The Rotation

The dogs sleep in the house at night.  I bring them in around 8:30 or so, and since time has changed, but Kelsey has no concept of time change, she huffs past me and heads straight to bed.  Her frustration with my lack of consideration for her sleep time are quite obvious. 

Chesney, however runs around like a spazz, fetching and retrieving and generally acting goofy.  Until she finds the bag of sweet potatoes, and if you aren't quick enough, you will notice it is too quiet.  Quiet like, "what are my children doing" quiet.  Only my kids are usually in bed, and Chesney can usually be found quietly noshing on a sweet potato.  So, if you happen to notice puncture marks in your sweet potatoes when you are at my house, I have no idea how they got there.

This is Chesney's painful attempt at "stay."  I assure you every fiber of her being want to dash up to me, then crawl between my legs and lay down.  It's her safe spot.

Anyway, sometime between the hours of 5:30 and 7:00am, I let the dogs out.  The time is now gloriously fluid because A)have I mentioned I only go to work twice per week now and B)Chesney's bladder is a little more able to take a longer sleep in. 

As I let the dogs out, an amazing cycle begins.  A cat jumps over both dogs as they scramble out the back door.  Then, if the cat is Oliver, he runs to the front door and meows.  Now, this makes little sense to me as he just came from the BACK door, but now he wants out the front door.  Although, why it surprises me is ridiculous.  He meows at the gate to the yard if I'm outside too.  But I don't blame him.  Would you rather scale a chain link fence, or let your human open the gate for you?  Anyway, I let his majesty out the front door.

As I go into the kitchen to start up my Keurig, invariably I hear a chirruping "meow."  That would be Misty.  The ruckus at the back door has woken her.  I open the door and ask "How do you get in here every night?  Every night I put you both OUTSIDE, yet one or the other finds their way BACK in the garage before I get up."  You see, the cat in the garage, and the cat outside rotates.  I never know if I will see a streak of gray sleekness leap over the dogs, or a mass of black and white fluff. 

It kind of keeps things fresh, y'know?

So, in this particular example of the morning rotation, Misty is in the garage.  And she is using her chirruping meow.  I open the door, because I'm stupid, and she runs in the house, weaves herself around my legs, then proceeds to the front door, where I have just released Oliver, and lets out a long, plaintive, raspy "meeeeoooooow."  Of course, the kids are still asleep about 60% of the time at this point.  Or at least, they are PRETENDING to be asleep as they do not want to leave the comfort of their warm beds.  So, in order to give my little angels a few moments more shut eye, I open the door to let Misty out.  Because apparently I have no authority over the cats in this house.   I mean, I put them out every night.  Every morning at least one is in the garage, demanding to be released.*

Oh, don't let that calm demeanor fool you.  This cat outright talks to you.  And if she doesn't get her way, she talks and talks and talks until you just give in and do whatever it is she wanted in the first place.

You know what happens next, right?  Oliver runs right into the house, seeing as I have not filled his food dish, and that was the only reason he wanted on the front porch in the first place.  Now the thing with Oliver is this:  He owns a human.  Well, he owns three technically.  Because Bookworm takes no ownership of him whatsoever, and I scratch him when I fancy, and Brent pretty much dotes on him.  But Popcorn?

Oh, he OWNS her.  She knows it.  He knows it.  Shoot, the whole family knows it.

Well, upon discovering that I have not filled his food dish as was his wont, he dashes back into the house. Gentle Reader, let it be known that I NEVER fill the food dish of any animal in this house unless my children are gone.  So why he considers this a surprise every single morning is a mystery.  However, he is greatly offended.  And he knows exactly who to go tattle to.  He pussy foots his fluffy self right past me, makes a persnickety left at the piano, and heads directly to his child.  He prances into her room, meowling his strangely dainty meow for an 18 pound ball of fluff, and hops onto Popcorn's bed.

Here is Mr. Flufferpants himself, surveying his child's domain

She promptly picks him up and carries him...

To the garage.  Where she shuts the door, then goes to her room to get ready for school.

As I typed this post, I kept having one thought buzz around my brain "The definition of insanity is repeating the same thing over and over yet expecting different results."

For the life of me, I can't tell you who the insane one is.

*Gentle Reader, the magic of the cats in the garage has turned out to not be magic at all.  It turns out that as Brent leaves through the garage, then out the door to the back yard through the garage, at least one cat darts in.  And then plaintively meows.  And then he feeds them.  IN THE GARAGE.  The issue with this is that I was scolding the girls for WEEKS that they had better stop feeding the cats in the garage so the cats would quit dashing in every time the door was opened.  Of course, they denied feeding the cats.  "Then how does the bowl of food keep appearing?"  Oh, Gentle Reader, the culprit was found out.  And then I learned that not only do I have no authority over the cats in my life, apparently I have none over my husband who can't stand to hear their pitiful wails at 4:30 in the morning. 
 

So While I Was Working My Fingers to the Nub

My kids decided to fly kites!

It was a beautiful sunny day with a very faint breeze.

Too much wind and the kite crashes before you can get it up in the air.

Not enough wind and you exhaust yourself trying to get the kite high enough to catch upper wind currents.

Either way, sometimes your string gets all tangled up and you find yourself sitting in the grass trying to figure out where it all went wrong.

Proud Parenting Moment #187

This past week had all sorts of fun and excitement.

The biggest of which was that my brother's kids stayed the night with us after a concert on Tuesday, then took a college day to OU.  They got in late Tuesday night, then joined us for breakfast and a quick chat before heading to the campus to get the grand tour...

They got back to our house just in time to go with me to grab the girls from school.

WAIT!  I forgot to mention that as I dropped Popcorn off at school I noticed the book fair sign.

"Hey, today is book fair!"

"Yeah, but I'm out of money, so I'm not going." 

"Well, I have ten dollars in my purse.  If you promise to buy books with it, and not JUNK, you can have that."

"Thanks!"  And she hopped out of the car and ran to her friends to chat about the injustice of a mom who would not allow her to wear shorts to school on February 29, when it was going to be a blistering 70 degrees Fahrenheit...

Okay, now back to picking the kiddos up.  I had Brook and Kris with me.  Popcorn skipped to the car and climbed in.  "How was school?"

"Great!  I went to the book fair!"

"What did you get?"

And THIS is what she pulled out of her bag, Gentle Reader:

"SERIOUSLY???  I am going to BEAT you with that thing when we get home!  I TOLD you to buy a book!"

"But Mooooommm-uh!  I did buy a book!  A Diary of a Wimpy Kid Dog Days book.  But I had three dollars left, so I bought this too!"

"What on earth are you going to do with that thing?"  This from Kris, thankfully.  I'd already shown my joy over the purchase with the first words from my mouth.

When we got home, I found the situation hilarious.  I decided that she MUST keep that stupid cat paw pointer for the rest of her LIFE.  And I decided that she must move it every single time she moves, and every time she moves, she must tell the tale of how she promised her mom to buy books, but she had three dollars left, that she absolutely HAD to spend, and obviously a cat paw pointer was the obvious choice...

In hindsight I wish we'd gone around taking photos of her pointing at stuff...But we were in a rush to get this quick picture done so she could leave for school Thursday morning.

 As you can see, she wore shorts on Thursday, because I'm a total sap.

What is your favorite, most ridiculous "why on earth did I buy THAT" purchase?

Rugged

A few weeks ago, the following conversation ensued in our car.  I believe it was on the way home from one of the girls' Christmas concerts.

Me:  Hey girls!  I finally bought that Michael Buble' Christmas cd.

Girls:  Yeah!  Put it in now.

Brent:  I finally saw a Michael Buble' video.  It made me mad.


????

Me:  Why?

Brent:  He can sing and he's good looking.  And he can dance.

This statement was met with much hilarity and laughter from the female gender in the car.

Me:  Honey, you don't have anything to worry about.  Michael Buble' is good looking in a pretty boy sort of way.  You are ruggedly handsome.  I prefer rugged manliness.

Popcorn:  That's right Dad!  Who cares about clean when you can have rugged?
 

From Frizzy Hair to Christmas Tidings

I turned 36 yesterday.  It was a GREAT day.  My husband took the entire family to eat at Red Lobster.  Popcorn insisted on ordering lobster.

She thought it was the scariest looking thing ever.  But she ate a few bites...And she tried scallops and shrimp cooked three different ways, none of which were fried popcorn shrimp.

She mostly ate her rice, some steamed broccoli and cheddar biscuits.

I tried not to shudder at the fact that I could feed the family for a week on what we paid for one meal.

You will be pleased to know that I then went shopping.  FOR MYSELF.  And I bought stuff for myself alone!!!  I know I refer to shopping a lot in this blog, but what my followers who know me only through blogland don't realize is that I am still wearing clothes from before my children were born.  It is a sad thing to look in my closet.  I thought of getting rid of everything over three years old.  But then I realized I'd have no clothes...

My back has been bothering me.  I feel as if my body has betrayed me.  I exercise.  I watch my weight.  I lift patients that weigh as much or more than me...And that seems to have outweighed all of my endeavors to have a healthy back...Did you know I think people who have back pain are annoying?

Well, anyway I find myself VERY annoying, so therefore I'm sure my coworkers are getting tired of my refusal to lift patients this week.

My hair is also betraying me.  I need to color it.  I haven't had it cut since late June.   It is a frizzy mess with gray roots showing.  Perhaps I shall take time from my life to get it cut.  Perhaps I have betrayed it instead of vice versa.

I feel as if I should write my Christmas letter/cards.  However, I can't decide what to say.  Should I tell them of my aging body?  Perhaps I'll mention my frizzy hair and kids with dramatic tendencies that comes from who knows where.

Or maybe I'll tell them all about our animals...How we went from two to five in just a matter of weeks.  And now we are back down to three.  Our pregnant female cat disappeared one day and we haven't seen her since.  Of course we have hawks and owls and of course the coyotes who come to my back fence and look in at our animals on a daily basis...Now all Popcorn wants for her birthday is a little kitten.  SOOoooo.  Does anyone have a kitten who will be ready to wean on December thirtieth? 

Studmuffin is finishing our Christmas shopping today.  At least I think he's finishing it.  Until I remember another gift I forgot, we are finished...

Do you need a Chesney story?

Well, as you can see from my last few posts, we have new decorations out.  She has been really good to leave them alone, as being scolded makes her tremble in fear.  Unless it involves Popcorn's socks, and then she will risk severe punishment for a taste of that delightful funk...Anyway, a few days ago I heard Bookworm yelling "Chesney, no!!"  And then I heard Popcorn's panicked rejoinder...

I came in the room to find them wresting a porcelain doll that my Grandmama gave me for Christmas one year as a child from her jaws.  My grandparents seldom gave us gifts as they had 16 grandchildren and five children...So obviously buying gifts would be a little overwhelming.  Well, one year they gave all of  their smaller granddaughters a little porcelain doll.  Here is what mine looks like:

Isn't she cute posed on the reindeer my mother in law made a few years back?  She used to have a bonnet, but it has been lost at some point through the years.

Anyway, I offered Chesney a sock, and she quickly dropped the doll with no complaints.  The girls both chorused relief, as it would be terrible if Chesney ate the doll.  I agreed whole heartedly.  Then Bookworm said, "Yes, those bits of porcelain would have cut up her insides"...And I silently thought that I wasn't particularly thinking of the harm the DOLL would do her if she ate it, but rather the harm I would do the DOG if she ate the DOLL!

The doll is now happily posed safely in a tea cup on my piano, out of the jaws of death...

 And the dog is currently safely chewing on an old sock that I have Popcorn put on every day or so, just to keep the right proportion of her foot funk in it, (okay not really, but only because Popcorn is a disobedient child and refuses to humor me) and she is quietly lying at my feet by the fire, and Kelsey is sitting with her head on my arm rest...

And I can't help but be sort of glad that we have dogs in the house.

Considering I was raised in a no pets allowed in the house family, I never thought I'd say that!

Well, I shall sign off now.  But not before I end with yesterday's chuckle courtesy of Bookworm.  The middle school Gifted and Talented children were given the privilege of going to see the Nutcracker in Norman.  AND they got to go to OU the campus and eat!  ALL BY THEMSELVES!! (We will not discuss the stress hives I had over this.)  Anyway, I asked her what she thought of the Nutcracker...Well, it seems she was too distracted by those tight tights the men were wearing.  Let's just say that she never wanted to see that many details of strange men's anatomy.

Then, she and her buddy went to eat at ChikfilA.  However, her friend only had five dollars, and they were hoping to hit Starbucks before they had to return to school...Well, Bookworm pointed out that if they ordered just a sandwich and water they would have enough left to get cocoa at Starbucks.  Yes, my 11 year old has mad money skills...

So, they ventured into Starbucks after their feast of a classic ChikfilA sandwich and filtered water...They ordered the smallest hot chocolate they had...

"And Mom, can you believe they charged four bucks for a little cup of hot chocolate?!!  You could buy a whole box of hot cocoa mix for like a dollar!  And it didn't even taste good.  They overflowed it with whipped cream and it tasted horrible!"  Of course, my kids hate whipped cream, and she didn't know to tell them to hold the whipped cream.

So, I'm happy to report I'm raising a daughter who recognizes the value of a dollar, and knows how to make her money stretch...And she values modesty...

But I have to confess that my other daughter said, "I want to go see that!" when Bookworm described her horror over them men's apparel.

So, there ya go.  My universe is apparently in balance.

A Three Step Picture Tutorial to a Happier Mommy.

Oh no!  What shall I do???  The toilet paper roll is empty!!!

I know!  I will get another roll from the cabinet!!

There they are!  All nice and lined up, ready for the next person who needs it!  I'm so thankful I have a mommy who has a phobia about running out of toilet paper!

There!  I will sit it right here where it's nice and handy to all.

A few uses later the toilet paper roll has now moved from the back of the toilet to be stacked on top of the empty roll...

Fortunately for this family, they have a mommy who knows how to not only change the roll, but take a picture tutorial so they will NEVER have to stack roll upon roll upon roll...

Step One:  Remove old toilet paper roll.  This step is very crucial.  You see, the NEW roll will not fit on until the OLD roll has been removed!

Step Two:  Throw the OLD roll away!  This may seem superfluous, but I guarantee, your mother needs her sanity.  Please, please, by all that is good and holy:  THROW AWAY THE OLD ROLL!  I have heard rumors that sometimes something simple as an empty toilet paper roll left lying on the floor has caused lesser mommies than yours to lose her temper.  Unfathomable as it all seems, I fear this rumor may have a tiny seed of truth to it.

Step Three:  Place the NEW roll on the toilet paper dispenser, and snap it back in place.

And there you have it, folks.  Three simple steps to a happier saner mommy.

Gentle Reader:  Please feel free to print and post this easy Three Step Tutorial to a Happier Saner, Less Prone to Temper Tantrums Mommy in your own house.

Your welcome.

Updates

I found the dead smell in my garage...

Thankfully it was NOT the missing cat...Merely a mouse that I actually discovered AFTER the stench went away. 

I discovered it because my garage door wasn't working one day...

Then I realized the deep freeze wasn't running...

And then I realized NONE of the outlets in the garage worked...

And then I envisioned a dead cat with a chewed cord in it's mouth...Because the puppy was still alive so OBVIOUSLY it wasn't her...

But alas, it was a receptacle that had gone bad due to a long story that I shall not explain as it's too tedious...Let's just say Studmuffin replaced the receptacle and all is well, and the meat in the freezer was still good...

Whew!

Oh, did I mention this all happened the same day I found ANOTHER black widow in my house?  The pest control dude came, and sprayed the inside and out and bombed the attic, and explained that it was merely because it is getting cold so they were trying to get in...

I mentioned I really don't care why they are there, they simply shouldn't be!!!  So, over Thanksgiving I will grab some hedge apples to put in baskets at my doors to see if that helps.  My sister, the giver of information, told me they are supposed to repel insects...

I think we may have kittens in January...

Freckles is apparently no longer a kitten if her trampy ways are anything to go buy.  Two tom cats had a fight on our front porch last week.  And last Wednesday she came in with a wet neck...

Popcorn pointed out she must have found a mate...

And I was a little shocked to realize how nonchalant and well versed my child was about the mating rituals of animals...

I think we will bring her in the house in the week or so before she's due so we won't have to worry about Oliver getting the kittens.  Brent has NOT come around to this way of thinkin'...

If I fail to convince him of the joy of a basket of kittens in a closet, then perhaps we will put a litter box in the shop so she can have them in the boat...Because that's where ALL of the cats have kittens at my parents!  And Oliver can't get in the shop if we are vigilant to keep him out...

And the threat of kittens in his boat is a sure way to let us have kittens in the house!!!

Not that I'm manipulative like that or anything...

And then, of course we must KEEP Freckles in the house so we can get her spayed BEFORE she goes back in heat...Because while I REALLY want one litter of kittens to snuggle and enjoy on a cold winter's day...I do not want ENDLESS litters of kittens!

Now.  I really should get some house work done...Or at the very least get out of my pajamas. I have a date with my niece Brooke today after she finishes touring OU.  I haven't seen her in ages, so that will be great!

He's Still Workin' On Me!

Remember this children's song?

It took Him just a week to make the moon and stars,
the sun and the moon and Jupiter and Mars.
La la la I don't remember all the words!
But He's still workin' on me.

You don't remember it?  Strange.  Especially considering how thoroughly I just described it to you!

Well, it took Bookworm just a few days to make her solar system. Her daddy used all of the self restraint he possessed and lent minimal assistance.  I assure you this was a very big challenge considering this is the same man who once declared:  We will NOT have a red back splash.  It is too much work to paint the red evenly!

And then I promised to paint the bead board.

And so he agreed...I painted maybe two square feet of primer on the bead board, and he looked at me and said:  Give me the brush.  You are not doing it evenly.

It was primer for the love of Pete!  I didn't realize it NEEDED to be even!

So, he let her do all but a small bit of the work...

And this is the result!

Oh wait!  That's not the result!  Dag nab it!  My secret it is out.  But, hey do you see the lovely little fall display I have buried next to Popcorn's jacket their on the right?  Chesney actually leaves that thing alone.  Now that the scarecrow is gone, that is.  She is quite determined to eat every scare crow she encounters.

Please tell me I'm not the only one who has a mysterious explosion of shoes, socks, jackets, lunch bags and back packs every single day.

Please?

Tell me I'm not alone.

Mind you, this is not the solar system either.  This is just an example of puppy paraphernalia strewn threw the living room while the culprits lay in blissful slumber.  I am just wondering when I lost complete control of my house.  Do you realize that when my kids were babies my house was spotless?  It was!  Truly!  I was a cleaning and cooking machine!  Every single day I mopped and ran the vacuum.  I washed dried and folded laundry promptly.  I cooked dinner nearly every single night..in fact it was usually completely prepared except for the actual cooking by 3:30 while the girls napped... and I vowed to never let my kids sully their palates with carbonated beverages, high fructose corn syrup or french fries...

I have failed in nearly all of those endeavors in the past eight years.  Of course I snapped out of the post partum depression about eight years ago...  My housework has slowly slipped down hill ever since.

Who knew post partum had an up side?

Why lookie there!  I finally got around to showing a picture of the solar system!  And nary a mess is in sight!

Who says my house is a complete and utter disaster?

Three words:  Location, angle, and sweep (as in your arm across the counter to pile all clutter against your lovely red backsplash.)

Here's another view.  If you click on the photo and enlarge it, you will see that there are two more planets than there used to be in my day.  Yep, that little tiny dwarf planet on the far right is Eris.  And the little brown dwarf planet in the asteroid belt is Ceres...And not only does Saturn have rings, but so do Jupiter, Neptune and Uranus...Uranus and Neptune's rings are made out of thin sheets of plastic she cut to fit then wrapped around the planets.  She is clever, no?

And here's the clever girl herself posing for "just one picture" before heading off to school.  Good thing this turned out as she was quite adamant about the one picture only.

She gets that from her dad's side of the family, I'm sure.

This picture is purely gratuitous.  I wonder what on earth Chesney is dreaming of?

Memories Light the Corner of My Mind

My youngest daughter is funny. She is funny in a purposeful way, but also funny in a totally unintended way too.  I was reminded of this little tale by my supervisor the other day...

When Popcorn was in Kindergarten, we were in the process of moving back to Oklahoma.  Brent had already came to this state in March, and we had decided that I would stay in South Texas, letting our kids complete the school year, as he was going to be living in a travel trailer, and we didn't know exactly where we were going to live.  We didn't want to put them in one school for the final two months of school, then change to a different school the final year.  This was hard and we ended up pulling the kids out of school at the end of the year and home schooling them...Of course, we made that decision when Oklahoma had only two weeks of school left, and Texas still had nearly a month, so I use the term loosely...Read here "no curriculum but we read books and colored every day and did math papers.  Oh, and we went to the zoo at least three times a week because we were living in a travel trailer, and I wasn't working, so the zoo was free since we had a pass and I would pack a lunch."  Did you ever think you'd hear the words "PLEASE don't make us go to the zoo again, Mommy."  I heard it over and over.  But I was going insane in that trailer, and there is only so much time you can spend on the campground swing set and playing ping pong with a 6 & 7 year old before you lose your mind...

However, this story actually takes place BEFORE we had moved here. 

Back stories with a person this verbose are unavoidable.

It was Mother's Day.  My beautiful children insisted they make me breakfast in bed.  The made toast with peanut butter and honey, a bowl of cereal, and a pot of coffee.  They used nearly the entire can of coffee for one pot.  So it was good and strong!

As we prepared for church Popcorn informed me we were eating out for lunch.  We were on a very tight budget as we were paying for Brent's trailer park rent plus our normal household expenses and I had stopped working so I could be the sole care giver for the kids.  I evaded saying that I would probably just make us a quick lunch.  Popcorn was having none of that! "No, Mommy.  I'm taking YOU out!"

So after church we loaded into our van and she instructed me to head to Dairy Queen.  There we ordered our regular food, me a cheeseburger with everything and fries, and the girls each got a popcorn chicken meal.  When it came time to pay Popcorn turned to me and whispered, "Mom!  I need your debit card so I can pay for lunch!"

And she took my card and happily swiped it.  She proudly handed it back to me and said, "Happy Mother's Day!"

Today is a Good Day For...

It's raining.

Can I get an AMEN?

I am out of funds for the month...Darn this envelope system...So instead of doing rainy day shopping, I will:

1.  Clean house and light fall scented candles in every room.
2.  Drag fall decorations one by one out of the attic.  I hurt my darn back and don't dare carry down the box.
3.  Place my pumpkins all about in my freshly cleaned home.
4.  Make a giant crock pot of chili, enough to perhaps freeze for a busy day...Do any of you ever have chili left overs?  No matter how much I think I make, it all seems to get eaten within a few days.  My girls like to take it in a thermos for lunch.
5.  Bake a double batch of ginger cookies.  That should solidify that fall is in the air smell.  Besides, Aunt Flo is in for a visit and she loves ginger cookies.  She gets cranky when her needs aren't met, so hopefully that will help shut her up.
6.  Do a yoga and pilates workout.  I hurt my darn back a month ago moving a bed by myself at work that was older than Methuselah, and it didn't steer well.  I keep having random flare ups of debilitating left flank muscular pain.  I'm trying to build up my ab muscles and keep my hamstrings limber by doing plenty of core exercises.

Random fact:  I keep calling it my right flank, but it is clearly my left.  This comes from 15 years of flipping my right and left when charting on patients.  You know, their left is my right...Sadly, I have now decided to call my right my left.  It is quite embarrassing when I point at my brace my left flank and say, "The right side of my back is killing me."

But if that's the most embarrassing thing I do today, I will be doing great.

Do you know what Saturday was a great day for?

Kite flying!

I wish I had taken a closer up photo...And as you can see, we got our fence up, and flaked out on finishing out the top rail.

But then, if we had all of our "to dos" done, what would we do?

Well, perhaps we would find SOMETHING to do.

And by the way:  How beautiful is this girl?  For the first time she is truly encountering "mean girl" syndrome.  I am tempted to call certain girls by very bad names.  

But I'm the adult.  So I'm refraining.

For now.

What are your plans for Thursday?

P.S.  My dog is scared of thunder storms. Either that, or she senses Popcorn is.  We brought her in last night, knowing it was going to rain, and when it started lightning nearly nonstop she ran from room to room sniffing each of us, and finally went to sleep next to my 9 year old daughter's bed.  At least that kept Popcorn from climbing in bed with me, which is the normal response to thunder and lightning!

Who Knew?

Wednesday my kids brought home their achievement test scores.  I had been eagerly awaiting them, as it has always been patently obvious to me that my children are nothing short of genius...However it's always nice to have my theories confirmed by an outside party.

I looked through a certain child's bag to find her scores, and found a handful of papers in various pouches and pockets of her bag and zipper binder...

I perused her test scores, not at all surprised to see she scored advanced in most areas.  However, I was surprised to peruse her schoolwork scores...

It seems this particular child is too intelligent to be bothered with showing math work.  And too incredibly brilliant to go back and check her work.  In fact she is so masterfully genius that she has a 74 average in math at this point.  I know what her average is because I totalled her homework scores and then divided them by 9, the number of papers she had turned in so far. 

Y'know.

Because applying math skills is handy that way.

I called her into the house where her father and I sat her down and discussed her schoolwork...

Side Note:  I had to calm her father down before we chatted with her.  You see, our schools were both on a seven point system, so 93-100 was an A, 85-92 a B, and 78-84 a C, with 70-77 a D, and below a 70 failing!  I pointed out that this school grades on the ten point scale, so thankfully she has a "C" at this point and not a "D."  Which was really a good thing, because I thought Studmuffin was going to stroke out when he thought his child had a "D."

"But did you see my test scores?"  she asked.

"Yes, I saw your test scores.  Achievement test scores don't get you scholarships in college!"  At this time her sister walked in the room...

"How are you going to get money for college?"  I asked the unsuspecting sister.  Fortunately for her, she has listened to my oft drilled in answer.

"I have to make all A's and get scholarships."

"That's right!  You have to get academic scholarships.  You are both incredibly smart.  There is no reason for you to not make straight A's.  If you decide to be lazy and not make A's and therefore not get scholarships, you will STILL go to college, but you will go through on student loans.  And then you will leave college with a mountain of debt to pay off."  I am so loving and gentle, no?

The child with the questionable math grade looked at her father and I and said in all earnestness, "Well, I could also get a scholarship in archery!"

*

!?

*!?%!*

Well, after we picked our jaws up off of the floor, Studmuffin informed her that while that may be possible, there probably aren't a lot of archery scholarships out there, so she better get her act together and keep her grades up.

Archery.

Who knew? 

She Doesn't Want to Dress Like Me.

My oldest is having wardrobe drama.

Popcorn has had wardrobe drama since she was old enough to say "no."  She went through a boy shirt phase.  She always wanted those blue striped boys shirts when she was two.  And I totally let her wear them.  Because what did it matter?  It's just a shirt.  She went through a monochromatic phase between three and four:  Whatever color she was wearing, it had to be that same color head to toe...

That was always interesting.  And really kind of cute.

Once she started she school mixed and matched clothing and came up with some outlandish outfits, and if I pointed out that orange shorts did not match a green shirt and purple socks, she would firmly declare she did not care.   And I would decide I didn't either as long as all necessary parts were covered and send her on her way.  Some of my friends were openly skeptical about that phase.  But, she passed it, and now she is in a trendy/pink/purple/sparkle/ten thousand accessories phase...

But the real point of this post is Bookworm's wardrobe drama.  She has always had one rule about clothing:  People must not notice or comment on what she wears.  A compliment from the "pop peeps" as she calls them meant that she would never wear that particular outfit again.  Because people noticed her, and she didn't like people looking at her...And she also had a stigma that popular people are not nice people, so she refused to be like them.  I assure you, she did not get this stigma from me.  I blame it on her bookwormish tendencies because the popular girls are always vicious in kids books. 

So, yesterday I found her on the living room floor.  Crying.  Because I will not let her wear her Justice shorts because they do not reach her finger tips.  And that is the dress code.  She claims that her arms go clear to her knees, so that rule is clearly unfair to her.  Yes, her arms are long.  So are mine.  She has long legs.  So do I.  It is hard to find shorts that fit her skinny frame that are also to the bottom of her fingertips.  However, there is a dress code.  And while I consider many rules stupid, and don't follow them myself (the speed limit being a prime example), I am making her obey dress code.  Apparently many girls are wearing very short shorts.  I can attest to this, as I've seen it with my own eyes.  But just because they are getting away with breaking the rules doesn't make it right...(insert speed limit comments here.)

Today is "blue out" at school.  This is homecoming week, so there are themes for each day.  I told her to wear her new school shirt (which is blue, duh) that her dad paid an exorbitant amount for, with a pair of capris.  Because her shorts are all in the wash.  She does not want to wear capris.  She wants to wear shorts.

That are too short.

I said, "What is wrong with these capris?  They are cute!  I would totally wear them!"

And to that, Gentle Reader, I'm quite sure she thought to herself "And you are 35 years old and I will not be caught DEAD dressing like you."

Strangely, she still refused to wear them.

So, I convinced her to wear a pair of shorts that I bought at a garage sale that are size 00 and too big in the waist for her.  I made her put on  a belt, did the experimental attempt to pull them off and declared them good.  And, just for good measure I pointed out that they are shorts from a very trendy store which means the original owner paid entirely too much for them, so she can go to school proudly in her name brand shorts, her over priced tee, and feathers in her hair and call herself cute.

And get over it if anyone comments on how cute she looks.

My Future as a Bull Fighter is in Jeopardy

A few weeks ago I went out to see my folks.  It was hot.  It was dry.  But that did not keep us from riding horses!  No sirree bob!  My mom offered to drive us in the pickup to find the horses.  They have a full section of land to wander (that's one square mile) in this drought, along with a herd of cattle.  Now, I could have accepted this generous offer but it just didn't seem like the thing I would have done as a girl on the farm.  I decided to show my children the proper way to catch your bronc if you live on the farm and you are around the age of nine or ten.

You take two feed buckets.  One bucket has a nibble or two of sweet feed in it.  The other has a bridle to catch the bronc with.  Two buckets is necessary only if you are going after two horses.  Otherwise I'd just toss the bridle in with the feed.  I was also known to tuck a lead rope in my back pocket and head to the pasture with a handful of cake to catch a horse.  However, I was unsure if these horses had a halter on, and I intended to ride the horses back, so a bridle for each was more in order.  In addition, we planned to ride them as soon as we caught them, so naturally we at least needed a bridle!

Please also understand that I really had no idea where they were.  The most logical place was by the pond.  Or the trees.  Or perhaps anywhere at all in the pasture...The only thing I was certain of was that they were not in the 40 acres behind the house.  We decided to cut at a diagonal across the pasture to the pond...As we entered the field on the east side, I spotted the horses further to the east of us.

"Heeeey horsES!"  I gave the cry my dad has always used to call the horses in to eat...I confess, I did not hold out much hope that they would respond to my cry as I am not the source of their breakfast on a regular basis.

Imagine my surprise when they not only came, but came at a trot to greet us!  They were so ready for diversion that they all but stuck their heads in the bridles for us!  You will notice the very authentic cowgirl gear my girls have on.  Because clearly every cowgirl wears brand new Pumas or purple sparkled Sketchers through a pasture and to ride horses!  Right?

In truth, the little hooligans had left their boots and old shoes at our house and brought nothing but brand new shoes to their grandparents...*SIGH*  And they even failed to pack a single pair of JEANS!  Good grief, who ARE these children?

As you can see the cattle were quite interested in the treat the horses were receiving...

And also you can see that I did NOT get to ride a horse back to the house.  I was informed that the girls were riding by themselves.  I shrugged to myself and decided I could use the exercise to walk back home.  After all, carrying two buckets through the hot dry pasture wasn't enough exercise.

So, the girls left me and my buckets and headed off, no saddles, no blankets, nothing to pad Bookworm's delicate derriere from old Appy's bony back.  Remember, Appy is 29 years old.  I have all sorts of sad thoughts about how hard this hot summer has been on him.  But we will not get into that right now.

What you are interested in (hopefully, and I apologize for taking twenty minutes to get here) is why I fear my future as a bull fighter...

So, I put my kids on the horses, and sent them off.  I watched them ride off with a little catch in my chest at a memory of happier, simpler times, picked up my now empty buckets and headed off to the road...

I had walked about 25 feet when I realized I had company.  Two black angus cows were walking at my hip.  And head butting each other.  And trying to stick their heads in my bucket without actually touching me.

Now, I realize I've been away from the country for a while, but I was completely inappropriately dressed.  As in, bermuda shorts (I realize nobody calls them bermuda shorts any more, but I'm not sure what one does call them), tank top and thin tennis shoes inappropriately dressed.  I tried to ignore my bovine companions and continue on to the gate.  And they kept head butting and shoving each other.

I kept visualizing them shoving each other into me, and consequently stepping on my inadequately shod foot...In addition to the fact that my brother was barely moving as a result of a run in with a cow two weeks earlier...Oh, I'm sorry but simply have to give a back story here:

Due to the severe drought my dad and brother have had to sell off a good chunk of their herds to avert a bigger financial disaster than they are already facing.  David had decided to sort some cattle (by himself, I think) while my parents were on vacation.  Apparently one mama cow did not appreciate being sorted from her calf.  She took off after David...

Okay, I just have to back track even further right here and say that many times as I was helping sort cattle my Granddad Marvin would say "Quit jumping out of the way!  The cows don't want to run over you.  Stand your ground.  They will back off."  In fact I remember very clearly him saying that very thing to me just before I found myself plastered against the fence with the wind knocked out of me.  I can also remember marveling at my dad's ability to put one hand on the top rail of our six foot corals and vault over them when a particularly angry cow was quite upset with him...

I never did master that fete.

So, back to David.  The cow chased David.  David tried the one handed fence vault trick, and suddenly found himself flying through the air.  From what I understand the cow caught him and threw him, and he landed on his tail bone...I don't know if he cracked it or what (he doesn't tend to believe in doctorin') but I do know two weeks later he could barely move.

Now.  Back to the hungry cows.  I was thinking of my toes.  And the fact that I like having all of my nails on them.  And I was thinking of David who could barely move without groaning...

I decided to just set the buckets down and let the cows satisfy their curiosity.

They kicked and snuffled and licked the buckets...And they licked and snuffled them some more.  Eventually they lost interest in their game, and moved on.

I chuckled to myself and picked up my buckets and began to whistle the Andy Griffith tune as I headed to the gate.  As I walked I heard a cow bawling behind me, and it sounded as if she was quite close.  I looked behind me, and I saw this not so little lady not walking up to me, but flat out running, neck stretched out and bawling like I was in the feed wagon, complete with caker and hay fork on the back.

I looked around and though there didn't seem to be any other cattle paying attention, I decided to abandon my buckets.  After all, there was a perfectly good pickup at the house that I could drive back to fetch my abandoned buckets.

So.  I walked the mile back the house.  Bucketless.  As I got to the house and told my tale, I only had one thing to say to my parents.  "Please don't tell David I couldn't get home with the buckets.  He will never let me live it down."

Nope.  Sibling rivalry never dies.

P.S.  I feel compelled to explain cattle terminology.  I realize 98% of my readers know this, but just in case:  The term cattle refers to a mixed herd of cows, calves, heifers, steers, bulls, whatever.  It's kind of like saying "people."  Heifers are females who haven't calved.  Cows have had calves.  Calves are calves, bulls are bulls and steers are....well....They just don't rattle when you shake them.

Kapeesh? 

Drama Llama

I have all sorts of things to tell you about my family. 

I can't help but notice my nine year daughter has better handwriting than I ever will.

However, apparently some children are becoming more sensitive and would be horrified if I told the story of them getting off the bus a half mile from our house and running all the way home in the 108 degree heat because they were upset about something at school, and the fact that their sister was not on the bus to comfort them as the sister had went home for a play date... The unnamed child decided she could not sit on the bus a minute longer.

Drama llama.  I'm telling you.

Popcorn has been struggling with multiplication facts, so we've been refreshing her.  They stayed with my folks last week and apparently my dad decided to spring a pop quiz on her.  "Hey, what's 9X7?"

Popcorn looked at him and said, "Now what brought THAT up?"

And Dad laughed and failed to make her give him the correct answer.

She's sneaky that way.

School has begun.  Popcorn is liking school, which I interpret as "Loving School" and she has corrected me numerous times that she only likes it.  Considering she had determined she hated fourth grade before the year even began, I'm calling liking loving.  Because I'm the mom.



Bookworm is in MIDDLE SCHOOL.  They are having a back to school dance this Friday.  WHAT???  She just turned eleven!  She is not going to no stinkin' school dances.  Luckily, none of her friends are going. And she is going to a birthday party that night.  So, I'm off the hook.

WHEW!




The kittens are settling in well, as you could tell from my last post.  They have taught Lord Fluffypants (Oliver) how to play again.  This morning as I was sitting on the back porch sipping coffee Shyla dashed after him through the grass that is embarrassingly tall...He made the impulsive decision to run up a tree.

My focusing skills are amazing, no?

You realize he's all of eighteen pounds, right?  He got about four feet up and appeared to decide he did NOT belong in trees as it was a tax on his claws.  He clumsily repositioned his super sized self and jumped down with a giant THUD.

You know it's a tad disconcerting to watch an eighteen pound tom cat pounce on a three month old kitten.  Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera as they were wrestling in the yard...

When will I learn that I can never leave me camera in the house?

Well, today is my day off.   The kids have started school, so that means that I have mountains of housework to do since they no longer have time to be my Cinderellas.  So, I'm off to get laundry done and floors cleaned and bathtubs scrubbed.

Not to be redundant:  But the kittens are clearly NEVER in the house.

What are your plans for today?

Donuts

This morning it was a beautiful morning...

So beautiful that Popcorn and I decided to sneak to the donut shop before her sister woke up and surprise her with a sugar laden treat.

Did you know our little town has the best donuts ever?  If you ever come visit me, you will totally need to visit our little Donut Shop (appropriate name, no?) and taste some heaven...

Anyway, Popcorn threw on some old clothes and I threw on a light jacket to hide my lack of a bra, and we were off...

I needed brownie points against my husband.  Popcorn was sick for several days, and the first day she was at 100 percent she wanted Chinese.  Which I refused to buy as the only nearby Chinese would cost a pretty penny for us to get for the whole family.  And Bookworm doesn't care for Chinese, and I would be forced to buy her American food at a Chinese restaurant.  Which is just wrong on so many levels...And we were only at August 9th.  And we only have $100 budgeted for the entire month for dining and we'd already spent $15.  And my kids are going to my folks today, so I wanted to save money for the hubby and I to go eat and watch Cowboys and Aliens.

And because I am clearly selfish...

So my darling husband took her to eat Chinese yesterday for lunch.  I had planned on going to buy Bookworm's flute and some back to school digs and treat Bookworm to Chikfila and Popcorn to Chinese in the food court at the mall...He did the flute and lunch treat yesterday...

Grrr.  He always steals my thunder.  Because, he is clearly selfish that way.

So.  I decided to gain some ground on "greatest parent" by splurging on some donuts out of my very own "fun money" envelope.  Do any of you even know what I'm talking about with envelopes?  We do an envelope system where we get a certain amount for various categories to spend each month. When that envelope is empty, you are done for that month.  Dining is our biggest struggle.  Now that the girls are older, it is difficult to keep in the $100 range.

You know, donuts are the devil.  I had already eaten a nutritious piece of whole wheat toast with peanut butter and local honey with a tall glass of skim milk, and my requisite two cups of coffee.

I walked into that sweet smelling donut shop, and ordered a chocolate sprinkled donut, and cinnamon twist for Popcorn, a maple and blueberry cake donut for Bookworm, and in a desperate grab to add to my greatness I allowed Popcorn to get each of them a pig in the blanket....

As I started to pay my eyes strayed longingly to the bear claws...I felt my will melt to a puddle in my stomach.  It tasted a lot like apple cinnamon glazed deliciousness.  I got one.

Speaking of bear claws, what do you consider a bear claw?  The lady at the bakery considered what I ordered an apple fritter.  I thought they were the same thing.  She said a real bear claw has maple frosting...Who knew?

I told her that in South Texas a pig in the blanket is a kolache.  In Oklahoma a kolache is a pastry with fruit in the middle.  They thought I was crazy to call a kolache a pig in the blanket, and I told them that I was pretty sure any Czech they spoke to would correct them...

Of course, I also was mistaken in my identification of breakfast burritos by South Texas standards.  What North Texas and Oklahoma refer to as a breakfast burrito is called a taco down south.

Speaking of the word taco, the Hispanic people I worked with had a different pronunciation of "taco."  The "t" is a softer sound, made with the tongue pressed against the back of the teeth instead of to the roof of the mouth. It is almost a "th" sound, but more in between.  Anyway, the point of this is that my youngest still orders "thacos" at Mexican restaurants here.  They look at her slightly baffled, and dutifully fill her order.

Is this not a completely boring post filled with totally useless information?  Forgive me, as I've now eaten a half of a bear claw and am on my third cup of coffee.

It's a challenge for my fingers to keep up with my thoughts.

I need to do a long post about my visit to my parents last week.

It involved me being chased by two overly affectionate Angus cows when I made the mistake of carrying empty feed buckets through the pasture.

It involves communing with horny toads.  I love horny toads.  They are like little mythical looking creatures...Have you ever had one actually squirt "blood" out its eyes?  I haven't, but apparently Studmuffin ticked on off enough that when his dad took it away, his dad was rewarded with some sort of icky red secretion...

And, of course it involves horses...

Appy is officially 29 years old...

But that is a post for another day.  I will get that to you double quick!

But first, I must pack my children for a trip to their grandparents, (they proved their lack of trustworthiness after our trip last week when all they packed were brand new shoes.)

After that is accomplished we are going to do a bit of back to school shopping.

So, TTFN!  (that's TaTa for now for you non-Tigger fans.)