleat that sound EXACTLY like Quinn.

Happily, this farm made Quinn, who is often quite grumpy, happier than I have seen him in a while. It was great to see his delighted, happy face. Baby animals are kind of his thing.

The sheer awesomeness of feeding sheep knocked him on his ass.

The sheer awesomeness of feeding sheep knocked him on his ass.

My favorite animal there was the kangaroo. Have you ever petted a kangaroo? OMG, they are so soft. And they have little hands that they use to scratch themselves in all kinds of fun places while you watch. Plus, if you get really close to them, they will try to eat your hair. I want a kangaroo.

Specifically, this kangaroo.

Specifically, this kangaroo. I will name him Bartholomew.

I also have a thing for emus, even though they are kinda dicks. Have you ever petted an emu? Of course not, because they will peck you to death before you get close enough.



Baby chickens were nicer than the emus, although I’m sure if they could have gotten away with pecking my eyes out, they would have.

Bock bock bagock!!!!

I would name this lil’ guy “Nugget.”

The unruliest animals were the ones in this cage though:

I would like to state for the record, that it was not ME who locked the children in there.

I would like to state for the record, that it was not ME who locked the children in there.

Revenge for the illegal jailing was pursued.

Sam will also peck your eyes out.

Sam will also peck you to death.

I have to say, Alex was skeptical about our trip to the petting farm. It was, however, one of our best outings in a long time. It was outside, so we could be loud and run; there was sufficient interaction to keep everyone’s interest; and we were able to see the entire farm and touch every single animal on it in two hours, meaning no one got overwhelmed.

See? Look? Most of them look not not unhappy!

Add some focus and take away one stranglehold and this photo is super close to being almost frame-able.

And that was Jean and Jack Day in Stimeyland. Pretty good, huh? The only thing I neglected to show you is Jack’s cake. I always get my cakes from the grocery store, but this time I was nervous because my instructions to the bakery, which they wrote verbatim on the order form, were “Make it look grassy. Kind of like it’s a field.”

They actually did a great job. Although it barely mattered considering that one of Jack’s gifts was a set of some awesome Minecraft figures and some plant foam cut into cubes. Jack’s face—hell, my whole family’s faces—were priceless when they saw this cake.

I came to dig.

I came to dig.

I hope that all of you had Mother’s Day/Jack’s Birthdays that were as good as ours was. Even though I didn’t get the traditional Mother’s Day gift of getting to avoid my family all day, it was one of the better days that I’ve had in a long, long time.


* Fingers also evidently look like rodent pellets. I say this based on the fact that I poked my finger in front of Jetpack the other day and she latched on, leaving me to yank my hand up, GERBIL STILL DANGLING FROM MY FINGER BY HER TEETH, until she finally fell off. It was quite traumatic, I tell you. The trauma was made even worse because no one was as concerned by the blood oozing out of the tiny puncture wound on the tip of my finger as I was. Fair warning: Jetpack has developed a taste for human blood. Remain vigilant.

15 thoughts on “Jean and Jack Day

  1. Ok, first of all when you made me hold a gerbil you told me they don’t bite and I trusted you and I COULD HAVE DIED at your house from a gerbil attack. Second, my dear autistic hug-hating friend, did you like it when I came to visit you and I hugged you like ten times including the time I got up in the middle of eating risotto to come around the table an hug you? That’s what you get for not properly warning me about your gerbils of death. Lastly, I miss your whole family so darned much.

    PS Your blog is still being a dick to me and it eats my comments and makes me cry.

    • 1. Don’t worry. Jetpack likes YOU.

      2. I don’t hate hugs. Hugs are a time/person/situation specific occurrence, of which my acceptance of them varies. Because Alex is around me most, he has probably had hugs rejected more than anyone. Of course, he has probably gotten more hugs than anyone. So no worries. Your hugs were welcomed and loved.

      3. Goddammit. I was hoping that not doing anything but wishing really hard at my blog would fix a lot of stuff. Now I’m going to have to actually DO something. Drat.

      4. I miss you so very much too!

  2. I have never fact checked this, but when I was a teenagers who want to be veterinarians camp, one of the wildlife vets told us that zebras can stand on one hood, spin, and kick out with all three other legs. Zebras are not to be trifled with, apparently.

    (Happy belated birthday to Jack and happy belated mother’s day to you!)

  3. Now that is a way to celebrate the day!! I love animals. I totally would have been the one to put the kids in the cage though – only so I could go pee. or eat. or breathe. Just kidding. Well, not about the peeing part.

    Happy Birthday Jack and Happy Mother’s Day Stimey!! (Yeah, I know I’m late – but better late than never right?)

  4. Is Jetpack the mama of the brood? ’cause my girl Flower totally did that to me when she was knocked up, although she didn’t actually appear pregnant until like two days before there was suddenly a pile of babies. I’d be willing to be that you’ve got more little gerblets on the way. Think about it – you’d be cranky too if you had like six babies inside you.

    Great animal pics, and super amusing stories as always?

  5. Did Nugget remind you of a gerblet, except yellow? And with a beak?
    Seriously, this sounds like a fun field trip.

  6. The worst hugs are the ones where the hugger is someone you dislike. They know you don’t like them, they see you shrink back, but they lunge at you anyway with a predatory gleam in their eyes, because they’re evil that way. (I’m thinking of my mother-in-law here.)
    BTW, that is the best cake in the history of cakes. I don’t know what Minecraft is, exactly, but it is the best cake.

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