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.

Proving- once again- that I am not smarter than a fifth grader.

As if the game show wasn't enough to put me in my place, BabyGirl is officially a fifth grader. Every time I've watched AYSTA5thG I've thought, "That's insane! There's no way there teaching that in the 5th grade." Well, I'm here to tell you- I was wrong. So very wrong.

This week's Social Studies question: Explain each item & tell how it relates to free enterprise- economy, profit, supply & demand, import & export, consumer.

Whaaa?

Um....yeah...Free Enterprise...I know this one...it's....it's when....does it have something to do with Star Trek?

Science question: Name a group of organisms of only one kind that can interbreed in nature.

I am so gonna' fail 5th grade.

Luckily BabyGirl seems to have a better grasp on cellular structure and the ins & outs of Free Enterprise. Maybe she can tutor me.

In the meantime, I'm totally kicking first grade math's butt. Need 6's & 7's written on a dotted line? I'm your girl. Need a 3 blocks colored out of a row of 10? I can handle that. Need the shape on the right circled? Give me a second to think about which side is the right & which is the left & I'll get it done.

Third grade homework, thus far, hasn't given me too much trouble, but I know that time is coming. Soon there will be science where I'll get tangled in a sea of simple machines. And Social studies where the branches of government will reduce me to a mindless blob on the steps of the capitol building (distinguished from the other mindless blobs on Capitol Hill only by my sweat pants and t-shirts as opposed to their Italian silk pin-stripes).

Perhaps I should rethink my current goal of going back to school so I can be a teacher's aid. Most teachers (and parents for that matter) would much rather have someone proficient in multiplication and basic grammar...not a mathematically challenged ellipse addict.

But on a positive note- I sure can read!

We were so very cool

In high school I was part of a local community teen acting group called TAG. I was a charter member of the group, so we were kind of sailing in uncharted waters. We had no older members to give us advice or steer us away from huge mistakes. Not to say we were without adult leadership. No, we had that. In spades at times. We had a few really amazing adult sponsors and a few that really wished they'd never volunteered for TAG baby sitting duty. In all fairness, a group of highly hormonal, drama driven, theater crazed teens cannot be an easy bunch to deal with.

The episode in which we really could have used some serious council occurred after our first real performance. We put on a night of 3 one act plays. If I remember correctly it was 2 fairy tales & a piece called While Shakespeare Slept. In the Shakespeare play I was cast as Rosalind from As You Like It. Anyone unfamiliar with Rosalind, she spends half her play dressed as a man.

As you might imagine, our wardrobes consisted of lots of hosiery, long flowy dresses, and other bits of gathered Renaissance Fair garb. For some reason it was decided I would wear odd greenish-brown opaque tights and a belted, tea stained peasant blouse with brown house slippers. Kind of a twisted drag version of Peter Pan. What can I say, I was 15? It was not good. But the guys, oh, they had it much worse.

We collected lots of fisherman shirt, had bubble shorts made (a select few lucked into run of the mill black slacks), and everyone had a cape of some kind. I'm pretty sure this was the first time most of the guys in our group had worn tights and mascara (at least I think it was. I know it wasn't the last). They were less than comfortable...at least during dress rehearsals. I think by closing night they had grown to like some of their costumes.

At some point during our cast party someone decided it would be a great idea for us all to show up at school the next day in full costume. As a show of solidarity (and because we were teenagers) we all jumped at the idea.

For the girls wearing dresses straight from the 70's collection at the local vintage shop wasn't much of a departure from the norm. For the rest of us, it might not have been the best idea ever. I'm really not sure how I avoided being sent home from school that day. Maybe it was the opaqueness of my tights that saved me. In reality, I looked like I was bouncing around school without pants. I did have on my gym shorts, but no one seemed to think they counted.

But even at that, I was not quite in the same league as the guys. Especially not my two guy friends who showed up no only in their bubble shorts, capes, and tights but also in full stage make-up. I will never forget the sight of the two of them running down the hall at school with their capes spread behind them singing the Batman theme at the top of their lungs.

I'm pretty sure they'll never forget the hostile stares given them by the heard of redneck teenagers hanging in the parking lot after school. I have (thankfully) forgotten most of the taunts thrown at us.

In the long run, was showing up at a southern high school in full on Renaissance Fair get up a good idea? I don't know. But it sure was unusual.

Now What?

It has just occurred to me that my children will not be spending 8 hours each day at school this week. In fact, they will be entirely under my supervision for the next three months. I'm not entirely sure I'm qualified for this. Maybe someone should come in and check up on us occasionally. I'm not really to be trusted.

Today, #1 Son turns 8. I'm glad. I've not been a huge fan of 7. Mostly because I can't seem to remember that number when it comes to the ages of my children. When BabyGirl was seven, I was continually telling people she was eight. I've been doing the same thing with #1 Son all year. Unfortunately I only get a brief break from seven as B.B. will be turning it in September.

#1 Son got his very own green Light Saber for his birthday today. I wish I could have frozen the look on his face for all time. He knew what was in the package before he started unwrapping it, but in his excitement, he must have momentarily forgotten. He began trembling all over and could hardly get the paper off.

My children have developed a fairly new obsession with all things Star Wars. Being a child of the 70's and 80's myself, I am a hard core fan of the original three movies. My children, being of the CGI generation, are all about the most recent three movies. In my opinion, they hardly count as true Star Wars movies. I fear Mr.Lucas may have suffered some type of brain injury as he was writing the dialogue for them.

But it still makes me happy that Bitsy named her (now deceased) kitten Princess Leia, B.B. lives to quote Yoda, and #1 Son asks me to call Uncle Bubba to check on the accuracy of their imaginary Light Saber (which they still tend to call Life Savers or occasionally Light Savers) duels.

The Force is strong with in them.

Their father on the other hand, not so much. He is continually misquoting Yoda (I'm pretty sure that's tantamount to sacrilege in some places) and just last week the following conversation actually took place in my home:

As Husband watches Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones with the FarmHands and I wash dishes....

Husband- What are those?
FarmHands- The Secret Plans.
Husband- What secret plans?
FarmHands- THE Secret Plans, Dad. (the "duh" was implied)
Husband- What are they plans for?
Me- The Death Star.
Husband- What?
Me- The. Death. Star.
Husband- What's that?
Me- What's what? They're the plans for the Death Star that R2-D2 takes from Leia to deliver to Ben in the first movie. (Do not argue with me that A New Hope is actually the fourth movie...it is now & will always be the first movie.)
Husband- No, what's the Death Star?
Me- (dropping dish sponge, removing rubber gloves, and walking into living room) You did not just ask me what the Death Star is.
Husband- Yes I did. What is it?

Oh. My. Stars.

Where have I failed this man? I thought it was bad when BabyGirl asked me who Bobba Fett was a few months back. This was so much worse.

She's got Bette Davis 'tude.

I fear Bitsy's weekend stint as an only child has scarred her for life. It wasn't the first time she was the only FarmHand with numerous adults, but it was the first time she was truly conscious of the total lack of siblings. In fact, not only did she have my undivided attention for an entire weekend, but she had Grammy, Pa, Uncle Greenteeth, Aunt Anita, Uncle M, Aunt D, and Grandma & Grandpa M&M all vying for her attention. The grown-up to Bitsy ratio was way out of whack....and I think she liked it. Since we got home she has barely tolerated the presence of her older siblings. She's been exceptionally bossy. She's not dealt well with their interference in her life. She's been rather out of sorts with her brothers and sister. And that's just the beginning. She's copped some major attitude towards me in the past few days. Yesterday I told her to pick up her babies and put them back in the shopping cart they live in. She yelled at me and stomped her foot before finally condescending to do what she was told. Once done, her little head snapped around & she said, "There. Are you happy now?" As you can imagine, that went over well....once I quit choking on a giggle. She's informed me many times that I've ruined her game or picture she's coloring. She's taunted her siblings with, "Ha, ha. Me told you!" even when she's done nothing of the kind. She's deluded herself into believing she's the boss of all of us. I blame her Pa. After a full weekend of being harassed by her grandfather, the poor thing has lost her grip on reality. Now I must strive to get her sassy little pants back on track. I'm getting a bit tired of living with a mini-Bette Davis.

Wii are not amused.

I realize I may be asking far too much, but I would really like my children to learn that losing a game on the Wii is in no way reason for a complete nervous breakdown. Having a sibling walk through a door you didn't plan on walking through while playing Lego Star Wars is no reason to avow eternal hatred for that sibling. And that jumping up, getting 3 inches from the television, and doing a half body bend will not help you see around a corner on a video game. Ever.

Someone remind me why we got this blasted thing, please.

Play On

Bitsy is currently in full on meltdown mode because her flannel pink elephant pajamas are too small for her. Grant it, she's still wearing them even though they're size 18 months & she wears a 3T, but she's bawling because I didn't agree with her when she asked if they fit. She even tried to prove to me that she hasn't grown as much as I think she has by standing on her tip toes and saying, "See, me like dis' me big," then standing flat on her feet and saying, "Me stand like dis' me little."

I think it's time for bed.

I'm considering putting a PayPal button in my side bar to raise money to pay for the carpal tunnel surgery Inkling is sure I'm going to need in the near future. You see, I am Indiana Jones....well, the Lego version of everyone's favorite professor anyway. The boys love playing the Lego versions of Indiana Jones and Star Wars. The problem is, they really aren't very good at either one. That means I end up playing one character while one of them leaps about killing everything in sight (including me) while I try & beat the level.

Tonight we were on a roll. I didn't realize exactly how long of a roll we were on until I checked our Wii notes just before shutting it down. Anyone want to guess? Three hours, fifteen minutes. Yup. Three hours and fifteen minutes of chasing after vehicles, throwing bananas to monkeys, and beating the living daylights out of plastic virtual Nazis. I'm The Man.

I don't think I want to be The Man again. I'll be dreaming in Lego tonight...if I can get BabyGirl off the Wii and in her bed.

And now for something completely different.

OK, not really. Actually I do this fairly often....or did this very often & am trying to get back in the habit. Enough rambling. It's time for FarmWife to answer your most pressing queries.

Vic (who asked for another installment of Ask FarmWife Day) sent me her question on FaceBook. Is there a certain age young girls should shave their legs? Is their a magic number or just when you need it. Do little girls even care?

Ahhh, growing up. It's tricky. I'm constantly asking myself these kinds of questions. When I found out my oldest niece was starting to shave I was shocked. She seemed really young to me...until I thought back to how old I was when I took up a razor. She was going into seventh grade (I think) so that would make her 12 years old. To me just seeing the number 12 means you should still be playing Barbies & dress up & riding bikes & watching Disney cartoons. But such is not the case.

I was in sixth or seventh grade the first time I snuck out my mom's razor & took a swipe down my shin. That's it. Just one pass of the razor about 6 inches long right down the middle of my shin. Then I panicked and put it away. A day or two later, QM noticed the bald spot on my leg & decided it was time to get me my own razor & shaving gel before I made a mess of things.

Being a brunette, my leg hair was pretty obvious even before it started growing as puberty set in. In middle school we had to change into shorts for gym class. That's when I started getting a little self conscious about it. It's about the only category in which I was not a late bloomer.

I'm hoping my girls won't get on the bandwagon too soon. I don't think there's a magic number but I do think girls pay more attention to that kind of stuff than we think they do. My biggest hope in that area is that my girls will broach the subject with me before they take it up with Lady Bic....but I'm also hoping they'll wait until they're at least out of grade school. I don't want them growing up & feeling that kind of pressure too soon.

Next, Penny asks about my meal planning & canning. Do you plan menus for your week? Since you have 4 kids and a hubby who works a not normal daily schedule...how do you plan meals? I know Kork does lots of canning and preserving, do you?

I would love to say that I plan out our weekly menu before ever leaving for the grocery. But sadly that is not normally the case. I try to have an idea of what I want to cook for the week, but I often find myself at the grocery with 1/4 of a list & no clue what I need. I try to plan for at least one major meal every day all week long & the rest is left overs or small stuff.

I can tell you that our "big meal" of the day is lunch. With Husband working nights & the kids gone, I normally make a full meal at lunch time so he can have enough to eat before he leaves & left overs to take with him. At dinner time the kids & I eat smaller, simpler meals. Often sandwiches or mac & cheese or even breakfast for dinner (that's their favorite).

As for canning & preserving, I really love to do that but haven't had a good run with our garden the past 2 years. In fact, I didn't put anything up this year. We only had enough corn to eat with a few meals & my green beans withered & died without producing enough to fool with. There's nothing I love more than to look in my freezer & see bags & bags of corn that we grew & put up...but lately that hasn't worked for us.

I hope I've helped & haven't rambled on too much. And now for something really & truly different...and if you're weak of stomach or cannot handle the thought of blood, you might want to stop reading right now.

Last night I shut the back door over top of my big toe. To say it did not feel good would be an understatement. When it happened I felt something give way. I looked down in horror thinking I'd ripped the skin off my toe or broken it. Instead everything looked normal...except for the blood seeping out from around three sides of my toe nail. That's when I realized I had just ripped off my toe nail. This entire though process took about 3/4 of a second. The reason it took that long is because the nail didn't actually come off...it just detached from the nail bed entirely.

I hobbled into the bathroom where the 3 youngest were supposed to be bathing, wrapped my toe in a cold wet cloth & called Busha. I was pretty sure there was little to be done about it, but though I should ask someone, anyone, and try to fend off going into shock by talking to a grown up.

Busha told me she didn't think they'd do anything at the ER if I went & asked if I needed her to come over. I told her no & realized I should have called Rachie since she's an RN & might know something about it. Busha thought that was a good idea. I called Rachie & told her what was up & she gave me her expert medical opinion.

If I could get the nail off, that would be the best thing. Then clean it, put on some triple antibiotic ointment & ice it down. I was OK with everything but the clipping. That though made my stomach roll. After a few minutes I realized there wasn't much feeling left in my toe & that might be the best time to tackle a nail removal.

15 minutes later I was down to about 1/4 inch of toe nail left just at the base. It's not actually attached but I couldn't get it cut down that far. I smeared some Neosporin on some gauze, wrapped it up, and spent the rest of the night with my foot elevated & my toe on ice. At bedtime I took a vicodin left over from having my wisdom teeth taken out.

That helped until Bitsy decided she was done sleeping at 2:30 this morning. That's when we headed to the living room to sleep on the couches & that's also when the nausea hit like a freight train. I spent the next 30 minutes hugging the porcelain god & praying to the Real One that I could just vomit or fall asleep (which I'm pretty sure I did a few times while hanging my head over the toilet bowl...that's a rather precarious position to be in).

This morning my toe is very tender & walking is a bit of a task. The thought of putting on shoes makes me sick to my stomach (as does the thought of vicodin). This could be a long couple of months before my nail grows back. Bitsy is sporting matching gauze on her index & middle fingers of her left hand. She has sucked them so much she's broken down the skin. They're a mess. I've greased her up with Aquaphor & put on a mitten or sock, but that doesn't last long. So I've moved on to Neosporin & gauze taped on. I'm hoping they'll heal & she'll give up the finger sucking.

This week can end now.

How to break in a new van.

There are many ways you can break in a new vehicle.

You can spill your early morning half-caf, soy, no foam, mocha latte grande all over the passenger seat.

You can drop your drive-thru chili cheese dog on the carpet.

Your six year old can vomit all over the back seat.

You can loan it to a 19 year old with loose morals & hope to get it home before the week is out with a bare minimum of bodily fluids on the seats. (OK, sorry, that was a bit gross.)

Your 18 month old can have the mother of all diaper blow outs that manages to escape not only her diaper but the car seat as well.

Or, you can do just what I did on Friday & back it into a concrete post scraping the paint all the way around the corner of the driver side back bumper.

What exactly is my damage?

I woke up at five thirty Friday morning, anxious to get on the road. Anxious to spend the day with Art. Anxious to get to my Grandma M&M's house. Anxious to see Diana. None of this anxiety was truly a bad thing. Maybe anxiety is the wrong word. Excited? Stoked? I'm not sure. But regardless of what you want to call it, I wanted to get going.

It's now shortly after four in the morning and I'm sitting in Diana's dark living room blogging after having soaked in a hot bath for about thirty minutes. I cannot sleep. I haven't really slept. A little light dozing here and there, but nothing truly substantial. Honestly, I'm a bit worried about how I'm going to function when daylight hours arrive. And no, I did not take another Bi-Polar in a bottle. I learned my lesson the last time.

It's not my accommodations. I just do not sleep well in new environments. Add stomach issues due to travel, stress, emotional overload, and feminine issues, and I'm a hot mess at four twenty am.

I'm really having a great time. Art & I made a stop at our favorite local coffee shop. We ran to Wally World for supplies. We cranked up the tunes and eased on down the road. There was a brief (but much needed) visit with Grandma & Grandpa M&M at their house and then we got to the land of DuckI (as we called Diana in high school).

Chinese for dinner. Mani-Pedi's for dessert. A quick browse through Barns & Noble, then back here to visit some more and laugh until we nearly peed our pants at odd SNL skits on Hulu. We finally gave up & turned in a little after one thirty.

I'm not sure how long I laid there praying for sleep to come before I gave up & headed to the bath (thank goodness it's at the opposite end of the house from the guest room Art & I are sharing and downstairs from Diana's room). Even a giant book of Dilbert comics couldn't lull me into a state of relaxation.

I just want to sleep. Is that too much to ask?

One night in nine years when I do not have a child to take care of and I can't unwind enough to enjoy the big bed Art and I have to laze about in.

Sleep, you fickle wench. Why have you deserted me? Don't even think about trying to needle your way back into my affections tomorrow. By then my break will be over and I shall have to return to the world of mothering where you are a second class citizen, only allowed to show your face when there is nothing else to occupy my time.

(A brief note on the title: "Damage" was my favorite early 90's slang that never really caught on. I first heard it used in the movie Buffy the Vampire Slayer & have been forever saddened by it's fall to the wayside.)

Can I just say, I adore you all?

Well, I'm going to say it just the same. You have given me blog fodder for days. Now I remember why I instated Ask FarmWife Day to begin with. I'm going to try to spread your questions out over a few days, but I must, must, must start with Inkling's "manpri" query.

How do you feel about "manpris", as in capris / crop pants for men? They are all over metro Vancouver, and I'm not feeling the love. Specifically, would you think Farmboy was hot if he wore them?

This is one of those times I thank the Good Lord that I live in the middle of nowhere & have never laid eyes on manpris. So, being the good, Internet addicted FarmWife that I am, I googled them. What did I find? This:

If a picture is worth a thousand words, I'm pretty sure this picture is enough four letter words & to land me in time out for the rest of the millennium. Ugh. (Thanks to the ladies at Gofugyourself.com for the lovely image.) According to the Urban dictionary, manpris is gay slang. I think that's enough in it's self to keep FarmBoy far, far away from them.

I really think the image of Carrot Top wearing them should be enough to keep any man away from them, but apparently that's not the case.

They put me in mind of K-Fed. He must be seriously ahead of the times since he's been rocking these beauties since he became Brit's boy toy.

To answer your question about FarmBoy in manpris....my man would be hot in anything. That being said, I wouldn't be seen in public with him if he were sporting cropped pants and crocs....unless it was Halloween. Then I'd been seen in public with him dressed as a pirate.

For anyone who's never met my husband, FarmBoy adheres to a strict dress code: Relaxed fit blue jeans (not dark wash, not light wash), pocket T-shirts, Hanes socks, and Nikes. If it's cold out he'll toss on a flannel shirt. If it's hot, he swaps out for a plain men's tank top & relaxed fit jean shorts. I've tried to expand his horizons, but if this is the direction men's fashion is taking, I'll buy stock in Wrangler & Fruit of the Loom.

Things I've learned about boy bits

First, and most importantly, please pray for my Bucka this week. His sister, my great-aunt M, passed away early this morning. She's the last sibling he had living that was near his age. His 2 youngest siblings are still alive, but they are nearer in ages to his children than to him. He's going to have a very hard time over the next few weeks.

And now back to your regularly scheduled blogging.

B.B. is scheduled to have surgery next Wednesday. He's pretty apprehensive about the whole deal. I would be too. The biggest issue is that he's asking the wrong people questions. BabyGirl is trying to make this as terrifying as possible for him. His biggest concerns are shots & stitches both of which his sister informs he'll be getting in abundance. I've repeatedly assured him that he will be fast asleep before anything happens. He's not sure I'm on the up & up.

Last week he started asking more specific questions, so I told him more of what was going to happen. After I finished describing the procedure* (in 5 year old friendly terms) things went down hill. # 1 Son informed him that, "Some people call testicles 'balls' because there are 2 little balls in there."

So B.B. informed me that, "I think this is happening because I have these 2 balls in here & they keep gettin' knocked together."

Next he told me, "I'll be really glad when this is all done, Mom. That way my penis won't get all big & stick up all the time."

Whoa. Um. Yeah. I explained that this surgery didn't have anything to do with his penis sticking up. "Why not? I don't like it when that happens."

I said, "Sorry, Bub. That's just what penises do."

Then his brother chimed in with the true, scientific explanation for erections. "Penises just do that because they get all full of pee, B.B. That's why it gets little again after you pee." Oy. I tried to explain that it has more to do with blood than pee, but that nearly caused a panic. They were both convinced they'd be peeing blood from now on. I don't think we're ready for this conversation just yet.

Today I went in to the school to explain to the principal why B.B. was missing so much school lately & what we had coming up (I love having a school small enough that the principal takes an interest in the lives of all his students). I told him I didn't want them thinking I was flaking out & just not bringing him. He thanked me for keeping them in the loop & expressed his sympathy for B.B. ("Poor kid!"). Then I headed off to let his teacher know what was going on.

Miss G (who taught the 3 oldest FarmHands so far) said she wondered what was going on. Last week she asked #1 Son what was up with B.B. since he's missed so much school lately. #1 Son told her, "Oh, he's just having trouble with his penis." To say she was caught a bit off guard may be an understatement. Miss T (who's been the pre-K teachers aid for almost as long as Miss G's been the teacher) asked #1 Son the same question not knowing Miss G had already breached the subject. #1 Son gave her the same blunt answer.

After school today I said, "So, Miss T, I hear you got the low down from #1 Son on his brother's issues." She started laughing. I said, "That's #1 Son for you," but they don't know the half of it.

*Orchiopexy for anyone interested.

I'm not sure I thought this through.

Last night I started packing. I'd cleaned the house, washed the laundry, made my packing list, and the next logical step was to pack everything up. I knew there were things we'd need to use this morning, but most everything else could be gathered up last night. I rounded up shoe boxes, dress clothes, wedding gift, snack bags, busy bags for the FarmHands, etc., etc., etc....and stacked them neatly at the back door.

This morning I finished gathering clothes & helped the boys pack their suitcase. BabyGirl's was done, mine was nearly done, Bitsy's was done....then as soon as Husband took the kids to school, Bitsy & I hopped in the shower. By the time Husband got home, I was dressed, hair & make-up done, and packing the last of our toiletries.

It's now 10:30 & I have nothing left to do but wait until 1:30 when the FarmHands come home from school. I don't wait well, especailly not before a long trip. I think I'm going to go stir crazy.

The road to blogdom is paved with good intentions.

In the past 2 weeks I've taken half a dozen or more pictures to post on my blog. I've written witty & sarcastic posts in my head. I've planned on pouring any new found wisdom out for your enjoyment.

But I've done nothing.

Nada.

Zilch.

Zip.

Zero.

Sorry.

And then there's the rest of my life; I have so much stuff I need to do. Beck's shower is at my house this coming Saturday & my house is a disaster. Princess & HT will be here Wednesday (I think) & I'm totally unprepared. My flower beds need a serious overhaul. Lilly May could use a good trim. My carpets must be washed.

I can't seem to do anything but read, piddle around on Facebook, and watch Netflix movies. My drive has driven off.

For example, it's 6:30 pm. Dinner has not been made. The children have not been bathed. The living room is trashed. Bedtime is in 1 1/2 hours. I'm blogging.

I think I need to ground myself again. Anyone want to enforce it?

Sucked in (pun intended)

I am not one to jump onto bandwagons in general....at least I don't think of myself like that. It took me years to decide to read the Harry Potter books, and then I only read the first three or four & quit. I didn't read Interview With a Vampire until after all my friends had nearly finished the series. I tend to avoid any books toted at Must Reads until they've passed their heyday. For me, the hype can ruin a book, so I wait. Even if I want to read it.

But in the end, I am shallow. I totally judge books by their covers. A nice glossy, eye catching book cover will capture my attention faster than anything. This cover caught my eye about a year ago, so I headed to Shelfari to see what recommendations I could get. When I heard the words "Vampire," "Teen," and "Romance" grouped together, my expectations hit rock bottom & I filed Twilight away in my Not Unless I Get It For Free & Have Nothing Better To Do category.

And then I met Facebook flair. I love flair. It makes me happy. It took about 30 seconds of Flair for me to be overloaded with Twilight movie images. I was still skeptical. Very skeptical.

When our anniversary rolled around in November I had seen more Twilight trailers than anyone should be exposed to...ever. And the young man playing the lead character (above) gave me the creeps. But it was the only thing playing that remotely interested me, so I told Husband I wanted to see it. In the end, we skipped the movie & settled on dinner & some shopping. I tossed Twilight on my Netflix Que wait list & waited it out.

It came in the mail the Saturday it was due to be released. I tried to settle in & watch it, but was repeatedly interrupted by...well, life on the farm. Over the course of two days I watched it two and a half times and watched all the special features as well. I liked it, but not in the rabid way the teenage girls making Facebook flair seem to. I thought, "I must be missing something." The movie didn't stink, but it felt incomplete.

So at the prodding of half the females on my Facebook friends list, I decided I was going to read it. I picked up a cheap paperback version Friday, started reading at 2:30 pm, and finished all 498 pages Saturday night at eleven (I do have responsibilities, folks). I could have easily read it in one setting if I'd had the chance.

I was right. The movie was missing many things....like background, emotion, dialogue, & character depth all found in the book. I'm now even less thrilled with the casting choice of Robert Pattinson for Edward...I don't find him particularly attractive & he seemed a bit...well...constipated in the movie. But regardless I find myself sucked into the world of Forks, Washington & wondering what will become of Bella & the Cullens in the coming books. Don't tell me, I don't have them yet. Until then, I'm on my second reading in less than a week.

If I start acting like a teenage girl, or use the word "like" at the end of every sentence I type, someone come save me. Please.

A word of warning.

Do not, under any circumstances, attempt to sneak up on the FarmFamily.

Last night Husband, BabyGirl, & I were watching Dateline. Husband had been sick. BabyGirl was supposed to be in bed, but wasn't cooperating. Bitsy was fighting sleep.

Suddenly there were head lights coming up our drive. Husband noticed them first & I got up to see who it was. We had a Sweetheart Banquet at church yesterday & I figured it was Uncle E coming to hoist some leftovers off on us. But when I got to the window, the vehicle wasn't parked at our house. That's when Husband said, "Oh, they're just using the drive to turn around." We both stood there for a moment & realized the vehicle that just backed out of our drive was moving back down the road towards the woods very, very slowly. Then it stopped. In the middle of the road. Just passed the edge of the woods so we couldn't see it from the house. And turned off it's lights.

That's when things got a bit hairy. We live more than a half mile down a gravel road & our house sets about 100 yards back off it. The only people who live down this stretch of the road are related to us. The only people who use this road, live on it, or near here. No one has any need to be parked on a gravel road that close to our house after dark. It's just weird.

Husband flipped on the front porch light (that we never use) to alert who ever was out there that we knew they were there. I grabbed the phone & was about to call 911. Husband took a more pro-active stance & went to get his .22 out of the closet. After a few tense moments (while Husband was still getting his gun) I saw someone walking up our drive. It took a split second to realize it was MIL carrying Bitys's portable booster seat that I had left at church. I hollered back to Husband that it was his mom & went to answer the door.

When she got with in view of the side door I opened it & said, "You nearly scared us to death! Backing out of the drive & parking in the road with your lights off! We didn't know what was going on." She apologized & stepped in the house just in time to see Husband come out of our room with his .22 in one hand & the clip in the other. He hadn't heard me holler.

MIL's eyes got real wide & she said, "I didn't know you were gonna' get the gun on me!" Husband explained that we didn't know what was going on & he wasn't taking any chances. MIL said she wasn't sure she'd be able to turn her truck around once she got down our drive (she's not real good with backing up) so she decided to park on the road & walk up. Husband said, "With your lights off?!"

I don't think she'll do that again anytime soon.

Puzzles, Puzzles every where...

First of all, I got an email from a fellow blogger pointing me to a new blog started by a husband in need of blogging help. He's started a blog called 14 Day Guy: helping one guy make his marriage great in 14 days! He wants to do something special for his wife every day leading up to the BIG day...you know, the one with all the hearts & flowers & mushy love stuff. He's asking for advice from us interweb lurkers, so pop on over & help a guy out...and make a wife very happy.


Secondly, lest you think I lounged around on my couch all day yesterday with a pint of Ben & Jerry's & NCIS in my DVD player, here's a short list of what I accomplished:



~stripped beds, washed sheets, remade beds
~washed dishes
~made tea & Crystal Light to have to drink today (yes, this totally counts as a chore...a frequent chore)
~scrubbed Husband's nasty icky bathroom
~folded & put away all the laundry I had washed the day before
~emptied & sorted out Bitsy's toy bucket that lives in my computer desk
~clipped out all the Box Tops For Education cluttering my kitchen & bagged them up to go to school
~organized the giant puzzle box
~made dinner (OK, so it was Mac & Cheese)
~helped with homework
~bathed kids
~brushed little teeth (yeah, I know, I'm grasping at straws now)



The pictures scattered about this post are the before, during, & afters of the puzzle box. A few years back I bought an under the bed box for my wrapping paper. Alas, not a roll of my paper actually fit in the box, so it was repurposed as a puzzle box for the FarmHands' ever growing collection of puzzles, flash cards, foam letter blocks, Go Fish, and Memory games (how many memory games do three kids need?).



A few months ago, B.B. dumped it all out, puzzles & all, and I'm guessing rolled around in the mess. When I found the mess I gave serious though to bagging it all up & taking it out of the house. Instead I tossed it all in the box & shoved it back under B.B.'s bed where it lives. Yesterday B.B. & Bitsy drug it back out & frolicked in it again.



So last night I popped Wanted in my Blu-ray player, emptied the box into my living room floor, grabbed a trash bag & got to work. After an hour & a half & some selective purging, this is what was left. This morning I told B.B. no more puzzles without asking & the next time I find the box in the mess it was in (every single puzzle piece & card was loose in the box), it will all go in the trash. Perhaps he'll heed my warning.

Currently he & Bitsy are off in his bed room playing Baby Jesus & God. I'm not sure how I feel about this. :)

Tabitha, can you come take over?

OK, I'll admit to watching WAY too much TV. One show in particular has captured my attention lately. Tabitha's Salon Takeover on Bravo. Tabitha Coffey from season one of Shear Genius goes in & revamps flailing salons. She straightens out the management, cleans the place up, lights a fire under the back sides of lackadaisical stylists, and totally re-vamps the salon all in the hopes that the owners can keep their heads above water. I LOVE this show. I love Tabitha.

But (you knew there'd be a "but" didn't you) my obsession with Tabitha & her perfectionist tendencies may have a detrimental effect on my finding a salon I truly like & a stylist who's perfect for me. Tabitha does not handle poor customer service well. She demands her salons be immaculate. She does not stand for any kind of nonsense. That's probably why they can charge at least $35 to $50 for a shampoo, cut, and style at the salons she's taking over.

I live in a much different world apparently. I paid $22 for my wash, cut & style...including tip. There was only one stylist there. No receptionist. I had a 9:30 appointment. Got there at 9:27 only to have the single stylist (who was sitting at the reception desk collecting money from a client) say nothing to me at all and then usher a 5 year old boy back to have his hair cut.

I was a bit put off, but figured maybe she was just behind. I sat in the minuscule waiting area in a little chair that was touching the chair next to me occupied by a teenage girl. There were only 4 chairs available & all were practically on top of each other. The girl next to me spent the next 15 minutes looking over my shoulder at the hair mags I was flipping through.

When the family was done & I was ushered in for my cut, the stylist took the blow dryer & blew the hair off the chair so I could sit down. I should note that the hair on the floor (from the 5 year old) was left where it was, so I put my bag up on the counter.

She asked me what I wanted done & I explained my predicament to her. Then I showed her the adorable picture of Julia Stiles with shoulder length wavy hair. She said that would work & she draped the cape over my shoulders. That's when I suggested she wash my hair first as it still had product in it from last night (I did schedule a shampoo, cut & style). After she cut it, she asked if I wanted it dried & styled...uh, again, I scheduled it that way.

The cut is good (no mullets or odd colors regardless of my dream, although I look nothing like the picture above...I guess I could get if I wanted to spend hours with a curling wand & blow dryer), the finished product is cute, Husband likes it (he never has an opinion about my hair unless it's completely contrary to what I'm going for), the stylist was really very nice if a bit flaky. So, what to do? Go back a second time & hope customer service is a bit better and the place is cleaner? Or do I keep hunting? It's not like I get to the salon often. I could just keep salon hopping. Little BIL told me his best friend's mom has her own salon in her home, but she smokes in the house & that's a deal breaker for me. I cannot see going to have my hair done & coming out smelling like an ash tray. This is so frustrating. Maybe I'll just take Husband's clippers & shave it all off......

Help! I need somebody. Help! Not just anybody.

When I was younger,
so much younger than today,
I never needed anybody's help in any way.
But now these days are gone,
I'm not so self assured,
Now I find I've changed my mind and opened up the doors.

Specifically, I need somebody who understands my hair & can properly cut & style it & teach me to do the same.

Once upon a time my hair was long & straight & loverly. Wash & wear was the way of my world. I often complained that my hair had no body. That it was flat & lifeless. I was stupid. My hair was fabulous & flowing & so much more luxurious that even Fabio's. And then I had babies. Lots & lots of babies. And those babies did evil things to my mane. And I cut it all off.

Ok, Ok, so you all were here & you remember how it went. My hair was long. Bitsy was little. My hair was falling out in handfuls. I was tired. I never had a chance to shower. My head hurt constantly from all the weight hanging from the back of my head. I asked you all for advice. I put up a poll. I weighed the possibilities. Then I made an informed decision & chopped the mess off...all 16 inches of it...and mailed it off to benefit a woman with cancer. I'm still happy with my decision. I am not happy with the current state of my hair.

I haven't even had a trim since that fateful Halloween last year. And to top it all off, the wave came & never left. Yes, I embraced it, but I'm still unsure what to do with it. And have I mentioned my stylist, whom I loved & had only seen twice after having no real stylist for 4 years, closed her shop? CRAP!

My biggest issue at the moment is the lack of wave in the front of my hair. The back & sides are decently wavy, but the front is still stick straight. I either have to pin it up or tuck it under the waves to hide it. The front is also too long at the moment. It needs to be seriously layered. The cut was cute short, but needs help now that it's grown out so much.

I have no idea what to do or where to start. I have no stylist. I'm in desperate need of a cut. I'm trying to let it grow back out to help tame the wave, but it needs something done now. I've even considered the "P" word. Yup, you read that right. A perm. Shhhh...don't let that get out. A body perm possibly. I just don't know what to do.

HELP!

Fevers, gate, and fridges! Oh my!

How can a girl with a temp of 102.3 still have a raging attitude? It's really horrible to think I sort of revel in the days when BabyGirl is ill because she's not angry. She just lays on the couch & watches videos & asks nicely for things. When she gets better she feels the need to make up for her days off by coping major attitude & tormenting her brothers constantly! It's almost enough to make a mom withhold the ibuprofen. Almost.

Today at one o'clock, BabyGirl, #1 Son, & Bitsy all have check ups. So far, #1 Son's the only one who isn't sick. I'm wondering if they'll do a school check up/well baby check on sick children. And to top it off, I have to take all 4 of the FarmHands with me. When I made the appointment I thought it would be no big deal as they'd all be well. Dragging sick kids around is not great fun. Maybe I'll take them to DQ for milk shakes afterwards. That may work wonders as a bribe!

My cousin Scotty is up visiting with his wife May & their daughter Katie. I've never met May or Katie before...and won't get to unless the girls can manage to get well very soon! Scottie has done 2 tours of duty in Iraq. Last summer he was home on leave for 2 weeks, so he & May got married over one weekend. He came home for good a few months ago & it was just a matter of weeks before Busha called & told me they were expecting. This weekend Unkie Di is throwing them a baby shower (the baby isn't due until December, but this is the only time the entire family can get together since they're spread across the country). My trip to town needs to include a stop at Wal-Mart so I can pick up fabric for a blanket, burp cloths, and a taggy.

Yesterday Husband dug out the old baby gate. We haven't had it up because it's technically broken. Husband has rigged it up to stay, but opening it is a bit of a challenge. We built a make shift barricade to keep Bitsy out of the kitchen with her play pen & toy boxes. She's now big enough to climb over one toy basket or just pull it out of the way, so the barricade wasn't working.

The FarmHands are not happy about the baby gate since none of them are allowed to open it. But I'm hoping it serves a dual purpose: keeping Bisty out of the kitchen trash, and B.B. out of my new fridge! Isn't she pretty & shiny? Wonder how long that will last?

(and yes, that is a tiny chainsaw on top of my fridge. Unkie Di & Uncle Gick gave it to #1 Son for Christmas a few years back. Craftsman has an entire line of toys. It gets confiscated frequently due to a little too much Leatherface action around here.)