Friday, November 15, 2013

A moment of silence

   I have been very busy and not in the mindset to find the light side of life. A few days after my last post our wonderful Pops past away. You guys might remember me mentioning him a few times. Hillbilly definition redefined the one that comes to mind first.

   The man was almost indescribable. He did one thing I never thanked him for but teased him about constantly. He raised my husband to be the wonderful man he is. He didn't have to you see, he met Honeybear when he was two. And while it was unspoken he was the one who was a true father to him. He taught my husband to work, hunt, fish, and what real men should be. He never spoke ill of the absent man he replaced. When Honeybear would be stood up he would never say a word just come hand him his baseball glove or start loading the fishing equipment. And while Honeybear might not bear much of a physical appearance to him, anyone who knew them both knew they were father and son the mannerisms were identical.

   He was a man of many hats. Drummer in a country band (much to his chagrin as he hated country but he loved music), chicken catcher, rich man, poor man, outdoorsman, music aficionado, father, husband, son, friend, listener, and wise man.  The first one on my husband's side to show me unconditional love and acceptance. An amazing granddad to our children. One of my favorite people in all the world.

   The first prominent memory I have is of calling him Pops for the first time. I didn't know what to call him in my defense. Honeybear didn't call him anything. And ma called him hun. I forgot his name and couldn't think of anything else to say when I was trying to get his attention. He stopped mid stride and looked at me. That was it...the beginning of the end. He was from then Pops. My one regret is his dad was called Granddad and he wanted the kids to call him that too. But thanks to me they never got the hang of it.

   He was an oddity to say the least. Looking at the scruffy man in cargo camo pants and old flannel shirt with vest and his crazy jack russel driving around in his old dodge with the Charlton Heston is my president bumper sticker you'd probably judge him to be a crazy old man. (Okay so you'd be right.) But if you stopped to pet Pando and say hi. You'd find a slow talking generous wise man that might just buy you lunch.

    The first time we brought Martin up we left for the store and came back to his walker hanging from the porch roof to make him a swing.  He would come and drop off fruit and treats for the kids, sometimes knocking, sometimes we'd walk out and find it on the porch. Before his health declined he'd come get them one at a time take them to town for lunch show them off and then take them fishing or to check traps. Every other Christmas we spent with them and Pops would act like a kid himself.

   He was a man of few words, more so as his hearing got worse. But bring up one of his favorite subjects such as music, hunting, fishing, or grandbabies and he would talk to you forever. Many hours him and I sat and talked music. He introduced me to the Nace Brothers, and I actually got him to listen to Nickelback. And one time Zac Brown's Sic 'Em on a Chicken. He loved chicken songs his dad was a chicken catcher and Pops and Honeybear would do it with him every time they went to visit.

   He seemed to doubt his role with us and I hope we changed that before he passed. He never was one to say how he felt...more of a nodder. When we first told him I was pregnant we gave him a cigar. After we left he told ma he probably wouldn't know the kid. (We lived a few hours away and couldn't get up much with both work schedules then.) Even when he doubted us he put that cigar away and it still was in a prominent place in his gun room along with pics of Honeybear through the years, and the father's day presents we had given him. 

When Honeybear went to get something out of his truck for ma he found last years father's day card that he kept with him. Everywhere we went looking for this or that we found mementos of his love. Next to his chair in the envelopes full of the kids pictures. His wallet (somewhere ma and Honeybear dare never touch before) pics of Ma when they first met and Honeybear's freshman picture. His desk...father's day cards and a special present for ma.

   Sounds perfect right? Not really. He would purposely aggravate Ma.Make fun of me every chance he got. Let the kids watch Jaws one night on a sleepover. Bought my daughter spiderman shoe's cause that's what she wanted. And gave our kids way to many moon pies and suckers. Refused to let Honeybear fix things the last couple of years insisting he'd have a good day and get to it. And told us more times than we could count we were making bad choices. (He later came to love a few of those bad choices but wasn't to happy when we told him another was on the way.) He's been to two (out of 6) houses of ours and even in helping us get this house never saw it before he passed. He yelled at Honeybear, me, and the kids for no reason a few times. And let his jack russel pup Pearl run wild after Pando passed six months ago. He also refused to listen to doctors and cared more about his beagles than he did himself. He was aggravating as all get out this last year at times and I wanted to shake him. But I would give just about anything to be able to talk to him one more time and tell him how much he really meant to each and every one of us.

Friday, November 1, 2013

Martin in the Spotlight

  My oldest wrote part of a story in class yesterday. He asked if I would put it up for all the world to read. (I don't think he understands how unfamous I am.) But in his words who cares cause he's going to be famous enough for the both of us.


Super duck is about a duck that got his powers by a magic well. Let me tell the story, okay enough jibber jabber. It starts on an island called 123 (oddly enough shaped like the number 4) and there lived two best friends a duck called Duckler and a mouse called Shaperowe. Now that you have met those two let's get to the time where Duckler was making a meal (completely out of coconuts.)

Out of coconuts? Well, they had been shipwrecked on 123 for awhile. The fact is 123 is not a true island. It is a giant floating junkyard. Started with one ship called Collision (named after the captains lady love) hit a small pebble that a seagull had dropped after having mistaking it for a crab. Unbelievably the small pebble generated so much power it went through all the decks. And Collision slowly sunk halfway below the surface.

It wouldn't be a problem except for the storm that caused the lightning that struck the seagull that made it drop the pebble. As the storm moved it created the fog that covered the Collision. And then the other ships didn't see it and 123 slowly floated and built itself off the wrecked ships that came to close to the storm.

Obviously this isn't the end but I have to correct and help him transition the next scene. He's really very talented. But him dictating changes to me is impossible to comprehend he talks to fast and isn't clear. The writing might be riddled with misspellings but it's clever and precise in idea.

Thursday, October 31, 2013

Homestead Homesick

 Guys I know it's been a while but honestly I just haven't thought of anything to say. Being in town has changed our lives so much. I think of things but their really not the same here. Our bubble has burst so to speak.

   But as the kids and I sit here doing our schoolwork and trying to find ways to keep our same old attitude. (Ya really not going so well.) But now I am inspired. We might look like a bunch of nuts, see some things never change, but I'll figure out how to keep our happy happy happy life outlook. (See what I did there, hillbillies, duck dynasty. Ya I'm a genius.) 

   It's really quite simple. I just have to start the glad game again. You know where you look for something to be glad about in every situation. For example, the house next door is the biggest in town, also the ugliest. We can be glad our home looks twice as good next to it. I have to watch the neighborhood kids suck face almost daily. So so glad my kids still find that disgusting.

   In all honesty Madison has made a couple of really great friends. (Can't say I like their parents. Okay I like most the parents.) The fact that she only has to go next door and there's a gaggle of giggling girls running around in between three yards is pretty cool. (See that glad came easily. If you practice it does get easier.)

   I sure hope it gets easier for real. Right now I just miss our homestead. 


Thursday, October 17, 2013

kids real superpower

     Everyone knows children possess selective hearing. One second they can't hear you repeatedly saying pick up your socks, the next they can hear ice cream being scooped a mile away. (Martin's words from a few years ago that have always stuck with me.) But until recently I would have believed that was their dominating selective power. My children of course love to open my eyes to their truth.

     It started quietly and snuck up on me. Surprising right? Most the time it's more of a knock to the back of the head. See public school gave me two things 1) my children test out in the genius level 2) the public school thought after a year that their tests were wrong.  In three years I have proven 1) the schools test are pretty accurate 2) the teachers are not geniuses...but my children can really make you want to pull your hair out at times.

     I have spent the last three years throwing myself wholeheartedly into the world of homeschooling. Okay so the first couple of months we might have slept in...and stayed in our pjs way too late...and watched a whole lot of pbs. Hey they were in Kindergarten and Preschool neither technically were even the 7 year old state required school age. 

    Point being we've been at this a while. Most days are typical. Kids do reading and group spelling while I make breakfast. We do math and science. Break for lunch and start in with geography or history. Usually finishing with asl. Lots of days we end up sidetracked into science yet again.  The kids have "homework"
we prefer the term independent work. It earns them electronics time if completed in a timely manner. (Don't tell my brother but I also read the dictionary to the kids. I believe in a superb vocabulary.)

     Lately though the independent work has become a major competition between the kids. They sneak their workbooks under the table trying to complete a page or two during class or reading while I cook. I got so frustrated I banned them for a week trying to get our class time focused. HA!

Me: Martin what place value do you start multiplication from?

Martin: ....uh? The spongy part.

Me: No we're actually into math here. Madison what place value do you start all math problems from?

Madison: *whispering* no you spell it P-U-

Me: MADISON! DEGAN! Put that up! What place value do you start with in this problem?

Degan: I thought we were doing science?

Me: We are trying to review place value if y'all want to participate.

*Degan raises his hand*

Me: Yes, Degan?

Degan: Can I play on the tablet after school first?

Me: You all fail and I am sending you back to kindergarten.

Martin: *rolls eyes* Like that would even work mom. We'd out read Bella.

     Now we've went through place values every year and whenever one reaches a math milestone that requires refreshers. So do I doubt my children KNOW what place value to start at? No. But then you get the flip side of selective intelligence.

     Let me set the scene. My children sit around the dining room table workbooks out. Madison is doing a worksheet on similes. Martin on possessive nouns. Degan is just speeding through his workbook.

Madison: No. You're wrong. They are different!

Martin: Are you kidding me?! They're just metaphors of similarities.

Madison: No they're an exaggerated comparison.

     Yeah. That's really what I walked into. They were arguing over the definition of a simile. I called my mom and she said, "I wasn't aware they knew those words." Lol. Yeah and more. But their father says its annoying to have a conversation with someone throwing out ten dollar words and they get tired of explaining themselves to their friends, so they tend to use them just to annoy each other and win an argument.  But my question is why can't they even follow a subject change in class yet manage to confuse adults with things they throw out. It's simple their real superpower is SELECTIVE INTELLIGENCE! 

One mystery solved. Onto the next. Till next time y'all.

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Igors and Knights

         Floggers Toggers Ugly Froggers! That was how today's adventure started. Hold up that's not true. It actually started with reading time. Yesterday they all got new library books. Bella found one she has always loved Alice the Fairy. As the older three did independent reading Bella and I read through her book after which she sat beside me reading it.

       Then it was a short break that turned into an amazing adventure. While I was helping Madison I hear the magic words. Looking up we see Martin being bopped in the nose with a pencil and that Bella has set up a fairy lab. (She wants to be a permanent fairy.) Within a few minutes Madison is sitting next to Bella in the lab giving her pointers on wand technique and pronunciation importance (goodness forbid you accidentally end up turning your brother into a lima bean instead of lama.)

       Somewhere in the midst of turning her brothers ugly (Madison's response is, "Bella you really think an ugly spell is necessary? I think they got it covered.") Bella went from a fairy to a witch. Not sure when it happened all I know is she ended up with an igor (Martin,) a wicked shopkeeper (Degan,) and a spy sabotaging her behind her back (otherwise known as Madison.)

       Somehow as I sat at the table I became the magical information desk. Soon they were bidding dead man's toes and dragon tongue for the many useful ingredients needed in an all important and top secret potion.

       "Mwhahahhahahhahhaha" rang out from a high pitched squeaky little witch. "I have completed it. My master piece! Mwhahahahaha!" I don't know bout y'all but when a midget five year old starts looking and sounding like that your best bet is to hide.

      I asked her what was in this master piece and she looked at me oh so seriously and said, " NO! It's a secret and it's mine. ALL MINE!!"

      Right about the time the words left her mouth her two igors rebel (Degan is now one as well, in trade for dragon tongue pizza I believe.) They grab her and wrestle her to the ground and take her potion. They sit on her and take drinks in turn. Bella cries out ," NO!!! MY READING POTION!!! NO FAIR YOU ALREADY KNOW HOW TO READ!!"

      Where as the igors realizing the error of their ways helps the evil witch up and gives her the last drop of potion and are transformed into knights. Bella said there wasn't enough potion to really make her read but she thinks it put a few words in her head. And Madison sits on the sofa petting her cat saying "I'll get you my pretty and your little knights too."

     I don't know about y'all but I can't wait till their next installment. Tell next time y'all.

Friday, September 27, 2013

Can of Worms

I found this post in my drafts. It is at least three years old and probably written on a spur of aggravation which I don't always post. But I liked it so much I am sharing it now. I must have gotten a lot older and wiser in the last three years.( On second thought I think my level of tolerance for other parents might have just gone down.) Lol.

      Many parents are finding out that a pat on the back helps develop character - if given often enough, early enough, and low enough. Author Unknown. Yes, I'm opening a can of worms. Deal with it.

Yesterday a mother in the store was appalled with me. (Why is it always me? Is it the age? or the number of kids?) A complete stranger felt the need to grab my arm and tell me it was best to do that behind closed doors. Ummmm....I'm fairly certain an hour from now or even a minute from now my two year old isn't going to remember why she is in trouble. Not that it's her business.

Why was she so appalled? I dare give my two year old a swat for throwing a screaming, kicking, biting fit in the middle of the store. Why was this angelic child throwing a fit? I took the mushrooms she was bruising away from her. I happily handed her a bottle of tea, and she threw it and started screaming.

That girl is so strong-willed. I dread her being a teenager. I picture a fifteen year old walking in with a fresh nose ring, and a guy whose hair covers his face with pants down to his knees. Lord help me. So I do what every parent does, I try my very best to teach her control, and self awareness. I'm failing miserably some days. Other days I feel like I am winning the war.

Only time will tell for sure. But why is it people constantly feel the need to interfere in my parenting? I homeschool, I swat on occasion, I make them do chores. Horrible has all that is. And to think we bake, we read stories, we do nature hikes, we cuddle, we stay up all night when the night terrors are bad. I don't know, with that list is it any wonder people fear for my children. (To bad there isn't a sarcastic font)

Do we all parent the same way? Heck no. Do I parent all four of my children in the same fashion? Heck no, like that would even work. So my two year old gets a swat, okay. My six year old gets a dirty look, and absolutely falls apart. My boys? We won't even go into some of the inventive techniques for those heathens. Does swatting make me any less of a parent than those that don't? Personally I think the parent that never ever has to discipline their child, isn't a parent.

I say that because there is a message here. To each their own, leave people alone.

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Levels of Hello can you say that again

      Fall is here. I love it. Windows open. Temperature just right for sitting outside with a campfire. Warm days sedge way into chilly nights perfect for throw blankets and cuddling. And of course the change in temperature makes it feel like my ear is being stabbed repeatedly by a screwdriver. Yay, fun for all.

     Okay so that's whiny. But seriously. I either feel like a rabbit that has had cotton shoved in their ears, or a goat whose friend was head rubbing and accidentally caught it's horn in your ear and is trying to to jerk it out. Anyone whose ever had an earache or toothache can relate. I whine for a reason though. (And no I don't mean just cause I wanna.)

       Frequently, without reason, my already impaired hearing decides to fail altogether. There's actually many levels of failing. There's Charlie Brown level where I hear noise or voices as noises. Specifically the adults talking in Charlie Brown-waaa wa waaaa wa wa. There's the hilly almost out of network getting half a bar phone call Here's where I am trying to figure out if I misheard, misread the lips, totally missed someone behind me changing the subject or if I have just been insulted for unrequited love statements. Let's not forget the WILL SOMEONE JUST PICK UP THE DARDBLASTED PHONE or equally annoying TUNE THE STUPID RADIO levels. I think those one are pretty obvious.

     I tell y'all this because of course my woe filled tale is one about my hearing being gone. I hear nuttin'!!! There's the slight buzz of a distant fly and a certain ache. So I sign to Honeybear I was heading to bed. (I tend to be all over the place in volume which greatly annoys him so signing is normally the way to go.) He said he'd let out Gypsy Rose and be right in. I am in our room, in the bed, adjusting pillows. When out of the corner of my eye I see our curtain shifting. I start screaming and beating at the head. I can only assume that Honeybear will come running to my rescue....till I feel the beard. Honestly my first coherent thought was not a ladylike one so I will just let y'all imagine what I was thinking. I do know what was coming out of his mouth...laughter. Thinking about it even now my one word unladylike thought comes back.  Forgive me mama.

        But this morning Honeybear still couldn't keep a straight face. So I didn't keep a straight face when I took a page out of the kids' book and addressed him as poopyhead all morning till he apologized. Now I am sitting here faint muffled noises all I hear. Hiding from my husband cause I know as soon as he comes home and figures out I can't hear him he'll do the kids classic. Sneak up on mommy. Oh thee well. Til' next time y'all.

Monday, September 23, 2013

Honeybear Problem Solving

     Once again Honeybear has managed to throw people off. I really believe our neighbors question our sanity. I say our because obviously I married him. They aren't even slick about their obvious amazement. I counted two at a window, three in a garage doorway, and two standing in the middle of the road watching with mouths open.

     Let me back up and set up the scene. Our new house has a driveway light, one of which that hasn't worked since we moved in. Honeybear got out of our truck and stepped on Bella's mislaid bike. Cursing might have occurred but since I was not present there is no guarantee.

      All I know is the kids come running in the next afternoon Daddy is up to something. Great.....I wipe my hands and walk outside. Honeybear comes out of the garage carrying...a ladder. Ha gotcha. This is my hillbilly sweetheart. He was carrying his climbing stand. (A climbing stand goes around a tree and with some maneuvering it slowly is worked up the trees to hunt from.)

       I obviously don't put two and two together and ask dumbly what he is doing. He just grins and starts putting it around the rickety and decrepit light pole. Oh no he isn't right? That thing is barely a foot in diameter. But alas he is. And that's when heads started peeking out.

      After he got the blown bulb out and came back down the neighbor kids took turns sitting in the stand. Parents turned away and everything went back to normal...except in the neighbors heads I'm sure. 

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Immature Adults

    WARNING: A made up disease is mentioned at the end and might be found graphic. But no worries no one was harmed cause it is fake.

   Have I mentioned that my kids have new friends? I thought so. But today is not about kids. Shocker I know. Today is about Leigh's mama. Leigh and family moved to our sleepy little hamlet a month after we did. They are self proclaimed "city folk straight up from the hood".  I love Leigh. I love her sister. And I tolerate their brother. (You get Martin and Gingy together you would only tolerate them too.) But I love and adore their mama.

      Why? Why would a woman I barely know have my devotion so quickly? Well, for one she's a strict mama. (Part of the reason I love her kids.) For another she is of the same philosophy that while our kids are not angels, take their side till we have reason to not. And that last statement is what cemented our friendship.

      It doesn't really have to do with us defending our broods from offensive gestures or languages. Or standing together against an immature corrupting influence. It has to do with what happen after the confrontation.

      As we walk back from the site of detonation we are very quiet. That is till we get to my front porch. And as we chat about how corrupt the world has become and our ideas of raising kids in this world our kids come around the block on their bikes. Of course this is with purpose. They stop to tell us two of the neighborhood kids are making out on the church steps. We shoo them away with the advice stay away from the teenagers.

       But now a new topic has been introduced...sexuality today. Of course as parents of young children we start discussing this. And she gives me the most awesome saying she tells her fifteen year old. "There is no cure for herpitisis sypillitis of the throat." I spit tea everywhere and ask her to repeat that. And now all six adults are rolling in the grass giggling. So remember bad choices stay, there is no cure for herpitisis sypillitis of the throat.  

Monday, September 16, 2013

Bumps in the Attic

      Things going bump in the night is nothing unusual in the country. We hear all kinds of animals howling, scratching, and making other assorted sounds. Even the occasional car driving by in the night which sets off the "neighborhood" dogs in the country. Here in town it's a different kettle of fish. Mostly cars driving by and actual neighborhood dogs barking, but there is the distant howling of beagles on the hunt with a few coyotes even farther out. 

        That's why when you hear bumps coming from your attic it makes you nervous. What in blue blazes could possibly be up there making all those noises? Rolling over to get your husband's attention and finding nothing but more bed does not make you feel better. Of course it happens one of his three long work days. You have at least twelve hours of listening to bumps and thumps before your husband gets home. Oh wait there's a new one scratching coming from above your bathroom. Yay.

        What do you do? Call the police? Call animal control? Call your dad whose two hours away who can't do anything at all? Well of course I did the latter of the three. Leaving a message on his voicemail was the best I could do and then I do what any other woman in my position does. I grab my husband's 45/410 handgun and go take Gypsy Rose out to potty so that I can check no one is on my roof. What my neighbors thought of my walking around with a bigger than Dirty Harry's gun I find irrelevant. But the most important part is no one was on my roof.

        A little while later Daddy calls back. The whole time noises are coming from the attic. Here's a snippet of our conversation.

Daddy: Well, it could be a coon.

Me: Yeah, but I guess it'll have to wait till Honeybear gets home. Why else did I marry such a big country boy if not to run critters out of my attic.  (Yes, I really said that.)

Daddy: Well, at least he's good for something. (No, Daddy did not say that.)

Daddy: Alright just be careful. Is there access from the outside to the attic.

Me: Only if something went under the garage door through the classroom ceiling and into the main part of the house.

Daddy: So it's possible. Could be anything mice, cats although cats usually go under.

 (Noises right above me start up again.)

Me (looking up): GO AWAY!! *noises continue* Well yelling at it doesn't work Daddy.

Daddy (I believe their was a hint of amusement in his voice): Imagine that.

       We spoke for a few more minutes and got off. Looking around Winchester caught my eyes ,Honeybear's persian cat I have yet to mention since we've only had him about a eight months, so I grabbed his food and filled his poor empty dish. (He's a cat so anything less than overflowing is empty of course.) And that's when the noises above went into full on meltdown mode. Scratching at the top of the recessed light fixture and thumping.

       I grabbed the gun. And started to climb to the attic access. But couldn't quite reach it so turned to get the step ladder. When I turned I knocked the cat food off the shelf. And the lull that had come from my movements intensified. And it was accompanied by...meowing.

      Apparently Madison's cat had gotten loose yesterday and not being able to make it back into the house her usual way climbed into the attic. Good thing she has nine lives, too bad I don't. I think she took a couple of years off my life. Til' next time y'all.


Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Men's Oblivious Good Intentions

  Hinder's Lips of an angel

  Today it's all about Honeybear. I love my husband. I ADORE my husband. Sometimes though I just laugh at my husband. He has the best of intentions, but oh my what can happen when he's oblivious.

     Why am I saying this? Well ,of course, most woman would say the same thing. The two sexes think in different ways. But the newest proof all started with a cell phone. My hubby has had his cell phone for a year and a half. And until Friday he had ringtones set for everyone important...except me.

     As we set on the front porch with two neighbors I was fiddling with my laptop. I had put in a cd to burn to my library-Hinder to be exact. The song Lips of an Angel came on and Honeybear looks at me and says, "Hey, I should make this your ringtone."

    Me and my girlfriend both bust up laughing. Honeybear and his buddy exchange the GUY LOOK. You can tell they really don't want to know. And Honeybear starts typing on his phone. Fearful he was looking through his ringtone app for the song I asked him. His reply, "Not now!"

     I laugh and ask him if he knows why. Of course he doesn't get it even with the song on a loop play on my laptop. I say Honeybear, LISTEN to the lyrics. Third time on I pause it and say word for word the lyrics. Light bulb moment! He gets this shocked look and goes, "That song is about an old girlfriend." Yes honey that song is about an ex. Thank you for not putting it on me. Lol.

      After that what ringtone did I get? None. Now he is scared too. Oh well it is the thought that counts. My hubby thinks I am an angel.  My daddy always said so to. He even had a cute little saying. "Sheena your horns are holding up your halo." Tell next time y'all.

Monday, September 9, 2013

Ha I Say

        My girlfriend at A Belle, A Beane, and A Chicago Dog wrote a post earlier that reminded me of a few of my earlier posts about Motherhood (shouldn't that always be capitalized to show its importance?) Her youngest started school and she was talking about the next step of motherhood.She put it so well, better than I had defined it ever.  Actually Cameron Garriepy was talking about sending her baby off to school too. But it got me to thinking about the step I am on....early puberty.

         We are a family of genetically mutated early bloomers. Honeybear had a full beard in ninth grade. I, er, blossomed by fifth grade and apparently our offspring is following suit. So what do I get. Proven a liar. I said puppy pms was training me for this. HA! I can't imagine the giggles mothers of teenagers got reading that. I had no idea what I was in for.

         Case in point. I thought Madison would be sweet and quiet when hormones started surging. Once again I say HA! My daughter who wouldn't say boo to a ghost, is a raging sassy britches. Quick to correct and throw sarcasm at anyone in her path. Where she got that I'll never know. Example: Her friends said Madison I think your getting bigger your pants aren't falling down. (Okay that sounds bad from her friend but Madison is notorious for having problems with being so skinny that leggings start to sag on the girl.) Her reply: Hmmm I hadn't noticed maybe they'll get so tight I can't walk like yours. Yeah my jaw dropped too. Her little foursome of best friends had been picking on her skinniness for a week straight and she never said a word. I couldn't believe my ears.

       Martin isn't much better. His buddy Ty is 13 (Lord help us) and about as all American and adorable as Devon Sawa was in my day. Unfortunately he is a boy left to his own devices a lot. And his girlfriend lives up the road, at 14 she is no angel.    They tend to stand across from our yard making out for all the world to see. Actually the 10-14 age group kids around here are all nuts switching "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" every couple of days or weeks. My kids so far being the exception, but we have told them and their little friends you're too young and you never date a friends sibling. (Smart move for us, they're friends with everyone so they'll never date. Here I will say HA! in a different tone.) But Martin taking exception to walking out our door to the sight of them again hollered, "What are you cannibals?! Go eat each other somewhere else." To which the girl then thoroughly cursed him up one side and down the other. (As I said no angel.)

       I at least have been spared verbal assault. But their sneakiness and temper tantrums with each other I have to intercede quite a bit. I wonder daily where those sweet little children who taught their brother and sister to tie their shoes, ride bikes, and write their names went...along with my groceries. They're all bottomless pits it seems. I wrote a new ad (if you remember I wrote out help wanted ads for motherhood in my post Wanted)

       Wanted: Someone who is deaf to slamming doors, insults, and meltdowns. Must feed an army on scraps, cause one soldier ate a weeks groceries at one sitting. Be able to soothe hurt feelings, and take no sides while strategically teaching life lessons. Quick on your feet a must. Tolerance of dirty looks not necessary. Rocket scientist with minor in philosophy would be helpful but not absolutely necessary. Nerves of steel helpful.  Basically a war hardened general that is a genius please only apply.

HA! Good luck finding that.

Friday, September 6, 2013

RIP Norbie sorta

     Norbert is our dragon. Yes, I said dragon. He is the friendliest, funnest reptile you would ever meet. The kids love him. And believe it or not he shows he loves them in return.  Hard to believe I know he is a cold blooded creature.

     Norbie used to sit on the table through school hours. After school he would nudge hands for his treats, follow the kids with his eyes, try and jump from the table to follow them out of the room. (Cause goodness knows I am chopped liver.) So can a reptile show affection, yes I believe so.

     He had came to us "fully grown" (I use quotation marks cause like so many of our other rescues he was malnourished among other things.) He has made it far for such an animal. He never reached a normal size but he was still amazing. And at this point geriatric. His age at time of rescue was given as 5. That was 7 years ago. Given that people tend to lie when giving up an animal Norbie could have been anywhere from 3 to 6. So that puts Norbie in the same level of geriatrics of Sid's grandmother in Ice Age.

      Why am I telling you all this? Norbie has gone to that great habitat in the sky. Two nights ago I went to turn off Norbie's light and he was on his side. Poor guy. He had been going down hill for a few months now. We knew it was coming. Life span is 8-10 and Norbie was definitely over the limit. I called Honeybear over. He wrapped Norbie in a baby blanket and tied him in two trash bags. We wanted to let the kids say good bye and make him a marker.

      The next morning the bag was on the floor. Thinking maybe Norbie was just deeply hibernating instead of dead we checked him. Unfortunately no change. So we placed him back on the shelf and tried to make everything to prepare him. Except when we went to get him for burial. He was gone! Honeybear and I conferred quickly and decided the most logical explanation was it being trash day one of the kids had unknowingly discarded him.Upon questioning it the boys confirmed throwing a bag out from the classroom. Case closed.  And we went on about our business upset but what are you going to do.

     That was yesterday. This morning we are going about our morning routine. I walk over to let a dog out and turn around....and there's Norbie walking across the floor. What the heck!?!?  So Norbie rested in peace and now is refreshed. We have a zombie dragon according to the kids. *sigh* Only at our house.

Thursday, September 5, 2013

Mother's curse

     I got an urgent text today. My mother..."Sheena...please blog." Yes mama. I will get on that. Teaching your grandchildren, but I will do that after I am done. Couple hours later another text comes in. My mother again. "Still waiting...." At the in laws for Honeybear's birthday let me get home and I will do it. "ooo okay"
I notice as I make her wait the message gets shorter and capitalization and the punctuation goes bye bye.
By the time I get this up I am likely to get this "gr".

      At least at this point her communication skills will be so lacking and she'll be so put out I won't get a lecture right? Nah it will probably just transfer to my daddy being the one to "talk some sense into me". Lol.
Everyone knows what I am talking about. Everyone has that moment. You have annoyed the calm parent to the point they turn it over to the stern one. You are now assuming the position. Puppy eyes cast to the floor, shoulders slumped in contrition.

      At this point you are casting dubious glances upwards to see just how bad it is. If you see arms crossed and leaning against a counter nonchalantly RRRUUUNNNNN! You are so busted. If you see a twinkle and non crossed arms you might survive.

      My brother was a master of getting out of either situation. His magic key? Make mom laugh. He could accidentally detonate an atom bomb but if he made mom giggle he was good. Me? Mehhh not so lucky. Usually cause I would not admit defeat. But hey come on points for gumption right? And what was that curse bestowed on me by my mother...."Just wait someday you'll see. You'll have a kid just like you." I must have been horrible. Karma didn't give me one it gave me four!!! 

Thursday, August 22, 2013

Hide and Follow

     I am exhausted! I have spent hours hiding from my children. Why hide? Because then I know they'll never leave my side. It never fails, you leave their sight they instantly become velcro. Ask any mother of a toddler whose tried to bathe or potty by themselves.

    It started innocently enough. I left my children doing their reading in the classroom. I was not even in my bedroom completely. The door was not even clicked shut. *knock knock knock* "Mom, what are you doing?"   I don't know, packing for Antarctica! What do you think I am doing I walked away ten seconds ago. I send Bella back to the classroom and turn to Honeybear. *knock knock knock* "Mom, are you coming back?" From Antarctica? Maybe. Let's see how it goes. I send Madison back, with stern directions to go finish her reading and I will be back shortly, making sure to include Degan who's standing exactly seven paces behind his sister.

    Thirty seconds later. *knock knock knock knockknockkno-* Whhhaaatt?! "Mom, can I go to the bathroom?"  At this precise moment I get a flashback to my school days and want to reply "I don't know can you?" But knowing how long that interaction could take, I wearily reply, "Yes, just hurry up and get back to your reading." As I watch my oldest turn I see my youngest approaching again. "Yessss?" Apparently my tone said enough cause the smile faded and she quickly turned back towards the classroom.

    Martin walks out of the bathroom and I follow him around the end of the hallway to where I can see all of them at once. "I am going in to my room to discuss the lab with your father. If anyone knocks on that door in the next two minutes, you'll do sentences instead of lab today." Utter silence.

     Two minutes later....I walk out of my room and hear giggling. No children in view. They're all hiding under the classroom table. So I spent the rest of the day hiding from them. Never had a second of piece...who'da thunk it?

Friday, August 16, 2013

Porch Meeting of the Minds

     So I am out of the corner. It didn't take long for me to go right back. The worst part is no one noticed I was gone and the tornado that is my children continued. I am absolutely mortified. Why? Because my children decided to hold an impromptu ASL (American Sign Language) lesson on the porch with their friends. How cute right? Wrong oh so wrong.

     Picture this four or five boys straddling bicycles, three girls on the porch swing, and oh maybe three more lounging or leaning on the rest of the porch.  I might have missed a kid somewhere but you get the idea. I hear giggling and two of my children's voices raised in high pitched dispute (arguing but happily disagreeing not warring.) I look out the window to see if I need to intervene, only to see all these children signing. Some crudely mimicking my children some obviously getting the finesse of the movements.

    My heart swelled at the sight. It really did. I couldn't have been prouder...until I caught the signs going around. Of course I should have known. I had already saw firsthand what happens when you have scout troops together and showcase ASL. It inevitably ends in crude funny name calling.

    So now the girls and boys of town can call each other fart heads and the like from afar. *Wipes the proud tears out her eyes* and just think my kids taught them. Let's hope the other parents don't ask what or where that came from.

Author's note: No I did not teach my children how to call each other names. They're children for pete's sake they took words they knew and combined them. It is what children do.

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

School time

So it's that time of year. School is back in session. Freedom is here again. Oh! Wait! My kids are homeschooled. That means hours of my life in lesson planning. Hours of preparations. Hours wasted cause as soon as I carefully plan something, thinking I have thought of all possible tangents. Ah! Even after three years I am never fully prepared. They always come up with a something I didn't anticipate!

 For example, first day back in school hours. Bella being five is now a full time classroom participant. How exciting right? Wrong.
 Me: Bella, what letter comes after A?

 Bella: None.

Madison: That's the first one in the alphabet, silly. (Here is where Bella promptly swats her sister on the head with her notebook, guessing she didn't appreciate being called silly.)

 Me: Bella, don't hit your sister!

 Bella: mumbling

Me: Excuse me young lady?

 Bella: I said I can spell my name and A is the end. And I am the world so nothing is after it.

 Me: First, you are not the center of the world. Second, the world revolves around the sun. And third, I asked what came after A in the alphabet.

 Bella: (perking up) oh well, I'm sunny. So still all me.

 Martin: Well, I'm the oldest son so I'm the center.

 Degan: Well, I'm a son too.

 Madison: (sing songy) Boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider, girls go to college to get more knowledge.

Me: No one is the center of the world. Nor does our universe revolve around any of you. Now who can tell me what letter comes between H and J.

 Martin: I thought girls went to Mars to eat candy bars.

 Degan: I want a candy bar.

Madison: How do you spell that?

 Bella: Mom I'm bored.

 Me: (crying quietly in the corner) It's I. It's I. I. I. I.

Yep it's school time again.

Thursday, August 8, 2013

Resumes and Roosters

Whew...this city living is for the birds. How y'all do it with more than 118 people is beyond me. Today alone we've had three neighbors over. It's exhausting. The kids are enjoying having so many new friends which for the most part I am okay with. Although I am tryin' to understand where parenting became a best friends contest. Or how the concept of respect is something alien or from by gone days. The funny part is these people say they are country. Now we have been over this before. Havin' half a dozen chickens does not make you country any more than wearin' boots makes you a bronc rider. (I just made myself giggle imaginin' some of the cowboy boot wearin' people I know tryin' to saddle up let alone rough ridin'.) But then again they have nothin' but what they know to compare it to-till now that is. The looks on their faces when the kids start walkin' a goat. Bwhahahahaha. Let alone the kids wranglin' their rabbits in the front yard or kids climbin' trees or playin' with their new turtle. Then there's Honeybear and his tinkerin'. Every kid in the neighborhood brings their bikes to him. Not to mention the guys bringin' their cars, mowers, weed eaters, and other electronics over. If we charged for our services we'd be rich. You're probably wondering what services I offer since Honeybear is the tinker the kids are the entertainment, so what could I possibly offer. That's easy I offer...gossip. The currency of every good housewife. I can tell you which wife sleeps alone, which hubby is drinkin, etc. I know shocked right? Well you should be if you actually believed that. I mean really like I am that devious. Me, well really I just am the animal control apparently. We rescued two girls out of an abandoned house and now everyone tells me when another one has been dumped. So anyone who needs a dog let me know. Tell next time y'all.

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Hope Springs Eternal

I am running on coffee, more coffee, and next to no sleep. No, I am not hiding the bodies. My girl Ranee inexplicably started having seizures last week and I am babysitting....and adultsitting. Out of the two I'd rather wrangle the almost two year old, cause the twenty year old is a whiny pain in my-neck, definitely neck.

Rhianna, the cherubic baby, is as I said almost two. Yesterday made me glad we stopped having babies five years ago. Yes everyone is entitled to a bad day in a stressful time, but I was ready to pull out my hair and her mama's yesterday....and she's the one I'd rather deal with! Don't get me wrong I have known Ranee since she was Madison's age. I love her like my little sister. But even sisters need space. I have a whole new level of respect for my older brother. I really ain't sure how I made it to adulthood.

 Ranee, are you hungry?


 Are you sure?


 I am cooking for the kids, you sure?

Yeah, I'm good.

Ten minutes later..... Sheena...would you hate me if I asked for some chicken?

 Yes! Yes! I would, will, do. *silently I rant* Thirty minutes later, sweetly "Here you go, hun." Mutters "don't choke" Need I say more?! But all I really want is her to feel better. So hope springs eternal...she'll get better, I'll get sleep, my world and her family's will be restored. Tell next time y'all.

Saturday, July 27, 2013

xanax and popsicles

So you remember the Swiss? (The kids clubhouse/tree house.) Well when we moved in April they were distraught over its loss. Of course that was unacceptable for Honeybear. What's a yard without a tree house right? So the Swiss has been reborn. This time with a balcony and solar lights. (I would say its particularly helpful in being overrun with the neighborhood kids.) Its already held several sleep overs and is definitely helping keep our medicine cabinet full of off and benedryl gel. And even had a new neighbor hollering for his wife to watch Hercules climb in it. We have unanimously been voted the coolest parents in the neighborhood (according to a gaggle of girls painting their nails around my table.) And the crazy brave ones by the other parents. When asked our secret to sanity in this madhouse I smile serenely and reply Xanax and popsicles. One for me and one for the kids, now if I could just keep the kids out of my popsicles.

Friday, July 26, 2013

Hey guys miss me?

Hey guys....alright has the hysterical happiness subsided? I know years right? You feel betrayed but I promise there's not another blog. In the past two years I fought a life threatening illness, and recently moved from our homestead. Oh My Gosh, right? But no worries we found a hillbilly "town". Heck we even kept a goat for the backyard. The kids, being the unsocialized homeschoolers they are, have made us the town hot spot. (With a population of 118 calling ourselves a town makes even the oldest residents smile.) I thought having our wild menagerie and four kids running in and out was exhausting. Now I have to do three head counts before cooking. One to see, two to double check, and the third to cry and laugh myself to sleep depending. At this point we're expecting child support for a couple of them. Their parents have every other weekend visitation rights and we're working on the holiday schedule now. Oh look its feeding time at the zoo gotta go for now, but I promise to see y'all real soon.