I think I can, I think I can....well, maybe not.

When I quit my job to stay home & raise BabyGirl, Husband and I decided I'd be a stay-at-home mom until our last child was in school full time. That's what his mom did & it worked well for their family. My mom worked (outside the home) occasionally when I was growing up, but never for extended periods of time. I really had no problems with our arrangement.

When Bitsy was registered for Pre-K, a mad gleam flared up in my husband's eye. He was thinking of my employment when she started kindergarten & the extra income it would generate. His only real goal is that I be able to make the payments on my van each month. I think that's reasonable....but there are certain issues.

First of all, in case you haven't heard, we have four children. None of them is old enough to be left home alone & the one who will soon be is not to be trusted being left in charge of her siblings. That means there must always be an adult in the house when children are not in school (i.e. summer vacation, Christmas vacation, weekends, Columbus day, Teachers Institute, sick days, etc.). Since Husband must leave for work at 2 o'clock or so each afternoon, that means I must be home by 2 o'clock whether the children are here or not.

Secondly, I'm not qualified to do much. I could babysit, but I doubt Husband wants more kids in the house while he's trying to sleep during the brief time ours are in school. I could work in a restaurant. I did that for more than a year & didn't mind the work (the boss on the other hand is a story all his own). But around here the only options are fast food places. Minimum wage isn't incentive to drive 40 or more miles a day. Elder care would work for me, but Husband isn't comfortable with me being in other people's homes.

So when I seriously began considering a career, the school seemed a good compromise. Husband suggested lunch lady, but the ones there are fixtures & not likely to retire anytime soon. I thought more along the lines of teacher's aid. When I looked into the requirements I was pleasantly surprised. Illinois requires all teacher's aides to have 30 college credit hours or a para-professional educator certificate.

I talked to A Starry Night about the possibility of me going to school for my certificate. She told me that considering we're a 6 person family living on one income, chances are really good that I could go to school for little to no out of pocket for us. But first I wanted to see how close I was to the 30 necessary credit hours before signing up for a year long program.

My transcripts came in the mail this week. Anyone want to take a wild guess at how many hours I have? Anyone? 29. Yup. Twenty-nine hours. And since I never finished a degree & it's been 16 years since I left school, my credits probably won't transfer. To be honest, if I were the one deciding & I saw the grades attached to those credit hours I'd make myself start over from scratch, too.

You see, I am not a scholar. Sure, I love to read.....what I want to read. I like writing....what I feel like writing when I feel like writing it. Studying- not so much. Attending classes- not so much. Being generally responsible- not so much. I was really bad at college the first time around & I'm not so sure I'd be any better at it a second time. But at this point, it may be my only option.

Yes, I'm 16 years older than I was when I decided not to go to school but not to bother dropping out. Yes, I'm a mother of four & I know I cannot slack off on my work. Yes, I know this would make our lives a bit easier. All that being said, I'm really not sure I'm cut out for school.

So, do I pull up my big girl panties & deal with it, or do I mope about crying that I hate homework & I am NOT smarter than a 5th grader? Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion.

Nurture or Nature: The Great Debate

(First of all, I must apologize for the total lack of paragraph breaks in this & the previous posts. Blogger is eating them. I promise, I do have some minor grasp of paragraph structure.) After reading my last post, my father called me to lodge an official complaint. "I refuse to take responsibility for Bitsy acting just like her mother!" So I promised to tell the real story of our trip to The Hotel. ***This was Bitsy's first stay at a hotel. She was over the moon excited about it because I mentioned the words "swimming" and "pool." Past that, she couldn't have cared less about the trip. At one point she wasn't even sure she was going to grace us with her presence. The thrill of getting to ride in H.T.'s car seat in Grammy's HHR combined with the promise of a swim was what won her over in the end. Forget the fact that we were going to visit her great-grandparents or that there was going to be a special church service honoring her great-grandpa's years of service as an elder. This trip was all about the hotel. ***Upon our return to the hotel the first night we were met at the pool by a horde of 12 year old boys in town for a national wrestling competition. If you've never been in a 30 foot by 15 foot swimming pool with 45 pre-teen boys, you haven't lived. I nearly fainted from all the testosterone in the water. But it didn't phase Bitsy. She was going to swim. And suddenly her Pa was her favorite person in the world. ***I was a bit relieved. You see, the two had spent the past 8 hours arguing over her name. About a year ago, Bitsy officially changed her name to "Bitsy Bee Coconut Middlename FarmHand." About a month ago, her Pa added to it making it "Bitsy Bee Coconut Middlename Bubblegum Applebee FarmHand." She's not too happy with his additions. I was pretty sure she was going to wash her hands of him entirely. ***At Montana Mike's Saturday night, she got rather vocal with him about what her name really is. Between her grandfather's pestering and the fact that her grilled cheese wasn't ready within seconds of us ordering, she was a bit put out. ***Sunday morning, she decided to sleep in. Not surprising after her big day of travel, arguments, elevator riding and swimming...but also not really possible since we had to be at church well before 9 am. Pa knocked on the door shortly after seven to see if we were ready for breakfast. He sat on the edge of the bed & said, "Bitsy, wake up. Do you want to go downstairs with me and get a waffle?" Bitsy promptly popped up, put on her socks, and headed to the elevator with her Pa.*** At breakfast, she got very quiet. When I asked what was wrong, she started crying and choked out, "Me miss my daddy." Poor thing. ***When we headed back up to our room, she started jabbering away. "Me was sleepin' and Pa comed in and waked me up. Me was sleepin' and me was going to dream to my daddy when Pa comed in and waked me up. Him said, 'You want to come eat breakfast?' and me was going to dream to my daddy and Pa ruined my dream!" In the car on the way to church, she chewed him out for ruining her dream. ***Church was rather trying for her. Bitsy doesn't talk to strangers. Heck, Bitsy rarely talks to people she knows. At home she's a chatter box, but in mixed company, she's silent at the grave. Now here she was, surrounded by people who'd known me since I was an infant and they all wanted to talk to Mini-FarmWife. Bitsy was having no part of it. She started holes through most of the congregation. ***At lunch with the family, Pa continually stole Bitsy's chicken leg off her plate. She had been very worried that she wouldn't get a chicken leg, and that man wouldn't leave it alone. Add to that being talked to by her aunts and uncles, and I think Bitsy was nearly at the end of her rope. ***Before the evening service, we went back to the hotel to rest a bit and get dressed. Pa told Bitsy, "I was going to dream about Grammy and you woke me up." Her head snapped around and she said, "You waked me up when me was gonna' dream to my daddy and you ruined my dream. Dat's why me waked you up and ruined your dream." She didn't notice he wasn't sleeping. ***In the car on the way back to church, Bitsy asked where we were going. When Pa told her she said, "To church again?" Yes. "Two times?" Yes. "In a row?!" It was practically torture. But in the end she was rewarded with a piece of cake at the reception afterwards and another, much less crowded, swim at the hotel. ***By Monday morning she began referring to home as "my old house," and trying to convince me she wanted to stay at the hotel forever....until someone mentioned her daddy. ***Oh, and I forgot to mention the constant back & forth she and her Pa had over money. Every time we'd get somewhere (hotel, restaurant, store) he'd turn to her and ask, "How much money do you have?" To which she'd roll her eyes and sigh before saying, "Me don't have money, Pa. You hava' pay." After all, what are Pa's for? ***So, now it's up to you to decide. Is Bitsy's new found attitude a result of genetics (my fault, me being the snarky Prima Donna I am) or of the endless pestering by her grandfather over the weekend (Pa's fault by way of irritating and aggravating her)? You may settle this debate.

This is what the Internet will do to you if left unattended.

On the radio this morning I heard an interview with Erica Jong, an author & feminist currently in the press for her article in the WSJ. In her article she claims that attachment parenting can be detrimental to society and parents both. I can't disagree with everything in her article even though I like the idea of attachment parenting. I think it's a societal problem more than a problem with a certain philosophy of parenting.



As parents (most especially as mothers) we fall into the trap of thinking there is only one right way to parent our children. We must breast feed. We must be SAHMs. We must wear our babies in a sling and co-sleep until they start third grade. And if anyone argues with us or chooses to raise their child in a vastly different way, we get very upset. We take it as a personal affront to our method of parenting.



One thing I have learned having four children in 6 years is that each child is different. Each parent is different. No one way is the right way to raise a child. Husband and I each have very different styles of parenting. Each of our children must be parented in a vastly different way. I think most rational people would agree with this idea and yet we tear into each other like vultures at the first sign of dissension.




Why is this? Is it guilt? Are we so insecure in our own choices that if someone disagrees with how we parent that we immediately tear them down?




While reading Ms. Jong's article I stumbled upon the phrase Baby Farming. I had an idea of what was meant by it, but I wasn't sure. Wikipedia filled me in on the details. Baby Farming was a late Victorian Era practice where upper class women or unmarried mothers would send their babies out to be raised by someone else for a fee. Unfortunately the amount of money given the foster mothers was often too little to actually raise a child on. The babies of unwed mothers were often sold or given away. In some cases, the babies were left to die with no one the wiser while the foster mothers collected more babies and more money.



As I was looking up information on Baby Farming, I came across something called an Uncyclopedia and this article (you click, I'll wait here.........done? OK, on with the blog). Yeah, that's right. An entire Wikipedia-esque article about the farming of infants as a food source. Forget veal, this is baby eating. Oy. Someone out there has entirely too much time on their hands....



And you thought all my Jane Austen Zombie posts were bad. Admit it, you had no clue where this one was going.

To shod or not to shod. That is the question.

So I had this brilliant & witty idea for a blog post this morning while taking the FarmHands to school...and then I sneezed. Now I have no idea what my name is.

Instead I have a question for you all: What is your stance on shoes in the house? Do you wear them? Do you allow them? Do you encourage them? What about house shoes?

I refer to Husband as the Shoe Nazi. He cannot abide the kids wearing shoes in the house. Occasionally he loosens up for company, but if you're going to be here any length of time & you're under the age of 75 you'd better have bare feet.

Me, I'm not as picky about it. If your shoes aren't covered in mud or animal feces, you're good to go. I, personally, am nearly always shoeless. I don't like to wear shoes if I don't have to. In the winter I will rock a pair of house slippers because I'm prone to cold feet, but they get packed away about mid-April not to see the light of day until the first good frost in October.

I know it has a great deal to do with how we were raised. QM didn't want us wearing shoes in the house when we first moved to TN because the carpet (and house) was brand new. After a few years she gave up that battle & hasn't picked it up since.

MIL on the other hand is adamant about her shoesless policy (among other things). In part because she's a bit of a germaphobe & in part because they have cattle & no one wants to scrub manure off their carpets.

So, what's your shoe policy?

Lovely weather & a slight conundrum

The picture is Bitsy comforting our cat Sydney after B.B. tried to rake Syd up with a pile of leaves. Poor Syd.

I am loving this weather. Sunny, mid 70's, light breeze...I could really get used to this. We've spent a good deal of time outside since Saturday when the upswing started. Bitsy has discovered the animals. We spend a good deal of time watching the "Baa-baa's" and chasing kitties. Husband has been clearing out areas of the woods so someday we can have a circle drive (very exciting, I know). I have cleared all the leaves from the past 2 years out of my front flower beds. Plans are being made to dig up & move plants that need much more sun than they're currently getting on the north side of my house. I'm trying to talk Husband into building an outdoor play pen for Bitsy so I can garden without the fear of losing her in the woods.

The time of Popsicles is nearly upon us.

OK, I'm considering something & I want your input on it. I've been looking at my blog header lately & I think it needs updating. We have new boots. We have cuter boots. By "We" I mean the FarmHands. Husband & I still have the same old ugly but practical boots. Bitsy has black patent leather combat boots.

So here's the deal, I took a few new pictures this week & this one was my favorite...

Which do you like better? The old one, or this new one? Should I leave well enough alone or update? Or there's this one?

That's three options. Maybe I'll put up a poll so even those who don't normally comment can vote on this one.

The on going saga

As of last night, Husband still has a job. I'm praying it stays that way. The odd thing is, the HR director told some of the people being laid off that she was in the process of looking through applications for new hires when she got word down the wire that lay offs were to happen. No one knows what's going on.

GM goes before Congress today. Things do not look good. This worries me as my father is an employee & my grandfather is a retiree. If things go South for GM, there is the possibility that they'll go South for my family.

That leaves me with a question. Why is "going South" a bad thing? I like the South. I'd like to go South. Two of my favorite parts of the South are coming North to visit me in March...Art & Did!! I should really clean my house before they get here.

I am totally stoked. I just checked my Netflix Que & High School Musical 3 on Blu-ray should be at my house tomorrow. I know, I'm a huge dork. Can't help it! BabyGirl & I will have a rockin' good time tomorrow night. Then I'll tuck her in & watch NCIS until I can't keep my eyes open. What am I going to do when I finish season 4?! I've already seen all of season 5 & season 6 is going on right now...in the middle of bedtime so I never get to see it. Oy.

OK, I have a dilemma of sorts. I need new sneakers...you know, tennis shoes, walking shoes, jogging shoes, call them what you will. I have always been a Wal-Mart brand kind of girl. 2 years ago I bought a pair of Danskins shoes that I loved....but they do not offer decent support. In fact, my feet roll in so badly when I wear them, that I worry about my ankles & back.

Husband likes Nikes. I think I've owned 2 pairs of Nikes in my life. I had some Sketchers once. Wore them to pieces. I know nothing about shoes except that I don't want to spend my kids college fund on them (yes, that's laughter you hear....they don't have a college fund). Any advice? Any word on shoes? Anyone?

Maybe I'll skip the sneakers & go for these instead:

I mean really, who doesn't need Patchwork d'Orsays by Monolo Blahnik? They're only $825.00. No? How about these:

Orange Patent d'Orsays for $665.00. That's a bargain!

OK, so you're not into the orange theme. Here's another you might like:

Purple Snake Sandals for $885.00. I would so rule the PTA in these.

One last shoe for your drooling viewing pleasure:

Slingback Snakeskin Pump only $865!

I could have a real shoe problem if only I had the money...and a paved driveway (heels+gravel=not good). Call me Carrie Bradshaw.

Christmas decor as a form of torture.

This is Buster. He's technically a breeze blocker...you know, the things you lay down in front of the door to keep the cold drafts from freezing your feet in the winter? But at our house, he lives on the mantle at Christmas time. Buster is the bane of Bitsy's existence. She stands beneath him on the hearth & cries, "Baby! Baby!" Then looks pleadingly at me & moans, "Baby....baaaaaaaa-beeeeee?" His feet dangle just a few inches out of her reach. I'm waiting for her to construct something to climb to get to him.

When not crying for Buster, she's coveting a Precious Moment's ornament ball hanging just out of reach. She brought it to me 5 times yesterday. "Ball? Ball." I'd take it away, tell her no & hang it back up. She'd go get it again. Eventually I hung it out of reach. Then she stood crying at the tree, "Baaaaal! Baaaaaaal." Last year she was intrigued by the lights on the tree. This year I worry that she's determined to climb it.

I'm feeling a tad industrious today. I've kept most of the dishes clean. I baked the gingerbread cookies I didn't get to yesterday. One more batch of Chex Mix went in the oven & is being slowly devoured. I think I'm carbo-loading. The kids & I made foam ornaments yesterday to use as gift tags on the teacher presents we're sending to school. I've folded 4 loads of laundry & washed 3 more. The kids cleaned their rooms. It will be nice going into Monday without feeling overwhelmed at the amount of work to be done.

If you have yet to chime in on Santa's roll in your house, please read the post below & comment. There are a lot of interesting things being said & done in regards to the bearded one.

I should also clarify that my children live under strict orders that they are not to disillusion other children. I know the debate has come up at school a time or two so I told them it's up to each kid's mom & dad to tell them about Santa when they think it's time. And B.B. is stoked about Santa coming to our house....which is odd because he was terrified of him at school this week.

The Man, The Myth, My Question

We just finished putting up the Christmas tree. It took twice as long as it usually does because this year I let the FarmHands hand most of the ornaments. I am very protective of my ornaments. I have some from when I was little, some that were wedding gifts, lots & lots that QM have given us over the years. I can tell you the story behind each & every ornament. I honestly don't know what I would do if I was in my friend's shoes & had all my memories tossed out for a pool table.

Normally I only let them hang a few soft ornaments & I supervise that obsessively. This year I decided I needed to let go quite a bit & I let them hang about 75% of the ornaments. So the front, right, bottom of my tree has been very well decorated....the rest...well, not as much.

The kids are eating their first candy canes (they were amazed when I had them hang an entire box of them on the tree). I'm beat but still want to roll out the gingerbread dough before the day is over.

In the spirit of the holiday, I'm going to open up a debate of sorts. I want to know if your children believe in Santa Clause. Did you tell them he's real or did they pick it up on their own? Do you plan on telling them otherwise or allowing them to find out on their own? I want everyone to know that I believe this is a personal decision that I have no problem either way. I promise not to judge you how ever you answer. If you'd like to blog about it, please leave me a comment so I will be sure to read it.

Long before I ever had kids a friend of mine (who had 4 of her own) told me why she made the decision to tell her kids Santa was make believe from the very beginning. She said she didn't want her children to believe in Santa, the Easter Bunny, or the Tooth Fairy because eventually they'd learn the truth & that might make them question whether or not she was lying about God as well. That really struck a cord with me. I decided then & there that's how I would handle it as well.

I also have issues with being lied to. It always deeply shocks me when I find out someone lied to me even when I know that person has a history of being less than honest. I have tried to be as truthful as possible with my kids (while still keeping things age appropriate....i.e. when BabyGirl asked how Bitsy got in my belly I told her God took a little piece of me & a little piece of Daddy & made a baby to grow inside of me. She wasn't old enough for "the talk" but need her question answered. She does know exactly how the baby gets out). I would hate to have them question my truthfulness later in life because they found out Santa doesn't really slide down our chimney every year.

That being said, my kids still go see Santa at school and the Community Christmas Dinner every year. They still send him letters (emails now). BabyGirl sprinkled Reindeer dust in the yard one year (oatmeal with glitter mixed in). They still come screaming, "Santa was here! Santa was here!" into the living room on Christmas morning. I like to say it's all of the magic but none of the myth. I'm pretty sure that's how QM & Daddy worked things with Bubba, Princess, and me when we were kids. I remember setting out the plate of cookies but never really thinking a fat guy in need of a shave was coming to break in.

I know our way isn't right for everyone. So I want to know what your family does & why.

So...do you? (TMI & a Meme)

Frank Warren is the man behind the Post Secret web site. I saw him interviewed about a year ago & he said the most common secret he receives in the mail, hands down, is, "I pee in the shower." I thought it was hysterical.

My husband cannot abide this practice. When we were first married he told me the one rule he gave his older brother when Big BIL moved in with him. No peeing in the shower. Ever. I didn't think much of it except that he was so adamant about it.

A few months ago this discussion came up at some social event comprised mainly of his family. Why we were talking about peeing in the shower is beyond me, but Big BIL made a comment about Husband's rule. A cousin was gobsmacked. "But everybody pees in the shower! That's so weird." I laughed & Husband's head snapped around & looked at me. "You don't, do you?!" I said it didn't really matter since I only shower in the master bath & he only showers in the kids' bathroom...but then I admitted to doing it when absolutely necessary...like when I'm 9 months pregnant & my bladder is doing weird things or shortly after my c-sections when I couldn't tell when I had to pee until it was nearly too late. It's not a regular practice.

But it did get me thinking. Is my husband really odd in his thinking? Am I a total freak for my feelings on it? SO, I'm putting a poll in my side bar. I really don't expect you to comment on this & reveal your shower peeing preferences in public, but clicking the poll is completely anonymous. Please, click for me!

For those of you unconcerned with my peeing habits, I've borrowed a meme from Lori.

1. Where is your cell phone? In the junk drawer in the kitchen
2. Where is your significant other? Still asleep
3. Your hair color? Brown
4. Your mother? The Queen Mother (all hail the Queen Mother) lives entirely too far away from me.
5. Your father? Will still be my "Daddy" even when I'm 80.
6. Your favorite thing? Movies...at least today.
7. Your dream last night? Oddly enough, I can't remember
8. Your dream/goal? I think I might like to own my own business someday. When the kids are older.
9. The room you are in? The wigga room as my kids call it (that's baby talk for living room & they've all called it that at some point)
10. Your hobby? Blogging!
11. Your fear? Snow & Ice
12. Where do you want to be in six years? A more active member of our community (again, the kids will be older)
13. Where were you last night? Parent teacher conference, Bucka & Busha's, and Uncle E's house 14. What you're not? Disciplined
15. One of your wish list items? An apple green Kitchen Aid Mixer
16. Where you grew up? Central Illinois & Middle Tennessee
17. The last thing you did? Put a band-aid on B.B.'s toe & wiped Bitsy's nose.
18. What are you wearing? Old blue flannel jammies.
19. Your T.V.? Old-style (not flat) 19 inch RCA. And it's the only one we have.
20. Your pet? Lilly May, Andrew, Bonpas, Aurora, Luke (all dogs), about 12 cats, 3 sheep, 2 goats, a duck named Lucy that won't quit pooping on my steps, one cow, one horse, and a few rabbits running loose in the yard.
21. Your computer? eMachines T3604 Desktop from QM & Daddy
22. Your mood? Apathetic
23. Missing someone? My nephew HT....oh, and his mom too, I guess. :)
24. Your car? Mammy my 2004 Black Cherry Chevy Astro
25. Something you're not wearing? a Sombrero
26. Favorite store? Target (how I wish we had one near)
27. Your Summer? Was too long ago.
28. Love someone? Yes...lots of someones in all shapes & sizes
29. Your favorite color? Green, Blue, Purple
30. When is the last time you laughed? Last night at Uncle E's house talking to Uncle E, Aunt C, Aunt CB, Breezie, 'Livi, and NM.
31. Last time you cried? Does teary count? I almost cried yesterday while listening to the country station.

Bee Bee Bumble Bee, I see something you don't see...

We've become very fond of this game. It saves us on long car rides, waits in line, boring afternoons with nothing to do, visiting in places we have to sit still & be quiet....Husband taught it to the FarmHands & until today I guess I never realized he plays it wrong.

He plays everything wrong. The first time we played Monopoly (shortly before/after we were married), I was setting up the board & he began dealing out the money & all the properties. When I asked him what he was doing he said, "This is how you play Monopoly." Huh? Ten of each denomination of bills and all the properties divided up between the players. I called him on it & he was shocked. Apparently his family has their own set of rules for most games. I've had to re-teach him how to play most board games.

I started B.B. Bumble Bee while I was sitting on the picnic table & the FarmHands were playing in the sand box & on the swing set. "Bee Bee Bumble Bee, I see something you don't see & the color is Orange!" Everyone started guessing & eventually someone said, "B.B.'s pants." I said yes, and Husband said, "That's not right! You have to say all the colors!" B.B. was wearing orange, tan, and blue pants covered in dinosaurs that imitated camouflage. I told him you only have to say one color otherwise it's not exactly a guessing game. He thought I was crazy, but played that way & it was much tougher than the normal games.

But I think B.B.'s got a better idea entirely. "Bee Bee Bumble Bee I see somefin' you don't see & da color is Mommy's shirt!"

BabyGirl guessed, "My underpants!" no matter what the color was. It wasn't funny the 173rd time she screamed it.

The War of the Windows

It's hot. It's about time. Husband thinks I'm crazy, but I know around the first of May it starts getting hot around here. I spend most of the month of May fighting my urge to kick on the AC. I'm morally opposed to AC before June (OK, so not really....I just like the lower electric bill that comes with no AC). Last year I gave up early. I was VERY pregnant with Bitsy & flat tired of laying in the recliner sweating. This year it's been a total non-issue.

Last night the window wars started. Most families have thermostat wars. Not us. Well, we do occasionally...like when it's 50 outside & I want to kick on the heat long enough to take the chill out of the air & Husband's yelling something about it being 70 during the day....blah, blah, blah. But those wars are few & infrequent. The real battles rages over windows.

When we got married, it was November. There was no need to open windows. The heat was running & we were blissfully in love. By Spring we were still blissful, but it was getting warm. One day I went to open the windows & discovered I couldn't. When I asked FarmBoy about it, he said, "Oh, they're painted shut." OK, how long have they been painted shut? "Oh, probably 3 or 4 years." You mean this house hasn't been opened up in 3 to 4 years?!?! No wonder.....end of bliss.

I was cleaning up my pile of stuff in one of the spare rooms (Yeah, LONG before kids) & my allergies when haywire. The dust was horrible & I needed to open a window & let in some fresh air. No doing. I finally talked a reluctant FarmBoy into grudgingly cutting through the paint. In the end we could open all but one window (no screen).

That summer we got new windows & I had them all open all the time (I miss those windows). Husband finally saw the wisdom in opening windows as opposed to going straight from heat to AC. We were blissfully happy once again....for a while.

Our problem arises with the setting of the sun. Once it's dark, Husband closes windows. All of them. Doesn't matter that it's 80 degrees in the house. It makes me crazy. I follow along behind him opening them back up. It's a vicious cycle. Last night I was arguing with BabyGirl about going to bed (she was too hot to sleep...grant it, this is the child who'd be "too hot" to sleep if it was 43 in her room at night). I opened her window & put up the fan. When I went back in the living room, Husband had closed the atrium door. The only thing keeping the cross breeze flowing beautifully through our living room.

The baby was sweating. I was sweating. I went in the bedroom to get her a onesie to sleep in, only to find he'd closed our bedroom window too! I opened them all back up & they stayed that way until after I went to bed. I wouldn't be surprised to discover he was grumbling in his head at me...I know I was at him. When he came in to go to bed, he shut the window. By that time I was fast asleep, so I didn't much care. He doesn't like to sleep with windows open. If the dogs are quiet, it doesn't bother me at all. I like listening to the birds & frogs & such...maybe that's how JG (Inkling & my cousin) got to be an expert on all things frogs & birds.

But I digress...This morning when I got up it was already 85 outside. The windows are all open (except in the bedroom where he's still sleeping). The war will last until we finally cave in & turn on the AC. Then the bliss can return once again.

The funny thing is, one day his mom & SIL were talking about running their furnaces in the morning & their AC in the afternoon when Husband chimed in, "Why don't you open your windows? That's just dumb." Until I came along, he did the same thing. Maybe that's why he has window issues...he was raised with them. Don't even get me started on opening curtains (I don't think he ever did that before I came along either). Some kind of window paranoia? Flash backs from living without AC when we were children (do you remember when AC was a luxury? The window unit was only turned on when it was the hottest of the hot)? Don't answer those. I'm just ranting.

I finally convinced Stupid Evil Blogger to load the pictures of my darling peonies. Aren't they fabulous? I wish you could smell them. The funny thing is, they're all the same color...or close to. I'm pretty sure when I planted them (4-5 years ago) they were all different. One was supposed to be white, one baby pink (a Sarah Bernhardt), and one almost burgundy. How does that happen? Cross pollination? And I think they look especially sweet when mixed with the daisies I picked on my walk Wednesday. Nature's showiest & simplest living together in my kitchen. I'm a happy FarmWife...all except for the window thing.

No accounting for taste

As you may have noticed from past posts, I do not drive in snow. Luckily we're not planning on moving to Canada...or Michigan anytime soon, so for the most part this works out for me. Until I have to take a child to the ER or run to the grocery. Then I must enlist a chaffuer. Thursday it was my Uncle Gick. He comes highly reccomended by his 30+ years as a truck driver & his former residence near the Chicago area...not to mention the fact that he is the official family chaffuer. He takes Busha & Bucka on their vacations, takes his mother-in-law to her doctor's appointments, took me to Indy to see G'ma M&M when she had her stroke, and drove Busha & the Aunties to Colorado one summer. We'd rent him out, but we need him too frequently....sorry.
Yesterday it was Husband's job. I wasn't planning on making the trip until today, but Husband thought we could swing it after lunch. He asked his mom to come set with the three oldest kids so we wouldn't have to wrestle them through the store. So off we went, practically childless.

We made it through the entire store without having to take anyone potty, threatening anyone under our breath, confining anyone to the back of a shopping cart, denying a toy purchase (or 12), breaking up any fights, catching any runaways, or losing any kids. It was blissful...or at least as blissful as Wal-Mart can get on a Saturday afternoon.

We even had a chance to discuss the possibility of taking a vacation this summer. Husband has scheduled his vacation time in two big blocks. We were going to go away for the weekend for our 10th anniversary, but Bitsy put a damper on those plans. So instead we're planning on taking off this year. I jokingly said we could go to Yellowstone as Husband's always wanted to see it (but it's not really weekend trip material). He said he didn't want to drive that far with the kids. I was confused until we discovered we were talking about 2 different vacations (I was thinking of the just us trip, he was thinking family vaca). So now the question is, where do you take 4 small children on vacation? Do not say Disney World...I'll be forced to kick you. We've never taken a vacation before. I'm scared.

Back to our trip to town: I guess while we were in the store, I mentioned more than once that I was hungry. As we were driving away, Husband asked where I wanted to eat. "I don't care as long as it isn't McDonalds." He said, "Where's the Chinese Restaraunt?" I nearly went into cardiac arrest! Husband does not eat Chinese. I took him to a buffet once when we were dating & he was unimpressed (it was also the first time he'd ever eaten broccoli).

So I got my to-go tray full of lo-mein, sesame pork, broccoli & beef, mongolian chicken, and other fabulous things not from the dollar menu...and he got a chicken sandwich from Burger King. We were both happy and I had enough left overs to get me through dinner last night as well.

Last night I gave BabyGirl her prednisone a little earlier so she was in bed and asleep by 10 o'clock (I should mention that her normal bed time is 8 pm). I gave it to her before dinner...then she flipped out & screamed for 30 minutes after bath time. Can I just say I am not looking forward to this child hitting puberty?! Once the boys were settled in bed, she paced around the living room & talked non-stop about nothing...and got very angry if you interupted her. After about an hour and a half of total manic behavior, she settled down to watch the end of That Thing You Do with us.

BabyGirl & I are reading Peter Pan together at night (since the boys aren't really into chapter books yet & would rather their bed time stories feature Buzz Lightyear or SpongeBob). We usually finish one chapter & argue about reading a second. Last night I'm not sure she was still awake when Toodles shot the Wendy at Tink's command. We may have to rehash tonight.

(Side note: is anyone else having trouble with Spell check? Mine hasn't worked all week...as you may have noticed.)

New Day, New Debate

The FarmWife vs FarmBoy debate for this weekend is....what do you call your parents? I am a 31 year old woman with four children of my own and I still call my parents Mama & Daddy. Husband finds this very humorous. Especially that I call my father Daddy. I always have. My sister calls him Daddy. I'm not sure that my brother does....maybe it's a male thing. But I've known many men to call their fathers Daddy. Perhaps it's a southern thing.

It makes me a bit sad sometimes that my children call me Mommy & not Mama. I tired to instill Mama in their vocabulary, but it just didn't take. Every now and then I get Mama & it makes me all warm & fuzzy inside, but most of the time I get Mommy.

When we moved to Tennessee my mother had to retrain herself. When we lived in Illinois we were the only kids around who called their mother Mama, so she always knew when it was one of us hollering for her. In Tennessee, everyone called their mother Mama & QM spent a lot of time looking to see which one of us was talking to her when we were now where around.

When Syd was tiny, she called Art Mommy. Her mother quickly corrected her & told me about it later. She sounded horrified. I thought it was funny. Now I understand.

So, who are your folks? Mama & Daddy, Mother & Father, Mom & Pop, Ma & Pa, Evelyn & Burt?