Needing Some Input from My Homies - 7QT

I am using this week's quick takes to get some ideas from you, my BFFs in commenting.  I am sitting on the fence on a few issues, and I could use some help deciding which way to fall.  Also, I need some ideas for dealing with my children.  Don't worry.  This isn't a test.  You will not be graded, but I do want you to number your paper from one to seven, plus one bonus.

**************** 1 *************

Would you go here for your next haircut?

 

I'm thinking I'll go.  If they give me another curly mullet, we'll have our answer.

U-G-L-Y

*************** 2 **************

Our family meal times are basically run by the children.  Somehow, as the kids grew, COW and I lost control.  Instead of lovely conversations, where everyone takes turns listening and tactfully voicing his thought-out opinion, we have renditions of "What Does the Fox Say" mixed with random and unnecessary shouts, hollers, pounding, and trash talk.  They aren't fighting or arguing, they're just loud and boisterous and loud and hyper and loud.

COW and I just sit there, wracking our brains for something, anything, to say to make them stop.  The only things that ever make it out of our mouths, though, are occasional yells to "Put your chair back down!" and "We don't discuss that at the table!" and "For crying out loud, you have a napkin!"  By 6:30, our brains are fried, and we just can't think with all of that noise.  We've tried to come up with things beforehand.  Unfortunately, I have been unable to come up with anything, and COW can't come up with anything besides football.  Football is what the boys usually bring up on their own to get the rowdy party started.

So help us.  Give us some ideas of things to discuss/do during dinner.  A game.  A topic.  I don't care.  Just make the loud stop.

(PS.  We've tried the "quiet" game.  It lasts for all of 13 seconds, thanks to Cuckoo.)

***************** 3 ****************

I can't remember who introduced Jimmy Fallon's Water Wars to us (If it is you, let me know!), but we have been watching all of them.

As I've said before, War is Cuckoo's favorite game.  We play epic battles every single day.  When he caught a glimpse of this, his eyes lit up and his heart started beating faster.  He wants to play Water Wars.  Desperately. 

If only we had seen this in the summer.  I'd be all over this game if it was 95 degrees and we can water the lawn while we play.  However, we are in the middle of November, with temperatures hovering around shivering.  Ain't no way we're playing this game outside. 

How can we play this in the house without ruining everything in it?  Keep in mind, we only have one, itty bitty bath tub.

***************** 4 ****************

Fake flowers as landscaping.  Green thumbs up or down?

***************** 5 ************

 I frequently see bloggers who say, "People continue to ask me..." Sometimes, they have so many "common questions people ask", they just do FAQs pages.  I have only had one person ask me a question.  Jen asked me, "is fat back the same as pork belly?"  I couldn't even answer it, so I'm coming to you.

Anyone?  Anyone?

***************** 6 ***************

Was the person who did this...

new, drunk, or texting while painting?

Related question:  Does the guy still have a job?

****************** 7 *************

Mom has given up or is simply too busy to turn the kid's coat right-side out?

Oh, wait.  I know the answer to that one.

 The kid has a reversible coat.  This is not it.  He doesn't know that.  Mom doesn't care.

************* Bonus question ***************

Does using the word "homies" in the title make me sound cool and less redneck?

Now, get to answering.

Have a lovely day!

The Best Gift-Giving Guide on the Internet

I say I have no goals, but I guess I do have a few.  One thing I strive to be is the Best Gift-Giver on the Planet.  I want kids to be excited to get a gift from me, so I put lots of thought into buying their gifts. 

I also want to be on my siblings' good side, so I don't buy anything that would annoy them.  We have received plenty of annoying gifts from relatives (as they have goals to find the noisiest, most obnoxious gifts on the planet.  I'll do a "Don't Ever Do This" post another day.) and I don't want to do that to anyone.

I will not be named Best Gift-Giver on the Planet if I simply buy generic toys from the toy store based on the children's ages.  The first thing you need to do is put some thought into each child to whom the gift will be given.  What does he like to do?  Has she taken up any new hobbies?  Is there something new going on in her life?  Even if you don't know the child well, as she lives in another state, her parent's Facebook page should be able to give you at least a little bit of an idea.

Next time, I'm writing a button-making lesson, 'cause boy, do I know how to make an ugly button!

Why the "Best Gift-Giving Guide"?  Three reasons.  Firstly, not one of these gifts requires you to step into a toy store or even a toy aisle.  Secondly, not one of them requires batteries.  Lastly, video games are nowhere to be found on the list. 

On to the tips and ideas...

If you are going to give clothes, be careful.  Some kids, like two of my nieces, love to get cute clothes as gifts.  Any cute clothes will do.  You can purchase clothes for any youngster, but make sure it is something that would be interesting or fun or "cool" to him/her.  My farmer brother's family had just gotten a wiener dog, and I found a T-shirt with a blingy wiener dog on it.  My niece loved it.  For boys, T-shirts with funny sayings or favorite characters are a good choice.  (If you can score a "What does the fox say?" shirt, you are golden.)  Perhaps a hat or shirt with a favorite sports team logo.  Star and Phoenix have been thrilled to receive pairs of the "cool" brand of basketball socks. 

I found this here.

I really should just own a book store based on the number of books I give as gifts.  In order to stay in a budget, I have purchased lots of books through Scholastic Book orders the kids bring home.  Half Price Books is a great store for purchasing books at a reasonable price.  Not all of their books are used, and you can even find used ones in great shape.

Some book ideas for you:

For boys of all ages, stick with trivia.  It doesn't matter if the book is about world records, gross things, animal things, or sports things, trivia is usually a hit.  As are comic books like Calvin and Hobbes or Garfield.

Finding a series the child likes is fantastic.  It will give you a pass on that child for years, as you can always just buy the next book in the series.  Some good ones for early-ish readers are Junie B Jones, A to Z Mysteries, Diary of a Wimpy Kid, Ready, Freddy!, 31 Clues, Magic Treehouse, and Geronimo Stilton.

Picture books for the youngest kids are the easiest.  Just read it to see if you like it.  Bold photos with details, but not too many words are ideal for reading aloud.  Bear Snores On, Elmer, Happy Hocky Family, Clifford, Moostache, any books by Dr. Seuss or Robert Munsch...aaahhh, so many good picture books.

All of Mr. Munsch's books are here.

Board games have gone over very well.  Always keep in mind the number of kids in the family, as you don't want to give a game that works best for four players if there is only one child in the family.  Don't pay too much attention to the age level on the box, but the ability level of the child for whom you are buying.  The biggest worry is whether the child can read or not.  Chose accordingly.  Browse the internet, talk to small store owners.  Find one that sounds fun or one that your family enjoys playing.

The site.  This game is on the expensive side, so you can get it as a family gift.  My kids love it.

Lastly, the easiest way to buy a great gift is to pick a theme.  The pieces will fall into place once you have a theme.  Choose the theme based on the child and his/her interests. 

I'll make it easy for you. Here is a long list of themes and items to go with the themes.  All of these have gone over very well with the niece and nephew set.  Pick and choose the items to go in them in order to stay in your price range.

1.  Arts and crafts:  Buy a small tote box or other container with a lid and fill it up with crafty things.  Keep the parents in mind when choosing the items.  Glitter is bad. 

box of 64 crayons
markers
colored pencils
glue - both stick and liquid
scissors
glitter glue - you get the sparkle without the mess
construction paper
make your own greeting card pack
colorful index cards
fun Post-It notes
stickers

2.  Garden: Put the items in a basket or tool-type box.

child-sized tools
watering can
gardening gloves
seeds
garden apron with pockets
stakes to name the rows

3.  Baker: Put items in a big mixing bowl.

measuring cups
measuring spoons
spatula
apron
chef's hat
children's cook book
ingredients to make one thing from the cook book

4.  Farmer:  My nephew received this gift.  He is a child who rises on his own bright and early every day and immediately heads out to do things around the farm.  He loves farm life, so I went to Tractor Supply to buy:

a book titled "Raising Chickens for Fun or Profit"
work gloves
a face mask type hat for the coming cold weather
a T-shirt that says "I do more by 7:00am than most people do all day."

5.  Entrepreneur:  This will work for any child who likes to pretend play.  I got it for my nephew in Hawaii who was baking mango bread and other delights to sell on the beach.  I went to Office Supply and purchased things like:

calculator
pencils
receipt book
debit/credit book
fancy paper for fliers
order tickets (like waitresses use)
money apron

6.  Carpenter:  Star has always loved to get in and help Hubby build things (on the rare occasion that he builds)  One year we got him started on his own tool set.  Bonus on this one, he actually uses it to help around the farm.  I can't tell you how many tree limbs he has cut for us, smiling the entire time.  His starter set included:

a tool box
work gloves
protective goggles
saw
hammer
screw drivers
nails
measuring tape

8.  All dolled up:  Girls of any age like this, as long as the girl is a "girly" girl.  Don't get this for a girl who clearly leans toward the tomboy personality.  Some options:

a variety of nail polishes - colorful, glittery, crackled
stickers for nails
nail polish remover
cotton balls
toe separator slippers
pretty head bands and clips
bobby pins
fun chapsticks/lip gloss

9.  Bejeweled:  When my niece got her ears pierced, I put this together.

jewelry box
fun earrings
bracelet
necklace

10.  Teacher to be:  Put the items in a canvas bag, since most teachers carry them around. 

pens in a variety of colors
stickers, even better if they say things like "Good job!"
lesson plan book
variety of workbooks (With the number of people homeschooling, these can be found everywhere, including Wal-Mart.)
teacher-type posters for the wall
fun-shaped pads of paper
Shoot, just walk around a teacher store and grab a few things that remind you of when you went to school.

11.  Sports fanatic:  Make it specific to the sport the child plays.  Don't just give the ball, but some things to go with it.

If you give a football, perhaps give a hoop target, t-shirt of his favorite team, or a book about his favorite player

If you give a soccer ball, include some cones to dribble around or a trivia calendar about soccer.

For the baseball player, a rebounding net and some new balls.

12.  Movie night:

favorite movie or gift card to rental place
popcorn
blanket to snuggle under
bean bag chair to sit in when watching

13.  Thank you, Kristi, for your suggestion.  How could I have forgotten this?!  Dress-up clothes always seem to be a hit with the preschool set. One friend of mine used to shop at the thrift store for "princess" gowns for her daughters. (Princess gowns can be found among the lingerie section, by the way.) Add some costume jewelry, and her girls were ready for the ball. My sons loved hats, capes (baby receiving blankets worked well), and accessories like pretend swords or binoculars.

14.  Lizzi was kind enough to add a suggestion for teens.   For teens just getting into the world of work, a 'coffee break' kit, with a bag of good coffee, an individual percolator and a packet of biscuits is always fun

Regardless of what you choose, the gift goes over best if you actually spend time with the child using the gift you purchased.  Play the game, read the book, bake some cookies, throw the ball.   You can't go wrong with the gift of time.

If you have any of your own theme ideas, let me know in the comments.  I'll be happy to add them to the list and give you credit.

Happy Shopping!

Have a lovely day!

I Should Have Eaten a Blizzard and Read a Book

On Monday night, I had one whole, kid-free hour and one half of another hour to kill while Star had basketball practice.  I decided to go shopping for school pants for Turken, and brown dress pants and a bra for me.

This is how my free hour and a half went down:

Boys' department, second floor
One wall of school pants.
Sizes 4,5,6,7,8
Slim, regular, husky

Choose size 5 regular
Done.

Ladies' department, first floor
Various brands of pants scattered throughout the floor
Sizes 4,6,8,10,12,14,16,18
high-waist, mid-rise, low-rise
straight-leg, boot-cut, skinny, flare
crop, floods, ankle length, heel length
modern fit, boyfriend, curvy, trouser
corduroy, houndstooth, stripes, plain

Grab 10 in various sizes and colors, head to the fitting room
too tight in the rear, too tight in the thighs, too short, looks ridiculous, ugly, has that damn gap on my back for the kids to toss quarters into
Sweat buckets and sit for a spell to recover from the exertion
Leave all 10 pairs in the fitting room

Lingerie department, first floor, in front of windowed entrance from parking lot
various brands boxed, hanging, lying on tables
Sizes 32,34,36,38
Cup sizes A,B,C,D
wire or no wire
padding or no padding
lace or no lace
wide straps, thin straps, no straps, 5-way straps
pink, nude, black, white

Grab smallest one that doesn't say "training" (My girls may be small, but they're already trained), head to the fitting room
too tight around, too loose in the front
Cry when realize size 36 H(alf-filled water balloon) would be the perfect size
Leave bra in the fitting room

Slog out to van carrying one pair of school pants

Decide my one pair of well-worn black pants and three stretched-out, thinning bras are perfectly fine.

Have a lovely day!

Things I Collect for No Darn Good Reason

My name is Christine, and I am a collector.

I hate that I have to admit that.  I could have sworn I wasn't.  It just doesn't fit my personality.  I hate chotchkes.  I strongly dislike stuff covering every inch of flat surface.  I read a post recently* in which a woman discussed collections, then asked if we, the readers, collected anything.  I answered (in my head) a loud and definitive, "HECK NO!"  In all caps.

And then I started walking around my house.

I have collections everywhere!!

Are they out in the open cluttering up every surface in the house?

No.

They are all hidden away from public viewing.  And really, any viewing, as I tend to avoid the areas where these items are stashed.  But I searched them out just for you.  Because my brain could think of nothing else to write.  Sorry.

People, I actually made this button all on my own.  Buttercup was already in bed, and since she's a bit of the worst kind of bear when she doesn't get her beauty rest, I had to go it alone.  Yes, it's a boring button, and it's not centered, but it's my boring, off-center button.

1.  Egg cartons.

Hundreds of egg cartons.  Which translates to spots for thousands of eggs.  As soon as people heard we were raising chickens, they started collecting cartons for us.  They are so sweet to do it for us, so of course I don't say, "No, we have enough".  I just take them with a big smile and a gracious thank you and start another stack in the basement.  Why?  Because one day we will be great farmers, with chickens who are stellar layers, laying not one, not two, but three eggs a day.  Each!  We'll be happy to have these cartons then.

2.  Beer Koozies

For all the beer we don't drink.

I keep 22 Koozies in a cooler in our basement.  (We have lots of coolers, which, I now realize, was our first collectable.  We got married in the age of "Newly Married Couples Must Go on Lots and Lots of Picnics" which required everyone to buy one for us.  We received 4 picnic baskets and 6 coolers at our wedding shower.)  Not one of these koozies has ever been used.  See that fancy one with the "Didgeri..." on it?  Still has a tag.  Even the cool one with the neck strap has failed to see the light of day.  Why do we keep them?  Good question.  I forgot to mention in my "what am I looking forward to" listicle that COW and I are going to become huge drinkers of cheap beer, lounging around in our underwear on the front porch.  It's hot in the summer, and there's nothing worse than warm beer covered in "sweat".

3.  Paint

We have painted exactly 4 rooms in this house.  Kitchen, dining room, little boys' room, and big boys' room.  So why do we have 16 gallons of paint?  Because the people who lived here before us painted lots of rooms, and kept the paint.  Apparently, I hate to be the one who breaks tradition.  That, and we're too lazy to find a place to dispose of it.

4.  Flimsy Draw-string Backpacks

It seems every couple of years there is a new "it thing" to pass out for free.  At the fair, at Turkey trots, at soccer games, with the purchase of a pair of shoes.  One year it was water bottles.  I miss the days when it was pencils.  I love a good #2 (pencil).  For the last couple of years, the thing has been these backpacks.  Feast your eyes, People, on the largest collection known to athletes everywhere.  These 25 are the ones being stored under our bed (with the 30 other bags of varying types).  There are at least 15 floating around the house as Scout bags, library book bags, overnight bags and more.  Why do I keep them?  Because we want to be ready in case of emergency.  Just picture me standing with the bags, passing them out to the children while I scream, "Hurry!  You can only take with you what fits in this bag! Move!  Move!"  And we'll have 15 people staying with us at the time, so we'll need all those extras.

5.  Strollers and other baby necessities

We have four umbrella strollers, one double stroller, a seat to attach to a bike for the baby to ride in, and 4 booster seats in the basement.  Why?  Because, clearly, we believe God, with his infinite sense of humor, will "bless" us with quadruplets any day now.  And one of us will go so crazy we will take that bike in the photo, strap on the bike seat and the favorite child, and ride off into the sunset.  COW was a Boy Scout.  "Be Prepared" is the motto of the scouts.  (No, really, it is.  There's a song that says so and everything.)

Shoes, and not fun, pretty ones.

This is the shoe cubby which you once saw in the tour of our old kitchen.  In preparing for the remodel, we moved the cubby to the basement, shoes included.  Not one of those shoes has been touched since.  Why?  It seems we're worried that the government will never reopen, and the country will shut down.  We are prepared to run as far as we need in order to find food and water.

6.  Chargers

We have a drawer in the built-ins in the dining room specifically for the care and keeping of chargers.  In this photo, there are 20 of them.  There are more still in the drawer.  I got too tired pulling these out to go any farther.  You will notice some of them are wound up and rubberbanded.  About 6 months ago, in a fit of "Where the hell is my camera cord?!?!" I organized the drawer a bit.  Do I know what all of these cords are used to charge?  Heavens, no.  I do know some, though.  Like the cord for the phone I owned two years ago.  The phone which died and meant Giant was unable to reach me when I accidentally left him at home.  I have no idea why I still have the charger, so don't ask.  (And yes, after taking this picture, I put it right back in the drawer.)  I keep most of them, though, because I don't know to which electronics they belong.  As soon as I throw some cords away, you will find me at the drawer, electronic in hand, painstakingly going through all the ones we still have, trying desperately to shove a rectangle into a square, looking for the charger that fits, muttering, "See? THIS is why we shouldn't throw them away!"

I have no doubt there are more "collectables" around somewhere.  Like the stack of baseball caps in a family who doesn't play baseball or wear baseball caps ever.  Or the plastic grocery bags, from all the times I forget to bring my reusable ones into the store.  We don't use them in the kitchen for trash anymore, so there are gobs of them littering the mudroom.  I'm getting depressed just thinking about it. 

To cheer me up, why don't you tell me about something you collect for no good reason.

Have a lovely day!

*As longtime readers know, my memory ain't what it used to be.  I could not find the blog or the post.  If it was you, or if you know who wrote it, please let me know.  I'd like to put a link to her post in there.

FTSF - Difficult Choices

Our FTSF prompt this week is "The hardest choice I ever made was..."

I do not spend a lot of time weighing options.  I do not hem and haw over what I should do.  I simply look at the situation, go through my choices, and quickly pick one.  For example, I spent less than 30 minutes total choosing the flooring, wood for the cupboards, and the countertop for my new kitchen.  This quick choice thing applies to everything, though.  We bought our house on the farm before we even listed our previous home with a realtor and after looking at exactly zero other houses.  Some people may say it is the "scott" in me, but I have no doubt my quick decision-making has everything to do with a choice I had to make when I was 16.

The hardest choice I ever made was when I was 16, and I had to decide with which parent I was going to live.

My parents divorced when I was in 2nd grade.  Things weren't smooth by any means, but my parents did their absolute best to make sure we knew we were loved.  We lived with my stay-at-home mom, but we lived only a few miles from Dad.  We saw him all the time.  He never missed a weekend or Wednesday night visit, and he came to track meets and swim meets and anything else we did. 

Both of my parents remarried, and life went along until the summer after my sophomore year of high school.  My stepdad worked for Ford, and the plant in Ohio had shut down.  He was out of work for a while, but eventually was transferred to the plant in Kentucky.  Six hours away from our home in Canton.

My parents did not tell the four of us (my siblings and me) what we were going to do and where we were going to live.  They left the decision up to us.  Each of my siblings and I independently decided where we wanted to live.

I am not going to go into why they had us choose.  I still don't know that answer myself.  All I know is how I felt, and I felt like I was having to choose between my parents.  Because I loved them equally, with all my heart, I had to take other factors into account.  I weighed the stepparent options.  Neither was ideal.  Really, neither was enjoyable.  I factored in the fact that my dad had two young kids with my stepmom.  I knew I'd be in for a whole mess of babysitting if I moved in with him.  I thought about my grandparents, who I spent hours and hours with each week.  I had started dating COW about 8 months earlier.  I had done extremely well in track my sophomore year, and with some changes being made in the state, I was on target to do extremely well my junior year.  I thought about the reality of moving to a new state two years before I was going to be on my own anyway.  So many thoughts consumed me for what seems like years, but was really only a couple of weeks.

In the end, I chose to stay in Ohio with my dad.

To this day, one of the hardest things I ever had to do was tell my mom of my decision.  I will never forget her reaction.  There were tears.  Lots and lots of tears.  I knew I had broken my mom's heart. 

Time marched on, as it is meant to do.  We all moved to our new homes, settled into our new reality. 

I have absolutely no bad feelings about the entire situation I was in back then (although sometimes I wished my parents would have just made the decision for us).  My mom had no option but to move, so I certainly can't fault her for it.  I missed her terribly at times, but it was only two years before I was off to college and living on my own.  As it turns out, I ended up going to college an hour and a half away from my mom and saw her more often during those years. 

I have never stressed over making a decision since that one very large, very emotional one.  The college to attend, the job to take, the city to live, the house to buy, the car to drive.  None of them took much thought at all.  None of them deserved the time and effort compared to that one decision from my teen years.

Yesterday, I read a post by Lillian about choosing a theme song for your life.  Really, it was more about how a theme song pretty much chooses you.  Here's one of the songs that chose me years ago:

Having trouble getting the video?  Go here.

Have a lovely day!

(This was going to be a FTSF and quick takes combo, but this FTSF took long enough.  I'll fit the takes into my post for the 10 Things of Thankful hop this weekend.)

A Few Funnies FMonday,

because every blogger knows a title is better with a little alliteration.

*******************

You all remember the awesome fence we built for our dear chickens.

Sunday morning I went out to give them a fruity frozen treat I made a couple of months ago.  Rounding the corner, I found three chickens running around outside of the fence.

Did you catch that?

The chickens managed to get out of our redneck, impenetrable fence!!

Normally, I would just chalk this up as another pain in my rear to take care of, but this time I had a horrible thought.

I have always, always told you chickens aren't the brightest bulbs in the light factory.  Hands down, they are the dumbest animals on the planet. 

And yet, they have managed to outsmart us and our fence.

What, exactly, does that say about us?!?!?!

Nothing good, I'll tell you that much.

*******************

We do these thankful posts each weekend, and some people say they have difficulty writing them.   I realized this morning that I will never have this problem.  I walk by an outhouse every single morning on my way to the chickens.  Every single morning I say a little prayer.  "Thank you, God, for creating a man smart enough to invent indoor plumbing."

I talk big about paring down and going back to old ways.  Let's be clear.  I don't mean I want to go back that far.

I always have that list of modern conveniences in my back pocket in case I ever have a really, really bad week and am in need of some things of thankful.

**********************

You know those expressions posters hospitals and schools put up to help people describe their pain or emotions?

Well, seems Turken feels our family needs one to rate our anger.  He drew these yesterday...

Sorry about the odd shapes.  Our scanner isn't the best.



Super happy.  Notice the large eyes and big smile.



Smaller eyes, kind of a smirk. 

Little eyes, flat mouth.  Clearly not happy.

Itty bitty eyes, large, red mouth.  Full-on angry.

"But what are those things on the noses?" you ask.

Those would be nostrils.  Apparently, as you get angrier, your nostrils get bigger, until they are so big they hang all the way down to your lips.

******************

Lastly, remember that dog brush I couldn't find and even put a reward up for its return?  Yeah, I ended up having to buy a new one, as Roy had gotten into some burs.  I spent about 40 minutes brushing out enough hair to make wigs for a few hairless cats. (Kristi???)  Almost 48 hours later, to the minute, Buttercup came running into the house yelling, "Look what I found!!  It was on a shelf in the garage!!!"
Yup.  The old dog brush.
So, when I come to you all and ask where I put the dog brush, please, please remember this day.  Remember that I told you the dog's brush is on the shelf above Buttercup's cubby in the mud room.

You will be my best friend.  (Crossing my fingers it's you, Kris, and we get to stay BFFs.)

******************

Anything funny or "funny" happen at your house recently??

Have a lovely day!

Pigs, Puke, and Purposeless Post

The week started out swimmingly.  We had a great time with 15 church/school families whom we adore at our annual Labor Day party.   In years past, we've invited lots more than that, but for a variety of reasons, we cut the list this year.  It was a much nicer day for me, and I don't really care if it was for anyone else. 

Besides the bat visitor, there weren't any snafus.  So I thought.

The next morning, as I was getting ready to leave for the grocery store, Cuckoo, eating breakfast and looking out the window, nonchalantly stated, "There's a pig out."

A quick glance confirmed his observation.  A few inappropriate words told him what I thought about that observation.

Giant was the only one to answer my "ThepigsareoutIneedsomeheeeeeeelp!" call.  (COW was in the shower, one boy was still sleeping, and one got confused as to what was going on.)

I went outside, got Roy tied up, and headed to where I last saw the pig.  As soon as he saw me, he came running up towards me, with his two friends following.  Not exactly how I wanted this to go down.  I now had pigs all over the side yard, and not one single thing to help me corral them, except Giant.

I really just want to just say yada, yada, yada right here, and I find that very disconcerting.  It seems a story about a pig escape just isn't as interesting as it used to be.  When you've had to give them shots or drag a dead one out of a waterer, simply herding them back to their pen, with only the help of a 10 year old boy, doesn't seem so blog-worthy.

So, yada, yada, yada, 5 minutes of, "Here Piggy, Piggy...I have some food for you..." and "Hey, get back here!  I said COME HERE!!"  and a bit of pig wrestling to get one facing the right direction, and the pigs were back in their pen.  I was a sweaty, filthy mess, but at least COW was nice and clean and relaxed.

(FYI the pigs got out through the open gate.  Apparently, during the party, a ball went into the pig pen.  A party guest went to go through the gate, but one of my kids just hopped the fence to get it out.  The guest didn't know how to re-lock the gate properly (with both the chain AND the bungy cord (fake farmers, remember?  Lucky it's not a zip tie.), so it was left half done.  The pigs figured out the sloppy workmanship.)

Well, I guess with such bad storytelling, you deserve at least one illustration.

No animals were harmed during this scuffle.  They weren't "taken advantage of" either, regardless of what it looks like.

After the pig escape and the grocery run, my mom, my brother, and his family came to visit for the afternoon.  We had a great time, with plenty of chatting and laughter.  We also spent a couple of hours playing a "friendly" game of volleyball.

Being the best mom/aunt that I am, I made all of the kids feel better about their ball-handling.  At one point, the ball had been waywardly hit by one of my teammates, so I rushed out of bounds to hit it back into play.  Well, I got to it in time, but my hit was just a bit off.  Basically, it looked like this:

Don't be jealous of my mad drawing abilities.  Or my freakishly long, elbowless arms.

I simply, instinctively caught the ball.  And got a "rug burn" on the tip of my nose.

Everyone else got grass stains, seeing as how they were rolling all over the grass while uncontrollably laughing.

What else...

Oh.  Phoenix turned 15 on Tuesday with zero to no fanfare.  He had practice after school, and only one hour between getting home and leaving again for a Scout meeting.  At breakfast he had requested stuffed shells for his birthday dinner.  He didn't even get that.  Cuckoo started running a fever as we were about to go to the store to buy the ingredients and only wanted to lay on me.  I couldn't get to the store, and I couldn't make a nice dinner. 

I did take him to DQ after his meeting, where I was happy to see Blizzards are on sale, buy one get one for 99 cents.  A round of Birthday Blizzards it was.

Back to the vomit, if I may.  I learned something during this bout of stomach illness.  I am no longer a catcher of puke.  I don't know why, but I used to have the instinct to catch puke when it exited my child.  Like my brain thought by catching it, I was cutting down on the mess I would have to clean up.

Well, on Tuesday, as the fevered Cuckoo lay on me and making me sweat up a storm, he started puking.  Did I reach out to catch it?  Um, no.  I threw him off of me while simultaneously reaching for my phone (which was on the ground next to us) to get it out of the line of pukefire. 

I don't love him less than the older kids, I just care about my floor less than I used to.  (We'll just gloss over the fact that I love my phone more.)

The one time I put him down all day, he was asleep within seconds.

Before Cuckoo's fever started, we had our first morning back to teaching preschool.   I only work for 2 hours/week, which seems a bit ridiculous, but it is what it is.  My boss just can't seem to let me go.

It's going to be an interesting year, especially if one little girl doesn't get her settings turned off of "whine".  The sound of whining grates on me more than fingers on a chalkboard (yet another phrase the young people will not understand), and her particular kind of whine is the worst.  Even when she's telling me about a trip to Disney, she has the whine in her voice.  I'm going to have to work on getting my settings turned to "superhuman patience" before next Tuesday rolls around.

And lastly, we had a mandatory parent meeting at the high school last night.  (Mandatory, as in, if a parent doesn't come, your child doesn't go here next semester.)  It was a good meeting in that it confirmed my belief that I'm sending the kids to the right high school.  It was a horrible meeting, because did you know how many kids do drugs and drink alcohol as teens?  And some parents believe the theory, "Kids are going to do it anyway, so we might as well keep them safe while they do it."  I may never let my kids go anywhere except school and home. 

Well, I think that's about enough random for one day. 

Come back another day, when we will be discussing...

Who knows.  I'm flying by the seat of my pants, here.

You probably knew that by now, though.

Have a lovely day!

After Miley, My Boys Need a Letter, Too

My Dear Boys,

I'm sure you've heard by now that a certain individual, we'll call her Ciley Myrus, was very inappropriate during a recent performance.   There has been all sorts of uproar about it, but every bit of it has been towards and about Ciley.  Moms are very worried about their daughters.  Specifically, how they don't want their daughters to grow up to be like her.

Sure, I don't want your sister to grow up and act like that, but I am more focused on something else entirely.  Ciley wasn't the only one up on that stage.  And Ciley didn't get to be this way on her own. 

Throughout your life, you will run into girls/women who act very much like Ciley, just not on a national stage.  You will see girls/women who don't see any value in themselves as people, but only as body parts.  These girls didn't get to be this way on their own.  For the most part, these girls are looking for attention, and dancing around in their underwear (for example) is the only way they know how to get it.

Men in their lives have helped convince them it is so. 

I don't want you to be part of the problem.  I don't want you to, in any way, encourage this behavior.  So, I have for you some expectations.  Read them.  Print them.  Post them around. Memorize them. 

-  If you come across videos, TV shows, print material, or movies that depict girls/women in any inappropriate way, I expect you to turn it off.  Walk away.  Don't watch it.  Don't share it.  Even better, run from the room screaming, "My eyes!  Make it stop!"

-  When you dance with a girl, make sure you are facing each other.  And leave some room for the Holy Spirit.  Keep in mind, He's a big spirit, needing lots of room.

-  Girls may offer to do things for you.  Don't take them up on their offers unless you're willing for those girls to do those things in front of your mother.

-  Keep your eyes on the girl's face.  Even if she is dressed in a way to seriously distract you.  Be strong.  Eyes up.

-  Be a gentleman.  Always.  Hold doors open.  Talk with her about her interests.  Ask her for her opinions.  While it probably won't ever come up, I wouldn't even mind if you threw your coat over a mud puddle in order to keep her pretty shoes clean.

-  Never, ever gossip, talk about anyone's reputation, or write about it on restroom walls.

-  If you see a girl in trouble, pull out your inner McFly and solve the problem.

-  Just say no.  To drinks.  To drugs.  Your brain doesn't work very well under the influence of these things.  If you take them, you will do something stupid.  And it will probably be recorded by somebody.  Don't do something stupid to ruin your own or a girl's reputation.  

-  Talk to your dad or me if you are in trouble.  If you need help.  If you have questions.  We've been around and know a few things.  You know we love to share our knowledge. 

-  Study good role models.  Pay attention to what respected, honorable men do, and follow their lead.  (Your dad would be a good place to start.)

I love you dearly, so I will be watching.  While I know that you are good, kind boys, I also know boys sometimes have trouble using their brains.  They sometimes have trouble going against peer pressure.  Know this.  If I ever see or catch you treating any girl/woman in a way that isn't respectful, severe consequences will rain down on your head.   Because I love you.

Be kind.  Be respectful.  Be the boy I know you are.  Be the boy God made you to be.

Love,

Mom

I'm Going Back to M&Ms

Our printer has been broken for several weeks.

It starts to print, but then gets jammed and paper gets stuck, it keeps printing on crinkled up paper for a second, then horrible sounds emerge, and the "Something's wrong!" beeper yells at us to Fix It!

COW and I did all we could to fix it.  (This includes lift the lid, look around, shrug shoulders, close the lid.)

Today, Buttercup needed something printed, so we crossed our fingers, hoped it spontaneously fixed itself, and we'd be good to go.

No such luck

As I was trying the "lift the lid" approach (to no avail) Cuckoo came by and asked what I was doing.

"Trying to see if anything is stuck in there."

He immediately said, "There is!"

"How do you know?"

"I'm little, and I can see right in there."

I bent down to look into the area where the paper comes out, and yes, there was something silver jammed in the little slot paper comes through.

I couldn't get my fingers in there, so used a paper clip to push it out as best I could.

My fingers just couldn't grab it, and in desperation yelled, "I need someone with little fingers!"

Cuckoo, standing by, screamed, "I have little fingers!"

He managed to get his little phalanges in there and pull out some of the blockage.

With the paper clip, I was able to get the rest.

Bet you can't guess what it was...

A Hershey Kiss wrapper.

Remember when I said I traded my lunchtime M&Ms for Kisses, as I ate less at a time?  Yeah, I usually eat them while I sit and read/type at the computer, making a nice pile of the wrappers.  Apparently, one wayward wrapper got stuck in the printer.

So, for the sake of our computer, I'm going to have to switch back to M&Ms. 

The sacrifices we women make...

Don't know about you, but so many times, life reminds me of a Seinfeld episode.

 

Have a lovely day!

Isabel Anne

This post was written late last night.  I couldn't hit publish until I went back over it today, after I could get a little distance from it.  If you are at work, you may want to wait until later to read it.  There is a possibility you will cry.



I held a dead baby today.

It was one of the most beautiful experiences I've ever had. 

It was the most agonizing thing I've ever done.

My sweet, sweet book club friend delivered her baby, Isabel, this morning, after the baby's heart stopped beating in utero yesterday.  For months now, we've known the time would come eventually, but in the back of our minds hoped and prayed it wouldn't. 

This wasn't something anyone could completely plan for.  There is no telling how a mother will react in this situation.  Over the months since the baby's diagnosis of Trisomy 18, we discussed what she was going to do.  How she was going to prepare.  Not once did we discuss what we, her friends, were supposed to do to help her.  We simply waited for her to lead us.  Five hours after delivery, she sent a signal.

Along with a picture, she texted, "Our sweet baby girl.  I'd love for you to see her."

Fifteen minutes later, I found myself sitting in the hospital parking lot.  I wanted to go to the room.  I wanted to be there for my friend.  However, I was really nervous about doing so.  I'm not known for being the best in sad situations.  My friends don't call me first after a tragedy.  They call me a day or two later, when they are ready to forget about it all and simply laugh. 

There wasn't going to be any laughing in this room.  This wasn't a day or two after the tragedy.  It was mere hours.  And was still happening.  I didn't know how I would handle the situation, and I most certainly didn't want to make it worse by saying the wrong thing.

I stalled.  I called COW.  I called another book clubber, asking when she would be there.  Should I just wait for her?

Finally, though, I pulled myself together and went in.

At first glance, the room appeared very much like any other delivery/recovery room.  Basinet, grandparents and other family scattered around, Mom in hospital gown, Baby wrapped snuggly in a blanket, nurse checking in.  Yet after a closer look, it wasn't the same at all.  No diapers under the basinet.  Tears in everyone's eyes.  No balloons or flowers.  The nurse didn't actually check the baby.  There were no baby sounds.  There was a whole lot of quiet.

It was all very surreal.

After I hugged everyone, Grandma handed dear little Isabel to me. 

She was beautiful. 

A two and a half pound, darling girl.  She had a whole mess of fuzzy hair under her knit cap (that a nurse had knitted while my friend labored).  She had perfect, miniature hands, with tiny little fingers that fit across my fingernail.  Her skin was soft and flawless.  Her eyes were closed, making her look like she was simply sleeping. 

As I held her, I realized I was swaying.  Such a natural thing, to rock as soon as a baby is placed in your arms. 

I was there for two and a half hours, and in those hours, I said maybe 20 words.  I listened.  I listened to my friend tell the story of Isabel's birth.  I listened to relatives talk.  I absorbed every emotion in that room.  The grief, the uncomfortableness, the sadness, the peace, the concern, the hurt.  Most especially, though, I felt the love.  So much love was in that room.

I feel so blessed to have been there.  To see the love and support and gorgeous things that happened in that room.  To see family and friends come together to console each other, to honor a tiny angel, and to grieve for what was lost.

The nurses did a fantastic job taking care of my friend.  The little touches, like knitting a cap and taking photos and putting together a memory box, made it all a little bit easier for my friend to bear. 

As I walked out, I felt like I was leaving a tiny little island of tranquility.

But within seconds, I was smacked with reality.

I realized the wise ways of the nurses.  They had put my friend at the very end of a long hall, and kept the adjacent room as the "family room" for overflow visitors.  It was just a nice way of keeping laboring women with live, crying, cooing babies as far from her as possible.

As the day went on, I became more and more depressed.  For all these months, I have been in a kind of denial, never fully believing that this day would come.  But deep down I knew the time was getting closer, and the pain of it all has been oozing out.

I've been receiving texts and emails and comments from people worried about me, saying my recent posts have been abnormally down.  I've been reacting to things with much more emotion than normal.  I've been sarcastic and negative, which is very unlike me.  (Soccer post would be a perfect example, I think.)

Walking out of that room, out of that hospital, people were behaving as they always do.  No one cared that in a room four floors above them, a mother and father just lost their precious baby girl they have wanted for so many years.

My mood and my energy drained as the day went on.  Seeing people at pickup laughing and acting like nothing horrific happened to someone they know about did me in.   

At one point, I wanted to scream.  Why the hell doesn't the world stop when parents lose their baby?!?!?  Why can't everyone just take a day off to cry and acknowledge the loss?

But no, life continues on, whether we like it or not.

You'd think that after today I'd be home hugging and loving on my kids like crazy. 

I wasn't.

I was simply beyond exhausted, and the emotions I had witnessed and felt were building like a wild fire.  Standing in the center of the chaos that is my home after school, I became completely withdrawn from them.  I just wanted to be in a room alone.

I didn't care that my own kids needed fed.  I didn't care that there were soccer practices to attend.  I didn't care that Phoenix needed pants to wear to school. 

I didn't care about anything except what was happening in that hospital room.

Precious Isabel, her mother, her father, her siblings.  That's what I cared about.  Soccer is pretty insignificant next to something so tragic.

All night I have been praying for them.  All night I've been asking God to help them get through this.

He will, I have no doubt, but it's going to be a long road that will get harder before it gets easier.

Tomorrow will be the hardest day for my friend.  They will take her baby from her, and she will have to leave that hospital.  She will walk the same hall I did, but instead of simply being smacked by reality, she will be beaten to a pulp by it. 

Please, please pray for my friend and her husband. 

My friend did make it home from the hospital today.  They are now in the throws of planning a funeral service while also taking care of their three other children.  Keep the prayers coming please. 

My Fickle Moods...and Your New Favorite Song

I'm sure it's hard for you to believe, but raising six kids isn't always fun and games.  At times, it can get to be just too much.  

Since the minute I got home from Hilton Head, I have been run into the ground.  No need to go into the gory details, but soccer practices, school meetings, fun activities for COW and kids, doctor and dentist appointments, getting ready for school, canning garden veggies, and a plethora of other activities has meant I haven't stopped moving until I collapse onto the couch at 10:00 each night, with a body soooo tired, but a brain that won't stop swirling, keeping me from sleep.  This leaves very little time to spend with my husband (He has the extremely irritating ability to clear his mind and sleep anytime, anywhere) and keeps me cranky about the state of things.

Tuesday morning, as I went from room to room trying to get ready for a day at the fair with COW and kids, all I saw was the stuff that hadn't gotten done around the house while we were so busy.  Clutter and filth had taken over.  Clutter I could deal with, but the fact that, while I was running my butt off trying to get stuff done and take kids here, there and everywhere, the kids slacked off.  Their rooms were trashed.  Their crap was all over the house.  The laundry wasn't getting done.  And Tuesday morning, as I was working to get ready to go, I saw those same children sitting on their rear ends reading books. 

Mama was pushed too far.

I went out to the front porch for a good cry and a bit of "Help me, Lord!" prayer time.

When I returned, I gathered the children and set them straight.

While I appreciated the morning Giant helped me, and I very much am pleased with the way Buttercup stepped up and helped with the boys while I drove other kids around, I very, very much was ticked off about everyone failing to do the chores they know they are supposed to do.  At this point, they aren't forgetting or unclear on what the expectations are.  They are choosing to be lazy.  That just doesn't sit well with a mom who is about to fall over from exhaustion. 

Normally, I'm very good at getting them organized and doling out chores.  However, there were so many things going on, many of them in the morning, that I could never get ahead of it.  I made it clear that when Mama is looking a bit overwhelmed (You know, the crazy darting of the eyes, the sighing, the unusual snapping of children's heads off) it is the time to get their act together, not sit on the couch and read (Yes, I realize I'm upset at my children for reading.) before I blow.

I very much did not want to go to the state fair that day.  I really wanted to spend our one open day to stay home and get the house under control.  However, COW had already cleared his schedule in order to join us there at 11:30, so go we must.

Even after the 45 minute drive there, I wasn't in the best of moods.  Thoughts of our dirty house and kids who were far from helpful lately filled my mind.  Even after getting in the gate and meeting up with COW, I couldn't shake it and was unable to even make a decision what to do first.

One of the kids mentioned the Little Hands Farm, so we headed that direction.  The line to get in was long, but inside is the barn where we take our annual photo.  The photo we have taken every year to document the growth of our kids.  I didn't drag my butt out there to not get a photo.   For the first time ever, the kids saw me break a rule, and even better, force them to do it, too.  We parked the stroller right next to that long line, and marched right on through the exit. 

I was going to get my photo, and I wasn't going to wait an hour to do so.  We headed straight to the barn, and the kids lined themselves up in our usual spot.

Guess who planted trees since the last state fair?

Funny how something so small can completely change your mood.

As I looked through the frame to take this photo, seeing how they had lined themselves up behind the tree, I couldn't help but laugh, and as I laughed, the irritation floated away. 

When we first started taking these photos, we only had four kids, and the youngest of the four was a baby.  Now, Phoenix is taller than the damn barn.  Hello, Wake Up Call.  I was being ridiculouis, holding onto my anger and frustration.  While I will get upset with the kids from time to time, I need to deal with the situation and move on a whole lot quicker.  Can't be wasting prime fun time stewing over a bad morning. 

Gotta keep my mind on the prize.   Keep focusing on what's important. 

No, it isn't a giant doughnut burger.

He ate all but one bite.

But the giant doughnut burger adds to the memory of the day.

It has hit me recently (right around our 19th anniversary) that in my life, I have spent more time married to my husband than I spent living with my parents.  And I have a lot of life left to live.  The number of years these kids will be with me on a daily basis, relative to their lifetime, is very, very limited.  As a squirrel gathers acorns in preparation for winter, I need to gather memories with my kids to prepare for those years they are no longer in my care. 

Moments like this:

 

We had a stroller, but everyone preferred this mode of transportation.

I most certainly don't want to look back at these years and only remember cranky days of forced labor.

Tuesday turned out to be a lovely day.  And I didn't curse the state of the house when I arrived home at 9:30 that night, after the fair/soccer practices/new parent meeting at high school.

I love a good attitude adjustment.

Of course, that attitude went a bit downhill the next morning.  School started, which means when the alarm went off at it's usual 6:00, I actually had to roll out of bed and get the kids up.  I hate getting out of bed at 6:00 to get the kids up.

Doesn't help that I had to get this little guy up for his first day of kindergarten. 

While I am so sad for myself, being smacked in the face with the idea of him growing up, I am so happy for him.   He has wanted to go to school with the big kids for most of his life.

My mood was back up again when I got home, and it was just Phoenix (who starts high school next week) and Cuckoo.  That is a combination I've never had at home with me before.   It melted my heart to watch the two of them play and hang out together all morning.

And then my mood went back down a bit, as we hunted for school pants for the boy.   I thought buying jeans for myself was awful.  Buying pants for a child who is 5'11" and 123 pounds is downright maddening.  Five stores we went to, and ended up having to settle with shorts and pants that almost fit.

That's life, I guess.  We wouldn't appreciate the wonderfulness in our lives without those everyday frustrations to put it in perspective.  

Today, finally, I get to stay home for a few hours straight and begin the process of getting this house back in order.   While I do so, I will be cranking up some music, 'cause music always makes me feel better.   

Now turn up the volume and dance with me to one of my favorite songs.  It just happens to fit with the theme we've got going here today.

Have a lovely day!

You Can Call Yourself a Blogger if...

(A little look into the brain of a woman who uses mowing the lawn to find some peace and quiet.  Three hours on the lawn mower, and this is what my brain comes up with.*)

Lots of people blog.  LOTS.  Some, however can't be called Bloggers.  They just aren't dedicated enough.  They don't have that certain something that separates the Bloggers from the bloggers.  If you want to know where you stand, take this little test.  If you have done at least 10 of them, you, Dear, are a Blogger.  With a capital B for Blimey!  You might want to find yourself a self-help group.

You Can Call Yourself a Blogger if...

you know what CAPTCHA is, and you have strong feelings about it.

your kids make a huge mess, and you immediately reach for your camera.

someone has ever said to you, "I better not see that on the blog."

your husband gets on the computer and your three year old says, "Are you blogging?"

you categorize your friends as IRL or blog friend.

when you receive an award, your second (or first?) thought is, "Ugh.  What are the rules?"

you are not above writing about a trip to the bathroom.

you use words like "blogosphere".

you can host a party without cleaning your house or making any food.

you get a little thrill when someone comments on your post.

you get irrationally excited when one of the popular girls comments on your post.

you curse the internet when it's down, not because you can't pay your bills, but because you can't get on your blog.

you've ever thought, "This is so dumb.  Why am I wasting my time, working so hard, writing all of this when no one reads it and so many people are better and I'm not getting paid!?!"

you have said aloud, "I have to get this done before the link closes!" and your spouse looks at you like you have lost your everlovin mind.

And the thought that started this whole thing...

if you mow the grass along the driveway, knowing a mama turkey and her babies live in the trees along the drive, and are actually disappointed that Mama Turkey didn't attack you, because a turkey attack would be an awesome post!

*This post was REALLY funny when I was on the mower.  On my couch, not so much.  Published it anyway.

 Have a lovely day!

Monday Listicles - Summer at the Public Pool

We are not fortunate enough to have a pool of our own.  My sister has a pool, but she lives in Kentucky and is of no help.  So, to beat the heat, we are relegated to the public pool.  If you've never been to a public pool, think Wal-Mart without the coverage pajama pants affords. 

Stasha's Listicle topic this week is "summer".  I shall give you...

10 Things You Will See at the Public Pool in the Summer

1.  Rude people who say rude things to complete strangers.  Cuckoo and I were having a lovely time playing in the big pool, he jumping in to me, when a young woman looked directly at me and said, "Are you the mom or the grandma?"   And it hurt, Man!*  (For those of you who heard about this on Saturday, I'm over it now.  I'll never mention it again.  I would have been over it sooner, but my dear husband won't stop laughing and telling everyone he sees about it.)

2.  Tattoos.  Going to the public pool is a lot like going to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  Everywhere you turn, there's an artist's rendering of some object, event, or person.  In both places, you see original work depicting important events in a person's life.  Sure, in the museum, artists use mediums like pastels, paint, charcoal, and watercolor on everything from canvas to wood to metal, while at the pool, artists are limited to ink on skin, but that doesn't mean you can't appreciate a good image of Jesus at either place.  (No joke, I actually saw the face of Jesus taking up the entire calf of a woman at the pool. (Don't ask why it was on her calf.  I was too afraid didn't get a chance to ask her.)******* 

3.  Lifeguards.  They ain't what they used to be.  First off, now they all have to train with The Hoff.  Red is the new mandatory swim suit color, and every one must carry the big, red floating devices.  They never sit for more than 15 minutes before they are up and walking to another station.  These folks are focused, which means they catch all sorts of children behaving in ways they shouldn't.  Every 11 seconds, another whistle tweets, and children freeze, wondering if it was they who did something wrong.  Of course, it wasn't.  The kids running/hanging on the lane line/diving/sliding down the slide head first/wearing unapproved flotation devices are having too much fun to hear the whistles blowing.

4.  Skin.  Lots and lots of skin.  Bathing suits have become smaller and smaller as people have become bigger and bigger.  I tell you what, I'd almost rather they all just go naked.  At least then I could look away instead of constantly watching and wondering just how long that itty, bitty string is going to hold in that great, big boob. 

5.  Disgustingly wet floors in the bathroom.  Is it water?  Is it pee?  Does it matter?  It's all a nasty, cold, slippery germ locker that beckons to my child all day long.  I swear, Cuckoo goes to the bathroom maybe five times on a normal day.  At the pool, he must go at least five times in two hours.  I'm almost to the point of teaching him to put the P in the ool.  As I've heard many women who have used the facilities then failed to wash their hands say, "The chlorine will kill the germs."

6.  Teen boys doing cannonballs to impress the girls.  Nothing says, "You're cute," like a great, big, flood of water being thrown on you.  It usually works, as long as the boy comes up for air with the always adorable, only-the-young-can-do-it-without-throwing-his-back-out head toss.

7.  Bad parenting.  If I had a dollar for every parent I've seen screaming to his child from the side of the pool to, "Get out!  Come here!  No, give that back to him!  It's not yours!  Come here!  No, give it to him!  The whistle blew!  It's break time!  Give it back!  Get out!  We'll go home!  Do you want to go home?!  It's his!  Look, the lifeguard is getting mad!  We are going home as soon as you get out of that pool!  How about a snack!  Do you want a snack?"  I would be able to put my own blasted pool in my own back yard. 

8.  Piercings.  In every orifice, current or past, and in some places that have never been orifices to begin with.  Ears?  Of course.  Nose?  Yup.  Tongue?  Why not?  Belly button?  Oh, are there ever.  It must be the new thing.  Not only do females get their belly buttons pierced, they do them up!  Honestly, when we went to the pool last week, I saw no less than 10 chandeliers hanging off of people's midsections.  Oh, and the "never been an orifice"?  Yeah, a woman had two silver studs coming out of her lower back, about 3 inches above her bikini line.  "Why?" wasn't my first question.  My first thought was, "HOW???? Are they connected under the skin?  What's holding them in?  Are your kidneys OK with this?"  Baffling, I tell you.  Baffling.

9.  Water slides and high dives and dumping buckets of water.  Basically, everything your kid wants to do, but only if you do it with him.  Now, I've done all of these things, and I'm not afraid of no high dive.  However, I am afraid of catching my child who wants to go off.  Those couple of seconds before the child surfaces are horrifyingly long.  I'm not opposed to going down the ginormous water slide.  I am opposed to going down the slide while holding one of my children.  With the added weight, we tend to fly higher up the sides in the turns, which flips us all around and upside down, so I am a panicky mess trying to right us before we hit the water in a jumble while keeping said child's head above water.  I always walk away from that thing with bumps and bruises and scratches all over my body.  As for the buckets of water, I don't have to go under those.  I do, though, have to console the youngest boy when the bucket dumps on his head unexpectedly, and he flips out, slips, and lands on his head. 

10.  Children with ill-fitting suits.   There is always that one kid who has the new suit.  The suit that fit in the store, but once in the water, falls down with every pop out of the water.  You see the poor kid struggle each time he surfaces to pull the suit back up over his crack.  And then one time he turns around, and you see his suit has gotten so low, it is thiiiiis close to showing everyone in the place all that God gave him.   Poor kid.  And his poor mom.  All she wanted was to get him the cool suit with the beloved character on it.  Sure, it didn't have a string to tie it tighter, but it seemed snug enough.  It fit in the store!!!  When the mom sees this suit malfunction, she has flashbacks to when her oldest child took swimming lessons at the same age as this child.   During the swim test, he had to do 10 bobs.  He was facing away from the parents and towards the instructors.  Each time he came up, the parents were shown his nice, bright, white tush.  From the looks and laughs of the instructors, they were getting to see plenty of jiggle on their side.  Did anyone stop him?  No.  He merrily went along, bob down, pop up, pull up the suit, bob down, pop up, pull up the suit...as the entire place rolled with laughter.   The mom quickly snaps back to the present and the suit issue unfolding before her.  She can't force her entire brood to go home simply because of this one child's bathing suit, so she does the next best thing.  She follows him around everywhere he goes, yanking his suit up each time he surfaces.

OK, maybe you won't see #10 unless you go to the public pool where I go.  That would be my kid.  And yes, the story of the boy taking swim lessons was Phoenix when he was 4 years old.  It seems we fit right in at the public pool after all.

*If you have never watched "Kid President", do so now.  This quote is from "A Pep Talk".  

 *******  Good grief.  I found out why the woman had it on her calf.  On a whim, I googled "tattoo of Jesus on calf" to see if I could find a picture of one.  Guess what came up?  Justin Flippin' Beiber.  He has a tattoo of Jesus on his calf.  Asked and answered.  And gag me with a tattoo needle.

Have a lovely day and a fun, relaxing summer!