I'm childless...at least until Saturday.

Well, yesterday I made a very long drive...

I drove to Hillsboro, TX to meet my good friend Tara. She is graciously letting my little hooligans stay with them until Saturday. Actually, I had planned on them to return Friday, but it turns out Saturday is better for her, and who am I to argue with someone wanting to keep my kids an extra day?

It was so great seeing Tara again. I had not seen her since we met last July to meet for me to return her girls to her. I love her dearly, and our visit was way too short. When they walked in to IHOP (the official meeting place) it was like we picked up exactly where we left off. Don't you just love friendships like that? I've been so blessed that way. I have a friend in Arlington, that we seldom get to see, but when we get the chance to be together, it's like we just sat down to have lunch together yesterday.

I know that it's that way for these 4 little girls too. Popcorn still considers Abigail her "very best friend." Isn't that too sweet? After being apart 11 months, they hugged and hugged, and Popcorn's face got all red, and I thought she was going to cry.

Bookworm and Annie are equally well matched. I have to say, I was surprised to see they were nearly the same height. Annie was much taller than my girl last time they were together. They are both very innocent, and diligent of protecting that innocence. They both love using their imaginations, and are in no hurry to move on to big girl stuff. I love watching them play and interact with each other.


I'm pretty excited about this week, even as I'm wondering what I will do with myself with no kids for the week. Normally when I ship them off, I end up picking up extra shifts at the hospital. Since this was supposed to be the week we were on vacation (Studmuffin had problems at work, so we couldn't go) I decided to use this week as my vacation in my own home. I haven't cleaned house since my nephews came. So, today is house cleaning day. Tomorrow I will finish organizing the girls rooms, then Thursday I plan to scrapbook all day. Plus, I have to paint our hallway (Studmuffin, do you remember promising you would paint the hallway when we moved in since you know I despise detail and cutting in?...Just a gentle reminder!) Bookworm wants me to paint one wall in her room turquoise. I thought I would maybe surprise her with having this done for her.

Oh! Did I tell you that I was separating the girls into separate rooms? I made an executive decision. So, before they left we sorted the toys. That went amazingly well. The toys that they had been given to share, they divvied up. It was kind of like a little divorce. For example, I had gotten them a Barbie living room set at a garage sale for $2. Popcorn got the floor lamp and couch and coffee table. Bookworm got the TV, entertainment center and chair. No arguments. Amazing, right?

Anyway, I have big plans for this week. So, I better get off this blog and get to work! But, never fear, I'll keep you posted on my progress! Aren't you so relieved?

Oh, oh! I almost forgot...I'M NOT GOING TO COOK THIS ENTIRE WEEK!!!! I refuse. So there. This is vacation...A vacation that involves work, yes. But if we were on a REAL vacation I would not be cooking...So, I refuse to cook supper this week. So Studmuffin better bust out his debit card cuz we're eating out or doing carry out every stinking night. So hah. Take that, buddy!

Helping Dad

In honor of Father's Day, I thought I'd share some of my favorite memories of my Dad.

My dad made everything fun. The first time Studmuffin helped us work cattle he was astounded at how smoothly everything went. The thing is, even if it didn't run smoothly, it was no big deal. You let a calf get by? Well, we'll get it in a minute when we re-sort (to get all of the other calves I missed of course.)

I hated "working the gate." This is a very important job. The person working the pen brings you, hopefully, one calf. If you want to keep the calf it was an "in." If you plan to sell the calf it was a "by." In other words, you either opened the gate to let a calf in or quickly closed it to let it by into the pen behind you. Notice I said "hopefully one calf." Sometimes 3 calves would run at you at one time. Dad would yell "First one is a by, the next two are in!" I would be half panicked trying to get the sorting right. Now, if Dad worked the gate, he was very adept at sending 3 calves 2 different directions at one time. And it was the right direction. That always drove me crazy. I remember my Grandad Marvin always used to say, "Andi, the cow doesn't want to run over you. Get in front of her. She'll stop." I disproved him on this theory over and over as I would try to leap a 6 foot fence in a single bound and the cow would charge into me, the corral, and whatever else that was in the way of her getting back to her calf. But he still never gave up this adage. Stubbornness runs in our family.

We used to have an Angus bull that had a tendency to roam. He liked to go into our neighbors pasture and visit the ladies there. We regularly had to get the horses and run him back home. The neighbor had a pony that had been allowed to founder in his pasture. So, we would be trying to round up an 1800 lb (guesstimating) bull, not disrupt Henry's cows, and avoid the crazy pony that would run up on us and kick at our horses. It was quite the sight, I'm sure.

Before I move on, I just have to share a remembered conversation with Henry and his wife: "Well, I guess it's okay that your bull got in here, but we really didn't want any black calves." Dad just apologized and went back to work. Never mentioning the fact that half of Henry's cows were black....Okay, return to topic:

Dad would rope the bull, then I'd put my rope on him (I was a terrible roper) and we would use 2 horses, trying to be sure and never let any slack go either way to prevent a charge from the romeo at either horse, and lead him home. One time we had been unsuccessful at getting him lassoed. Dad told me to go on ahead and open the gate, and we would have to just run him home. I rode ahead, but the gate was hard to open. I was wrestling with the bale (the wire that wraps around the gate post to attach the gate to the fence post) and I heard a thundering sound. Here came Dad the bull, and the crazy pony. My horse started to dance. So, I'm struggling with a fence and a skittish horse. I can still hear Dad yelling "Open the gate! Open the gate! Open the gate!" at the top of his lungs, and can picture that bull bearing down on me. I turned back to the gate and "put my butt into it." just like Dad taught me.

I got it open!

Just in time to see the stupid bull veer right and jump the fence into our pasture.

Dad, never one to be caught off guard immediately yelled "Close the gate! Close the gate!"

Gee. I guess that explained why no matter how many times we checked the fence to see where the fence was down we could never find it. Stupid bull.

Seriously, though, Dad did make everything exciting. We used to have to haul irrigation pipe. We had an irrigation system that we would use aluminum pipe for. When it was not in use, like in winter, or when we needed to farm, we would gather up all the pipe and stack it neatly. However, it was a tedious job to move it from place to place. We would each grab an end of 2 pieces of pipe, and "trot" to wherever it went. I'm just going off of memory here, but I think the pipes were about 8 feet long and 8 inches in diameter. How could this be fun? You see, we would always see neat things. Dad always made an effort to point out every baby bunny he saw. Or hawk. Or baby birds. Even flowers. It was always interesting. He would point out animal tracks and tell me what made them. If we found a pile of mouse bones and fur we knew an owl had probably had his meal there, then regurgitated the indigestible parts. Since I always found this fascinating, I guess I was always a little bit of a nurse. Plus, Dad was always nice and let me pick up my end of the pipe first. I would pick it up and tip it up on it's end. The end he was on. Why, you ask? Well, if the pipe had been stacked for the winter, invariably some animal had decided to make a home in it. Rabbits were okay. Even mice were alright. But I always had a horror that a snake would come sliding out. That never happened, but I still dreaded it.

I always knew my dad was invincible. One summer the rattle snakes were terrible. One day we were rounding up cattle and we killed 4 rattlers. Notice I said "we." Here's the scenario: Blue and I go to get a calf. He would start to pitch and carry on. I would see a snake, realize that was the cause of the ruckus, and run to get Dad. Dad would then come and kill the snake with his lariat. That's right...His lariat. I thought he was the most amazing dad ever...

And I still do!

Happy Father's Day, Daddy! I love you, and I hope you guys have a great trip to South Dakota!

Without us.

Dang Studmuffin's job interfering with our plans for fun...

But I'm not bitter or anything....

S'mores, Carnies, and Ticks

We went camping last night. We had a lovely camp site on a local lake. There were lots of trees. There were lots of ticks. Scads and scads of ticks. I'm talkin' ticks crawling all over our tent as we were setting it up. Little itty bitty deer ticks. Smaller than a pin head. I promptly soaked the whole tent in insect repellent. I sprayed down all of us. The problem was, the tricks were dropping out of the trees onto our stuff... Yes, I appreciate the shudders of horror I know you are all having right now. Seriously, the only place I felt safe was on the water.

Remember our lovely campsite? Well, it was very entertaining. We had a very, shall I say, eclectic group of people at the next sight over. There was a gentleman who could juggle fire. He had a baton thingy with torches on either end that he would ignite and use two stick dealies to juggle it back and forth, throw it up in the air and occasionally nearly drop it on his foot. Also, he had a fascination with lighter fluid. It seems they forgot to bring fire wood. The group went around and gathered up sticks and branches off of the ground. The wood was too green to burn. Their fire kept nearly going out, but every time it did, fire starter dude would come up with his lighter fluid and squirt the flames until they were up to bonfire height. When his can of lighter fluid was nearly empty he held the can OVER the flames and squeezed it dry. No exaggeration, those flames were licking up around his can when he finally had it empty. I was praying, "Please God, keep him safe. Please God, don't let him get burned. Please God, I really don't want to deal with 3rd degree burns tonight." I literally said a prayer of thanks when God kept the idiot safe. The group (it was very large) was a family reunion. They had no conception of the quiet hours posted. They stayed up yelling and laughing until after 1 am, and they were back up, yelling and laughing some more by 5 am. I was ready to kill them.

Originally, we had planned on staying 2 nights. However, I'm driving the girls to meet a friend from South Texas on Monday. That group was still there this afternoon with no signs of slowing down. I wanted the girls to be rested up to go visit their friends next week. So, based on the loud hillbilly carnie folk next door and the ticks, we packed up and came home this afternoon.

I know it may not sound like it, but we had a great time. We fished and boated. It was too windy for skiing or tubing. We found a little cove to swim in, and we had the beach to ourselves for 2 hours solid before anyone even came near us. Then, we headed to the Nature Center where the girls got to learn about local animals and make plaster casts of animal tracks. Last night they spent forever chasing and catching lightning bugs...

Oh!

And who could forget.....

S'MORES!!!!!

Post Note: I realize that one may gather that I have something against people who work in carnivals...This is completely untrue...Unless they decide to camp next to me and party all night long with kids screaming and yelling, and shouting profanities...Well, in that case...I wish they would just shut up, and shut their little yapping dog up, and GO TO BED!!

The End.

Gift Bags

Popcorn has a tendency to get attached to things. Things that I consider junk. Like a rock. A rubber lizard. A teeny tiny seashell. A bird nest that is carefully wrapped in tissue paper and stored in a shoebox in the closet. Don't tell Studmuffin about that last one. He told me to throw it out. I thought it was too sweet to trash. The same as the cardinal feathers I found in her window sill. There is a strict rule of "no feathers in the house. They carry mites." But, when you find the feathers so carefully hidden, and you know they've been there for months, because you remember forbidding them in the house, it's like, what's the point now? The damage is done.

Well, Popcorn tends to feel the same way about certain gift bags. She had a Scooby Doo gift bag that belonged to "this family" and we could not use it for anyone who did not reside in this house,because then we'd no longer have the Scooby Doo gift bag, and she liked it. Every time I wrapped a present for anyone at all, she would hunt me down and say, "Mommy, please don't use the Scooby Doo bag, that bag needs to stay in the family." And I would find it amusing, so I kept it...Remember, I'm cheap, and I love free stuff (click here to read more.) I feel very passionately about this when it comes to gift bags. My goal in life is to never actually buy gift bags, but to repurpose (how green am I?) them for the next present.

Well, the last party the girls were invited to, I made Popcorn part with the bag. Number One, it was time to leave for the party, and we were frantically wrapping the present. I had no gift wrap, so this was our only option, short of bags with poinsettias or baby motifs. She was upset, but decided to make the sacrifice for the love of her friend.

Tonight we were frantically looking for wrap or a bag for the gift she needs for a party she's going to tomorrow. She is going to the party from the babysitter's since I have to work, so I can't exactly wrap it and take it their tomorrow. Our bag supply has not improved because, alas, nobody has received a gift since last time.

Aha! We have bags the right size!

Dangit!

Houston, we have a problem....The bag is yet another bag that she loves. This time it's Tweety.

Okey dokey...I'm calm. I'm patient. I'm loving.

Aha! Strawberry Shortcake....

Dadgummit...

This one is too babyish. Popcorn doesn't like Strawberry Shortcake, so neither will Amanda.

How about this one?

Too Valentine-ish.

This one?

It's boring. Just a plain brown gift bag. And no. She's not going to decorate it herself. She doesn't "feel like it."

I'm calm. I'm patient. I'm loving....

Then she spies it....A Taz gift bag! That's perfect!

Happy, happy, joy, joy....

What?

It turns out the Taz bag is the Tweety bag...Different picture on the other side....

No. She doesn't want to use it. It's the family bag. She wants to have this bag in our house.

I'm calm. I'm patient. I'm loving...

I honestly did not lose my temper. I know. My tolerance is nothing short of a miracle.

We finally did find a bag. We settled on one that is way too big for the present.

Only to discover that I'm out of tissue paper.

Dangit, dangit, dangit, dangit!

We found some packing paper, fluffed it just so, and called it good.

*WHEW!*

So, to all interested parties who may be purchasing presents from my children: Please send gift bags. I'm cheap, I like to reuse gift bags, and I'm too lazy to wrap gifts, plus my brain is too weak to remember to buy bags or wrap at the store. So please, please include a cute bag with your gift. I promise it will be put to good use...Unless it is too baby-ish, or Valentiney, or Christmas themed, or Popcorn becomes inexplicably attached to it, in which case it will be looked at every time I drag out the wrap box, but will be forbidden to be used...

In review: The bag should be cute, but not so cute Popcorn becomes attached. The bag cannot be too big or too small. Avoid themes if at all possible, because they will inevitably be the wrong ones. Unless it's the right theme, in which case we will have it for all time, because it will become a "family bag, that needs to be in our house."

Thank you for your consideration in this matter. Remember: My problems are your problems.

The Zoo

We made a racing trip to the OKC zoo today before we had to pick my sister Paula up from the airport. I originally thought we would have 4 hours to look around, but it turns out the zoo opened an hour later than I originally thought. However, we did get to look around 3 hours, and that's all this group of kids could survive.

You would not believe the litany of:

My feet hurt.

I want to ride the tram.

I'm hot.

I'm tired.

I'm sweaty.

It's too far to walk.

I think we must have walked at least a mile already.

However, at the first sight of a mister they would all run as fast as they could to stand under it. Logan actually said, "It's a good thing we didn't have time to be here all day, or I would have needed a wheelchair."

What?

That, Gentle Reader, is obviously why my sister & us will never make a trip to Disney World! Yes, it was hot. Yes, it was so dad gum muggy that my underwear got all sweaty. Wait. Was that too much info? Well, it's true, and all of you know it. That is the worst feeling. Yuck. But still, these kids are young. What is wrong with today's youth? Have we coddled them to the point that they can't take a little sweating and sore feet to look at some zoo animals.

The boys were too funny. They talked about seeing the alligators, pythons, anacondas, fish, monkeys, etc. It was a mad dash to see them. We simply had to hurry. Then, when we would get to whatever animal they were dying to see, they would look at it for 5 seconds and be done with it. It was comical. Of course, it didn't bother the girls or me. We had seen all of the animals several times.

So in review, here's the scenario:

It was hot.

The kids were exhausted with less than 3 hours of wandering the zoo.

Certain animals were "must sees."

These animals had to be seen as quickly as possible, and then required 5 seconds of observation.

The sight of a mister alone can give the energy boost equivalent to 12 soft drinks.

What I learned from my nephews...

My freakishly long monkey arms are great for playing monkey in the middle in the pool. Now, one might think that I would have consideration for smaller, younger players. One would be totally wrong in that thought process. That same person may also assume I would let my kids beat me at hula hoop contests, jump roping contests, and twister. Sadly, that person would be wrong then too. I say, where's the joy in such a hollow victory? When my kids beat me they know they shed blood sweat and tears to do it. And that my knee will be so sore that I will limp for 2 weeks after...

It is only fair that Logan guard me in monkey in the middle, because I am "huge and fat." Yes, those are quotes. Yes, I dunked him. Yes, he paid dearly. Which is exactly what he wanted.


Logan learned that the word is "mayday" not "maytay." His brother and cousins will completely ignored his cries of distress when he yelled the wrong word....Of course, they probably would have anyway because he totally had it coming.

I learned that Olay Complete all day moisture lotion with spf 15 for sensitive skin is also known as "freckle cream." Aiden showed me the proof of it's effectiveness by pointing out the area on his cheek where his freckles are fading. Not the area where there are no freckles yet...The area where his freckles were! You know, I myself have been using this specific lotion for years. And my freckles have faded. I like my freckles. I have been saddened by there fading. But, this cream is great to avoid sunburn, so I guess I'll deal with the unfortunate side effects.


All boy games eventually lead to war. Enough said.

Logan said he was about to unleash his grenade launcher and bazooka on somebody at sometime. I can't remember the details, but I about wet myself laughing at his description of his biceps.

You can apply sunscreen 3 times in a 4 hour period at the lake, but if your nephews are alpha white, this will be only moderately effective, and they will still burn. And you will pray that their sunburns will be gone by the time their mother comes to get them in 2 days.



Since I allowed them to swim for 3 hours at my own house the next day, they will still be red when their mother comes to get them.

Last, I learned that I will be very sad when they leave tomorrow. I hope they can come back soon! And so do my girls.



Oh! I also learned that blond hair really does turn green in a chlorinated pool! And I learned from my hairdresser this week that Suave clear shampoo is gentle on hair, and to use it after swimming (she also told me to saturate my hair with conditioner before swimming to prevent damage. But I'm not sure how this will be on pool chemicals.) Logan's hair lost it's green tinge after using this. I breatheed a big sigh of relief that his mother wasn't going to find him fried with green hair....He would resemble green eggs and ham!

Post Note: After viewing this on my blog, I'm laughing at my white knees in the pictures. This is just reinforcing what I already knew. Alpha whiteness runs in the family. And I'm an atrocious photographer.

The Goliath Bird Spider and Vanessa Hudgens in My Living Room

Today we were nagging the girls to clean their room, and somehow that prompted the memory of the Goliath Bird Spider we had in our living room a few months ago.




I was in the kitchen (like a good wife,) Studmuffin was helping me (like a good husband) and suddenly Bookworm screamed at the top of her lungs. "Spider! Spider! There is a giant spider in the living room!" We continued on with our duties....

She came dashing into the kitchen, sobbing and gagging and choking..."Th-th-there is a-a-a-a-a--a giant TARANTULA in the living room!!!"

"Where?" we asked.

"U-u-u-u-nder the p-p-pillow!"

Studmuffin decided to forgo dishes to play the hero role....

I heard a gasp and a "WHAT THE?????"

I came around the corner to check it out. I found Studmuffin standing at a safe distance (aka across the room) and Bookworm continuing to shake from head to toe and sob. I looked at the sofa pillow, which was laying on the floor, and sure enough, under the edge, you could see a giant spider. I jumped approximately 8 feet in the air.

And nothing happened.

I continued to stare, Studmuffin maintained his distance, Popcorn joined the scene and added her own weeping and trembling to Bookworm's.

And still nothing happened.

We began to be suspicious. I mean, once calm sets in, rational thinking begins again. How exactly did a giant tarantula get in our house? How did it escape notice until it decided to hang out under our pillow? Why isn't it trying to hide from us? How did a Goliath Bird Spider make it to Oklahoma? Was brought in on some imported fresh produce? Dangit! I knew I should have listened to my mother and paid closer attention to where my food comes from! It probably came in on my avocados!




Wait a second....

That's not a Goliath Bird Spider!!!









It's Vanessa Hudgens!

Not the real Vanessa Hudgens, silly!

It was Bookworm's High School Musical Barbie. She had left it on the floor, someone threw a pillow on top, her dark curly hair hanging out the side. In the exact shape of a spider.

A Goliath Bird Spider to be exact.

Now, can anyone tell me why my children tend to jump to conclusions and have a bent towards dramatics?

And, no, the pictures obviously have no relation to the post. My nephews are here this weekend, and I just had to share. Do they look like they're having fun, or what? You can't decide if they are having so much fun they can't stand it, or they are scared to death. We went near the shore for lunch, and the kids got out to swim. There was a crane near the shore. Notice how close he let them get to him before he finally left! And he caught a fish while they were watching him!

We got a new tube because ours got a tear near the valve where we could not patch it. We got a smaller one, because our old one was fine for us, but too big for them. Unfortunately the next size down is almost too small for them. Plus, it has a tendency to sink down in the front when you start. My oldest nephew was the only one strong enough to lean back enough so it immediately planed out. Bookworm refused to ride the tube after she did not lean back the first time, took a little dip before it popped up and planed out. She was done done done when that happened. Stick a fork in her, she's done, and she's "never getting on that tube again!"

*sigh*