My Head Hurts...

It's been a rough week. I have a killer cold. I'm not sure which is worse. Feeling like my head is going to pop from the pressure, or feeling spacey and stupid from the cold medicine (yes, I know, how can I tell it's the cold medicine, and not just feeling normal.) My ears crackle when I eat or yawn. And the stuff that I'm coughing up...ick. Whine, whine, whine. I'm sure my lovely children passed this wonder on to me, little darlings. It seems like by the time the colds make it to me, they have mutated into evil super virus' that leave me way sicker then the kids. It's just not fair. Whine, whine, whine.

The Thing You Need To Know About Me...

I did a writing prompt for a class, I like the way it turned out...
The thing you need to know about me is that I come from crazy and creative people. I mean odd and loony, but in a good way. Like the time my dad asked my mom for ½ a glass of water, and my mom cut a plastic glass in half. Or the story about the time my mom and grandma both stopped in the street giggling and looked up at nothing– they got six strangers that day to look up at nothing too. My family has always been a little off, and we’re proud of our oddness.
My kids have continued on being funny in their own creative ways. My son, Tom is funny when he’s angry. It is hard not to laugh when you hear a 5-year-old calling his 13-year-old brother a "butt sneeze!" I have to hand it to him; it is a great creative description of a fart. When Oscar was 4 years old, he decided he wanted to be called Godzilla. He would only answer to that, and nothing else. Just imagine the looks I got at Wal-Mart yelling, “Godzilla, don’t touch that!”
To say that my 4-year-old daughter Tess is a zany is an understatement. With three older brothers her sense of humor is already twisted. Last week she was dressed in her usual attire, a pink leotard and sparkling red tap shoes. She stood with her feet apart and held a toy block behind her back. After much grunting, she dropped the block. It looked like she pooped a green toy block. Her older brothers clapped and laughed. Her dad, Max, smiled and turned to me and said, "That's your daughter alright. She must get that from your side, my family doesn't think poop is funny." He’s right, it is from my side and I’ll take all the credit.

Tag's New Vocabulary

The kids were playing tag in the house( it was too cold and windy outside) and I noticed an interesting thing. The rules have stayed the same, but the jargon has changed. Time out isn't called time out anymore. A time out is now called a "pause." The kids were running around yelling, "pause" and then "unpause." I guess the video game age has gotten into every crack of modern life. Gone are the days of playing outside from dawn to dusk, covered head to toe in mosquito bites and itchy from the layers of dirt and sweat. My kids do play outside, but not with the same gusto that I did. We don't have a kid made fort or a secret hide out. They do still chase frogs and lightening bugs and climb trees. They don't seem to get as dirty as I did as a kid (maybe my hygiene was just poorer) I remember leaving dirt rings in the tub. I still had dirt in my neck creases until 6th grade. Here is a picture of Tom, the monkey boy. He loves to climb trees, it's the climbing down that is tricky. Yes, he did get kinda stuck. This is the same tree Oscar climbed, and Leif. I guess Tess is next...

What Really Happened to the Big Bad Wolf...

My brother sent me this, I'm still giggling...
Little Red Riding Hood is skipping thru the forest road when she sees the big bad wolf crouched down behind a log. 'My, what big eyes you have, Mr. Wolf.' The wolf jumps up and runs away.Further down the road Little Red Riding Hood sees the wolf again and this time he is crouched behind a bush. 'My what big ears you have, Mr. Wolf.' Again the wolf jumps up and runs away. About 1/4 mile down the road Little Red Riding Hood sees the wolf again and this time he is crouched down behind a rock. 'My what big teeth you have Mr. Wolf.' With that the wolf jumps up and screams, 'Will you knock it off, I'm trying to poop!'

2 Foot Blue Flame

Let me just start this one with the rule that you should never, I mean never, syphon gas with your mouth. Yes, Max was reminded about that rule this week. He needed to drain the gas from a vehicle, but the hose he was using just wasn't working...I knew there was a problem when he came running (Matt never runs) into the house and went straight to the kitchen sink. The last time he ran straight to the sink, he had almost lost the tip to his finger to the tractor, so I knew something was up. He had his mouth and beard under the running water, and I was relieved that I didn't see any blood, but boy, could I smell gas. I knew exactly what had happened. "You tried to syphon gas with your mouth, didn't you?" "Yep, this is going to show up in your Blog, isn't it?" After we both stopped laughing, he said it was OK to tell the world about his tasty error. The smell of gas followed him, even after a shower, and brushing his teeth. I think he ingested some gas, and the next day, he was worried if he farted he'd shoot a 2 foot flame, and ruin a good pair of jeans. I'm happy to announce, his jeans are intact, no flames, but I did go out and buy a gas syphon hose-with a bulb that works.

Those Chickens Are Spying On Me...

We moved up to the country and I felt compelled to get some “farm animals.” Chickens seemed the easiest, so I ordered 25 chicks from a catalogue and they arrived in the mail 2 weeks later. They were an assortment of layers, and guaranteed to be 90% hens. We already had three roosters from a farmer that Max worked with. The fact that someone would give us roosters should have been my first clue. However, I was so gung ho, and totally clueless.
As soon as the chicks were old enough, we planned to let the chickens be free-range birds. They would help eat the wood ticks that were plaguing us. It was great fun owning chickens; I loved watching them strut across the yard. We had some fancy fluffy brown hens that had huge puffy pantaloons of feather and scrawny legs. Watching them truck across the yard always made me laugh, and those fresh eggs…Nothing is a good as fresh eggs. We were getting two dozen eggs a week, the perfect number for our family. Some of the eggs were so large, you’d have thought we had Condors laying for us. How this little hen could lay an egg almost as big as herself, was, and still is, a mystery to me. You’d think that laying something as big as that would hurt. Maybe they weren’t clucking, but repeating the mantra of: “breath, just relax…” Poor little hens.
The chickens were funny too. We have a front and back deck that run along the length of the house. The roosters loved to crow right into the open windows. They would jump up onto the deck railing and walk until they were by the window then turn and crow right into the house. It’s a myth that roosters only crow at sunrise, they really crow all day. I didn’t mind, I still love the sound of a rooster crowing. The hens developed the creepy habit of looking into the windows and spying on us. It was un-nerving to open the curtain in the morning and be face to face with a chicken. What they were looking at became a running joke. They watched me cook chicken for dinner, and scramble eggs for breakfast. They loved to watch us, watch TV.
As the chickens grew, it became obvious that we had a problem– too many roosters. They fought over the hens, tried to mount each other and never left the poor hens alone. They were really pests. As much as we liked the fresh eggs and hearing the roosters crow, we noticed a couple of other problem too…we had chicken poop everywhere. On the deck railings, on the deck chairs, everywhere in the yard, and even on the kids slide. Those stinky birds went poo everywhere. We also no longer had peepers. Peepers are small fogs that sing at night. I loved to fall asleep to the sounds of the frogs; I guess the chickens found them tasty.
Another problem was the dumb birds didn’t all return to the hen house at night. After losing three hens, we started to round them up nightly. Each and every night we would round up the stragglers that didn’t make it back to the hen house. You would be surprised to know that chickens can run very fast when chased. And boy did we ever have to chase them. We must have looked like fools, I’m just glad we don’t have any close neighbors. We had a big old black Great Dane dog at the time, and even he would get up and come to watch the show.

Got A Tiger By The Tail...

Several years ago, Leif “found” two small, starved kittens in the ditch on his way home from a friend’s house. The two were dumped, a common but unfortunate occurrence in the country. Some idiot’s cat or dog has too many babies, so they decide to “free them in the beautiful countryside.” These poor animals usually starve, or become food for bigger animals (coyotes, wolves, owls, eagles, etc) Well, with my son’s big brown eyes looking at me, and him sweetly asking, “Can I feed them?“ How could I say no. Once you feed a cat, well, you own that cat. We agreed he could feed them, but they had to stay outdoor cats, and at six weeks, we would get them fixed. Leif would help pay for the vet bills. He named them Mama Bear, and Grey Ghost. And those two kittens quickly became six cats. Who knew that a kitten could get “knocked up” so young? Mama Bear had four kittens at six weeks old. I think that Mama Bear might have already “been in trouble” when Leif found her. It was huge surprise to see a kitten with kittens. We handled the kittens when they were young, hoping that they would be social, like the mother cat. Then Mama Bear then moved the kittens to a safer location, and they grew. At five weeks, the plan was to catch the young, and get the whole lot fixed at once. The two older cats were social so they came when food was poured, the kittens (there were now only two still living) were not as easy. Those tiny balls of fur were wild and mean. I sat outside by the food dish, planning on how I would catch them and set them into the cat carrier, and then off to the vet we would all go. I must have sat by the food for over 30 minutes before one of them finally crept up to the dish. I swooped in and caught the small fluff ball by the tail. The feral kitten started getting all Tanzamian devil on me. Snarling, spitting and trying to get at me, not get away. I had not scared it, but made it angry. Revenge, not escape was what it wanted. Here I was standing, holding on to it by the tail…now what? I had a moment of doubt. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. If I set it back down, I was sure it would really get ugly. It had already scratched and bitten me ( I had visions of some nasty but exotic disease that these bites would lead to, maybe I’d have to get my arm amputated, and all because I was trying to be a responsible pet owner.) I could not possibly get it into the cat carrier without being mauled even more and no vet deserved to get a vicious kitten launching out and into his face in the examining room. I had the tiger by the tail. I just stood there, holding this tiny kitten by the tail, as it swung around and tried it’s best to kill me. I thought about flinging it, but that just seemed too mean (funny image, but mean) If I set it down, would it run to safety or come after me? I was thinking it would come after me (yes, I was kind of scared of an 8oz ball of terror) Maybe I could set it down on the other side of the deck railing and run like hell for the back door. That was what I decided to do. Can you just picture that, an adult running from a small fluffy kitten? Sounds funny now, but man, was that thing mean.
What ever became of Killer you ask? I dropped him and ran yelling for the back door. I did re-catch him one day (yes, I know that I didn’t learn my lesson) and when he was safely in the cat carrier and howling, and my mauled hands and arms were bandaged up, I called the vet to let them know I was on my way. The vets office informed me that no, surgery day was next Wed, I was too late, and could I try again next week?

Dancing Queen

My little dancing queen, Tess loves to play dress up. Last night she was wearing a green and pink fairy dress, toy high heels, a tiara, and was holding a magic wand-quiet the image. I was luckily enough to see her checking herself out in a mirror. She twirled, danced, and even kissed herself in the mirror. She sings vibrato when she plays so she was singing to herself, "so beautiful, so beautiful." I just sat there and watched her twirl. It was a magic moment, that I didn't want to disturb.

Snuggle up and...

This morning my daughter Tess (who's 4 years old) climbed into bed and snuggled up. I got to sleep in, so it was around 8am. Her ice cold feet and giggles woke me up. What was so funny? Not me, or my morning breath. She was giggling because she came into my room, climbed under the sheets and snuggled up-all to fart on me-then she got up and left. What a way to wake up your mother.

The Body In The Field

Here's a short youth fiction story that I've been thinking about lately. It happens in a small town in MN. I'm already thinking (kinda obsessing) about the characters, and what they are like and what happens to them because of this murder.
“The Body in the Field” Chapter 1

“Well, what do you think?” Kaitlyn asked as she admired her long tan legs and wiggled her pink toes in the hot sand.
“I like the peach polish you wore last week; it showed off your tan better. Can we get going now? I‘m hot and I want to be home before my Soap starts.” Sophie answered.
“Yeah, we’ll go soon. Are you coming to look at…?” Kaitlyn looked around to be sure none of the other people at the beach could hear them, “the body with Jake and me tonight?”
Sophie was instantly sick to her stomach at the mention of the dead body everyone was talking about, and sick at the idea of being in a car with Jake. He made her nervous and she couldn't put her finger on why. She tried to think of a quick lie to get out of going.
“I can’t. I have to babysit for my neighbor tonight.”
Kaitlyn was upset and it showed. “I think you’re just scared, big baby. Jake said I shouldn't tell you about it, that you’re not cool enough. Maybe he was right. Don’t you want to see a real dead body? I bet it’s really gross.”
“How did Jake find out about it anyway? You don’t think he had something to do with how it got there, do you?” Sophie couldn't shake the feeling that Kaitlyn’s boyfriend was dangerous. He was a senior, two years older then them and already had a wild reputation.
“Get real! Jake’s the hottest guy in school. He’s not a killer or anything. You’re just jealous that I’m dating him and you don‘t have a boyfriend at all.”
That wasn’t it, Sophie wasn’t sure about Jake. She didn’t trust him. She definitely didn’t want to see him or the dead body he wanted to show her friend Kaitlyn. Maybe she should she just go and see it, it probably wasn’t even real. Kaitlyn was always playing tricks on her. What if it was real, should she tell her mom? Her mom already didn’t like Kaitlyn, and this would be the last straw. It had been a wild summer hanging around her new friend. They’d gotten in some trouble and her mom had to pick her up at the sheriff department once already. Sophie didn’t want to be grounded away from Kaitlyn or Kaitlyn’s car. She’d have to ride the bus to school her senior year, what a loser that would make her. If it was real, maybe she would call the cops and tell them about the body in the field behind Jake’s house. But they might think she had something to do with it, besides she didn’t want to spend the last day of summer in the Sheriffs office, her mom would killer her. Maybe she should just go and see the body before she freaked out, it probably was a trick.
“Hello, Earth to Sophie. Daydream much? Well, do you think you can get out of babysitting? Or maybe we could go before? Should I pick you up at five? I promise to have you home by seven.”
Sophie relented, “Well, OK. I guess I could go before if it won‘t take too long.” Kaitlyn was so excited that she knocked over her pop; it spilled it all over Sophie’s new MP3 player. The spilled pop was an omen, a sign of things to come.

Don't Ask Chuck Norris For A Three-Hole-Punch

With the title of this entry, you might be asking, what on Earth am I talking about? Funny you should ask...I heard a really funny line this weekend. A group of adult Cub & Boy Scout leaders were sitting around talking about Chuck Norris (yes, that's what we do) at a convention. My friend Mark threw out this line: "If you work in an office with Chuck Norris, don't ask for a three-hole-punch." I was thinking three-hole-punch, as in three ring binder, yeah, that's not that funny. I looked over at Max, and he was snickering, and laughing so hard he wasn't breathing. Well, Max's humor is wonderfully dark, and if he thought it was very funny, there was something I just wasn't getting. About ten minutes later, I finally got it. Punch you in three holes...Ah, well, that is a very different joke then. Much funnier. I had to look up more Chuck Norris jokes, there are web sites full of them, I might add. In honor of my quick wit, here are some more: "Chuck Norris doesn't get laid, laid gets Chuck." "Chuck Norris ordered steak in a restaurant, the steak did what it was told." "Aliens do exist, they just know better than to visit a planet that Chuck is on." "July 4th is Independence day, and the day Chuck Norris was born. Coincidence, I think not." I could go on, but I won't..look them up yourself. Happy un- official Chuck Norris day.

Babies, Babies, Babies...

Well, everyone is here, and everyone arrived safely. I now have three new babies in my family. Max's sister, Sarah and her husband Q, had a little boy-Dominic James. Sarah was in labor for days before she knew it. That's the tough Russian blood in that side of the family. Sarah said, "Oh it wasn't that bad..." She's one tough broad (I mean that as the ultimate complement)

My brother Robb and my Sis-in-law, Elizabeth, had twin girls, Azy and Zoe on Friday.

All three babies are beautiful, and the moms are doing well.

I got to go and see and hold Azy & Zoe on Friday night. I fidgeted the whole day waiting for "the call." Jumping every time the phone rang. I couldn't wait to go and see them. It was amazing to see them, but also to see my brother so content, he was just over the moon.

When I visited the hospital, I had to behaved. All those newborn babies; oh I just wanted to bury my nose in their necks and breath in that new baby smell. I love to peek at those tiny toes, and perfect small ears. Most new Moms, for some strange reason aren't happy to have some strange woman smelling their babies and holding up the new babies feet while gushing "Oh look at those perfect toes, couldn't you just nibble on these?" Go figure. Like I'm the only person out there who is gaga over babies. I'm sure it's not just me. Luckily I was able to contain myself, so no one had to "escort me off the premises," this time.

The picture is of me holding Azy, it might be awhile before I get to hold Dominic, he lives in Georgia. :(

Little Girls

I overheard a very cute conversation last week. Tess and her friend Abby had pajama day at preschool, so they both were in pj's. Tess' friend had Princess pjs, and also wore a robe, a Disney Princess robe, complete with a flashing red heart light. Abby threw off her coat (very dramatically, I might add) and showed off her robe and matching jammies. Tess gasped, and said, "Oh my, those are beautiful. Turn around so I can see the back. My, my, my, those sure are nice." Tess was even clasping her hands together. They were both so serious, Abby so proud, and Tess so admiring, I had a hard time not laughing out loud. Later on I missed a precious moment, they were playing beauty shop. Tess was getting her hair "fixed" so I ran and got my camera, but the moment was lost. Only Tess would pose later on, why Tom hid his face for the picture, I don't know. Little girls are so funny, I'm so glad I got my little girl, even if she farts like a boy, she still is a girly girl.

Pure Poetry in Motion

I don't know about you, but I flush public toilets with my foot, my mom taught me, and I have taught my daughter that same rule. When using a public bathroom last week, I came very close to having a wet shoe. The floor was wet, my purse, which was over my shoulder, was too heavy, and I didn't have much traction with my shoes...I went to flush, with my foot, as I usually do. And slipped. I came so close, too close, to putting my foot into the drink. I caught myself on the walls of the stall, bumped my head, kicked the toilet seat with my foot, hit my back on the toilet paper dispenser, and swore. All that racked didn't go unnoticed. I'm not sure if it was the swearing, or the banging noise that got every ones attention, but I had an audience when I walked out of the bathroom. I am so graceful, pure poetry in motion.

Family Traits

I just noticed something funny about my daughters eating habits...she hums when she's eating something tasty. A trait she shares with her Auntie Rachel. Yummy chicken gets the hmmm, hmmm. So does dad's spaghetti. Another interesting tidbit is that when Tess is alone and playing with her dolls, the dolls sing vibrata (when your voice quivers) to each other. I can't sing (and shouldn't even try, but I still do and I do it badly) much less sing vibrata. Where does this talent come from? Her Grandma can sing, maybe that's where it comes from. This makes me wonder what traits I have from my family. Some of them are easy to spot, others, not so easy. I'm as mellow as yellow-from my dad. I can get very strong when I'm frustrated(watch out on this one, I've been known to get a 10 speed bike loaded into a small car and not know how I got it there, much less be able to get it back out. Watch out for those "Hulk mad!" moments)-this I know is from my mom. My humor? The dark, deep nasty streak is from my mom, enjoying fart humor is from my dad (who is The King of Gas) My good looks? Maybe the mailman was cute. No really, I kinda look like both of my parents. Like if they mated and had a kid...wait a minute, they did, 3 times. My razor quick, sharp as a tack intellect? No one will claim that.

Turning The Big 4-0

The big 4-0 is looming over my head this year. I've been thinking about it, a lot, and I guess I have these thoughts to share. Please feel free to add your own best of or worst of.
The good things about being 40:
This is the healthiest and best I've ever felt.
Being older and wiser.
I was an idiot at 20, and I'm glad things turned out well in spite of that.
Having a great hubby, who I've been with for 22 amazing fun filled years.
Having 4 healthy, smart, funny, and kind children who make me laugh every day.
I'm in really good shape, and having to work at it makes me appreciate it all the more.
I finally don’t give a shit what other people think.
My hair is starting to lose it’s curl (always wanted straight hair.)
I appreciate all small kindnesses, and I'm more grateful for everything I've been blessed with.
I don’t have keep up with the latest fashions.
I eat what’s good for me, and learn to like it.
I'm a great cook, I wasn't always.
I can afford to have life insurance.
Not getting carded.
Enjoying how exercise makes me feel.
Finally getting alone time, and not feeling guilty about enjoying it.
Seeing how great my kids are turning out and being proud of them.
Finally having a new vehicle (I love my minivan.)
Being older and wiser enough to see the bigger picture, in everything.
Being old enough to see patterns in mine and others lives (for good and bad.)
Remembering how wild I once was, and not needed to do that again.
Getting away with more things (I look forward to being able to get away with more, as in “Never mind Grandma, just pretend that her underwear are under her clothes.” Oh yeah, I‘ll embarrass the kids.)
I don’t have to keep up with the “Jones” and I know that I don’t need the latest gadgets.
I've gotten to be a really interesting person with a lot to give.
I see that when I help others, it really does matter.
Knowing how lucky and blessed I am.
I finally don't give a shit what other people think (so great I had to repeat this one.)
The bad things about being 40:
Saggy parts ( I won’t give a specific list.)
Parts that stop working( so far so good on this one.)
Wrinkles (I did earn every one of them.)
Not getting carded.
Low rise jeans (they shouldn't be worn by anyone over 20, and I‘m bitter about when they became fashionable, I would have looked so good in them-before the babies, that is.)
Hearing your favorite songs on the oldies station.
That POS car that you bought for $400.00 when you were 18, that same Muscle car now costs $45,000.
Boy, the negative list is shorter then the positive list. I have so much to be grateful for, and I’m smart enough to realize that.

When Did I Turn Into My Mother?

I can't believe what I just said. Did I really say, "Keep it down to a dull roar, or I'll go crazy." That little ditty joins the long list of other empty threats. Do these sound familiar to you also?
"Stop looking at your sister!"
"Don't make me get up, you'll be a trouble if I have to get up..."
"Do I have to turn around and take you all home? I will if I have to..."
"She may have started it, but I'll end it."
"What is this? Do you see this, it's a phone. Don't interrupt when I'm on the phone."
"Don't put that in your nose ( ear, mouth, pants)"
These are mild compared to the King Mother of all empty threats, used my my Mother-In-Law:"I'll break off your arms, and beat you with the bloody stumps."