My ankle hurts. So does my thigh muscle. Oh, and my shoulder doesn't feel so great either.
Want to know why?
Because I slid down a muddy hill into a creek bed.
Why was I trying to go down a muddy hill into a creek bed?
Because I had to pee and the house was too far away.
Yup, that's what 4 kids will bring you to. You will be happily lounging by the pool, reading your book, drinking your Crystal Light, when suddenly you'll have to pee. And I mean right that second. And you'll know there's no way you're going to make it the 100 yards to the door of your house or the 15 yards from the door of your house to the bathroom. So instead you'll opt for the outdoor pee.
That's OK because you live in the country. No one will see you. But your father-in-law just may be mowing hay in the fields behind your house so you'll need to find some decent cover, especially considering giving birth to 4 kids has forced you back into a one piece bathing suit. Even a tankini won't cut it any more. So you'll opt for the nearly dry creek bed that's a mere 15 yards from where the children are playing in the pool. The floor of the creek bed is well over your head when standing and it's a veritable jungle of overgrowth and trees.
The only problem is the rain you've had lately. It will have made the steep bank of the creek extra treacherous to one shod only with flip flops. But you will attempt it because you don't want to lose control of your bodily functions in full view of your 4 children. You will quietly head for the creek bank. You will judge the best place to step off the grass and onto the dirt slope leading down. You will attempt to firmly plant your foot just at the edge of the grass before you actually step down onto the slope but the tall grass will play with your perception. What looks to be a solid piece of ground will turn out to be nothing more than a weedy patch of nothing. Your foot will slip into the 4 inch abyss and your body will lurch forward in a desperate attempt to right yourself before you plunge face first down a 5 foot drop into gravel, mud, and a trickle of water.
The resulting lurch will leave you shaken but not truly hurt. You will hunt a few yards down the creek for a good place to do your business and....well...do your business. Thus far you have succeeded in keeping your 4 children from noticing anything is amiss. They even overlooked your slide down the hill. But the moment you being to relieve yourself, stripped to your ankles (remember that one piece bathing suit), your almost 6 year old daughter will suddenly notice your absence and begin screaming your name. Luckily you are graceful under pressure (except for that bit of a slide) and you will calm her fears that you've run away from home to join a traveling Ukrainian circus as their new fire eater, hitch your bathing suit back up where it belongs, and clamber back out of the creek of death before anyone realizes exactly what you're doing.
A full 24 hours later, once you've nearly forgotten the incident, your ankle, thigh, and shoulder will remind you of your brief foray into extreme peeing.
Next time, go to the house.
Showing posts with label Confessions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Confessions. Show all posts
June 22, 2013
May 18, 2013
Readjusting
I got a good bit of advice this week from The Amazing Jill. The Amazing Jill is our school secretary. She knows everything. Seriously. You can call her anytime, day or night, ask her any question you can think of and she will give you a brilliant answer. Sometimes she might even be right. We love Jill. Without her the school would come to a screeching halt.
Yesterday Miss T and I got done cleaning our kitchen early so we went up to visit with Jill for a few minutes. She asked what plans we had for the weekend and that lead to our Summer plans. Jill told us that this Summer might be hard on us being our first. "It takes some getting used to. It can be rough, especially the first one." She also told us that if we had projects to tackle to get them done right off the bat. "If you think you'll take a week off before getting your stuff done, the entire break will go by and you won't have accomplished anything. Do it now while you're used to going all day long." I think she's got a point.
Yesterday, being my birthday, I decided I would spend the day lazing around. I did do laundry and picked up a few small messes, but otherwise I crashed on the couch and watched Netflix and Glee reruns all afternoon. The FarmHands played outside until dark and came in filthy and exhausted. My plans for this morning involved sleeping in.
That didn't quite go the way I'd planned.
To me, sleeping in requires a minimum of 2 hours past the time you normally wake up.....or an earliest time of 8:30 (oh how that time has changed since we were first married and I rarely saw 10 am). I almost made it. 5 days a week for the past 9 months I've been up at 4:45 am. Today I slept until 6:30. I was really pushing for that 8:30 thing but Buddy Joe and two of the FarmHands had other plans.
Bitsy & #1 Son were in the kitchen and Buddy decided he's been kenneled up long enough. He started barking and my darling, thoughtful children ignored him. Mom had to roll out of bed to let him out before he woke Husband. I shooed the kids off to their room and crawled back in bed. Apparently they didn't listen and started chatting in the living room because just as I was dozing off, Husband hollered for them to get back in their room.
That was the end of my sleep. The next 30 minutes was spent laying in bed, trying desperately to slip back into something resembling REM sleep. But the harder you try to sleep, the more alert you become. Instead I laid next to a snoring Husband and went through my plans for the day. I'm going to tackle this house.
Yesterday Miss T and I got done cleaning our kitchen early so we went up to visit with Jill for a few minutes. She asked what plans we had for the weekend and that lead to our Summer plans. Jill told us that this Summer might be hard on us being our first. "It takes some getting used to. It can be rough, especially the first one." She also told us that if we had projects to tackle to get them done right off the bat. "If you think you'll take a week off before getting your stuff done, the entire break will go by and you won't have accomplished anything. Do it now while you're used to going all day long." I think she's got a point.
Yesterday, being my birthday, I decided I would spend the day lazing around. I did do laundry and picked up a few small messes, but otherwise I crashed on the couch and watched Netflix and Glee reruns all afternoon. The FarmHands played outside until dark and came in filthy and exhausted. My plans for this morning involved sleeping in.
That didn't quite go the way I'd planned.
To me, sleeping in requires a minimum of 2 hours past the time you normally wake up.....or an earliest time of 8:30 (oh how that time has changed since we were first married and I rarely saw 10 am). I almost made it. 5 days a week for the past 9 months I've been up at 4:45 am. Today I slept until 6:30. I was really pushing for that 8:30 thing but Buddy Joe and two of the FarmHands had other plans.
Bitsy & #1 Son were in the kitchen and Buddy decided he's been kenneled up long enough. He started barking and my darling, thoughtful children ignored him. Mom had to roll out of bed to let him out before he woke Husband. I shooed the kids off to their room and crawled back in bed. Apparently they didn't listen and started chatting in the living room because just as I was dozing off, Husband hollered for them to get back in their room.
That was the end of my sleep. The next 30 minutes was spent laying in bed, trying desperately to slip back into something resembling REM sleep. But the harder you try to sleep, the more alert you become. Instead I laid next to a snoring Husband and went through my plans for the day. I'm going to tackle this house.
- Beds will be stripped and sheets hung on the clothesline to dry
- The birdcage will be scrubbed and the parakeets' wings will be clipped
- Surfaces and ceiling fans will be dusted and spiderwebs will be brushed from the ceiling
- Floors will be swept, vacuumed, and or mopped
- Bathrooms will be scrubbed
- The dogs will be groomed, clipped, and bathed and their bedding will be washed
- My room will be emptied of unnecessary junk and re-organized
- Pork chops, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans and rolls will be made for lunch
Well, a girl can dream, can't she.
I often lay in bed wishing my day away in this manner. The reality is normally more like this:
- Spend entirely too much time reading Facebook updates
- Harvest, feed, and plant everything possible in Farmville 2
- Play Candy Crush Saga until I run out of lives
- Peruse Cafemom.com boards until the drama gets to be too much
- Make sure I'm caught up on The Middle and Modern Family
- Do a few word search puzzles
- Toss some laundry in the washer and forget about it for 24 hours
- Chicken nuggets will be dug out of the freezer, tossed on a pan, and fed to the FarmHands around 8:30 tonight
Yeah, I pretty well fail at the Domestic Goddess thing anymore. Maybe if I set the bar lower I won't be so crushed when I fail to reach it.
Maybe I should start off with something like:
- Feed my kids
- Scrub the bathrooms
We'll see how it goes. I'll get back to you.
Unless something needs fertilizing in Farmville.
January 19, 2012
Irrefutable Proof That Evolution is an Impossibility
My children are still alive.
According to the theory of evolution, creatures will adapt to their surroundings & circumstances over generations. Unfortunately, no one has told the FarmHands this.
The way I see it, self preservation should be the strongest of all evolutionary instincts. My children are completely devoid of it. Not only do they like to do dangerous & irresponsible things day in & day out, but they have also failed to learn to avoid the most dangerous of all nature's living creatures: PMS Mom.
Women have been suffering from PMS since shortly after the Fall of Man (or would have been if Eve had ever had time to menstruate instead of giving birth to the entire population of mankind). All children should have developed an inner alarm that goes off as soon as Mom's hormones begin to fluctuate. My kids have developed one, but it appears to work in reverse.
You see, as soon as PMS rears it's ugly, malformed, malevolent head, my children all lose their ever loving minds. Instead of becoming complacent, calm, and obedient (as any self preservation instinct in good working order would) they go completely bananas. The more overwrought I get, the worse their behavior becomes. The bickering turns to full on fist fights. The volume kicks up to decibels just under those produced at major international air ports. The fun & giggles turns into complete mob mentality hysteria. In short, they all go insane.
And me? I'm left a twitching, blubbering mess on the floor of the shower (think every drug withdraw scene in every movie you've ever seen).
Should my children ever go Stepford on me just as I being the downward spiral into mood swings, night sweats, headaches, fatigue, and cramps, I might rethink my stance on evolution...but for now, I'm still not buying it.
According to the theory of evolution, creatures will adapt to their surroundings & circumstances over generations. Unfortunately, no one has told the FarmHands this.
The way I see it, self preservation should be the strongest of all evolutionary instincts. My children are completely devoid of it. Not only do they like to do dangerous & irresponsible things day in & day out, but they have also failed to learn to avoid the most dangerous of all nature's living creatures: PMS Mom.
Women have been suffering from PMS since shortly after the Fall of Man (or would have been if Eve had ever had time to menstruate instead of giving birth to the entire population of mankind). All children should have developed an inner alarm that goes off as soon as Mom's hormones begin to fluctuate. My kids have developed one, but it appears to work in reverse.
You see, as soon as PMS rears it's ugly, malformed, malevolent head, my children all lose their ever loving minds. Instead of becoming complacent, calm, and obedient (as any self preservation instinct in good working order would) they go completely bananas. The more overwrought I get, the worse their behavior becomes. The bickering turns to full on fist fights. The volume kicks up to decibels just under those produced at major international air ports. The fun & giggles turns into complete mob mentality hysteria. In short, they all go insane.
And me? I'm left a twitching, blubbering mess on the floor of the shower (think every drug withdraw scene in every movie you've ever seen).
Should my children ever go Stepford on me just as I being the downward spiral into mood swings, night sweats, headaches, fatigue, and cramps, I might rethink my stance on evolution...but for now, I'm still not buying it.
December 29, 2011
Grown up Christmas List
The number of presents under the tree this year with my name on them came to a grand total of one. Yup. One present. And it was from my mother-in-law. She got me a waffle iron.
A few years ago, I would have been depressed by the lack of Mama Swag...but not anymore. Sure, I'd like something sparkly. I like something new & techy with a screen you can touch. I'd love a stack of books or movies or music to keep me entertained. I wouldn't mind a spa day or a mani-pedi with my bestie, but in truth, I'm more than happy with the gifts I've been given through the year.
After the kids opened their presents and Christmas was being shuffled away, I headed back to run a load of laundry. I have shiny red appliances humming happily in my laundry room. A washer & dryer I truly enjoy using are nearly as exciting as something sparkly I only get to wear on special occasions.
Husband bought me the most beautiful winter dress coat just over a month ago. Sure, I picked it out & he just added it to the pile of dress clothes he was getting, but I adore it none the less.
In a few weeks I will have an entire hog butchered & processed to my specifications stashed happily in my freezer. I will have enough pork to feed my family for the next year & I know how & where it was raised.
And best of all, today I have 2/3 of a new blue metal roof on my house. The rest should be completed tomorrow. No longer will I watch my ceilings in dread every time we have a good hard rain. No longer will I cringe at the sight of the huge patches of black tar Husband's had to spread to keep our 8 year old shingles from curling up at the edges.
Being a grown up isn't as fun as I thought it would be when I was 8, but it's really better than it sounds. It's just a change in perspective. I've had a great Christmas even if it wasn't wrapped up under the tree.
A few years ago, I would have been depressed by the lack of Mama Swag...but not anymore. Sure, I'd like something sparkly. I like something new & techy with a screen you can touch. I'd love a stack of books or movies or music to keep me entertained. I wouldn't mind a spa day or a mani-pedi with my bestie, but in truth, I'm more than happy with the gifts I've been given through the year.
After the kids opened their presents and Christmas was being shuffled away, I headed back to run a load of laundry. I have shiny red appliances humming happily in my laundry room. A washer & dryer I truly enjoy using are nearly as exciting as something sparkly I only get to wear on special occasions.
Husband bought me the most beautiful winter dress coat just over a month ago. Sure, I picked it out & he just added it to the pile of dress clothes he was getting, but I adore it none the less.
In a few weeks I will have an entire hog butchered & processed to my specifications stashed happily in my freezer. I will have enough pork to feed my family for the next year & I know how & where it was raised.
And best of all, today I have 2/3 of a new blue metal roof on my house. The rest should be completed tomorrow. No longer will I watch my ceilings in dread every time we have a good hard rain. No longer will I cringe at the sight of the huge patches of black tar Husband's had to spread to keep our 8 year old shingles from curling up at the edges.
Being a grown up isn't as fun as I thought it would be when I was 8, but it's really better than it sounds. It's just a change in perspective. I've had a great Christmas even if it wasn't wrapped up under the tree.
December 19, 2011
Want to know a secret?
I have a job.
Sort of.
I've been a substitute cook in the cafeteria at the FarmHand's school two times in the past week. Once on Friday, and again today.
Want to know another secret?
I really liked it.
Sort of.
I've been a substitute cook in the cafeteria at the FarmHand's school two times in the past week. Once on Friday, and again today.
Want to know another secret?
I really liked it.
October 4, 2011
Introspection
I have very recently discovered in myself the capacity for hate. I'm talking about blinding hatred that makes you wish someone not only dead but burning in hell. I've never felt this before & I do not like it. I've felt anger. I've felt disgust with people. But I have never wished the torments of hell on someone before. Never.
I'm being starkly honest here in a way I am not normally. I vent frustrations here. I get aggravated & rant, but I rarely unleash my inner darkness.
Someone is threatening a person I love. I cannot be more specific than that, so please do not ask.
In the past I've felt serious dislike for people. I've wanted nothing to do with certain individuals. I've wanted people to drop off the face of the earth. But never have I wished the things I wish on this person before. Yes, I know this is completely hypocritical. I know that I blogged about God's grace & forgiveness when Bin Laden was killed. I know that I've preached love for people who hate me. I've written about mercy & kindness quite a few times. But none of that changes what I'm feeling in my gut at this minute.
Part of the issue is that this is deeply personal. Bin Laden didn't touch my life in a daily manner. This person does. I know that doesn't make this right, but at the moment, I'm not going for right. I'm going for honest & raw. God knows I feel this way. He's the only thing that's going to get me through this. There's no point in lying about it & trying to cover it up. He knows my innermost being. He knows when I'm mad enough to stab someone. I might as well lay it out on the table & let Him go to work on me. I'm also hoping that my feeling this horrible turmoil may help someone else who's struggling. I would never want anyone to think that you have to be perfect and think good things all the time to be a Christan. God knows we're flawed. He accepts & loves us as we are. That is the truly amazing thing about grace.
I am struggling. I understand that the damage that I inflict will only be on myself & that my hatred will in no way bind the person it's directed towards.
As I was writing this post, I popped over to Facebook to check out the happenings & this was one of the first things in my feed:
Now, I do not believe in coincidence. I also know I'm light years away from forgiving this individual for the harm they are inflicting, but deep down, I hope & pray that someday the peace that passes understanding will heal this hurt & allow forgiveness to begin. Until then, I can only do my best to try to keep my head above water & not drown in hatred.
August 24, 2011
And I thought fourth grade was bad.
Fifth grade may be the end of me. I think I've grown 7 new gray hairs in the week the FarmHands have been back in school. BabyGirl is, oddly, exceptionally resistant to homework in every form. Her teacher, unfortunately, is not.
Normally, the beginning of the school year is the one time BabyGirl & I are not going head to head over homework. She usually starts the year off on an up swing, excited to be back. This year, not so much.
And for the record I have no problem with her teacher or the amount of homework he assigns. I think most of the work is meant to be done in class, but Miss I-have-issues-with-time-management-and-don't-you-dare-suggest-that-I'm-dawdling-even-when-I've-spent-thirty-minutes-sitting-in-the-toy-box-chewing-on-a-bobby-pin doesn't seem to think she has any hand in the 40 pounds of text books she's lugging home every night. She also doesn't seem to think there's a problem with taking 45 minutes to eat a cup of yogurt before she starts on her homework making it nearly 7 o'clock before she even starts.
She was just asking me about open house at the school tomorrow. She wants to show us something in her class room. I told her it would all depend on how much time we have after she's finished her homework. Her reply was a guttural growl. "I'm sorry, dear, but our lives now revolve around when you get your homework done. It's not any fun for any of us."
This morning I was telling Husband about the past few nights of arguing & fighting. His response: Home school her. Mine: Yeah, that's a great idea. I can't even get her to do 30 minutes worth of homework. How exactly am I supposed to get through a full day of necessary education? Not to mention the fact that my daughter and I are like oil and water. I hate admitting that, but we simply do not get along. I love her with all my heart, but the kid and I, left alone for long intervals with a task to accomplish, are volatile. It's a pretty crappy situation.
Add to that, the chaos that ensues in the rest of the house when I'm trapped in a room with an irate BabyGirl and the other 3 FarmHands are left alone. Eventually she'll get frustrated, start screaming, and stomp off & I'm able to go deal with the other catastrophes that are taking place.
Yeah, I really love this part of my job. Anyone looking for work as a fifth grade tutor? It doesn't pay much (nothing, really) but the work is steady &...um....challenging.
(Note: I'm not really looking for advice here. I just really need to vent...unless of course you have some really groundbreaking advice for me other than "make her do her homework as soon as she gets home" or "give her a break when she gets home & let her unwind" or "send her work to school unfinished if she doesn't get it done to be sure she knows it's her responsibility" because I've tried all in one way or another.)
Normally, the beginning of the school year is the one time BabyGirl & I are not going head to head over homework. She usually starts the year off on an up swing, excited to be back. This year, not so much.
And for the record I have no problem with her teacher or the amount of homework he assigns. I think most of the work is meant to be done in class, but Miss I-have-issues-with-time-management-and-don't-you-dare-suggest-that-I'm-dawdling-even-when-I've-spent-thirty-minutes-sitting-in-the-toy-box-chewing-on-a-bobby-pin doesn't seem to think she has any hand in the 40 pounds of text books she's lugging home every night. She also doesn't seem to think there's a problem with taking 45 minutes to eat a cup of yogurt before she starts on her homework making it nearly 7 o'clock before she even starts.
She was just asking me about open house at the school tomorrow. She wants to show us something in her class room. I told her it would all depend on how much time we have after she's finished her homework. Her reply was a guttural growl. "I'm sorry, dear, but our lives now revolve around when you get your homework done. It's not any fun for any of us."
This morning I was telling Husband about the past few nights of arguing & fighting. His response: Home school her. Mine: Yeah, that's a great idea. I can't even get her to do 30 minutes worth of homework. How exactly am I supposed to get through a full day of necessary education? Not to mention the fact that my daughter and I are like oil and water. I hate admitting that, but we simply do not get along. I love her with all my heart, but the kid and I, left alone for long intervals with a task to accomplish, are volatile. It's a pretty crappy situation.
Add to that, the chaos that ensues in the rest of the house when I'm trapped in a room with an irate BabyGirl and the other 3 FarmHands are left alone. Eventually she'll get frustrated, start screaming, and stomp off & I'm able to go deal with the other catastrophes that are taking place.
Yeah, I really love this part of my job. Anyone looking for work as a fifth grade tutor? It doesn't pay much (nothing, really) but the work is steady &...um....challenging.
(Note: I'm not really looking for advice here. I just really need to vent...unless of course you have some really groundbreaking advice for me other than "make her do her homework as soon as she gets home" or "give her a break when she gets home & let her unwind" or "send her work to school unfinished if she doesn't get it done to be sure she knows it's her responsibility" because I've tried all in one way or another.)
March 14, 2011
I fear I am in love with another man.
His name is Eric. He works for Quirk Publishing. And he sends me free books. Shhhh, don't tell FarmBoy. I'm not sure he could handle the shock. Besides, I've already crushed him twice this weekend by pointing out that his legs and fingers aren't what one would call long. I'd hate for him to find out I'm secretly pining for a man who works with literature.
If you've been here for any length of time, you may recall that I've been involved with the folks at Quirk Classics for the past year or so. I've had the opportunity to read advanced copies of Pride & Prejudice & Zombies: Dawn of the Dreadfuls and Android Karenina for their Blogsplosion events. Just last week I got my newest book in the mail: Pride & Prejudice & Zombies: Dreadfully Ever After. *happy sigh*
I will tell you more about it on the twenty-second of this month.
The day after I finished reading it, another package arrived in the mail....a second copy with a small bonus. I've decided the second copy will be a Blogsplosion Give Away (contain yourselves, folks). But the small bonus was what really piqued my interest.
It was a small booklet with an odd photograph of a little girl on the cover. As I am a sucker for old photos, it immediately made me forget about the housework that lingered and the lunch I should have been cooking for Husband. Instead I flopped down on the living room floor and dug in.
Much to my chagrin, I soon realized that this was not the full book. No, those horrid people at Quirk Books had send me an advanced copy of the first few chapters. Just enough, as I told Eric, to reel me in like a herring. Now I feel I am flopping around on deck waiting for someone to toss me back in the brink.
Luckily, Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (as the book is titled) is set to be released in June and that lovely man, Eric, has promised to put my name on the list of folks needing to review it. Yes, I said needing.
This may be the beginning of a beautiful friendship....and my new career as a literary critic. I can so do this...as long as no one expects me to follow general rules of grammer or be able to spell.
If you've been here for any length of time, you may recall that I've been involved with the folks at Quirk Classics for the past year or so. I've had the opportunity to read advanced copies of Pride & Prejudice & Zombies: Dawn of the Dreadfuls and Android Karenina for their Blogsplosion events. Just last week I got my newest book in the mail: Pride & Prejudice & Zombies: Dreadfully Ever After. *happy sigh*
I will tell you more about it on the twenty-second of this month.
The day after I finished reading it, another package arrived in the mail....a second copy with a small bonus. I've decided the second copy will be a Blogsplosion Give Away (contain yourselves, folks). But the small bonus was what really piqued my interest.
It was a small booklet with an odd photograph of a little girl on the cover. As I am a sucker for old photos, it immediately made me forget about the housework that lingered and the lunch I should have been cooking for Husband. Instead I flopped down on the living room floor and dug in.
Much to my chagrin, I soon realized that this was not the full book. No, those horrid people at Quirk Books had send me an advanced copy of the first few chapters. Just enough, as I told Eric, to reel me in like a herring. Now I feel I am flopping around on deck waiting for someone to toss me back in the brink.
Luckily, Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (as the book is titled) is set to be released in June and that lovely man, Eric, has promised to put my name on the list of folks needing to review it. Yes, I said needing.
This may be the beginning of a beautiful friendship....and my new career as a literary critic. I can so do this...as long as no one expects me to follow general rules of grammer or be able to spell.
August 5, 2010
On today's Memoirs: Mini-Van Adultry. What's your stance?
There has been a loss & a new addition to the Farm Family. Hank, Husband's Silverado, has gone to live with another, smaller family...as soon as the dealership finds one for him. And Babe has come to take his place.
Hank had transmission problems earlier in the year and Husband has been suspicious of Hank's intentions since. Going anywhere in Hank means finding a baby sitter, so that's a mark against him. So Hank lost his place of honor. Personally, I had nothing against him, but he wasn't My Truck.
Husband picked out Babe all by himself on Tuesday while I was getting the FarmHands ready to drive 80 minutes to see a doctor for 3 minutes and turn around and drive home. Yesterday, he took me to meet her, sign her papers and bring her home.
It was love at first sight.
I love Babe. I love her shiny blue exterior. I love her dual sliding power doors. I love her touch screen media center (although I think I need a class on how to use it). I love her Fold and Go seats. I love, love, love her Sirius XM radio. The FarmHands (and by association, I) love her dual flip down DVD players. In fact, the only thing (thus far) that I do not love about her is the lack of auto headlights (that's just weird...she has a 30 GB hard drive but manual headlights).
But part of me feels horribly guilty because we seem to be leaving Mammy out in the dust...literally. I drove her into town today to register the FarmHands for school. I was all alone in her massive interior sans car seats. The kids' CD wallet has been taken out of her door & is about to be stashed away in Babe's interior. The kids' blankets are no longer tucked safely under her seats but are instead, hidden away in Babe's Fold & Go storage bins. She is an empty shell. And I'm pretty sure she knows why.
I remember just how much in love with Mammy I was in the beginning. She was our protector. She was our home on wheels as it were. And now we have demoted her to Driving-Dad-to-Work mode and parked her in the space farthest from the house so Babe can be away from the acorns that will be falling very soon.
I'm cheating on my first mini-van love with a new, younger, fancier version of her. Poor Mammy has to sit in the drive way & watch. I still love her. Unfortunately, she doesn't ride quite as smooth as Babe and I have children prone to motion sickness (not to mention the Pimp-My-Ride aspects of Babe).
I hope she can find it in her internal combustion heart to forgive me and continue to serve us well...even if she has to sleep next to that flashy floozy every night.
Hank had transmission problems earlier in the year and Husband has been suspicious of Hank's intentions since. Going anywhere in Hank means finding a baby sitter, so that's a mark against him. So Hank lost his place of honor. Personally, I had nothing against him, but he wasn't My Truck.
Husband picked out Babe all by himself on Tuesday while I was getting the FarmHands ready to drive 80 minutes to see a doctor for 3 minutes and turn around and drive home. Yesterday, he took me to meet her, sign her papers and bring her home.
It was love at first sight.
I love Babe. I love her shiny blue exterior. I love her dual sliding power doors. I love her touch screen media center (although I think I need a class on how to use it). I love her Fold and Go seats. I love, love, love her Sirius XM radio. The FarmHands (and by association, I) love her dual flip down DVD players. In fact, the only thing (thus far) that I do not love about her is the lack of auto headlights (that's just weird...she has a 30 GB hard drive but manual headlights).
But part of me feels horribly guilty because we seem to be leaving Mammy out in the dust...literally. I drove her into town today to register the FarmHands for school. I was all alone in her massive interior sans car seats. The kids' CD wallet has been taken out of her door & is about to be stashed away in Babe's interior. The kids' blankets are no longer tucked safely under her seats but are instead, hidden away in Babe's Fold & Go storage bins. She is an empty shell. And I'm pretty sure she knows why.
I remember just how much in love with Mammy I was in the beginning. She was our protector. She was our home on wheels as it were. And now we have demoted her to Driving-Dad-to-Work mode and parked her in the space farthest from the house so Babe can be away from the acorns that will be falling very soon.
I'm cheating on my first mini-van love with a new, younger, fancier version of her. Poor Mammy has to sit in the drive way & watch. I still love her. Unfortunately, she doesn't ride quite as smooth as Babe and I have children prone to motion sickness (not to mention the Pimp-My-Ride aspects of Babe).
I hope she can find it in her internal combustion heart to forgive me and continue to serve us well...even if she has to sleep next to that flashy floozy every night.
April 24, 2010
How cool am I?
Out of the last 4 nights, Bitsy's spent 3 of them in her own bed. She & BabyGirl have decided Bitsy's bed needs to be moved into "the girls' room" this summer. I'm all for it.
Rain has finally moved into our area. I was beginning to wonder where the April showers were hiding. Not that I adore being trapped inside with 4 children due to massive amounts of rain & mud, but the water in our pond was dropping. That can't be good this time of year.
Thanks to the rain, I'll have time to spend indoors working on some sewing projects I need to finish. Bitsy is determined to help, but she's scared I'm going to hurt myself on pins. That could have something to do with the fact that I keep telling her, "Don't touch those. You'll get an owie."
While my sewing machine is humming away in the farmland of Illinois, the Queen Mother's will be humming away in her "dradge house" in Tennessee. She's working on a Cosplay outfit for Beck to wear to MTAC. I'd say something snarky, but I've been to Ren Fest in costume....more than once. And would love to go again....shhhh.
You didn't know I was so cool, did you?
Rain has finally moved into our area. I was beginning to wonder where the April showers were hiding. Not that I adore being trapped inside with 4 children due to massive amounts of rain & mud, but the water in our pond was dropping. That can't be good this time of year.
Thanks to the rain, I'll have time to spend indoors working on some sewing projects I need to finish. Bitsy is determined to help, but she's scared I'm going to hurt myself on pins. That could have something to do with the fact that I keep telling her, "Don't touch those. You'll get an owie."
While my sewing machine is humming away in the farmland of Illinois, the Queen Mother's will be humming away in her "dradge house" in Tennessee. She's working on a Cosplay outfit for Beck to wear to MTAC. I'd say something snarky, but I've been to Ren Fest in costume....more than once. And would love to go again....shhhh.
You didn't know I was so cool, did you?
March 23, 2010
My House is to Blue Jeans as.....
Last night, as I was cleaning out the cabinet under my bathroom sink, I came to a life changing realization. I am not a Stepford Wife. I know, you're just as shocked as I was. I'll give you a moment to let it sink in.
******************
Are you OK now? I'll give you a few more minutes.
******************
I had just finished standing on the bathroom counter (don't tell my husband) to clean off the light bulbs, change a few that were burned out, wipe down the top of my medicine cabinet, and clean up the nick-knacks that live up there when I decided I was tired of sorting through tiny hair bands to find my bobby pins & eye shadow, so I emptied out my make-up drawer. That led to the emptying of the cabinet under the sink, BabyGirl's hair clip drawer from her room, and my purse.
35 minutes & a grocery bag full of trash later, I realized this is only the beginning of the serious spring cleaning I need to take on. Then I thought of my very tidy friend, Kork. Does Kork need to spring clean? I mean, she cleans her baseboards regularly. I'm pretty sure she washes off her kitchen cabinet fronts more than once every 6 months. Heck, she dusts. Me, not so much. It's a really good thing we didn't room together in college. She'd have never spoken to me again.
I should point out that I, in no way, think Kork is a Stepford wife, nor would I have a problem with it if she were. I think it's awesome that she wants to keep her house in tip top shape at all times. I really admire the fact that a team from Good Housekeeping could come into her home on any day & other than Capt. & DG's toys & books, it would be photo ready. Part of me wishes she could bottle that drive & send some to me.
But that isn't me. Does it have to be? No. If you show up unannounced at my house, I cannot promise there won't be dirty dishes piled in the sink & a film of dust on the entertainment center. If I know you're coming in advance, I'll try to make sure there aren't 15 blankets & pillows strung across the living room floor where the FarmHands have been playing house. I attempt to do a thorough cleaning once or twice a year (carpets, tops of cabinets, closets, book cases), but our house doesn't stay that way.
I call it the-comfortably-lived-in-look. Just think of my house as your favorite pair of well worn jeans. Decent enough to run to the grocery in, but not quite meet-the-queen material.
******************
Are you OK now? I'll give you a few more minutes.
******************
I had just finished standing on the bathroom counter (don't tell my husband) to clean off the light bulbs, change a few that were burned out, wipe down the top of my medicine cabinet, and clean up the nick-knacks that live up there when I decided I was tired of sorting through tiny hair bands to find my bobby pins & eye shadow, so I emptied out my make-up drawer. That led to the emptying of the cabinet under the sink, BabyGirl's hair clip drawer from her room, and my purse.
35 minutes & a grocery bag full of trash later, I realized this is only the beginning of the serious spring cleaning I need to take on. Then I thought of my very tidy friend, Kork. Does Kork need to spring clean? I mean, she cleans her baseboards regularly. I'm pretty sure she washes off her kitchen cabinet fronts more than once every 6 months. Heck, she dusts. Me, not so much. It's a really good thing we didn't room together in college. She'd have never spoken to me again.
I should point out that I, in no way, think Kork is a Stepford wife, nor would I have a problem with it if she were. I think it's awesome that she wants to keep her house in tip top shape at all times. I really admire the fact that a team from Good Housekeeping could come into her home on any day & other than Capt. & DG's toys & books, it would be photo ready. Part of me wishes she could bottle that drive & send some to me.
But that isn't me. Does it have to be? No. If you show up unannounced at my house, I cannot promise there won't be dirty dishes piled in the sink & a film of dust on the entertainment center. If I know you're coming in advance, I'll try to make sure there aren't 15 blankets & pillows strung across the living room floor where the FarmHands have been playing house. I attempt to do a thorough cleaning once or twice a year (carpets, tops of cabinets, closets, book cases), but our house doesn't stay that way.
I call it the-comfortably-lived-in-look. Just think of my house as your favorite pair of well worn jeans. Decent enough to run to the grocery in, but not quite meet-the-queen material.
November 16, 2009
Knowing when to fold 'em.
At last check, the Queen Mother was at the doctor's office having been just released from the hospital. She's still ill, but on the mend. I pray she mends quickly. Very quickly. She has grands who need her to feel good at Thanksgiving. She is Grammy, after all. She isn't allowed to lounge about. There are rousing games of Goldfish & Dominoes to play, books to read, blocks to build, baby dolls to love, and movies to watch.
Kork said something interesting in my comments a few posts back. "that sounds so much more fun than my weekend was...mine was "accomplishing lots of things" - which feels good when done, but in the doing always makes me feel like I've missed out on something more exciting...sigh..." I hadn't really thought of it that way, but it gave me a wonderful perspective for this weekend. We had another nice weekend weather-wise, so I spent a good portion of it out of doors with Husband & the FarmHands.
These opportunities aren't going to last long & I need to grasp them when I can. In a few years my babies will hit the "Oh, Muh-ther" stage of development where everything I say & do will cause mountains of embarrassment to be heaped upon their bony little adolescent shoulders. There will be dances & movies & friends & ballgames all much more important than Family Movie Night and a day spent traipsing through the woods with Mama & Daddy. They'll develop relationships apart from our little cloister & their interests will evolve. As one author put it, I know we're looking at the days of Get Out of My Life, But First Could You Drive Me & Cheryl to the Mall?
Until that time gets here, I plan on letting my house go. OK, not completely, but I do need to stop worrying over the state of my dishes when the sun is shining & my boys are shouting, "Mommy! There's a squirrel in the tree!! Come look at it! It's barking!" (and yes, my children speak in exclamations all day long). I need to remember that I can fold the towels after I tuck them in at night & spend their waking hours coloring Spider-Man pictures, playing Simon Says, and dancing around the house to Taylor Swift songs belted out by my daughter.
Someday I will be an empty-nester & my house can look like the cover of Better Homes & Gardens. Until then, I'll deal with slightly sticky kitchen floors & muddy footprints near the back door.
Kork said something interesting in my comments a few posts back. "that sounds so much more fun than my weekend was...mine was "accomplishing lots of things" - which feels good when done, but in the doing always makes me feel like I've missed out on something more exciting...sigh..." I hadn't really thought of it that way, but it gave me a wonderful perspective for this weekend. We had another nice weekend weather-wise, so I spent a good portion of it out of doors with Husband & the FarmHands.
These opportunities aren't going to last long & I need to grasp them when I can. In a few years my babies will hit the "Oh, Muh-ther" stage of development where everything I say & do will cause mountains of embarrassment to be heaped upon their bony little adolescent shoulders. There will be dances & movies & friends & ballgames all much more important than Family Movie Night and a day spent traipsing through the woods with Mama & Daddy. They'll develop relationships apart from our little cloister & their interests will evolve. As one author put it, I know we're looking at the days of Get Out of My Life, But First Could You Drive Me & Cheryl to the Mall?
Until that time gets here, I plan on letting my house go. OK, not completely, but I do need to stop worrying over the state of my dishes when the sun is shining & my boys are shouting, "Mommy! There's a squirrel in the tree!! Come look at it! It's barking!" (and yes, my children speak in exclamations all day long). I need to remember that I can fold the towels after I tuck them in at night & spend their waking hours coloring Spider-Man pictures, playing Simon Says, and dancing around the house to Taylor Swift songs belted out by my daughter.
Someday I will be an empty-nester & my house can look like the cover of Better Homes & Gardens. Until then, I'll deal with slightly sticky kitchen floors & muddy footprints near the back door.
August 29, 2008
So, what's up with you?
Hmmm...Sarah Palin...interesting. I may like this dame. Time will tell.
In the mean time I'm planning my strategy for the 2012 presidential race. I'm tossing in my hat. You read that right, FarmWife in '12. Make plans to vote now!
We still have 3 little boy puppies living at our house. They really need to go live at someone else's house.
BabyGirl & Logan got back together again yesterday. I'm tempted to stop trying to keep up with it all....but I don't want to seem disinterested in the drama that is her life.
Pete & Penny (the tea cup poodles) have come to live at Bucka & Busha's this week. I haven't seen them yet, but will very soon. I can't wait. Pete weights 1 3/4 pounds. Penny tips the scale at 3/4 of a pound! Tiny little things.
Tomorrow is your last day to enter the Hot Mama Revolution $25 shopping spree challange (see button in side bar). Please, go enter! Last time I checked I was the only one linked in. I want to win this, but not by default folks!!
We're enjoying our time as a family of four every day while BabyGirl & #1 Son are slaving away at school. Husband & B.B. are wrestling right now. Bitsy is watching closely, screaming, and jumping in occasionally! And grocery shopping is a BREEZE!
And for your reading enjoyment, an ancedote from earlier this week.
The boys were tucked in & supposed to be going to sleep when I heard them chatting. The chatting soon turned to shouting, but I couldn't tell what the argument was about. I opened the door & said, "You two better be quiet & go to sleep now or you're going to be in trouble." #1 Son rolled over in bed to face me & said, "Mom, does God pee out of his penis or not?!" Oy. I'm not sure who was arguing the affirmative and who was against the idea, but the debate was very heated. They both started shouting at me & I seriously considered backing out of the room slowly & pretending I didn't hear the question.
Eventually I composed myself & said, "Well, when Jesus was on Earth he had to pee out of His penis just like you." They asked about now & I said, "God is a spirit, so I'm not sure He even needs to pee." To which #1 Son replied, "What's a spirit?" Not wanting to get into a theological discussion with a 5 year old and a nearly 4 year old I told them we'd talk about it later, turned and ran.
In the mean time I'm planning my strategy for the 2012 presidential race. I'm tossing in my hat. You read that right, FarmWife in '12. Make plans to vote now!
We still have 3 little boy puppies living at our house. They really need to go live at someone else's house.
BabyGirl & Logan got back together again yesterday. I'm tempted to stop trying to keep up with it all....but I don't want to seem disinterested in the drama that is her life.
Pete & Penny (the tea cup poodles) have come to live at Bucka & Busha's this week. I haven't seen them yet, but will very soon. I can't wait. Pete weights 1 3/4 pounds. Penny tips the scale at 3/4 of a pound! Tiny little things.
Tomorrow is your last day to enter the Hot Mama Revolution $25 shopping spree challange (see button in side bar). Please, go enter! Last time I checked I was the only one linked in. I want to win this, but not by default folks!!
We're enjoying our time as a family of four every day while BabyGirl & #1 Son are slaving away at school. Husband & B.B. are wrestling right now. Bitsy is watching closely, screaming, and jumping in occasionally! And grocery shopping is a BREEZE!
And for your reading enjoyment, an ancedote from earlier this week.
The boys were tucked in & supposed to be going to sleep when I heard them chatting. The chatting soon turned to shouting, but I couldn't tell what the argument was about. I opened the door & said, "You two better be quiet & go to sleep now or you're going to be in trouble." #1 Son rolled over in bed to face me & said, "Mom, does God pee out of his penis or not?!" Oy. I'm not sure who was arguing the affirmative and who was against the idea, but the debate was very heated. They both started shouting at me & I seriously considered backing out of the room slowly & pretending I didn't hear the question.
Eventually I composed myself & said, "Well, when Jesus was on Earth he had to pee out of His penis just like you." They asked about now & I said, "God is a spirit, so I'm not sure He even needs to pee." To which #1 Son replied, "What's a spirit?" Not wanting to get into a theological discussion with a 5 year old and a nearly 4 year old I told them we'd talk about it later, turned and ran.
August 9, 2008
Hey, wanna' know a secret?
You do? Promise not to tell anyone? OK, here it is....I hate baby socks. Really. HATE them.I know, I know, they're tiny & cute & keep itty bitty toes from succumbing to the charms of frost bite. But then you have to wash them...and sort them...and find them! I was OK when we only had one child and she only had one size of socks. I would lovingly put her tiny pink socks safely in a mesh lingerie bag before washing them so none were ever lost. I would neatly roll them together & display them in a little Longaberger berry basket on the perfectly organized changing table in her beautifully decorated nursery. That lasted about 15 minutes.
Now, four children & countless sock sizes later, I have a an old crinkled gift bag crammed full of odd socks buried in the overflowing cradle that serves as a catch-all. I cannot keep them sorted. I cannot keep track of which ones fit now & which ones should be stashed away for later.
While no one is looking, I plan on digging them out, sneaking into the back yard after dark, and setting them all on fire! As I dance around the flames, I will be secretly shopping for brand new, adorable, squeal inducing baby socks in my head.Disclaimer: I totally stole the images off the interweb and for the life of me, I cannot remember where I got them. If I had a lovely pile of baby socks like the ones pictured, I'd treasure them and hand wash them and love them until I had grand babies to pass them on to. I have two pairs like that lovingly knitted by Needlefingers & they are kept safe & sound far away from the icky sock bag.
August 2, 2008
Floating along
I'm not sure where this post will go, so bear with me and be warned.
Aunt Anita posted about weeding. Inkling posted about the enemy battling God for control of our hearts as a family. I read another blog that talked about Moses's mother setting him adrift on the Nile trusting him entirely to the Lord. To say my faith is being tested is an understatement.
In the past 12 months there's been a lot on my plate. Most of the issues have not been directly mine, but they have touched the people I love the most. Heart attack, stroke, quadruple bypass, stents, diabetes, biopsies, kidney trouble, surgery, job loss, homes sold, financial troubles, cancer, disorders, therapy, miscarriage, no insurance, broken bones, ICU, trips to the ER........the list seems to go on & on & on.
The morning after our trip to the ER with Husband I was tired. I was scared. I was frustrated. We didn't know what was happening. I found myself running through Wal-Mart trying to get him some pain medicine & praying nothing would happen while I was gone (his mom was home with him & the kids). As I turned the corner into the pharmacy area, there stood Unkie Di. I looked at her & nearly burst into tears. "Unkie Di, I'm sick of this crap. When is it going to end?"
She replied, "It's not honey. This is it."
I was floored. What does she mean this is it? This can't be it. Life can't really be one disaster after another. Who wants to deal with this? Who wants to be ripped out of bed in the middle of the night for the next emergency over & over again? Who can cope with all this drama?
Then it hit me. She's right. I'm not 12 anymore. The people I love, the people who've been a protective hedge around me my entire life are not young. They are not the late 20 somethings early 30 somethings they were when I was growing up.
At the hospital after Bucka's bypass I ran into Bubba. He had been looking for Busha, QM & HT. He asked a nurse if she'd seen, "Two old ladies & a baby." Princess was shocked. "Mama's not an old lady, Bubba! She'll slap you if she hears that." It reminded me of listening to my mom & her brothers discuss their aunts & uncles. One of them said, "You know, we're who Mom & Dad were a few years back. Mom & Dad & the Aunties are who Grandma was. We're not the kids anymore."
In my side bar it says, "I think someday I'll feel like a grown up, but today is not the day." I'm wondering if that day isn't fast approaching. After she got onto Bubba for calling Mama & Busha old women, I told Princess, "We're who they were when we were kids. They're the grandmas & great-grandmas now." It's hard to change the way you think of yourself & the people you love.
My great grandmothers (I had three living when I was a kid. The last passed away about 9 years ago) always seemed so ancient to me. Busha and Bucka and Grandma & Grandpa M&M cannot possibly be as old as Granny & Little Grandma were...but they are.
So yes, this is it. I've reached the time in my life where my protective hedge is wilting. It's falling away. I know this has to happen for those of us living inside it to learn & thrive & grow. It's the natural progression of life.... but I'd rather stay safely tucked away surrounded by generations.
Now I must trust God to walk me through not just these struggles, but the rest of my life. The life in which I may have no one to lean on but Him. Who is the hedge of protection for my grandparents now that their parents are all gone? The Lord. Who will be the hedge of protection around my parents when my grands are gone? The Lord. In reality, He is the hedge now. Always has been. My family can do nothing to truly protect me just as I can do nothing to truly protect my children. All of us are in His hands. That's where we belong.
Why am I only seeing this now? Isn't it common sense? The Lord who took the baby in the basket to the hands of Pharaoh's daughter is the same Lord who's holding me in the palm of his hand. All my worry and all my fretting cannot add one second to the life of my loved ones. It didn't keep Aunt Anita's test results clean. It didn't prevent my Daddy from developing diabetes. It won't help anyone. So why do I cling to it?
As I said in the beginning, I have no idea where this post was going....call it a stream of consciousness post. Things I needed to get down on virtual paper.
Why should I feel discouraged?
Why should the shadows come?
Why should my heart feel lonely,
And long for heaven and home?
When Jesus is my portion,
A constant friend is he.
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know he watches me.
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know he watches me.
I sing because I'm happy.
I sing because I'm free.
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know he watches me.
Aunt Anita posted about weeding. Inkling posted about the enemy battling God for control of our hearts as a family. I read another blog that talked about Moses's mother setting him adrift on the Nile trusting him entirely to the Lord. To say my faith is being tested is an understatement.
In the past 12 months there's been a lot on my plate. Most of the issues have not been directly mine, but they have touched the people I love the most. Heart attack, stroke, quadruple bypass, stents, diabetes, biopsies, kidney trouble, surgery, job loss, homes sold, financial troubles, cancer, disorders, therapy, miscarriage, no insurance, broken bones, ICU, trips to the ER........the list seems to go on & on & on.
The morning after our trip to the ER with Husband I was tired. I was scared. I was frustrated. We didn't know what was happening. I found myself running through Wal-Mart trying to get him some pain medicine & praying nothing would happen while I was gone (his mom was home with him & the kids). As I turned the corner into the pharmacy area, there stood Unkie Di. I looked at her & nearly burst into tears. "Unkie Di, I'm sick of this crap. When is it going to end?"
She replied, "It's not honey. This is it."
I was floored. What does she mean this is it? This can't be it. Life can't really be one disaster after another. Who wants to deal with this? Who wants to be ripped out of bed in the middle of the night for the next emergency over & over again? Who can cope with all this drama?
Then it hit me. She's right. I'm not 12 anymore. The people I love, the people who've been a protective hedge around me my entire life are not young. They are not the late 20 somethings early 30 somethings they were when I was growing up.
At the hospital after Bucka's bypass I ran into Bubba. He had been looking for Busha, QM & HT. He asked a nurse if she'd seen, "Two old ladies & a baby." Princess was shocked. "Mama's not an old lady, Bubba! She'll slap you if she hears that." It reminded me of listening to my mom & her brothers discuss their aunts & uncles. One of them said, "You know, we're who Mom & Dad were a few years back. Mom & Dad & the Aunties are who Grandma was. We're not the kids anymore."
In my side bar it says, "I think someday I'll feel like a grown up, but today is not the day." I'm wondering if that day isn't fast approaching. After she got onto Bubba for calling Mama & Busha old women, I told Princess, "We're who they were when we were kids. They're the grandmas & great-grandmas now." It's hard to change the way you think of yourself & the people you love.
My great grandmothers (I had three living when I was a kid. The last passed away about 9 years ago) always seemed so ancient to me. Busha and Bucka and Grandma & Grandpa M&M cannot possibly be as old as Granny & Little Grandma were...but they are.
So yes, this is it. I've reached the time in my life where my protective hedge is wilting. It's falling away. I know this has to happen for those of us living inside it to learn & thrive & grow. It's the natural progression of life.... but I'd rather stay safely tucked away surrounded by generations.
Now I must trust God to walk me through not just these struggles, but the rest of my life. The life in which I may have no one to lean on but Him. Who is the hedge of protection for my grandparents now that their parents are all gone? The Lord. Who will be the hedge of protection around my parents when my grands are gone? The Lord. In reality, He is the hedge now. Always has been. My family can do nothing to truly protect me just as I can do nothing to truly protect my children. All of us are in His hands. That's where we belong.
Why am I only seeing this now? Isn't it common sense? The Lord who took the baby in the basket to the hands of Pharaoh's daughter is the same Lord who's holding me in the palm of his hand. All my worry and all my fretting cannot add one second to the life of my loved ones. It didn't keep Aunt Anita's test results clean. It didn't prevent my Daddy from developing diabetes. It won't help anyone. So why do I cling to it?
As I said in the beginning, I have no idea where this post was going....call it a stream of consciousness post. Things I needed to get down on virtual paper.
Why should I feel discouraged?
Why should the shadows come?
Why should my heart feel lonely,
And long for heaven and home?
When Jesus is my portion,
A constant friend is he.
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know he watches me.
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know he watches me.
I sing because I'm happy.
I sing because I'm free.
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know he watches me.
July 10, 2008
Tubes, Telephones, Photo shoots, and Guilty pleasures
Yesterday's trip to the ENT was successful. There's nothing like driving an hour & a half to see a doctor for 5 minutes & drive an hour & a half home....with three kids. Really, it rocks. (Sniff, sniff...do you smell that? Is it sarcasm?)
BabyGirl has been telling me her tubes were coming out. I told doc. He looked in her ear & said, "She'd be right." Then he reached in with this long tweezer like thingy & pulled out a minuscule piece of plastic that has changed our lives for the better. He said as long as she stays infection free, it's all good. If not, she'll need a new tube. I'm praying for the former.
When we got home Husband said, "Kork called." Kork has a very common name in real life, but is still the only one I know. He wasn't sure if it was actually Kork or Needlefingers as their names are similar. I said, "What exactly did she say." "This is Kork." OK, Needlefingers would never use that version of her name. When she called back I think we ended up talking for an hour & a half. It was nice! We don't get to talk very often....in fact we've gone years without talking in the past. But we always seem to pick up like no time's passed.
Today I am anxiously awaiting the FedEx driver. There's a diamond in transit to my house. I need sparkly things right now. Badly.
QM & Daddy are supposed to be at Busha's house now. I'm not sure if they came in last night or not. Daddy wants to take this rare occasion when he has all 5 of his grandbabies in one place to have their picture made. So QM & I have to consult on wardrobes, dress small folks, and try to get them to smile & look at the camera at the same time.
In preparation, last night both my boys got hair cuts. Wanna' know how cheap I really am? I do it myself at home. We took #1 Son for his first major hair cut (we'd trimmed a bit at home before) and they botched it. My boy has 3 crowns (two at the top of his head & one in front) and a cowlick. I told the stylist about them, showed them to her, and she cut the hair very short around them. His hair stood straight up in the air for 3 weeks. I figured I could butcher it myself at home & save us the $15. QM found me some good hair shears & I began my career as a barber. Personally, I think I'm pretty good at it. I've even trimmed BabyGirl's layers on my own. Husband just buzzes his all off, so that's a no brainer. I'm so ready for Shear Genius.
Which brings me to my latest guilty obsession....I LOVE Shear Genius. In particular I love Daniel. He's so cute & southern & loves him some big hair & he cries & gets all excited about Alison Sweeney & has beautiful, big, uber-white, Chiclet teeth. I just want to go shopping with him!
Then there's Charlie who can seriously do hair, but I'd rather eat glass than spend an hour in a room with him. I so hope he doesn't win, but if his streak continues.....ugh.
At least they sent Oshun home early on. I couldn't have handled 6 weeks of him. Forget hair, personality is enough for me to can someone.
Now if only they could take the winner of ANTM, have her hair styled by the winner of Shear Genius, dressed by the Project Runway winner, and photographed by whoever won that Snapped show (or what ever it was called, I never watched it).
BabyGirl has been telling me her tubes were coming out. I told doc. He looked in her ear & said, "She'd be right." Then he reached in with this long tweezer like thingy & pulled out a minuscule piece of plastic that has changed our lives for the better. He said as long as she stays infection free, it's all good. If not, she'll need a new tube. I'm praying for the former.
When we got home Husband said, "Kork called." Kork has a very common name in real life, but is still the only one I know. He wasn't sure if it was actually Kork or Needlefingers as their names are similar. I said, "What exactly did she say." "This is Kork." OK, Needlefingers would never use that version of her name. When she called back I think we ended up talking for an hour & a half. It was nice! We don't get to talk very often....in fact we've gone years without talking in the past. But we always seem to pick up like no time's passed.
Today I am anxiously awaiting the FedEx driver. There's a diamond in transit to my house. I need sparkly things right now. Badly.
QM & Daddy are supposed to be at Busha's house now. I'm not sure if they came in last night or not. Daddy wants to take this rare occasion when he has all 5 of his grandbabies in one place to have their picture made. So QM & I have to consult on wardrobes, dress small folks, and try to get them to smile & look at the camera at the same time.
In preparation, last night both my boys got hair cuts. Wanna' know how cheap I really am? I do it myself at home. We took #1 Son for his first major hair cut (we'd trimmed a bit at home before) and they botched it. My boy has 3 crowns (two at the top of his head & one in front) and a cowlick. I told the stylist about them, showed them to her, and she cut the hair very short around them. His hair stood straight up in the air for 3 weeks. I figured I could butcher it myself at home & save us the $15. QM found me some good hair shears & I began my career as a barber. Personally, I think I'm pretty good at it. I've even trimmed BabyGirl's layers on my own. Husband just buzzes his all off, so that's a no brainer. I'm so ready for Shear Genius.
Which brings me to my latest guilty obsession....I LOVE Shear Genius. In particular I love Daniel. He's so cute & southern & loves him some big hair & he cries & gets all excited about Alison Sweeney & has beautiful, big, uber-white, Chiclet teeth. I just want to go shopping with him!
Then there's Charlie who can seriously do hair, but I'd rather eat glass than spend an hour in a room with him. I so hope he doesn't win, but if his streak continues.....ugh.
At least they sent Oshun home early on. I couldn't have handled 6 weeks of him. Forget hair, personality is enough for me to can someone.
Now if only they could take the winner of ANTM, have her hair styled by the winner of Shear Genius, dressed by the Project Runway winner, and photographed by whoever won that Snapped show (or what ever it was called, I never watched it).
June 14, 2008
1,000th POST EXTRAVAGANZA!!!!!
IN HONOR OF MY ONE THOUSANDTH POST, I SHALL BLOG ENTIRELY IN CAPITAL LETTERS AND EXCLAMATION POINTS!!!!! OK, so maybe not. That gets irritating really fast.
Instead I shall revel in my new found lack of responsibility....at least for the next 24 hours. You see, I have escaped the farm. I'm lounging in the tiny realm of my mother & doing little to nothing unless I really want to. It's amazing how easy it is to care for one laid back toddler after dealing with 3 over-the-top crazy FarmHands all day every day. This is truly the life.
Add to that three adults in a house with only the one toddler. There are plenty of big people to chase her, play with her, comfort her, feed her, entertain her, and laugh at her. Bitsy is loving it! She's never really been the sole center of attention before.
Call me irresponsible....I'm loving it.
Don't get me wrong. I miss my babies. I've talked to them each twice. They are surviving. Husband bought them Cheetos. Uncle Little BIL is visiting. Their life is good. At lest until bed time...then things are a bit tough since Daddy doesn't know the exact magical incantations that keep little boys glued in their beds. He called last night & I filled him in on the details. He didn't call back in a panic, so I'm assuming they all fell asleep eventually.
So, I'm off to lounge, shop, kiss on my perfect nephew, visit, and play with Art while basking in the love of home.
And best of all, My Daddy's feeling good. His blood sugar is down (130 this morning...not GREAT, but not horrible), his blood pressure is down, and the research has begun. He gives himself a shot every morning and has started watching his food intake closely. Now he's dreaming of a mountain bike. Maybe we'll shop for one of those today too.
Instead I shall revel in my new found lack of responsibility....at least for the next 24 hours. You see, I have escaped the farm. I'm lounging in the tiny realm of my mother & doing little to nothing unless I really want to. It's amazing how easy it is to care for one laid back toddler after dealing with 3 over-the-top crazy FarmHands all day every day. This is truly the life.
Add to that three adults in a house with only the one toddler. There are plenty of big people to chase her, play with her, comfort her, feed her, entertain her, and laugh at her. Bitsy is loving it! She's never really been the sole center of attention before.
Call me irresponsible....I'm loving it.
Don't get me wrong. I miss my babies. I've talked to them each twice. They are surviving. Husband bought them Cheetos. Uncle Little BIL is visiting. Their life is good. At lest until bed time...then things are a bit tough since Daddy doesn't know the exact magical incantations that keep little boys glued in their beds. He called last night & I filled him in on the details. He didn't call back in a panic, so I'm assuming they all fell asleep eventually.
So, I'm off to lounge, shop, kiss on my perfect nephew, visit, and play with Art while basking in the love of home.
And best of all, My Daddy's feeling good. His blood sugar is down (130 this morning...not GREAT, but not horrible), his blood pressure is down, and the research has begun. He gives himself a shot every morning and has started watching his food intake closely. Now he's dreaming of a mountain bike. Maybe we'll shop for one of those today too.
April 29, 2008
FarmWife Answers, episode five
We have to start the day with a very hard question to answer. It's actually a bit horrifying that it's had to be asked. Margo starts us off. How can people just put three one-week-old kittens in a plastic bag, fill it with water and dump in a gutter behind a house?
Reading things like this often makes me wonder if people are inherently evil. While I do not believe that is the case, unfortunately there are thoughtless, cruel, ignorant people everywhere. I understand not wanting extra kittens. I understand the need to dispose of kittens. What I do not understand is the inhumane way this was attempted. There are shelters, there are people who would take them, there are even more humane ways to kill them. This act reeks of cowardice to me. "I don't want them, but I don't want to get my hands dirty."
Fortunately for us all, for every one coward, there is also a Margot fostering these helpless beings. Thank you, my dear, for restoring my faith in humanity. And I hope your sleep deprivation does not get too bad.
My mother seems to want me to work hard for her answers. She asks: What is the Civilian Conservation Corps and what did they do?
To be honest, I'd never heard of the CCC until today. According to Wikipedia, the CCC was formed by Franklin D. Roosevelt as a part of the New Deal legislation in an attempt to combat the Great Depression. The program ran from 1933 to 1942. If a young (18-25 until 1937 when the age limit was expanded to include men 17-28) man's father was registered as Unemployed, the young man could sign up for a 6 month stint with the CCC with an opportunity to re-enlist for up to 2 years. They were fed, clothed, and cared for in camps while earning about a dollar a day ($25 a month was to be sent home to their families). These boys built trails, roads, park buildings, combated soil erosion around water fronts, put in telephone lines, planted trees, kept bees, built furniture, built logging roads, and many other labor tasks that are still being used today.
They were kept in military like conditions, with the threat of dishonorable discharge being the main form of discipline. But there were no riots & few deserters (1-2%). When the nation turned to the war effort after Pearl Harbor, the CCC was not officially disbanded. The funding stopped in 1942 & that in turn ended it's tenure.
The Queen Mother also asks: Did the cat really play the fiddle?
But if I really had to choose, I think I'd pick Audrey Hepburn. She did everything with a decided grace & elegance. She was quirky, funny, sophisticated, and always classy. She wasn't the typical busty blond bombshell that was popular in her time & still she captured everyone's hearts.
This one took me a while to figure out too. You have to click on the Edit Html button on your post page. On either side of the word you want to strike out, you type (less than) strike (greater than) Insert Word of Choice (less than) /strike (greater than) and that should do it. This also works for underlining text. Just replace the word strike with the letter 'u'. Good luck!
Jeannie all the way! Barbra Eden was way cuter, got to wear pink harem pants, and didn't have to be able to wiggle her nose (never could do that)! Besides, I always wanted to see inside that bottle!
Here's praying there's a good looking, dependable, Schwinn waiting out there for you my bestest of friends.
Reading things like this often makes me wonder if people are inherently evil. While I do not believe that is the case, unfortunately there are thoughtless, cruel, ignorant people everywhere. I understand not wanting extra kittens. I understand the need to dispose of kittens. What I do not understand is the inhumane way this was attempted. There are shelters, there are people who would take them, there are even more humane ways to kill them. This act reeks of cowardice to me. "I don't want them, but I don't want to get my hands dirty."
Fortunately for us all, for every one coward, there is also a Margot fostering these helpless beings. Thank you, my dear, for restoring my faith in humanity. And I hope your sleep deprivation does not get too bad.
My mother seems to want me to work hard for her answers. She asks: What is the Civilian Conservation Corps and what did they do?
To be honest, I'd never heard of the CCC until today. According to Wikipedia, the CCC was formed by Franklin D. Roosevelt as a part of the New Deal legislation in an attempt to combat the Great Depression. The program ran from 1933 to 1942. If a young (18-25 until 1937 when the age limit was expanded to include men 17-28) man's father was registered as Unemployed, the young man could sign up for a 6 month stint with the CCC with an opportunity to re-enlist for up to 2 years. They were fed, clothed, and cared for in camps while earning about a dollar a day ($25 a month was to be sent home to their families). These boys built trails, roads, park buildings, combated soil erosion around water fronts, put in telephone lines, planted trees, kept bees, built furniture, built logging roads, and many other labor tasks that are still being used today.
They were kept in military like conditions, with the threat of dishonorable discharge being the main form of discipline. But there were no riots & few deserters (1-2%). When the nation turned to the war effort after Pearl Harbor, the CCC was not officially disbanded. The funding stopped in 1942 & that in turn ended it's tenure.
The Queen Mother also asks: Did the cat really play the fiddle?
The rhyme never says the cat played the fiddle. It just says the cat and the fiddle. The images & 
illustrations we always see show the cat playing the fiddle. One site I found says the rhyme was about Queen Elizabeth the first. She liked to dance to a fiddle & toyed with her ministers as a cat toys with a mouse.
But if you could teach a cat to play the fiddle, I bet you could make the rounds of talk shows & make a pretty penny.
Under the heading of Fashion Rules, QM queries: Why don't polka dots and plaids go together?
According to Stacy London & Clinton Kelly of TLC's What Not to Wear, all prints can go together. The trick is picking a similar color pallet & print size (you should also pick a print size that is in proportion to your body...if you're petite, don't go with large flowers. If you're tall, skip the Swiss dots). I've seen them pair a floral with a stripe, and a polka-dot with a paisley. If Stacey & Clinton say it, it's so.
And finally she asks: If you were a Hollywood star of old which one would you be?
Oh, this is a tough one. While I loved Vivien Leigh, her sordid personal life left much to be desired. But to get to be Scarlett....
But if I really had to choose, I think I'd pick Audrey Hepburn. She did everything with a decided grace & elegance. She was quirky, funny, sophisticated, and always classy. She wasn't the typical busty blond bombshell that was popular in her time & still she captured everyone's hearts.Samantha's question is a bit more technical. She wants to know: How do you strike out (cross out) your text?
This one took me a while to figure out too. You have to click on the Edit Html button on your post page. On either side of the word you want to strike out, you type (less than) strike (greater than) Insert Word of Choice (less than) /strike (greater than) and that should do it. This also works for underlining text. Just replace the word strike with the letter 'u'. Good luck!
Ang aks: Who would you rather be Samantha from Bewitched or Jeanie from I Dream of Jeanie?
Jeannie all the way! Barbra Eden was way cuter, got to wear pink harem pants, and didn't have to be able to wiggle her nose (never could do that)! Besides, I always wanted to see inside that bottle!
And: Who would you rather be from the Archie Gang Betty or Veronica?
Betty! Veronica was rich (that'd be nice), but kind of evil. I think I'm more of the girl next door type. Besides, I think deep down, Archie liked Betty best. But could I get Veronica's car? Please?
Ang finishes up with: What is the present animal count at the farm?
Winter has not been good to the FarmFamily critters. We are down quite a few. Current count stands at:
6 dogs (Luke, Aurora, Bonpas- Great Danes, Lilly May- Wirehaired Fox Terrier, Andrew- Mini-dauschund, Chrystal- mutt)
1 horse
5 head of cattle (One cow-Tinkerbell, one calf- Cinderella, two heifers- Ella Enchanted & Wendy, one bull- Eric)
19 nameless rabbits
One duck- Lucy
One goat- Fiona
6 cats (Lightning McQueen, Rose, Baby, Jasmine, Greenie, and one nameless tom cat)
Husband is wanting to cut back on the Critter Count around here. I think that means he has to stop bringing them home....
Kork revisits one from last week & adds a twist: Why does it seem that the "bad things in threes" all cluster together? Not just 3 things in a row, but 3 sets of 3?
Again I have to blame El Nino as I have no other explanation. All I can do is pray a fair wind blows your way soon.
Art asks the question every woman asks at some point: What's the deal with men? Do you think the problem could be with me?
While I secretly fear my best friend may indeed have some kind of internal freak magnet (seriously, you should meet some of her past loves), I think the real issue is that boys are stupid & should have rocks thrown at them. This is a lesson I tried in vain to teach Princess, but I've found most of us are fish who really want to ride bicycles.
Here's praying there's a good looking, dependable, Schwinn waiting out there for you my bestest of friends.BTW, Art, Bobafette i.m.'ed me today.
April 24, 2008
Mama said there'd be days like this
While nothing exceptional has happened today, I feel the nearly overwhelming desire to go back to bed & stay there until Saturday. Could that be why when the baby was napping & the boys watching Nick Jr & then Spongebob (Please, do not lecture me) I crashed out on the couch for nearly 2 1/2 hours? Before you get all excited for me, my nap was interrupted no less than 10 times....fighting, inappropriate programming needing changed (much to the boys' chagrin...but I cannot deal with Fairly Odd Parents), 2 quarts of iced tea nearly dumped on me (B.B. does not get the, "If you want a drink, ASK ME, I'll get it" thing), dog whining to go out, & very strange dreams about napping on the couch & having strange dreams. When I fully woke up, Husband was at work, #1 Son still watching cartoons, and B.B. had gone to bed for his own nap!!
Since his nap ended, B.B. has spent most of his time crying about something. I have mixed emotions about that boy & naps. On one hand, he can get very cranky & seemingly need one. But once he's awake, he's not always happier than when he laid down. And come bed time, he's on his second wind & will not turn in before 9:30. I do not like that.
I am still in my pj's (it's 4:30 in the afternoon). Don't judge me. Hot Mama Revolution be damned today.
I have a ginormous pile of dishes awaiting my attention. For some reason I have no problem getting the general table ware done, but the pots & pans loom over me like a food encrusted Mt.Everest. I have to get them done today or there will be no cooking tomorrow. Ugh. And I have to thaw out a rabbit so we can have chicken-pot-pie tomorrow (yes, you read that right. I just can't bring myself to call it Rabbit-pot-pie).
Just so you don't think I'm a complete slacker in all things domestic, in the past 24 hours I've:
Rain is coming. Maybe it will wash away my blahs. Most likely it will just make my yard a muddy swamp just in time for the weekend.
Saturday we're going on the great shoe hunt. Husband needs new sneakers. BabyGirl needs new Crocs (the purple Mary Janes QM gave her for her b-day last year have been worn to pieces). This means the boys will probably also get new sandals. I will try on high heels while balancing Bitsy on my hip & wish I had some where to wear them. I will look at little girl shoes & wish BabyGirl would wear them & Bitsy's feet would grow enough to wear them (she can still wear 0-3 month Old Navy sneakers...she'll be 10 months on Saturday).
Until then, my house has been over run by wolves & little pigs. Oh the noise, noise, noise, noise.....
Since his nap ended, B.B. has spent most of his time crying about something. I have mixed emotions about that boy & naps. On one hand, he can get very cranky & seemingly need one. But once he's awake, he's not always happier than when he laid down. And come bed time, he's on his second wind & will not turn in before 9:30. I do not like that.
I am still in my pj's (it's 4:30 in the afternoon). Don't judge me. Hot Mama Revolution be damned today.
I have a ginormous pile of dishes awaiting my attention. For some reason I have no problem getting the general table ware done, but the pots & pans loom over me like a food encrusted Mt.Everest. I have to get them done today or there will be no cooking tomorrow. Ugh. And I have to thaw out a rabbit so we can have chicken-pot-pie tomorrow (yes, you read that right. I just can't bring myself to call it Rabbit-pot-pie).
Just so you don't think I'm a complete slacker in all things domestic, in the past 24 hours I've:
- vacuumed the entire house with my new vacuum (I thought I'd found a fatal flaw in it's design, but it turned out to be operator error...you must be smarter than your vacuum). It is still picking up copious amounts of dust but this time I only had to dump the dirt cup twice. I tried Kork's 7 swipes over the same spot thing...hence the dust. If I follow her formula for vacuuming one day a week for each person/pet in your home, I'd need an extra day added to the week.
- picked up all the stray toys (and that is a monumental task around here)
- supervised the boys room cleaning (that is, I spent 2 hours telling them to clean their rooms & eventually stood over them & directed every movement of their little hands while they cried, "If you just leave, we'll clean up!" Fat chance, fellas.)
- made more violet jelly (see yesterday's picture)
- changed #1 Son's bandage (this shouldn't be such a task, but it was)
- washed, folded, and put away all but one load of laundry
- scrubbed both bathrooms
- unloaded & re-loaded the dishwasher
- added about 50 books to my Shelfari shelf (OK, so that wasn't exactly a chore)
- taped (last night) & watched (this morning) UFC with Husband (yes, that is a chore)
- went walking
- made pancakes for breakfast today
- made husband's nasty potato soup for lunch
- hung up on 2-3 telemarketers (I'm not rude, I simply hang up. I'm on the no call list for a reason. We do not give money to charity over the phone, I do not discuss my credit cards over the phone, and if the "Fraternal order of police" call me one more time, I'm calling the actual police).
- wrestled BabyGirl into her clothing & sent her to school in full melt-down (see yesterday's post...."It's not fair...").
- Argued with her for 2 hours over bed time last night. I guess she got up on the wrong side of the bed & went back to bed the same way.
Rain is coming. Maybe it will wash away my blahs. Most likely it will just make my yard a muddy swamp just in time for the weekend.
Saturday we're going on the great shoe hunt. Husband needs new sneakers. BabyGirl needs new Crocs (the purple Mary Janes QM gave her for her b-day last year have been worn to pieces). This means the boys will probably also get new sandals. I will try on high heels while balancing Bitsy on my hip & wish I had some where to wear them. I will look at little girl shoes & wish BabyGirl would wear them & Bitsy's feet would grow enough to wear them (she can still wear 0-3 month Old Navy sneakers...she'll be 10 months on Saturday).
Until then, my house has been over run by wolves & little pigs. Oh the noise, noise, noise, noise.....
April 16, 2008
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