Partying with HT

BabyGirl has been gone for 3 full weeks. She came home on Wednesday. She went home with QM, spent a week and a half in TN, and then they took Pa and headed to Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia for a week.

I'm in the process of downloading and order prints from the 900 or so photos that came home from the trip. You can tell when people have fully forgotten the days of 24 exposures on a roll of 35 millimeter film. BabyGirl doesn't have a clue what "film" is and I'm pretty sure my folks have forgotten. But it's all worth it if it causes my daughter to tell me something anything about her trip.

When they brought her home, HT hitched a ride. Yesterday he came over to spend the day while QM and Daddy went shed shopping for Busha and Bucka. He spent the night, went to VBS with the FarmHands, and is hanging out with us today until Grammy and Pa come back after him.

This is my FB status from last night:

I am the worst aunt ever. I only let my nephew play Wii for 1 1/2 hours. I wouldn't let him watch Supernatural. I made him play outside today in the beautiful weather. I wouldn't let him stab his cousin with a pocket knife. I didn't let him run screaming at the chickens, horses, or goat. I wouldn't let him roast his own hotdog over the fire (I didn't let any of them as I wanted to eat & be in bed before 10 pm). I made him eat "all" of his hotdog before he got roasted marshmallows (there were still 3 good bites left when I let him share it with the dog). I made him take a shower. I made him help clean up the toys he got out so there will be room for him to sleep tonight.

On Wednesday I was awesome.

Today I'm pretty sure I suck.

But this boy is beyond entertaining- that is, when I'm not ruining his life by not letting him sleep in #1 Son's bed or making him eat his lunch at the kitchen table.

When he got here yesterday, the kids were at VBS so we had about 15 minutes on our own. He walked around the living room and kitchen (where he's been 500 times before), looks at me and says, in his best 22-year-old-seeing-his-buddy's-bachelor-pad-for-the-first-time tone, "Aunt FarmWife, I really like your place."

While making lunch yesterday I asked if he like pineapple. HT only has 2 settings: on top of the world, and depths of depression. He jumps and shouts, "YES! I LOVE THAT STUFF!" so I handed him a bit of dry pineapple I was snacking on. He bites in with relish, stops short, and stars at me like I grew a second head. "What is this stuff?!" I explained it. He rolled the piece around in his mouth for a moment, grimacing like he's trying to chew up earthworms, and finally says, "Aunt FarmWife, I like my pineapple wetted down."

After lunch he was laying in the living room floor. Suddenly he jumped up and ran to the living room window. "Is that a horse or a giant chicken?!"

What?

"Oh, nevermind. It's just a cow."

#1 Son told me a story from VBS this morning. The song leader asks the kids for "God sightings" everyday during closing ceremonies. The kids volunteer things they've seen in nature: clouds, a butterfly, wind, a squirrel, etc. Today was his first trip to VBS and, naturally, he needed to chime in. He raised his hand and told the song leader, "I got a new video game of Transformers and it's got MEGATRON!"

Yup. It's been real interesting.

Poor Traumatized B.B.

I woke up very early this morning & rolled over to check my alarm clock.  It was blank.  I glanced around & realized Husband was as well (yes, we have 2 alarm clocks in our room...the kind with giant numbers made so old people can read them).  Then I noticed the dusk till dawn light in our driveway wasn't on.

I got up & found my cell phone in the dark kitchen so I could set another alarm.  It was 5 o'clock so that gave me 40 minutes left to sleep.  As I crawled in bed I remembered our electric company never seems to know the power is out unless we call in & complain.  I got back up, dug out their number, and called from the only phone we have that isn't cordless.

I was on hold for 35 minutes.  At five o'clock in the morning.  While having an allergy attack.  Yeah, it was loads of fun.

As I was waiting for someone to answer (and getting really tired of hearing, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, "Thank you for calling WW electric.  Someone will be with you shortly.  You are caller number __," over & over & over again) B.B. woke up.  I knew this because he instantly began shouting, "#1 Son!  #1 Son!  I can't see anything!  Wake up, #1 Son!  I can't see anything!"

#1 Son woke up and began yelling, "I can't see anything either! What's going on?  Why can't we see?!  B.B., why can't we see?!"

I was trying to get their attention from the living room without waking Husband (who'd only been in bed an hour) and the girls but failed miserably.  Eventually they heard me saying, "Calm down.  The power is just out," and they stumbled into the living room.  B.B. was sobbing hysterically.  I told him there was nothing to cry about, it was just a power outtage.  He replied, "I know.  But when I woke up I though I was blind."

Oy.

Never fear, HT is here!

HT & Princess are here visiting. Well, technically they're at Busha & Bucka's right now, but that's close enough. HT hit the door yesterday & blew through the house like a gale force wind. In 30 seconds he'd claimed a toy from the boys' room, gathered his minions (as the FarmHands become as soon as he sets foot in the state of Illinois), and had attacked the musical ornaments on my Christmas tree.

He & Princess spent the day with us yesterday while QM ran to town & helped Busha dig out Christmas decorations. We took them to Rural King & Wal-Mart just before dark then drove through the park to see the local Christmas light display. The entire time we were gone, HT kept saying, "Aunt FarmWife, your kid is touching me," or, "Aunt FarmWife, your kid is bothering me," or, "Aunt FarmWife, why is your kid doing that?" When I'd ask him which kid, he'd point at #1 Son & say, "That one." His mom asked him what #1 Son's name is & each & every time he'd tell her, "It's B.B."

When he was here this summer we only had BabyGirl & #1 Son according to him. He'd call both girls BabyGirl & both boys #1 Son. If you'd ask him which #1 Son he was talking about he'd refer to them as "the one with the glasses" or "the one without the glasses." This time he switched kids & everyone was B.B. and Bitsy.

Today they came to church with us. During our worship service the song leader always asks if anyone has a special to share. This morning Grandpa B shared 2 poems Grandma B had tucked away last Christmas. The second poem really got to me & I was tearing up pretty badly. As I tried to put myself back together, Mark, our song leader this month, asked if anyone else had a special. HT's hand shot up in the air before his mom could get a hold of him. Mark asked, "Do you have a special, bud?" HT announced, "I'm gonna' ride in a big monster truck!"

Suddenly my near tears turned into stifled laughter.

Just one more reason I love my nephew.

Finally, a real friend!!

If you've been here any length of time, you've probably heard of Moomah, Neenee, and Googah. They're Bitsy's best friends. They also happen to be imaginary. The three of them started pre-k with her this week. Luckily their ages are rather fluid. Once they were all grown women with children of their own. For a while they were "big girls like BabyGirl." Of late, they've all been four years old & ready for preschool.

Bitsy is the first of the FarmHands to really have long term imaginary friends. The Girls have had many adventures & even done some jail time once or twice. I was a bit concerned that they would be Bitsy's sole companions since she doesn't seem to have much use for kids her own age.

After her first full day of Pre-K she came home telling me all about a girl at school named Emily. Emily must be amazing because she's all Bitsy talked about Wednesday night. "Mommy, Me played with Emily in centers today. Emily talked to me and I talked to her. Emily....Emily....Emily...." You get the picture. As she was settling down for the night the conversation turned a bit more....depressing.

"Mommy, me think Emily not gonna' be at school tomorrow."

Why not?

"Me think maybe her gonna' be sick."

I don't think so. I'm pretty sure Emily will be there. Don't worry about it.

"But me think maybe her not. Me think maybe her hava' go to the doctor."

It's only the second day of school. She'll probably be there.

"Maybe her hava' take her dad to the doctor."

Did she say she had to take her dad to the doctor?

"No, but maybe her have to. Maybe him hava' have surgery so maybe Emily hava' take him to the doctor."

Oh, well, I'm not sure. I hope her dad doesn't have to have surgery. Let's not worry too much about it. We'll see if she's there tomorrow. OK?

*sigh* "Ok."

Surprisingly, Emily was at school on Wednesday. No mention of her dad having surgery. In fact, the baby sitter picked her up & we had a brief chat about Bitsy's new obsession with Emily. (Incidentally, the baby sitter used to watch IT Superguy, Ray-ray, Beffie, and J when they were little.)

When we got home I asked Bitsy how Moomah, Neenee, and Googah had done at school. I've been a bit worried considering the time they've done in The Big House. I'm not sure they'll adapt to circle time and line leaders without falling back on shivs and gang violence. Turns out, I had nothing to worry about. They're not going to be at school this week. Can you guess why?


They had to take their dad to the doctor so he could have surgery on his leg.

I wrote the above post while house sitting for IT Superguy & A Starry Night while they were at a funeral. They're having their kitchen remodeled & wanted someone to keep an eye on the contractors. High speed Internet is heavenly.

When I picked Bitsy up from Busha's after my grocery shopping, Busha informed me that Moomah had been to Pre-K today. Miss G (the teacher) didn't know she was there. Busha also told me that sadly, both of Moomah's parents have died. But a miracle must have occurred because before Bitsy & I left the driveway, they were alive again. I guess it's not only their ages that are fluid.

I hope Emily has better luck with her parents.

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.

Step Right Up!

Come one, come all to see the Amazing FarmBoy & His Miracle Hair Elixir!

Is your hair too fine? This fabulous tincture will thicken it up in an instant!

Is your hair too frizzy? FarmBoy's awesome mixture will smooth it out in seconds!

Is you hair less-than-there? Try this wonderful concoction & watch it grow at an astounding rate!

Is your hair growing too fast for your own comfort? This solution will put a quick stop to that!

Last week Husband and I found ourselves facing an entirely new beast. One we've never seen before in our 9+ years of parenting. She didn't want a hair cut. She wanted her hair to stop growing. She simply wanted her hair to stay where it is indefinitely. Unfortunately, that is one super power I am lacking. (Incidentally, she also does not want to grow up. Recently she said she wants to be three when she grows up...not a mommy or a teacher....just three.)

And Bitsy wasn't in the mood to be persuaded that this wasn't something I could will into happening. She threw herself face down in the floor & screamed. The tears flowed freely. The breathing was rapid & labored. Life as we knew it had come to an end.

I scooped her up and cuddled her in my lap crooning softly about how hair just grows & there isn't much that can be done to stop it. She continued to fall apart. Her daddy told her she needed to grow her hair out long so someday, when she's a flower girl for someone, she can have long beautiful hair to go with her beautiful dress. "Me not wanna' be a fwower girl!" (Not even for Beffie or Rachie when the time comes. She said Beffie could be Rachie's flower girl and, "Daddy tan be Beffie's fwower girl. Him be good at it.")

After 20 minutes of heart wrenching tragedy, Husband got up, walked across the room to us, rubbed her scalp with his fingertips, said some "magic words," and told her her hair had stopped growing.

Bitsy stopped crying, climbed off my lap, & went back to what ever it was she was doing to entertain herself prior.

Now Uncle Right Rev & Uncle Gick want Husband to rub their heads & say his magic words backwards so they're hair will start to grow.

I am loved

I am loved...by a four year old boy in Tennessee. At least that's what he told his Grammy & his Mama yesterday. When I called last night to find out if he still loved me, H.T. shouted, "Bee love you, Aunt FarmWife! Dis is my gun for shooting!" I was so relieved. At one point during the conversation he threw too many bombs at his mother and her brains came out. It's dangerous enough talking to H.T. on the phone. I imagine living with him is much like living in a Bruce Willis movie.

I tried to get him to tell his mother what Bitsy named our lambs but that didn't turn out as I'd expected. He knows their names are Buzz, Woody, Jessie, and Bo Peep. When I told him that he shouted (no, he really doesn't have any other means of communication...at least not with me), "Dat's just like Buzz Lightyear, Aunt FarmWife!!" But somehow when he told his mom last night, their names were drastically different. "Dere names is Liza, Sawmill, and Pancake." To which his mother & I could only reply, "What?!" Still haven't figured that one out.

Last week H.T. and Pa were playing their favorite game. Pa hides and H.T. goes looking for him. When H.T. gets close, Pa jumps out and yells, "Rawr!!" H.T. screams and runs from him and it starts all over again. Occasionally someone gets tossed on a bed & tickled until he nearly wets his pants. But this time things were a bit different.

When Dad hid from H.T., H.T. thought his Pa had left for work. So when Dad jumped out of the bathroom & "rawr"ed him, H.T. jumped back, covered his eyes, and screamed, "Pa! You scared the hell outta' me!" (I can't help but laugh as I type that.) Daddy wasn't expecting that at all. He looked at Mama and said, "I have to go to work now," and he walked out of the house. I'm not sure he'd made it out of the drive way when he called to tell me the story.

I hate that I miss out on so much of H.T. living so far away from him. There's something about that boy that fascinates me. I know, I have 4 of my own, but my nephew still holds a special place in my heart. I remember jumping up & down and screaming when Princess called to tell me she was expecting. I remember crying when I was horribly ill and couldn't go see him until he was a week & a half old. I remember being shocked at how very tiny he was when his dad handed him to me for the first time (around 4 lbs, 11 ounces).

I do wish we could see him more often, but I am so thankful for unlimited long distance phone plans and my parents' speaker phone. It keeps me a bit more in the loop & allows him to "show" me all the fabulous things he has at Grammy & Pa's house ("See, Aunt FarmWife? Dis is my gun. It is gleen and it is orange and my Aunt Audra gived it to me!"). It's nice to know that rarely a week goes by that he doesn't demand someone bring him to my house regardless of the 5 hour drive (not that his demands are ever met...but he tries). It's tickles me when he tells his mother that our great dane, Bonpas, is his, "Big Blown fliend," (his r's are said as l's) and he lays claim to her even though he won't let her near him when he's here. It cracks me up when his dad calls him & he answers the phone asking, "Uncle FarmBoy?! Is dat you, FarmBoy?!" as though his Uncle FarmBoy has ever called him on the phone.

H.T. adds his own brand of sparkle to my world. And it's a brand I'm more than a bit partial to.

It's Oh So Quiet.

It is oddly quiet in my house. Husband just left for work. Bitsy is taking a nap. Lilly May & Buddy Joe are sitting quietly at my feet. The television is off. The only noise is the tapping of my fingers on the key board and the air purifier humming away...and the occasional beagle howling outside.

I'm not sure I can deal with this much silence.

Yesterday was my fifth Blogoversary and I missed it. Even with my nifty countdown button on the side bar. I totally missed it. Oh well.

I'm beginning to wonder about Bitsy. She's always been a bit on the quite and shy side unless alone at home with "her people." But lately her personality is shining through like a search light. Who is this child & what has she done with my baby?

Yesterday we brought home a bag of hand-me-downs from a friend at school. She squealed with delight and screamed, "This is FABULOUS!" and, "Me be BEAUTIFUL in this!" until she was blue in the face. She then proceeded to wear three shirts and 2 pairs of shorts all at the same time.

Sunday night she decided she was going to sing a special at our annual candle light service. I went up with her and she sang Jesus Loves Me and Jesus Loves the Little Children. Normally she refuses to sing Deep & Wide with the other kids during Children's Minute on Sunday mornings because people are watching.

Today I made blackened salmon, baked pirogi, and stir-fry veggies for lunch. Bitsy wrapped herself around my legs and shouted, "Thank you make me vegetables! Me LOVE vegetables! Dem make me hop around like dis: Hop, hop, hop!" And later it was, "Thank you make me salmon! Me LOVE salmon! It give me strong muscles. Feel my muscles, Mom. Dem is big like God's!"

She's becoming more flamboyant, more outgoing, and more over the top every day. I told her she was turning into Fancy Nancy. She said, "Me not Fancy Nancy. Her tan't do splits like me." Then she jumped in the air and landed in a funny little leg sprawl she calls the splits.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, she is her mother after all.

A grown up Christmas list.

In about 45 minutes I will have been stuck on this 10 acres of land for a full week. 7 straight days. In that time I've made 2 or 3 trips to the mail box at the end of our drive, 2 trips to take out the trash, and one trip out to the sheep pen to dump table scraps. Stir Crazy would be the phrase that best suits my current frame of mind.

The FarmHands are going nearly as insane as I am. Husband decided to put all the presents under the tree today. This is the first time the FarmHands have ever seen their wrapped gifts prior to the day we celebrate Christmas. This change has caused B.B. to collapse into a bawling heap at least 3 times just this morning. He's desperate to open a gift. I really do not want to give into and therefore encourage the tantrums so I said no. I am currently public enemy #1.

Because we've been snowed and or iced in all week, Husband decided he'd do the grocery shopping Friday night after work. He's been able to make it back & forth to work with no small amount of stress. Once he's reached the high way, things have been hunky-dory...the problem is the five miles of ice between us and the highway. Since he was already out on good roads, I made him a list & sent him shopping, much to the amazement of the FarmHands. When they woke up yesterday to a pantry & fridge full of food, you'd have thought Santa himself brought it all.

While at Wal-Mart, Husband bought my Christmas present. He has a horrible time trying to keep secrets. He's already offered to tell me what it is. I declined but fear he wouldn't have been honest had I allowed him to ruin the surprise. He wrapped my gift & put it under the tree yesterday while I was baking cookies. The FarmHands are dying to know what it is, so Husband told #1 Son. #1 Son told B.B. B.B. told Bitsy. 7 seconds later, Bitsy came running out of the bedroom and yelled, "Mommy, Daddy buyed you Eclipse and...." that's when the others began screaming. "NO, Bitsy! Don't tell Mom!!" and they whisked her away to the bedroom. Husband starts laughing because he hadn't told them what he actually got for me. About a minute later Bitsy runs back out of the rooms and says, "Mommy, Daddy not get you Eclipse."

Since then they've been on a mission to wheedle the truth out of their father, who surprisingly has not cracked. This morning he told B.B. it was a banana in a box, wax fruit for the table, a board game, and other odd things.

I fear the FarmHands have run out of ways to entertain themselves. The fighting and bickering has reached epic proportions. 30 minutes ago they were in the boys room when the screaming started. I went to investigate and found Bitsy playing, "Duck, Goose, Come Chase Me!" with the boys. They're currently on their 2nd or 3rd viewing of the cartoon How the Grinch Stole Christmas for the day.

All I want for Christmas is a grown up to visit with....one that I'm not married to.

Band and Best Friends

It turns out, BabyGirl isn't as keen on joining the band as I was keen on her joining the band. Given her choice, she'd much rather learn to play guitar. That sounds much more reasonable to me. I think we'll tuck that idea away for her birthday since her summers are pretty wide open.

There were rental options available for between $25 and $45 a month. Doesn't sound like much, but if you figure it into a rent-to-own option, you end up paying double what the instrument is worth....and it's yet another bill to add to our monthly pile. I really don't want to do that. There are some instruments available for free from the school on a first come first serve basis. But since BabyGirl wasn't all that sure she wanted to join, I figure there are kids who really want to be in band and cannot afford the rental fees.

And the thought of adding to BabyGirl's current work load isn't really something I want to consider. She has so little down time through the week, I'd hate to push her into something she's not sure about.

On a completely unrelated note, I'm a bit worried about Bitsy's imaginary friends. She's the only one of our four kids to really have imaginary friends....and they're not very nice. Neenee hasn't been here in weeks because every time she came to play, she pinched and had to be sent home. Moomah has taken her place as the favorite imaginary friend lately. Moomah sleeps a lot...and goes to the store almost daily. She texts and calls on the old cell phone Uncle Little BIL gave Bitsy constantly, but she's not often around the house. The few times she's been here, she's said things that were "bad" according to Bitsy. Bitsy yells at her and tells her she has to leave. I haven't heard anything about Googie (who's name changes randomly) in quiet a while. Bitsy just told me Googie's been singing lately. Maybe that's why she's too busy to play.

Who has imaginary friends that they don't want to play with? And don't most kids' imaginary friends live at home with the imaginer? Not ours. They all have their own homes or possibly one home they share- I'm not sure. They might have parents of their own (it depends on the day of the week and Bitsy's mood). They all have their own pets. They have lives far apart from ours. They have adventures we know little about.

I guess it's better than when my friend Did had an imaginary boyfriend. She was 5 or 6 (I think). He broke up with her. Maybe Bitsy's related to Did.

The wonderful world of H.T.

For any of you who do not know, HT (or Heir to the Throne) is my four year old nephew. He is the son of my little sister, Princess & her husband Axl. He is an only child living withing shouting distance of his grandparents, who have no other grandkids near by. He is a fount of knowledge and is more dramatic than his Aunt FarmWife was at that age (and that's really saying something).

When he was little he called me "Haunch." It was his own strange mash-up of Aunt & my real first name but truly sounded like neither. All the grandkids call QM "Grammy." When H.T. says it, it comes out "Dammy"....which is actually a step up from what he used to call her. It used to just be "Dam." It got even better when he'd smash Mom and Grammy together because he called his mom "Bum"....I'll let you figure out the rest. It made for some interesting trips to the grocery for my mother.

QM & Daddy have taken to calling him U-man because of the posture he assumes when he gets upset or disappointed or anything other than thrilled. He folds himself nearly in half & stomps around the house looking oddly like the letter U. If you call him U-Man (or anything else not actually his name) he will quickly inform you that, "My name Heir to the Throne Finklestien to work at __________, Tennessee." That part about where he works is very important.

Things are never boring with HT around.

Today at lunch he had a place map with a map of the USA printed on it. He continually pointed to any yellow state & told me that was where he lived. I explained that just because Tennessee was yellow on that map, that didn't make every yellow state Tennessee. He thought I'd lost my mind.

My place mat had pictures of all the presidents on it. I showed him James K. Polk and he got very excited. President Polk lived in my hometown for a time and QM has told HT all about him. When he saw the picture he shouted, "Hey! Dat's James K. Polk! Him and me work at _________, TN!" Me, being the party pooper I am, said, "That's nice, babe, but James K. Polk is dead."

"NOOOOOOO, Aunt FarmWife! Don't say dat word to me. Don't say James K. Polk are dead a me!"
To which QM interjected, "HT, you and I have talked about this. James K. Polk lived in Tennessee one hundred years ago. He's been dead for a long time."
U-man hunched himself over & sighed the most heart wrenching sigh you've ever heard.

A few minutes later Daddy sat down at the table with us. I told HT to tell his Pa who the man in the picture was. "Pa, dat's James K. Polk. Him's my man and him really, actually died." QM prompted HT to tell what James K. Polk was and he told his Pa, "Him was da President of Ameg-uh-luh da United States."

Having him around has messed Bitsy up a great deal. She's not used to hearing other kids call me & Husband by our first names. She spent 15 minutes calling me "FarmWife" today at Bucka's house. She called her dad "Uncle FarmBoy" 5 or 6 times before calling him "Uncle Daddy."

She's also spent a great deal of time trying to keep HT in line. He had the nerve to try and open the gate on Busha & Bucka's fence yesterday. That left Bitsy no choice but to wrestle him to the ground and keep him there so he couldn't escape. And today we "played runnin' 'round in da yard" at Bucka's.

Life with HT is an adventure....even for us.

She has goals

Bitsy has decided what she wants to be when she grows up. I'm not sure how I feel about her choice of occupation. She wants to be an Exterminator. Yes, my precious, dainty, uber-girly 3 year old daughter wants to be an exterminator when she grows up. Specifically she wants to go to work for Vex Con so she can work with Billy the Exterminator.

I was watching a new episode on my DVR today & she jumped up on the couch next to me & hollered, "Mommy! Me seed dis show 'afore! Me love dis show! Me watch it all da time!" Then she snuggled in next to me to find out what Billy was going to hunt down today.

After a few minutes she turned to me & said, "Me do dat on dat show when me get big."
"Do what, baby?"
"Dat. Catch does waccoons and kill dem bees like Billy." All the wasps he kills are bees in Bitsy's book.
"You want to be an exterminator?"
"Yeah! Like Billy and dat guy on dere. Dey got 2 boys and no girls on dere. Dey need a girl. When me get big, me gonna' do dat stuff with does boys."

A few minutes later Ricky, Billy the Exterminator's brother, was on the roof of a petting zoo storage shed picking up raccoon pooh to check out what the 'coons were eating. Bitsy grabed a towel she had on her lap, covered her face and yelled, "Mommy, cover you nose! Dat poop stinks! Quick!" I told her I was pretty sure we couldn't smell the poop since it was on TV. "Oh yeah. Me forgot."

Later in the episode Billy was heading into a house to kill roaches. I do not deal with roaches. Not at all. Nothing creeps me out faster than watching those nasty little things scurry across a floor. Bitsy knows this. "Mama, Billy gonna' kill dem woaches. You not look. You not like dem woaches." Then she covered her eyes with her towel.

"What are you doing, Bitsy?"
"Me hidin' from dem woaches. Me not like 'em."
"If you're going to be an exterminator, you can't be scared of roaches."
"Me not a 'sterminator yet, Mommy. Me be one me get big. Me not be scared of woaches den. Just now."

After a few more minutes of watching she said, "When me big and me a 'sterminator, me not kill dem woaches. Me just catch da stuff like waccoons and snakes. Billy can kill da woaches."

Maybe I should start dressing her all in black now.

Mechanical Wonders

This morning BabyGirl & I were getting ready for our day. She was off to school & I had to go to town to do the running. I asked her if there was anything she needed from the store. This is not a question I normally ask the FarmHands and BabyGirl was momentarily stumped.

When she regained her composure she said, "Yes, could you get me some mechanical pencils for school?"
"Why?"
"So I won't have to go to the pencil sharpener all the time."
"Is your teacher OK with mechanical pencils?" Knowing some teachers are very picky about what kids bring in to class.
"Mrs.T LOVES mechanical pencils."

OK, good enough for me. I found a package of 8 super cute, ultra-girly, squishy gripped mechanical pencils & a small refill of lead to go with them. I gave them to BabyGirl when she got home from school.

"I can't believe you got them!"
"I said I would. You said you needed them."
"Yeah, but I never thought you'd get these pencils! I love them!"

Yes, I am an amazing mother. You all can bask in my mad mothering skills as long as you like.

I kid you not.

Friday was Civil War Day at school. BabyGirl asked me to volunteer so I went and helped with the games. I spent all day helping another mom corral 3rd, 4th, and 5th graders while teaching them to play blind man's bluff and button, button, who's got the button?

One boy from another school showed up in Confederate officer dress uniform complete with brass colored buttons. He was pretty proud of himself. I remarked on his costume & our conversation when something like this:

Me- Wow. That's a cool uniform you've got on. Where did you get it?
Boy- We ordered it.
Me- Well, I really like it.
(brief pause)
Boy- You wanna' smell my buttons?
Me- Excuse me?
Boy- Do you want to smell my buttons?
Me- Um...
Boy #2- (pops out behind his buddy) Smell them! They smell like bat guano!
Me- What?!
Boy #2- Really, they smell like bat guano!
Boy- Yeah, they do.
Me- Thanks, but I think I'll pass.

I couldn't make this up if I tried.

Time Changes Everything

Last year, BabyGirl made her first trip to TN to stay with Grammy & Pa all by herself. Early on in her stay, Grammy taught her how to dial our phone number (she'd never dialed long distance on her own). She started calling me multiple times a day. On a slow day I got 3 calls. And she never really had much to say. She was just checking in to be sure we hadn't secretly moved while she was on vacation. One time she called & had so little to say that she tried to put Art's Syd on the phone to talk to me. HT often had to fill that spot.

This time, it's an entirely different story.

She talked to us twice her first day and hasn't called since. Bitsy needed to talk to BabyGirl last night, so we called her. The conversation when something like this:

BabyGirl- Hi, Bitsy!
Bitsy- Hello, BabyGirl!
BabyGirl- How are you?
Bitsy- Me good. Bye.
BabyGirl- Ummm...Bye.
Bitsy- (to me) Ha, ha! Mommy, BabyGirl say 'bye' me. Ha, ha!!

I got back on the phone with BabyGirl.

Me-Hey, Baby. Are you having a good time at Grammy's?
BabyGirl- Hi Mom. Yeah. We're having fun. I'm watching TV and playing on the computer.
Me-I'm glad.
BabyGirl- I have to go now, Mom. Grammy's trying to do something on the computer and she doesn't know how to do it. I have to go help her. Bye.
Me- Bye, Baby.
*click*

Yup. She hung up.

QM called me back a few minutes later thinking Bitsy had hung up the phone. I told her BabyGirl said she needed help. They were setting up a favorites folder so BabyGirl could find her favorite websites on Grammy's computer. That cracked me up because BabyGirl doesn't get on line at home....at all. At Grammy's she's quite the little Internet surfer.

By next year I'll just get text messages: hi mom-2 bzy 2 tlk-ily-ttyl <3 BG

Never get between a girl & her make-up

Monday, Husband had the day off work. It was too hot to spend it out of doors, so we decided to take the kids to Chuck E. Cheese for lunch. That involves an hour & twenty minute drive to E'ville, so it's not exactly an every day thing for us.

When we told the kids what the plan was, they flipped. Bitsy spent 10 minutes dancing in circles around the living room shouting, "Chuck Cheese! Chuck Cheese! Chuck Cheese!" Husband and I started teasing her saying things like, "Oh, Bitsy doesn't like Chuck E. Cheese. We'd better just stay home. Or we could leave her at Grandma's while the rest of us go. I'd hate to take her when she really doesn't like Chuck E. Cheese." To which she'd reply, "CHUCK CHEESE! ME LIKE CHUCK CHEESE! ME GO CHUCK CHEESE!!" and start dancing in circles again.

The FarmHands were eating breakfast, so I went to my room to get ready to leave. After a few minutes I heard a heart wrenching wail from the kitchen. I ran to see what was going on and found Bitsy face down on the linoleum sobbing.

"Bitsy Bee, what's wrong?"
"Daddy (sob) me no (sob) go (sob) Chuck Cheese (sob)."
"What?" as I scooped her up and she buried her head in my shoulder.
"Daddy me no go (sob) Chuck Cheese."
"Daddy said you can't go to Chuck E. Cheese? He was just teasing, Baby. You can go."

Then Husband walked into the kitchen, "I never said anything about her not going to Chuck E. Cheese. I just washed her face."

"Bitsy, you can go. Daddy just washed your face so it won't be dirty when we go."
"NO!! (wail, sob, wail) Me no go! (wail, sob, wail)"

Husband watched this in a state of mild what's-going-on-here shock. "All I did was wash her face. She had something sticky all over it. I don't know what it was, but it was pink. She had it smeared all over her mouth and cheeks. I could barely get it off."

That's when the light bulb went on.

"Oh no. You washed off her Chapstick. That's what this is all about."
"I didn't know what it was. It was everywhere!"

This is when Bitsy rejoined the conversation. "Yeah! Daddy wash off me lipstick (sob)! Now me no tan go Chuck Cheese (wail)! Me no make-up (wail)!"

I rocked her a bit and cooed soothing words in her ear like, "It's OK, sweetie. Mommy will get you new lipstick. Daddy didn't know you were putting on your make-up. We can fix it. You can still go to Chuck E. Cheese."

A light smear of Soft Lips applied by mom, and the sobs began to subside. If she's like this at three, what will she be like when I let her start wearing actual make-up? Oy. Better buy stock in Sephora.

Why do we bother?

When #1 Son was three years old, he decided to change his name to Larry-Boy. For months he would answer to nothing else. Eventually he grew out of it and went back to #1 Son. It didn't bother me too much. At least he didn't do what his Uncle Bubba did at the same age.

Bubba changed his name to Michael Jackson Finklestein (not our actual last name) when he was three (this was back when Michael Jackson's most controversial move was the crotch grabbing dance he was famous for). He refused to answer to the name our parents had so lovingly picked out for him. He introduced himself to everyone as Michael Jackson Finklestein. He went so far as to refuse to sing Jesus Loves Me in front of the church with his Sunday School class one morning. Instead, he snatched the microphone out of the stand & belted out Beat It...twice...until his teacher had to remove him from his spot by the mic. I thing Grandma M&M tried to hide under the pew that day.

Eventually, QM had enough and shut him on our enclosed porch until he'd tell her his real name. It went something like this:
Bubba- (knocking on door) LET ME IN!
QM- Who is it?
Bubba- IT'S ME! LET ME IN!
QM- "Me" who?
Bubba- ME! MICHAEL JACKSON FINLKESTEIN!
QM- I'm sorry, I don't know anyone by that name. You must be at the wrong house.
Bubba- LET ME IN! I LIVE HERE!
QM- Who are you?

It was very Alice in Wonderland.

Caterpillar: Who... are... you?
Alice: Why, I hardly know, sir. I've changed so much since this morning, you see...
Caterpillar: No, I do not C, explain yourself.
Alice: I'm afraid I can't explain myself, you see, because I'm not myself, you know.
Caterpillar: I do not know.
Alice: I can't put it any more clearly, sir, because it isn't clear to me.

Eventually, Bubba caved and told QM his given name and was allowed entrance into the house.

Princess fell in love with a little boy named Billy when she was 3. She informed us that when they grew up, they would get married and her name would be Princess Billy. Eventually that morphed into Princess Ba-wiv-a-buff (a very odd mispronunciation of her middle name) Billy Willy Finklestein. To this day, we call her Bill.

Bitsy has followed in their footsteps. I've called her Bitsy Bee since she was tiny. Bee started off as a shortened version of her middle name, then turned into only the first initial of that shortened version (confused yet?). It stuck. Everyone calls her Bitsy Bee now. But this week, she's added to it. She has decided her name is now Bitsy Bee Coconut. Why Coconut? I don't know. Possibly because she had coconut scented shampoo. Possibly because she's just nutty.

I'm beginning to think that if we were to have a fifth child (NOT HAPPENING) I'd wait to name him/her until he/she hit their third birthday so he/she could have his/her say in it. Then again, maybe not. The last person I met who was allowed to name themselves at a young age has Axl as a middle name....yeah, as in Axl Rose.

FarmHands on Father's Day

I love living in the country today. Living in the country means I can hang clothes on the line while (still) wearing my nightshirt at noon. If we lived in town, I'd have to actually get dressed and then instead of having to toss my sweaty night shirt in the wash, I'd have to toss actual clothing in the wash.

Secondly, it's HOT. Today I am thanking the Lord for things like Central Air and refrigeration and Crystal Light. Otherwise, I'd be hiding in a dark room somewhere wishing for winter.

And finally, Tips from the FarmHands on how to have the most excellent Father's Day ever!

First of all, make sure Dad gets to do something he loves....like mow the yard. This is really important. If you skip this first step, Dad will get bored & then there's no pleasing him.

Secondly, do fun things with him, like go swimming in the back yard. Let him give you all underwater piggy back rides until he turns blue from holding his breath. He will LOVE this. Trust us.

Third, take him somewhere really cool. Like to the movies. To see something really cool. Like Toy Story 3. It's a great film and Dad likes nothing more than watching our favorite movies...over, and over, and over.

Number 4: take Daddy out to eat somewhere really nice. McDonald's is a great choice! Dad can have a value meal while we enjoy french fries and MILK SHAKES!! Did you hear us?! MILK SHAKES!! With whipped cream!! Yum.

And finally, take the man swimming....again. This time, make sure it's dark outside. Then you can float around and watch the bats swoop down out of the woods to catch bugs. Mama will love this, too.

Hope you enjoyed your Father's Day as much as our dad did!

Oh to be nearly 3

I would love, for a day, for an hour, to switch places with Bitsy. To see life through her eyes. Everything is so amazing, or horrible, or exciting, or tragic. She does nothing in measured doses. It's all or nothing. And her imagination.....I cannot even begin to scratch the surface.

Today she was packing around a tiny copy of Beatrix Potter's The Tale of Jemima Puddle-Duck and telling me all about the illustrations in it while I was folding laundry. There's a fox in the story. According to Bitsy, who's never actually sat still long enough to listen to the story, he is a bad fox and "him eat my head." A few minutes later she was hiding under the blankets on her bed, had hidden #1 Son under a blanket on the floor, and was shouting at me to hide so, "dat bad fox tan't eat yous head, Mommy!" It was terrifying in that top-of-the-roller-coaster kind of way.



Shortly before this began, she put herself in time out because I caught her licking the toothpaste out of my tube of toothpaste. "Me sit time out chair a'cause me lick Mommy's toof-pase." Her time out chair was her dad's pillow propped up in the bathroom doorway.

Last week, she got mad at me because I told her she couldn't have a popsicle. Her response? She pulled down her pants & yelled, "Me nakkie. Me nakkie," and made an angry face at me. I'm not sure why she thought it would help, but her being naked did not spurn me into a sudden need to pass out frozen confections.

As we were getting ready for Bucka's birthday party last week, I told her Uncle Right Rev was coming. He & Aunt Kay live in Florida. She said, "No. Right Rev no come. Him tickle my toes." I called Busha to tell her, knowing she'd get a good laugh. Bitsy said Aunt Kay could come, but not Uncle Right Rev. Busha told her Aunt Kay can't travel by herself (due to some health issues) and Bitsy said, "Aunt Beck go get her." Later she decided Uncle Right Rev could come, but she wasn't going to take her shoes off in his presence.

While we were eating lunch today, she told me she can spell her name....A-P-8-9-10. Well, she does have an A in her name.

Last winter, she decided I was sick, so she got her Fisher Price doctor's kit & gave me a check up. My temperature was 2-3 o'clock. So was my blood pressure. It was bad. I had to have 6 shots in my finger tips. It was touch & go for a while, but eventually Dr.Bitsy got me through it all.

My life is so boring in comparison.

Things I've learned spending lots of time with grade schoolers:

Friday was the first & second grade field trip and today was field day for the entire school (kindergarten to eight grade). I helped out with both. I learned a lot!

• My niece loves me. As soon as I got on the bus, Niece T started shouting, "FarmWife, FarmWife, sit with me & Darcy!" She told me 4 or 5 times that she wanted to be in my group, but since I was a first grade chaperon & she's in second grade, I didn't think that would happen. When her group was paired with mine for the first half of the day, she was over the moon! I don't get to spend a great deal of time with her, so it was a really fun day.
  
• I'm not old. There was a discussion among a group of the first & second grade girls about it. They all agreed I was not at all old. Then one informed me I wasn't quite as old as her granny. Then she told me her granny is almost 90. It was fun while it lasted.
• If you're a fun chaperon, you get to ride the elevator up & down with the little girl on crutches while everyone else has to tromp up the stairs. It was the same girl who's Granny is a bit older than I am.
• First & Second graders stuck on a bus for an hour are L.O.U.D.
• If you use your "big voice," little boys who've been ignoring your requests, suddenly sit up & listen. Especially when, up until that point, you've been the "fun chaperon."
• First & Second graders do not care that Alonzo Fields was the Chief Butler at the White house for 4 presidents including FDR. And they really don't want to look at letters he wrote, telegrams sent to him by presidents, or notes he wrote while taking care of the big house.
• Washing red long underwear on a wash board is great fun...when it's just for pretend. Making butter is great fun...when it's just for pretend. Grinding corn with a hand grinder is great fun....when it's just for pretend.
• If 8th grade boys would wear pants that fit, they could run faster than 1st grade girls.
• Getting hit in the chest with a water balloon launched from 50 yards away hurts. Bad. And will get the water balloon portion of the day shut down pretty quickly.
• Children who will not run at home for love nor money, will run pointless laps around a play ground at the slightest suggestion.
• Sitting down on a concrete wall will make you a random 5 year old girl's best friend for the next 20 minutes. Said girl may even lavish you with many hugs 'round the knees while asking you 8,000 questions about your own children (who she does not know). The same thing can happen a few hours later when you sit down next to a little boy on a bench.
• Holding a new born can still make me all squishy inside, but being able to hand him back to his mama while he's still happy, well fed, and dry, is a great thing!
• Turning 34 does not make you immune to teachers giving you birthday spankings.