Oh where, oh where have I been?

Not even I can answer that question.

But I can tell you that I am wrapping up my college career (for now), my boys are wrapping up their current year of school, t-ball and football have begun, and my computer has the bubonic plague.

According to a trusty medical encyclopedia, the bubonic plague can be categorized as such:

A severe and potential deadly bacterial infection where symptoms appear suddenly (2-5 days after exposure).  Symptoms include chills, fever, seizures, and a general feeling of being ill.

Yep, it's an exact match.  That's precisely what my computer has.  And though it received treatment, I think it may have been too late.  She's still having frequent seizures, and her brain is less than half of what it used to be.

I feel good knowing I did all I could to prevent this from happening.  Apparently, not even technological vaccinations could have kept this nasty virus away.  This little beast got me through school, and I'll be sad to see her go.  Hang in there, old girl.  Only 12 weeks left, then you shall rest in peace.

On a brighter note, I stood at my kitchen window, transfixed on this little fellow for 25 minutes this morning. 

Only a woodpecker can instantly make me feel like I'm 6 again.

I remember traipsing through the tulips on hot summer days, listening to the woodpeckers in my grandma's never ending yard.  Most of my cousins were boys, and had officially banned me from their fort in the bushes, their club in the tree house, and their treasure trove in the sandbox.

(And they question why I always tattled.  Shame on them.)

With not much to do and not many to play with, I wandered and listened.  The sound of the woodpeckers was one of the most treasured harmonies I had ever heard.

What seems like racket to some, is a melody to others.

(Despite my efforts, my debilitated computer will not let me upload pictures to my blog.  I'm sad that you won't get to see the amazing pics of my new woodpecker friend.  Really, what's a blog without pictures?  This could get ugly.)

Back in the saddle...

Yesterday was one of the most amazing days of my life.  It went somewhat like this-

Hubby tells me he has arranged a 'surprise' for me.  Hubby goes on to say it's an all-day surprise that does not involve the sprouts. 

My mind starts spinning.  If you know me well, you know I hate surprises.  Hate is the wrong word.  I loath them.  Despise them.  Entirely.

I begin asking questions such as:

Who is watching the kids?

How long will we be gone?

Where will this take place?

What should I wear?

Can we afford this?

Does this involve white water rafting, bungee jumping, or anything else I wouldn't do?

He refuses to answer.  His silence enrages me.  I begin to piss on his parade.  I spend the morning returning the silent treatment and grumpily packing bags for the boys. 

Very, very grumpily.  (is that a word?)

We pull up to my mom's, kiss the boys and head out.  20 minutes into our silent ride, he reveals the destination - Estes Park.  A smile begins to creep it's way onto my face, but I suppress it.  Oh how I wish I were normal.

We arrive in Estes and the smell instantly reverts my memory to childhood.  No place on earth smells more heavenly.  I'm beginning to crack.

As we eat our lunch, I decide to go ahead and halt the abuse I've been unfairly making him endure.  He's worked hard to make this happen. 

We've got less than 30 minutes left until we 'check in' at our destination, and I make a pinky promise with myself to make the last few minutes enjoyable.  I do my best to stop acting like a jerk.

Is there help for people like me? 

We leave the restaurant and pull up to this sign-

It's now that I really feel like an ass (no pun intended).

Meet Whisky.....MY HORSE for the next two hours.

I'm in instant love, and starting to conjure a plan for squeezing her into our car without being noticed.

We saddled up...

And headed out.

The next two hours were full of this...

and this...

and this...

(Look at that wagon.  It's as if someone placed it there just to tease me.)



My boots have never been so happy.

To my amazing husband-

Please forgive me.

And just like that....spring break is over.  The car ride to the bus stop Monday morning was a solemn one.  Two weeks of being at home with no schedule to follow, no homework, and the most BEAUTIFUL weather a boy could ask for was easy to get used to.

SO EASY

I admit it.  I couldn't help but get teary-eyed watching Evan and Luke get on the bus that morning.  Though we didn't travel anywhere, and we didn't really do much of anything, we had a fun time just being lazy with one another.

However, when the boys weren't being lazy with each other, they occupied their time like this-

"He stole my toy!"

"He stuck his tongue out at me!"

"But he stuck his out first!"

"He won't play what I want to play!"

"He said I'm not his favorite brother anymore!"

"He said I don't know how to play basketball....and I DO!"

I started counting their tattles, but lost my cool at 982.....so I stopped.

Oh TATTLE MONSTER, where have you been the past 11 years?

What's that you say?  Someone stuck their tongue out at you?  That's horrible!

But I don't want to hear about it.  Go tell the Tattle Monster.

He took a piece of your gum without asking?  Bummer, dude!

But I don't want to hear about it.  Go tell the Tattle Monster.

That's right.  Unless you've got a bone protruding, blood dripping, or some other form of injury, don't come crying to me.  Tell your tattle to the Monster himself. 

The basket on top of the shelf has little 'tattle-size' papers (perfectly sized and cut by moi), as well as markers, in a rainbow of colors.....depending on what kind of tattling mood you may be in at the time.

During dinner, we gather the days' tattles and the man of the house (yes, hon.....I'm referring to YOU!) reads them aloud.

We talk a wee bit about the tattles, crumple them up, and FORGET ABOUT THEM!

But wait!

There's more!

GOOD TATTLES are also graciously accepted!  In fact, if you are lucky enough to receive a good tattle in the form of-

"He helped me clean up my room!"

or

"He shared his candy with me!"

(or anything similar to that)

You'll be the lucky recipient of a small token of appreciation, donated by Mom & Dad. 

Though it's only day three, it's working like a charm! The written tattles are hilarious to read, and the boys are realizing that some tattles just aren't worth writing.

I'm in tattle bliss.

*please note that this is not an Amy original.  I stole the idea from pinterest, of which I'm hopelessly addicted. 

 

Judge Away

If all women were judged by the contents of their purse, I shudder to think what mine declares.

Record Breaker

Oh Jack....

If only you were more nimble.

If you ask Jack, he'd tell you he's happy to be the first of five boys to break a bone.  It's true.  The title makes the last 7 days of pain worth it.

Well, kinda.

Jack Jack.  Jack-A-Lack.  Lacky.  Lacky Lou.  Lackish.  Jackers-

We know you're always up for entertaining others.  Wowing a crowd by dancing on a table and showing your tricks has always been your thing.

We're not asking you to stop entirely, just tone it down a bit.  When you feel like jumping, jump from the first step, not the 8th. 

The next four weeks may seem to take forever.  But we'll make it through. Promise.

T-H-N-G-V-B-D

Dear Alexander,

I can relate.

Though I didn't wake up to find gum in my hair, I did find some mushed into my carpet.  Does that count?

This morning, while my boys happily munched on bowls of breakfast cereal that was coated with cinnamon sugar goodness, I munched on oatmeal that was sprinkled with dried cranberries.

And though no marble went down the bathtub drain, I did stumble upon two naughty boys trying to flush a penny down the potty. 

My day was shaping up to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

Remember those blue shoes with red stripes you longed for?  I saw a similar pair at Target today that made me swoon.  Like you, I walked out without them.

As if leaving my beloved shoes behind wasn't enough, my phone slipped out of my hand and shattered in the parking lot of the aforementioned store.

I know you're young, Alexander, and like my boys, you probably have little sense of value when it comes to possessions.  But trust me on this one; my phone is worth much more than the stinkin' marble you lost down the drain.

Warranty?  No longer covered.

Upgrade?  Not eligible til June.

I could tell that this was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

After dropping Jack off at kindergarten, Logan and Wes decided to sprint to the top of the infamous 'hill' that sits in front of the school.  I encouraged their joyful operation as I took a few seconds to take a deep breath and feel the warm sun on my face.  When I noticed that their sprints had turned into a quest for dirt, I called them to the car.  They stood up, brushed their pants, and ran full speed down the hill. 

It wasn't until I began to buckle Logan that I noticed the reddish/brown hue of his gray sweat pants.

And it wasn't until I was about to shut the car door that I noticed the reddish/brown hue was moving. 

By moving, I mean crawling.

Ants.  That's right.  Big, fat red ones....mixed with brown dirt.

My boy done sat himself right in the thick of an ant hill.  Lucky me.

No doubt about it, this has been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

And though you'd be happier in Australia Alexander, I'm not brave enough to dwell within the boundaries of funnel-web territory.

Knowing that some days are like this, I'm counting my blessings, and wishing for happier times tomorrow.

As far as how the rest of the evening will play out, it's comforting to know that I can control the following:

-There shall be no kissing on TV.
-The lima beans which had previously been planned to accompany dinner this evening have been rescheduled for a later date.
-I have never allowed marbles in the bathtub and I won't start tonight.
-I don't own railroad train pajamas, a Mickey Mouse nightlight....or a cat.

Totally Terrific Mistake

Once upon a time, there was a mom who woke up early enough to see this-

This is more than just a sunrise, she thought.  A sight this beautiful could only mean one thing-

this was going to be a terrific day.

In between refereeing an indoor game of basketball turned rugby,

And after consoling a distraught three year old who couldn't find the right light saber,

the mom went about her morning routine.  She made a hot breakfast for her darling children, and lovingly packed their lunches,

which were complete with personalized PB&J's.

Damn, this mom thought.  I am the bomb.  Could this day be any more perfect?

The mom (who by this point was feeling quite cocky) happily buzzed around the kitchen and placed the finishing touches on her boys' backpacks.

Water bottles?  Check.

Snacks?  Check.

Homework?  Check.

Library books?  Check.

The mom drove her little men to the bus stop, kissed them farewell, and proudly watched as they climbed aboard the bus.

Her morning continued with a second cup of coffee, a card game of 'war' with the little's, and thoughts about what to fill the remainder of the day with.  The perfection was bound to continue.

Until....

The mom received a text message from her son's second grade teacher.

No totally terrific me poster?  It read.

In an instant, the hot dogging mom, the one who hours earlier had patted herself on the back about her perfect morning filled with perfect pancakes, perfectly-packed organic lunches, and her perfect children, was given a reality check.

One that was perfectly-deserved.

For on this very day, her son was due to become the next 'Totally Terrific Me' of his classroom.  A title that comes only once per year.  A title her son had been waiting for.  ALL.  YEAR.  LONG.

Though the mom had been given plenty of notice about the upcoming day in the spotlight for her son, she neglected to commemorate the event.  No Totally Terrific Me poster, no special items brought from home, no estimation jar filled with his choice of candy and trinkets.

Nip

Nada

Zilch

Her totally terrific day had just become totally (and terrifically) shitty.

Lucky for the boy, his teacher graced him with an extra week to complete his Totally Terrific Me assignments and was even kind enough to award him with a new date in which he will be crowned the next Totally Terrific Me.

That's right.  A Totally Terrific Redo.

In BIG, BOLD letters, the mom scrawled the date onto the family calendar.

March 9, 2012 TOTALLY TERRIFIC ME!

The far-from-perfect mom, the one who had just been plucked from her fantasy land of perfection and transported back to brass tacks, had a new mission.  For she and her son (one who has been Totally Terrific and perfect ever since the day he was born) are going to make this project one he, his classmates, and his teacher will never forget.

Like totally.

(stay tuned)

Happy 11th!

How ever did we go from this-

to this-

so quickly?

To my son, my darling boy-


There's a reason you were born on Valentine's Day.


For you have the biggest heart of anyone I know.


Happy, happy day!


Love,
Mom

Hide n Seek

If I walked into your home, could I easily spot your sewing machine?  Would it be neatly tucked away in a closet?  Perhaps it would be taking up space on a table in your living room, kitchen, or den.  Would it be covered?  You know, to make it less of an eyesore?

If sew (aren't I clever?), what type of cover would I see?

Are you the practical type?  You know, the kind of woman who uses the hard shell plastic cover that came with your machine.  That's right, the one that says 'Brother' in large, bright blue letters on the side.

No?

Maybe you're an animal lover and you made yourself a cute little cover like this one.

Not smitten by Fido?  Maybe an animal print is more your style -

No? How about dainty, little butterflies?

A devoted Apple fan?  Your cover must look like this -

Although, maybe I've pegged you wrong, and you're a child at heart.  Yes?!  Well then, you must proudly display one of these -

The edgy type, you say?  You've probably got this front and center for all to notice -

If I must be frank.....and I must, I'm not smitten by any of these.  Though the wording on the last one made me smile, I think a paper sack would do more justice to your machine, than smothering it with tackiness.

Sew.....

If you were to come into my home, would you be able to find mine? Here, have a look -

Don't see it?  Here, I'll give you a hint -

Still not sure?  Look a little closer -

That's right.  No plastic, or fabric covers for me.  Think farm girl, think rustic and wooden, think handmade, think primitive.

Think you want one?

Go here, to this lovely little etsy shop I stumbled upon and give your machine the hideaway it deserves.  Not only do they make primitive sewing machine covers, you'll also find covers that will hide your coffee machine, toaster, and other unsightly appliances.  In fact, I'm drooling over this primitive stove top cover as we speak.

It's little finds like these that make my heart flutter.

No offense, Fido.

You'll thank me later.

This time last year, I was spending hours each day researching the bazillion breeds of chickens.  I had recently found out that the covenant that once banned backyard chickens, no longer existed.  Quick!  I had to start my farm before the rule changed back.  This news was too good to be true.

Here we are, one year later, madly in love with our girls.  OK, I'm madly in love with them.  The rest of the gang just loves them....even hubby.

As spring approaches, my inbox has been flooded with 'reminders' from various hatcheries that "Now is the time to order baby chicks!"  And if I were no longer dwelling in the middle of suburbia, you can bet your bottom dollar I'd be ordering....by the flock-full.

However, since I remain (for the time being) stuck in the city, and have reached my 'chicken limit', I am going to live vicariously through people like YOU.  Don't have chickens?  Get on the horse, it's time to buy!

Here are the top 10 reasons I think every home/family/backyard should have chickens:

1.They start out as baby chicks (duh), and you know there isn't ANYTHING in the world cuter than a day-old chick.
2.They eat every bug known to man, which means no more pesticides sprayed in the grass.
3.They're sweet and social, and will follow you, your kids, your neighbors, your neighbors kids, or anyone else who seems of interest to them.
4.They're super easy to maintain.  Definitely the most low-maintenance girls on the planet.
5.They're inexpensive.  Ours were $2-$5 each, and cost roughly $10 per month.
6.They're much more entertaining than any snake, lizard, frog, fish, gerbil, hamster, guinea pig, parrot, or other creature could ever be.  Really, they're hilarious to watch.  I'm not kidding.
7.They're quiet....unless you accidentally end up with a rooster. Poor Chicken Butt.  I wonder if he thinks of us.
8.They provide the young-ins with endless learning experiences.  That's right, kids.  Eggs don't come from Safeway.
9.They think your leftover table scraps, old cheese & noodles are a real treat!  Nothing goes to waste.
10.Did I mention they lay fresh eggs?

Bottom line?  Unless you're my brother, and you're deathly afraid of germs, and anything that poops, do yourself (and your kids/family) a favor and start your own backyard farm.

You won't regret it.

Wanna know more?  Ask me!