She's Gone Coastal!

Why?! Why?! Why did I do it??!! It's not like I had a gun to my head (though had I packed one...) I just returned from a "vacation" with the fam. I don't know about you, but whenver someone feels the overpowering need to tell me they "just returned from vacation" I have to concentrate real hard at keeping my eyeballs from glazing over to the point of crossing themselves. I don't mean to do it...it just happens. It never fails...these overjoyed people proceed to tell me about their meals, their purchases, their trips within their trips...and on and on it goes. I can hardly focus on their story because I can't seem to get past the bronzed skin, bagless undereyes, and refreshed countenance. I hate them. I have never had the desire to tell others about my "vacations"...all four of them. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I am freaking exhausted before, during, and after my "vacation."

Take this past week-when-will-it-ever-end for example. The morning of departure started off with me driving three and a half miles to the EZ Mart to buy some Benedryl for Roo (my little dog who had me worried that she was fading fast). By the time I made it back home Roo ran (you heard right..ran) across the floor, tail wagging, to greet me! I was so relieved! I still gave her a sliver of the pill (more for my conscience than her pain) and tried my best to leave my home as clean as I could. My brother-in-law and sister-in-law would be staying in our house (while they "bombed" their pop-up for ants...(this is sooo another blog entry!) in preparation for her parents' visit over the weekend. After my husband came home we loaded up and drove off to my parents' house where we took everything out of our truck and put it in their truck. My "pack light" manta had our gear taking up the entire extended bed of the truck, plus a "few" bags underfoot...just in case...one never knows when a pair of binoculars, notepad, squishy pillows, or book rest might come in handy. We only missed the exit once and had to back track our way to the ferry (we were trying a new shortcut for a change...the one where you don't have to ride the ferry).

We found our home away from home….it had a touch tone telephone with missing cords (as in no dial tone/worthless), a remote that was not synchronized with the t.v., and windows with missing curtains. The front office had a NO DOGS ALLOWED IN ROOMS sign prominently displayed in its window. And so Roo became my tightly bundled infant that weekend. I had to smuggle her on and off the property so she could poop and pee. I would literally wrap her in a blanket and cradle her like a baby until I was a block away. We existed in fear that housekeeping would knock, Roo would bark, we'd be found out and charged the $200 fine for harboring a fugitive, and the trip would be ruined.

It was quickly deduced that no one particularly cared for all things "beach" except for the kids (which, is why we suffered in the first place). At least they had a blast. I got sunburned on my shoulders and back (a first in many years) and my thighs are still blaringly white (ironic isn't it...my chest will peel but my cellulite will remain 'pure'). This meant that I had to wear a long-sleeved shirt the rest of the trip. I did not pack a long-sleeved shirt. This meant that I had to wear my son's lycra water shirt (like Under Armour---but not---it is the top dollar shirt's underprivileged cousin from Walmart)...the one he wore when he was 11...a boy's size 8-10. Note: I am not a boy...I am no child's 8-10. I had to have help pulling that thing on and off. It was awesome for the boobs, but not so great for the belly considering that the shirt did not quite reach the fold above my belly button.

Our third night "on the island" our daughter "felt sick" while at the beach and I had to have my dad drive her and I back to the hotel room after a pit stop at the IGA for some Emetrol (remember, we only have one vehicle). Did I mention our room only had one bathroom? There were four adults, an 11 year old girl, and a teenage boy. You do the math. There is so much more to tell but just the rehashing of it in my head has the right side of my neck burning as the muscle is beginning to knot itself. I think I'll fix me a "little something" to "relax my muscles" and then, when I feel up to it I'll fill you in on "the rest of the story"...that is, after I finish squirting off my suitcases and applying "Burn Relief" aloe gel all over my body.

Not Our Usual Rootine

I thought yesterday's post was going to be my last one until I returned from the coast....uh..no. Turns out I have another story to tell. Last night I stayed up talking with my husband, his brother, and my sister-in-law until a little after 11:00 in the barn. My sister-in-law's kids were fast asleep while my two kept texting me every few minutes asking when I was coming up to the house. My daughter kept telling me that she wanted to go to bed early so she could get a good night's rest before our big trip...but...needed me to tuck her in.

When my husband and I walked in the front door both kids were playing the Wii. My first question to them was, "Where is Roo?" (Roo is our 4 pound Chiweenie). Our daughter immediately told us that her brother let the dog out and she told him to keep an eye on Roo. {We have a standing rule that Roo does not go outside without supervision after 6:00---long story---will share another time---not to mention the fact that earlier in the day we all saw a large red fox run across our backyard following the fenceline (true story)}. We immediately started calling for Roo and had every light on outside...I had already grabbed her treat jar and was going to rattle it for her to come when my husband walked in through the backdoor with Roo in his arms. Something wasn't quite right. Her right front paw was being held close to her chest and she acted as if it were paralyzed. She cried and cried and whined and whined (break my heart now). We all figured that she must have got stung by a scorpion (her claws were packed with mud).

I ended up giving her a warm bath and then cradled her in a towel like a baby (she loves laying on her back in our arms). As I was walking out of the kitchen (mind you it is MIDNIGHT before our trip) I felt a slight squish beneath my big toe. Not a wet squish...not a full on squish...more of a was that a gummy bear squish?? Yup...you guessed it...I had stepped on a scorpion (cue the heeby jeebies). Amazingly enough it did not sting me (though my husband was stung two days ago...and just before the fox sighting my brother-in-law killed a scorpion on my kitchen counter--it was hiding behind my niece's Dora the Explorer birthday cake box). Not wanting to put Roo down I managed to chase, kill, and fling said scorpion (what a mama won't do).

Of course, Roo slept with me...though I use the word "slept" loosely. She and I both had an uncomfortable night. Her breathing was not right and she kept trying to throw up. Once, I could not hear her breathing and she was so still my heart stopped out of fear that she had a terrible reaction and died. This morning she was better...her leg is now extended and she moved a little bit on my bed. She is still having trouble with her breathing and that has me very concerned. As soon as the vet's office is open I am going to give them a call. She is so tiny I did not want to offer her even a sliver of a Bendryl tablet (which, it turns out, I did not even have). She looks sad and is moving lethargically. I am worried about her going to the coast, but at the same time I am so glad that she will be going with us.

I swear...just when my kids are finally old enough to pack for themselves and sleep through the night it's my dog who has me in a tither...but I love her and that's all that matters.

Excess Baggage

Packing is a "bad word" to me. The very thought of it sends me into an anxiety frenzy. Immediately my mind starts playing tricks on me. It "tells" me that I should pack like the girls in the movies do: brown leather Louis Vuitton luggage wheeled out to the convertible, high heels and a flirty sundress, headband and glasses, glittering cell phone in hand as I dial up my girlfriends for our rendezvous at the Hamptons. Once there we all squeal with delight at our luck at landing the perfect "summer home" and we strategically plan our nights.

After that reel is finished playing I am faced with the sad reality that my life is not a movie (though it would make a good one) and I fear I would need a passport just to travel as far as the Hamptons (since it may as well be a foreign country to me). No--my "get-away" is not quite that simple...or fashionable.

It takes me about three days to even prepare myself to actually pack the bags...(notice the plural). I mentally chant: "Pack Light...Pack Light...Pack Light" even though I know, deep down, that I am about as likely to pack light as I am to visit the Hamptons.

Tomorrow I leave for a five day vacation in Port Aransas with my husband, our two kids, my parents, my sister, her husband, and their two sons. I have been to the coast before...I wore the same shorts and t-shirt every single day...and when I wasn't wearing them I was wearing my bathing suit and its cover up. That is IT. A pair of flip flops, a suit, a cover-up and 1 outfit. So WHY must I even consider bringing EVERYTHING I've NEVER WORN with me...just in case???
What is it with packing???!!! I have been in my bedroom trying on clothes like I was at a 75% off clearance sale. I think...hey...if one cover up is good why not bring along 3 more? I mean...that way I'll have "variety" while I'm on vacation. WHAT?! It's the friggin coast for crying out loud! The place where there is tar on the beach, salt in the water, wind in the air, stickiness EVERYWHERE, and drunk people all around you. Why must I insist on trying to "look like I am on vacation in the Hamptons?!"

I suppose it has something to do with this "ideal getaway" image I have in my mind. The image that has me sitting on one of those Adirondack chairs in white sand...with my gold bracelet sliding up and down my arm as I reach for and then sip from my umbrella drink. I have a wide brimmed straw hat that peppers my stomach (my tan, flat, toned stomach) with tiny sun dots as they filter through the holes in my hat while I read page after page of my juicy summer novel. My hair has a beautiful honey caramel color to it and it has a come-hither curl to it. My just-the-right-size-sunglasses add to the mystery of "who is that unbelievably sexy woman on the beach?" My children "frolic" in the waves and look adorable in their designer swimwear. They even toss a beach ball and play "sand castle" near our cabana. My husband, of course, has those white pants that expose his ankles (he's barefoot) and are just the right kind of "baggy"...no shirt required. When it is time to go I pedal away on my bicycle complete with wicker basket and return to our condo for some lobster and wine. The nanny attends to "the children" and my hubby and I attend to each other.

Cut to "Real Life"---I am packing three sundresses from WalMart (not flirty by all means...elastic portion under boobs...not too short...not too long...not just right...but hey...it's as close as I could get). I have thrown in a pair of shorts for good measure though my measurements are not exactly short worthy these days. Had to pack a jacket...just in case... Had to bring some yoga pants and a long sleeved T...you know...for when it gets "cold" in the hotel room. Thought I better bring multiple tanks to go underneath the pjs...(variety is the spice of life). Decided to only bring 4 pair of shoes plus some "water shoes." Then there are the hats...one that I can wear when I am out and about and one that can get wet (whatever!).

What if it rains? What if it doesn't? What if we eat out? What if we don't? What if...what if...what if...??? OMG! Enough already!!! Don't even get me started on the packing of the towels, the skim boards, the life vests, the fishing poles, the tackle boxes, the goggles, and the sunscreen (oh the sunscreen)!! I want a tan, my daughter has sensitive skin, my son needs general protection, and my husband does not really care. So much for one size fits all.

Did I mention that I don't even like the coast? That's right everybody...I am going through all of this trouble just so that I can sweat, pick sand out of my "creases", put up with toddlers, (did I mention I am bringing my dog?), defy the sun, and avoid sharks? But, despite all of that, my kids are so darn excited that I wouldn't dream of not going. My dad is even more excited--and that means the world to me. I am so glad that we can all be together for a few days. Somehow that makes it all worth it!

Until I return I'll be writing about my "experience" in my notebook...in a folding chair... without a back...beneath a tarp...(I'll type it all up after I return to the cond...uh...RV park via the back of my dad's pick up truck). Hey...a girl can dream can't she?

One man's trash is another man's Wii

You know how after a good workout you will be a little sore the next day? It is 10:40 at night and I am in pain! My "workout" consisted of standing in front of my television playing a video game earlier this same day. That's right, folks...in a matter of one hour I bowled, I played tennis, I played baseball, and I boxed...all in my flip-flops with the air conditioner on in my den. I should also mention that I huffed, I panted, I grunted, and I began to feel beads of sweat forming. I could also feel the burn. I don't know about you, but that's my kind of exercise!

Even though the Wii has been out for some time now our family has just now acquired one. I am proud to say that my husband and son decided on the purchase after collecting their cash reward from their recycled cans. Both of my guys collected and crushed enough cans over the course of one year to pay for a Wii!! Even though this was their project they decided to buy something the whole family could benefit from...and I love them for that. I, for one, have had more fun than I ever thought I would (I've never been 'into' video games--they make me anxious and tense).

For the past several years, as a family, we would go on evening jeep rides up and down the backroads that surround our house and collect the cans others have littered the ground with. We do this for many reasons: to clean up our surroundings, to teach our kids some lessons, and, to reap the rewards of recycling. Last Friday my son called me on his way home from San Antonio with excitement lining his voice: "Mom! Guess how much money we got for our cans?!" "$201.80!" "We're on our way to get a Wii!!" And then, right after we hung up, a picture text came up on my cell. It was a picture of two one hundred dollar bills and a one dollar bill fanned out on my son's knee. I was so happy for him. I was also proud of what my husband was teaching him. What a perfect father/son moment.

As our luck would have it Wal Mart was out of Wiis and the guys came home empty-handed. We would have to sit out Saturday and wait until Sunday before going back into town. But, as I mentioned in yesterday's post, my husband and I dashed into SA while the kids were in Sunday School and snagged a Wii (but only after stopping at two other locations...I swear...it was like the Cabbage Patch Christmas all over again!). As soon as we got home the guys set to work attaching wires and plugging things in. We spent the rest of the afternoon swinging a bat, bowling a ball, and punching a bag. I have to say that it is pretty darn cool! The kids nearly fell off the couch when I told them I wanted to participate! My only problem is that now I have to do everything left handed in order to balance out the soreness from yesterday's activity!

Not meaning to negate the health benefits of "working out with the Wii", but after all of that physical activity I had no choice but to have myself a beer...you know, to celebrate the purchase...to cool off...to get the guys started off right as a new year in recycling begins today!

Sunday's Finest

Have you ever noticed that when you are trying your best to be "good" you suddenly realize just how bad you really are? Take this morning for example: On the way to church I used the commute to continue reading the juicy (and very racy) memoir that I stayed up until well after midnight reading. During the service my mind wandered all over the place. I found myself listening to His voice but not really feeling bold enough to ask for forgiveness. I know what I am suppose to do...I know how I am supposeto think...it's just that...I don't.

My son was an acolyte this morning. He left the house in a wrinkled shirt and too short blue jeans (all the more noticeable because he wore his boots...his "chicken-checkin' boots"). Seeing as I am not a morning person and I had not received my required 11 hours of sleep, I didn't fight him on it knowing full well that his long, white, acolyte's robe would cover it all.

I guess we are all kind of like that "outfit" of his: a little wrinkly, a little too short, and full of chicken-checkin' "stuff". Unfortunately we don't always have something to cover us up with. We can hide beneath many a layer, but we are who we are deep down underneath it all. If you have somebody who loves you no matter how many layers you use (and hopefully because of that love all the layers have peeled away)count yourself extremely lucky. If you don't think you have anybody-think again. God loves you wrinkles and all and that is a good thing to know when you feel like you are coming up short and your wrinkles can no longer be explained away as "sheet marks from my nap."

And so, while the kids were in Sunday school ,my husband and I peeled out of the church's parking lot, headed toward San Antonio, bought a Wii, and raced back in time to get the little angels. We are home now-fighting over whose turn it is and who tracked in the chicken-checking 'stuff.'

I'm afraid my own memoir is not going to fit under an acolyte's robe.

Great...now there's a clean spot on my carpet!

(note: this entry was originally written on May 13, 2008--while I was still juggling many a plate)

The sophistication fairy must have run out of dust by the time she flew over our tiny town. At the end of a long and questionable day all I wanted to do was finish the last twenty pages of the book I have been trying to read since May 6th (I know the date because I've been waiting for this book to be published for a year now!). Anyway, bound and determined to not only cook but to cook healthy I had to feed the rascals. Then I had to lash out orders to my daughter about vacuuming...multiple times. Then I had to help my son with his homework. Then I had to walk with the kids to see the progress on their aunt and uncle's house. Then I had to clean up the kitchen (fyi: "healthy" eating requires constant grocery store visits (no stock piling the fresh veggies); PREPARATION (ugh); more than five minutes...way more than five minutes; planning ahead and timing; seasonings; cutting, chopping, rinsing, draining, straining, simmering...MORE THAN ONE POT/PAN/UTENSIL).

Then I had to wash my face. Then I had to change clothes. Then I had to let the dog out. Then I had to enforce bath time. Then I had to enforce teeth brushing. Then I had to say prayers. Then I had to tuck in. THEN I poured a glass of red wine...into my PLASTIC wine glass (topped it off to be precise). Then I put on my WHITE nightgown. Then I set my wine glass...er...wine plastic onto my nightstand. Then it toppled over to the right (toward my cell phone...my brand new cell phone...toward my laptop, which was resting on the CARPET...the LIGHT OFf-WHITE CARPET). Then I grabbed it. Then it toppled over to the left (toward my BED...my PILLOWS (already stacked up awaiting my arrival),my light BEIGE bed skirt, and my favorite WHITE blanket). The glass...uh, PLASTIC apparently separated itself from its base...not when I poured the wine IN THE KITCHEN...but when I set it down on my nightstand.

I spent the next twenty five minutes soaking my CREAM colored bath towels into my carpet and sopping up whatever I could of the wine off of my grandmother's buffet table which sentimentally serves as my nightstand. I threw everything into the bathtub-house shoes included, turned the water on hot and dumped a couple of scoops of OxyClean into the makeshift washing machine---BAM! When I opened up one of the table's leaves (it swings upward) the wine droplets that were previously stuck in the wood's crease dripped down onto the carpet so I had to repeat all of the steps I mentioned above.

Now get this...I have since discovered that Woolite's PET STAIN & ODOR REMOVER with Oxygen REMOVES RED WINE STAINS FROM LIGHT COLORED CARPET, WHITE NIGHTGOWNS, AND BRAND NEW CELL PHONES. The only problem is that now I have a very visible clean section of carpet in my bedroom.

Dream On

If any of you out there can interpret dreams...by all means: COMMENT ON MINE!!! This morning I awoke with the realization that "it was all just a dream." Let me see if I can pull some of the pieces together and paint you a picture of just what went on last night: It all started with a wedding. There were two grooms and they were Trace Atkins and Tim McGraw (uh huh). The weird part of it was that there was never a bride in the picture...hmmm. After the "wedding" it was determined that the "winner of the contest" was none other than moi. (I am guessing that this dream was a conglomeration of Nashville Star, Celebrity Apprentice, America's Got Talent, and my very own Subconcious Heaven!). The next thing I know I am being carted off in a miniature car (much like a canvas folding chair one would use at the lake) with only a small red backpack and a stuffed Yorkshire Terrier. Two friends of mine are driving me to my yet undisclosed destination (they are a tad peeved that they did not "win", but nevertheless happy for me). We arrive at a HUGE auditorium (think Academy Awards) and I am told that I will be performing ON STAGE in fifteen minutes. {Note to readers: I CAN NOT SING!}

The lights dim and I find myself sandwiched between Trace and Tim (don't I wish) as we begin our opening number. There are many sheets of notebook paper taped to the wooden floor of the stage. Each song title is highlighted in a different color and apparently "my color" is pink. I pray that the two deep voices of the PROFESSIONAL singers will drown out my feeble attempts at song. But then I am caught up in the moment and I start to actually sing. I am a little better than I thought. That's when I notice we have backup singers/dancers on stage with us. This is turning out to be quite the production(now I am remembering my phone conversation with "Danielle" who promised me a trip to Las Vegas if only I would drive down to Timbuktu and listen to her "spiel" this Sunday at 4:00).

As the song list dwindles down to the grand finale I have embraced my new lifestyle and am confident that I am where I was meant to be all along. There are only three of us left on stage. I work my way over to the far left side of the stage (secretly thinking I should be in the middle...you know...for aesthetics) and croon my heart out. That is when I notice that Trace and Tim are both out in the audience on small round stages. There is one other small round stage...in the middle...and it is empty. I look to my right and notice there are two backup singers accompanying me.

As the lights dim and the curtain falls I am whisked away by my two friends and loaded into the blue canvas mini "car". I don't know whether to be embarrassed, upset, elated, or confused. All I know is that I left my damn backpack (read: purse/cell phone/wallet/LIFE) and stuffed terrier backstage! We pull into my friend's driveway and right away the evening's events begin to peel away from me layer by layer. While us girls are starting to giggle and rehash the night I hear a loud whirr outside. When I step outside the front door I can see my mom and my dad with leaf blowers strapped to their backs (this isn't even their house...or mine!) I bring them inside and introduce them to my friends and my mother and I start to snoop around looking at all of the cool decor while my friend wraps up a phone conversation (get this: she is talking on a baby blue WALL PHONE...complete with curly/springy cord).

There was also a part of my dream that was SO not related to the above but nevertheless was dreamt the same night. It involved a waterpark and friends. Oh yeah...I just remembered...my husband and I went to take the kids to a community pool and when we got there it was night and it was overcrowded and I had my dog, Roo, with me and it was cold and we ended up talking with old people at a picnic table. Before we knew it "Danielle" showed up and started asking us questions about Las Vegas!

Relocation, Relocation, Relocation!

The swallows are rebuilding! And rebuilding! In fact, our wraparound porch has become a condominium of sorts to several families of swallows. Earlier this month I told the story of how our single, beloved swallow nest was "taken down" while trying to lure a snake out of it. Not to be deterred the swallows have been working tirelessly to make a new home...apparently they told their friends, family, and neighbors about their new location. After closely observing the swallows' method of operation I noticed that they liked to slap a few pieces of mud onto the rock wall and then fly away and observe it from a distance...much like we would do with a small swatch of paint. When it becomes obvious that this location "just won't do" they stick another splat of mud somewhere else and repeat the process. Finally, "the perfect location" is chosen (preferrably over an entrance or above a window, thus increasing the likelihood of smattering bird droppings all over the welcome mat or the window sill). This being said, some of the new nests are being built over the back door and above my son's bedroom window.

If I could get my computer to catch up with the 21st century I'd share some pictures with you of the swallows collecting mud and straw. It was incredible to watch them work as a team. One would fly down to the ground where it was nice and moist (thanks to a water hose that was accidentally left on too long) and dip its beak into the mud until it was nice and packed. As soon as it flew away another landed almost simultaneously. The second would have a few pieces of grass or hay and it would moisten these pieces in the water. They flew from nest to ground repeatedly all throughout the day.

It has always amazed me at how capable and brilliant the swallows are. Their nests are true masterpieces. Every time I look at one of their nests I think of God. And that is when I am convicted. If a bird can work so hard and produce such purposeful results then what is my excuse? All too often I waste my time and have nothing to show for it at the end of the day. I know we all need our days of rest and our quiet time (trust me...I totally believe in that!) but I must also get my head on straight and start to focus on some of my goals. While I have achieved many of my goals there are still many more I wish to see to fuition. Truth be told many of my earlier "goals" could better be defined as "dreams." I am starting to come face to face with the fact that my life is what I make of it and right now I don't feel like I am making anything. That is one of the reasons that I started this blog. I have such a strong desire to create and I have always been driven to write. I want to take this particular "dream" of mine and prune it into a definitive goal. And then I want to work hard at achieving it.

If, like the swallows, I spend my time purposefully working toward a goal (and employing the help of my family and good friends) I believe that I can build something for myself. I realize that it may be muddy sometimes, and I might even encounter a few snakes, but, in the end, I just might find my niche...and hopefully there won't be bird sh** on my welcome mat!

Clean, Play, Repeat

I have discovered the best way to get the kids to play together...outside at that...is to request their help cleaning up the house. For the past several days the kids have stayed indoors (messing up the house) because it has been too hot to play; never mind the the fact that they continually get on each other's nerves. First thing this morning I notified the kids that at 11:00 we were all going to stop whatever it was that we were doing and straighten the house UNTIL IT WAS CLEAN! Almost immediately both kids started MAKING THEIR OWN SANDWICHES and packing their own backpacks. They "innocently" stared at me as if I were a cyclops or something like it (although my eyes are puffy enough that the skin could possibly merge) and proceeded to tell me that they were "just about to go exploring." Uh-huh. I stood my ground and forced them to put away the dishes and pick up all of their stray belongings. All of a sudden the phone rang and I found myself tucked away in my bedroom talking to my sister. When I emerged from my room I could literally hear and feel the absence of my kids. While there was still plenty of cleaning left for me to do the dishwasher was empty.

I looked out one of my windows and saw the backs of my kids as they tromped off into the woods. It took me back about nine years when my son (then age 4) would get all suited out in his fireman's costume (complete with helmet and air tank) and strap on his "workerman" tool belt. He would meticulously make certain that his tagalong sister (then age 2) had as close to matching gear as possible. I even have a picture of the two of them (air tanks strapped to their backs) taken from behind as they walked off into the woods.

Before I could grab my camera the moment was gone. The kids were back inside ("...it's like 106 degrees out there!") and asking if they could watch t.v., get on the computer, play games, etc. At least while we all retreat to our favorite electronic source of entertainment we can enjoy playing in a much cleaner house than the one we woke up to!

Of Mice and Me

I hear them...they are in the attic...they are in the walls. I see them...scurrying from behind the bookshelf to the nearest corner: a gray blur. Mice. They have made our house their home. Just the other day while trying to take a mid-afternoon nap I heard one running from one end of my bedroom ceiling to the other...except it sounded a little larger than a mouse...hmmmm. Whatever it was it "sounded happy" by the way it was quickly "skipping". I can only imagine the festivites that must be going on up in the attic-what with ALL OF MY STUFF up there!

Which is why I try my best to store items in sealed plastic containers. This does not always work though. Last weekend I took out a plastic container from my CLOSET to rummage through our "lake stuff" that had been packed away since last summer. Inside I found my son's water shoes...filled with faded jelly beans (from Easter '05???) and the shells from large sunflower seeds. Fortunately the shoes are too small for him this year. Inside the railing of my daughter's twin bed we discovered a colorful stash of parakeet feed (we haven't had any parakeets for 5 months now). One of our birth certificates had a chewed off corner and I can no longer leave fruit out on the counters.

Now, before you go and report me to the health department, let me remind you that I live in the COUNTRY! Mice are the least of my concerns! And, by the way, we're talking about those cute little field mice...you know..."Cinderelly, Cinderelly..." They usually keep to themselves, but if things get out of hand we try our best to handle the situation as humanely as possible. Now, when it comes to centipedes and scorpions...well...all bets are off!!

Oh Deer!

It is 12:50 at night (which actually makes it "morning")and I am still awake. Like a newborn who gets her days and nights mixed up I too am starting to "cross over." I think I am in the process of rebelling against my life as a working mom. And so, during my time off, I tend to do everything in extremes. For example, instead of rushing around trying to clean up the dishes or make sure the clothes are washed I just "let it go." Instead of going to bed early so I can wake up early I now go to bed late because I can wake up late. But, like a newborn, I am starting to get colicky...except at my age I think it is called getting "cranky."

In an effort to de-escalate my crankiness I left the house late in the evening to go get myself a Coke (I had been craving the sweetness---and yes, the caffeine since I'm tired from staying up so late!) On my way back home I came upon a tiny figure in the middle of the road. As I got closer I saw that it was a fawn...a newly born fawn. She was having trouble standing, let alone walking on the road. I put on my hazzards and was fully prepared to warn any oncoming vehicles. As the fawn wobbled over to the side of the road I noticed that she was having trouble maneuvering through the thorny vines and bushes. I began to worry that she would never make it under/through the fence which would leave her exposed to late night drivers. I wondered if her mother was still alive. The moon looked close to being full and there were many deer and other fawns out a couple of miles down the same road. I knew that I was not suppose to handle this delicate creature because her mother would return...but what if.... The thoughts started pouring into my mind...and found their way to my heart. I could not take the chance that this spotted fawn may not survive the night.

You can probably guess what I did next. I scooped up that precious fawn and held her against my chest. She never tried to run, but then again I still believe she was too young to even do so. As I drove the three miles back to my home this amazing baby animal rested in my lap. She cried out for her mother and the sound nearly broke my heart. I shhhhhushed her as I had my own children when they were babies. I patted her back and talked soothingly to her. I brought her into my home and showed her off.

We decided as a family that we had to return her and so my daughter went with me. She is the true animal lover in the family. Just this morning (well, yesterday, now) she told me that she wanted to join ASPCA, "...it's just 8 cents a day Mom! And every cent goes to help animals!" She held the fawn in her lap and as we drove down the road she excitedly blurted out, "It's licking my arm, Mom! It's licking me!" My daughter didn't even have to hold on tight. The fawn rested calmly in her lap. She kept looking up at my daughter with trusting eyes. My daughter scratched and rubbed her back. The fawn probably would have gone to sleep if we had kept on driving. But we didn't. We came to the spot where I had originally found it and after my daughter planted a soft kiss on its head I set the fawn down on the other side of the fence and said a prayer into the dark night. I got back into the car and drove to a place where I could turn around. When we came back to "the spot" I could no longer see the fawn. It is my hope and my prayer that she and her mother reunited and slept together beneath the light of the moon.

All Cooped Up & Just a Little Bit Squirrely

Just this morning my son went outside to check on his chickens. He came back inside with a video of a squirrel trapped inside the chicken coop. So, for the next fifteen minutes my daughter and I watched a frantic squirrel running and leaping from one end of the coop to the other while my son narrated the entire "show." Talk about action...it felt like we were on the "Zipper" ride at a theme park! As the squirrel leapt from tin wall to wire wall it sounded as if an all out battle were going on. When the squirrel finally found the exit he joyfully scurried atop the outdoor pen's fence line and was free at last. The chickens continued to scratch and peck none the wiser.

This little episode made me think of my life...my house is the coop, my husband and kids are the chickens, and I am the squirrel.

I feel like I spend my time leaping, jumping, flying, skittering...never quite finding a way out. Everyone around me seems to have a much more laid back approach to living...one that I secretly desire, but for the life of me can't quite achieve. I keep thinking that once I get "everything in order" I can finally begin to function. The problem with that line of thinking is that it is simply not realistic. I spin my wheels but get nowhere.

Maybe I should change the way I operate. Maybe I should start to behave more like a chicken instead of a squirrel. Sure, storing away food for the winter has its advantages, but blissfully scratching and clucking sounds pretty good too.

Repeat Performance

I thought my nerves were embedded deep within my body…but somehow my kids found them…and they’re on them!!! Every little thing that happened today irked me. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I have spent every day since school let out cleaning my house…and it does not look like it. Maybe it has something to do with the scorching heat that has us trapped within the house from morning until night. It could even be that we are running out of food, and with the high price of gas right now we are trying to limit our sixty mile commute to the nearest grocery store to one day a week. Today was not “the day.”

In some ways this is good…no milk=no quicky breakfast…no eggs=no long and drawn out breakfast…no bread=no lunch…no meat=no dinner…no dish soap=no dish washing…no laundry detergent=no clothes washing.

In other ways it is bad…no food=cranky people…no wine=cranky mother.

And so, we sit and watch television. Did you know that the forecast calls for more heat, high gas prices, and bad vegetables? “Tomorrow we can expect more of the same.” Gee thanks! When the evening finally rolls around we all sit and watch television. Did you know that Nashville Star has some really talented singers (but I can’t tell you who won the title the last several seasons), the Jonas Brothers are monopolizing our world (so far so good), and Betty White recently guest starred on Million Dollar Password? (now that brought back memories from my own childhood summers spent indoors watching t.v.).

When my husband came home today I immediately looked at him and by way of greeting blurted out, “I am extremely irritable today!” By way of loving me he did not comment—only smiled and gingerly walked away.

Tonight I think we’ll divide up the soggy graham crackers, draw straws for the single orange (though that is not really its color anymore), and swig some unsweetened sun tea. For dessert we’ll chew gum while watching Nashville Star.

Tomorrow we can expect more of the same.

Gnome Body Knows...the Troubles I've Seen...

Oh the joys of an overnight trip to the lake. Granted, we live just 15 miles from this lake, but for some reason this makes it all the more frustrating to pack 17 bags, 3 ice chests, 1 dog kennel, 2 boat bags, multiple water toys and equipment…all to unpack…dirty up and then pack up again all to drive home and do it all again in reverse…until next weekend. Such is the life of a water loving family. Before you start to think that I am not a big fan of this lifestyle let me assure you that I highly prefer it to the “coastal experience.” It is a little more laid back and a lot less sandy, salty, sticky, sweaty, smelly. On the other hand, I think the whole “weekend getaway” is more fun for a man and the only way “Mama” would ever get 100% fulfillment from it at all is if she were to go ALONE!

When the kids were babies (and for those of you in the throes of this insane existence…you know just how unfun the “weekend ‘getaway’” truly is {"get away" from WHAT?! You're bringing it ALL with you!!!) I often thought that I would much rather inflict pain on myself (rather than have it inflicted upon me). Now that the kids are much older I am not finding much of a difference from those first unfun years at the lake and now. Granted it is SO MUCH EASIER (I only have to bring 17 bags instead of 22) but nevertheless it’s not like I can tell the kids to go jump in the lake at 7 a.m. and tell them to come back to the cabin at 9 p.m. (Now wouldn’t that be fun?!---yes, it would, but thanks to our overprotective society it’s NOT…now I have to lug all of our stuff down to the water’s edge and sit forever trying to read and keep the ants out of my Coke at the same time...all while keeping a watchful eye on the little darlings, rubbing in sun lotion, providing snacks, drinks, Neosporin, life jackets, goggles, refereeing, bargaining, promising, breaking promises, making sure the beloved pet doesn't wander off, and making a mental note of what to bring next time and wondering how "other people" do it...I never see other people with STUFF! And did I mention trying to read? HA! I am such the eternal optimist...I actual brought a book! What was I thinking?!)

Nevermind the fact that the beds are lumpy and “our” bedroom is in the middle of the cabin so everybody has to walk through our room (picture me with eyes closed, mouth wide open, unsightly body parts possibly exposed,…you get the picture I’m sure…and it’s not one you cared to view I am certain!). Everybody is always hungry…you can’t drink the water…the toilet paper supply is dwindling…everything is enclosed in plastic containers (to keep the mice out)…and just this morning I walked in on my father-in-law as he was reaching down to pull on his blue jeans…Happy Father’s Day!

Let’s go back 22 years: I was just about to turn sweet 16 and I was spending the night with my best friend…at the lake. There were several families staying there that 4th of July weekend. One of them had a friend spending the night with them as well…my future husband. That’s right…my husband and I met at The Lake 22 years ago this July. And we’ve been going to the same cove ever since. His family had always gone there and so had my friend’s. Just this past weekend my friend invited me in to see her new cabin. As far as lake cabins go this one was great! It is basically one big room. The floor is hardwood salvaged from the barracks at Fort Sam! There is a wrought iron wood stove in the center of the room and the kitchen has a bar long enough to host probably 8 stools! If you (for some odd reason) were wearing high heels you would not be able to see out of the windows…not because they are too high…oh no…quite the contrary…they are extremely low and my friend and her family think that perhaps the former occupants had been a family of gnomes! And, it gets better…the bathroom’s toilet allows for approximately ½² of toe/knee space (and that was measured by my demure friend!) I feel sorry for any man over 5’2 who needs to take a seat!
The wallpaper reminded me of something one would see on the walls in a foreign village’s souvenier shoppe…one owned by gnomes!

And so, I spent the weekend at the lake…the same lake where I met my husband…the same lake I went to with my best friend when we were teenagers…the same lake I went to with my own family when we visited our cousins…the same lake I am bringing my own children to now...the same lake that the gnomes frequent when we’re not there…if you are lucky you just may spot one…all you have to do is look under your lumpy mattress!

Falling Apart at the "Seems"

As someone who has, at one time or another, been a size 2, 4, 6, and 8, I can tell you that I am struggling the most with being all of these sizes at once! That's right, folks! As I am now a heck of a lot closer to 40 than 30 I am being hit from every angle. I am literally falling apart at the "seems"...it seems that I am still the same size although I cannot fit into my blue jeans. It seems that I still have the same face, but my makeup is not quite "blending." It seems that I have it all together, but that is only when I am standing so straight and sucking in so hard that if asked to actually sit or speak I would shoot across the room like an unknotted balloon!

I was genetically blessed with a nice complexion and a tiny waist. I was also born a GIRL!!! I knew this "time" was coming...it had to! And so, as I grow up (and out)I must face the realization that I can no longer eat whatever I want whenever I want. I must make exercise a (dare I say it) habit. I have to control my repulsive seething whenever a 20-something bounces by...for she was once me.

The funny thing about all of this is that I am still happy. I still like me and I pray that I always will. It's just that when my seams start unravelling my "stuffing" begins to show.

Proper Planning Prevents Pizza Problems

As a temporary stay at home mom (thanks to my two months off in the summer) I can now spend the kind of quality time with my kids I long for...I can now operate in a less hectic mode...I can now prepare lovingly homemade meals for my family...NOT!

While I may not do everything wrong I certainly don't do everything right. For example, just this evening I thought that perhaps I would make some meatballs and rice...maybe even a salad to show I care...but then I realized that I would actually have to thaw out the meat first. I have done this before when "prepping" for meatballs, but a round meatball watery meat does not make. According to a quote by author Rick Warren, I work by pressures. While I believe in proper planning (I really do) I just can't seem to do anything until it absolutely needs to be done. A few years ago I actually accepted that this isn't necessarily wrong it is just the way that I operate. That being said I immediately decided that tonight we would feast on Pizza Rolls!!
Being the happy homemaker that I am I lovingly lined the toaster oven's tray with aluminum foil (this made me feel very 'Martha' plus I won't even have to wash the tray...how's that for planning ahead?!)

I poured as many tiny pizza rolls as would fit and popped them in the oven. I set the timer for 9 minutes, poured a glass of wine, and rushed off to take a shower (I am still in multitasking mode...it takes a while to totally succumb to the fact that I do not have to do 138 things at once!). I told my daughter to listen for the timer and I started bathing. During my "rinse cycle" there came a knocking on my bathroom door. My daughter came in to tell me that the timer went off but that I never turned the oven on. My first response: "Well, at least they're not burned!"

Wire Less

I had hoped to post a few pictures of what we discovered on our back porch (see previous entry)but after an hour and a half of waiting I decided to put my computer our of her memory. You see, DSL is "not an option" where I live, therefore I am operating in a dial-up mode. For those of you who suffer from this condition my heart goes out to you...unfortunately I can't email you to tell you so because my email retreival has a 3 day delay attached to it. And here's the kicker: I can't SEND any emails right now. Although this might have someone else up in arms, I am simply grateful that I finally have a computer and a quasi-internet connection. The last time I had either was over 7 years ago (if you can believe that?!). In the future, when I am able to go wireless, I promise you lots more pictures and many more features. Until then I am happy just to piece together the little bitz here and there!

One Slithered Over the Swallow Nest

One of the joys of living in the country is having an up close and personal view of all things wildlife. I've had my share of raccoon and rabbit sightings. I still catch my breath whenever I see a buck. Just the other week I listened to the rooting and grunting of some ferral hogs just outside my backyard. But then something happened the other night that caught me off guard and I witnessed something I had never before witnessed...up close and personal.

Because we are enjoying our summer break from school we have been staying up late and sleeping in. Two nights ago I had just tucked in my daughter for the night. It was probably around 10:30 and the house was dark. The only light came from the glow of my monitor up in the loft. The guys were all outside in the barn. That left me upstairs typing my journal entry for the day. About thirty minutes into it I heard a quick succession of taps on one of the downstairs' windows (other than my keyboard the house was silent). My initial thought was that a raccoon was snooping around (they always visit our porch in the night...they are relentless when it comes to my hummingbird feeders!). When the tapping continued I started to think that perhaps it was my husband instead. I thought that maybe the back door was locked and he didn't want to startle me by knocking loudly??? Nevertheless I had a sense that it was a critter. I was determined to see what it was so I stealthily snuck down the stairs (in the pitch blackness) and crept over towards the window. I got in a position to glimpse the *raccoon* as soon as I flipped on the porch light. When the lights came on I was taken back. I saw one of *our* swallows (a young one) flopping and flapping against my window ledge (thus the tapping sounds). My family and I have watched and learned from over five generations of this particular swallow family. This spring we welcomed four baby birds. They had just started flying about a week and a half ago and were in the habit of leaving their nest during the days and perching on our back fence (where their parents still fed them). Every night they would cram their now overgrown bodies back into their clay cup of a home.

The frightened bird was actually one of the lucky ones. Up in the corner, where this particular nest has been affixed to our wall for over five years, a snake was feasting on the swallows. His head and a portion of his body were coiled and snug within the nest; the rest of his body and tail was trailing below along the rock wall. I was immediately torn: my gut reaction was to save the birds--my eyes *told* me to GRAB THE CAMERA!--my senses *told* me to RUN! I whistled for back up. Once I had reinforcement I went crazy with the camera shooting well over 100 pictures. We were amazed at how strong the snake was and how unwilling he was to be lifted (by a stick) out of the nest. In the end, despite our best efforts, the nest could not be saved. Once the snake was out of the nest and in the hands of my husband (he quickly assessed that it was nonvenemous) we saw that it had one of the swallows in its mouth. As sad as this was it was also extremely fascinating. We all marveled at *nature* and then released the snake outside of our yard. Forty-five minutes later the snake was back searching for more. My husband lifted it up to where the nest used to be and then released it back into the wild.

The next morning the swallow family was back--swirling in shifts in and out of the porch railings as was their usual routine. Each one would fly up to where its nest used to be, as if his flight pattern had not been changed, which, I suppose it had'nt--after all--don't we all have some sort of internal GPS when it comes to *home*? I am sure they will rebuild. Will it be in the same location? I don't know. But I do know this: No matter our losses we must all rally together, enjoy our little routines, and spread our wings every once in a while.

I left my kids at home...alone...and I'm lovin' it!!!

While I'm still stuck in my summer technology inservice I thought I would continue to work on this blog (before you start to think that I am a complete inservice slacker let me just say that this workshop is specifially about all things Google...including Blogging!!!). I am actually enjoying sitting in this hard, blue ,plastic ,student chair...and the reason being this: I am "alone!" (well, as "alone" as one can be with 21 other people crammed in a frigid computer classroom, albeit hidden behind monitors).

You see, I am NEVER without my kids and, while at first this was the way that I wanted it, now I am not so sure. With summer break staring me in the face, I am even more aware of just how "close" we are. In year's past I would have spent three days prior to my inservice strategically planning who was going to be able to watch my kids for eight hours and where we would meet to drop off/pick up (and I would also have spent a month putting off the planning of this). But this time it was different...much different. I simply set my alarm, got up, got ready...and left. As simple as that. No coercing, no searching for articles of clothing, no crying (them or me). Wow. As I drove off I battled with the notion of listening to what I wanted to listen to on the radio versus not even turning the darn thing on. I drove without shrieks and shouts from the backseat.

I was looking forward to my day ahead. What was happening to me?! When have I *ever* looked forward to an all day technology inservice?! Was today the first step? The first step that would take me down a dark and twisting path that would no doubt have me traveling towards...a life...(gulp) of my *own*?! At the risk of sounding like a mother who wants to run away from her kids (and believe me...the thought has crossed my mind a time or two!) it's not really that ... exactly. It is more of a rebirth of sorts. I think that as mothers we become so absorbed in our children's lives that it is often hard to pull back from them with who we once were in tact. But then again we truly aren't who we once were...and I am glad that I am not...but I still want to find some of the bitz and pieces I may have left behind. And if it takes attending an inservice to find them...then so be it!

Welcome!

Welcome to my Blog!

This is a project that I have been wanting to work on for some time. Since I am finally off for the summer I thought I would use my time wisely during a required technology inservice and get to work creating this site!! Primarily I intend to use this blog as a way for my family and friends to keep up with my crazy life (and, hopefully, laugh at my expense!!) and I welcome all new visitors as well!! I would love to "meet" you via this blog!!

My vision for this blog is one that will allow my readers a glimpse into the way I see things --which is typically through a humorous and ironic filter!! It is my belief that all of us, women especially, go through the same range of emotions as we battle our way through the daily minutia of life. Sometimes the pieces are good...sometimes they are bad...but in time they mesh and ultimately become the pieces that make us who we are.

*Author's Note: Names have been changed to protect the guilty!