when you know you should get out more

My guys spent the Saturday after Christmas hunting. . .because apparently there's a prize given for the hunter who spends the most time in the woods. That's the only reason I can figure my guys would go without sleep, warmth, and my pleasant company for so many days this past year. . .Kady and I decided to brave the insane crowds and do a little sale shopping. We went to the mall and a few surrounding stores and managed to score shoes, shoes, shoes, purse, and shoes. Obviously, it was a pleasant day.

We started off our shopping by having an early lunch at chik-fil-a, which Kady LOVED. Then, we found a parking space at JC Penney's and dug the stroller and assorted toddler paraphernalia out. Finally, we fought the insane crowds and started shopping. We navigated out of Penney's and through the mall, with Kady pointing out her to-do list as we went along.

"Mommy, I want to play there."

"Mama, I want to ride that."

"MOM! Let's go there!"

Somewhere through this magical journey that is the mall, Kady turned around in her stroller, looked up at me, and said, "Mom, this is the best store in the whole wide world. I love it!"

That's when it hit me.

Other than the disastrous trip to see Santa, Kady had never set foot in the mall. Oops. Definitely a parenting fail. . .

walking a tightrope with the big guy

Dear Santa,

Merry Christmas! I hope this letter find you well and well prepared for your upcoming journey. I hope you do not take offense to this letter, but I feel I must make my complaint known. Please do not hold it against my children. They have been (mostly) good this year.

Santa, Santa, Santa. Last Sunday, we drove one hour to see you. Yes, proper preparation would have resulted in a much earlier date, but my husband, the KING of Spontaneity, decided last Sunday was THE day. We drove. We ate. (I'm not sure who had the bright idea to eat spaghetti, but. . .) We washed my daughter's clothes off in the bathroom to the best of our abilities. . .We arrived at the mall to find a long, but tolerable line to see you. Kady stood quite patiently for about 45 minutes while we waited for all the other good boys and girls to meet you. We obliged the "no cameras on set" rule that was posted, and quietly chose our over-priced picture package. All was OK.

Then, Trey and the-elf-that-I-forgot-his-name (henceforth referred to as the other elf) announced that the cameras had crashed. An elf frenzy commenced during which all elves were on the phone to corporate to remedy the situation. Trey and the other elf opened up a "special" line, in which you could see Santa but not have your child's picture taken by the elves.

Several people jumped at this opportunity, but still desiring a picture of my (almost) clean daughter with you, I resisted for a few minutes. Finally, I gave in and joined the group taking their own pictures. When we were two people away from you, your elves announced that CORPORATE had made the decision that no one would be allowed to take pictures with Santa. (Santa, who is this corporate that makes such poor decisions for you? When did they take over your life?)

Now, Santa, here's where I try to avoid a lifetime of coal, switches, and reindeer poop in my stocking. . .Santa, if you couldn't provide the services I was requesting--the services that you were advertising-- then WHY CAN'T I TAKE MY OWN PICTURE?! Seriously, you turned a very important moment in my daughter's Christmas memories into a complete letdown and disappointment for me. We will NOT be back to your "house," as Kady called it. I may have to pay the fat man down the road to dress up, but I WILL NOT make the journey to the dictatorial corporate mall. You, Fat Man, have let me down. You have commercialized just one too many things in my Christmas. Then, you have sucked every bit of joy out of that commercialized morsel that you tempted me with. You can take your over-priced pictures, your tacky "no cameras" sign, your corporate-grunt elves, and you can go back to the North Pole. As for me, I chose not to call the 800 number the other elf offered and am instead using the "great equalizer"--the internet, to share our little "incident." Merry Christmas.

Sincerely,

Rachel in Paradise (Lost)

PS Please tell Mrs. Clause hello.

a stolen Christmas meme

What's a person to do when she's out of time to get everything done but really, really wanting to update the blog? Steal a meme, of course. This one's from the Happy Geek, which I found by way of Tonggu Mama's website (so you know it's good!). : )

Eggnog or Hot Chocolate? Any question that asks you to choose between chocolate and something is NOT a real question. Moving on.

Does Santa wrap the presents or leave them open under the tree? Santa does not wrap gifts. All wrapped gifts are from your parents, and don't forget it! As for our wrapping technique, anything that effectively hides the identity of the gifts counts, so pretty is not a words that describes our gifts.

Coloured Lights on a tree or white? Last year, I finally bought a new tree. When my procrastinating husband finally gave me the green light, the store only had colored lights. [sigh] Thus, we have colored lights, with a preference for white lights. . .

Do you hang Mistletoe? Usually, although this year, only the tree is up so far. . .Guess what I'm doing this weekend?

When do you put your decorations up? Usually, our motto is they turkey is done, so where are the lights. . .This year, well, see above.

What is your favorite Holiday Dish? Anything that involves food. If you ask for a more specific answer, I would have to go with ham. . .or chicken-broccoli casserole. . .or the rolls. . .or brown sugar green beans. . .well, you get the idea.

Favorite Holiday Memory as a Child? the year we opened presents at my grandparents' house was special. I'll never forget the Christmas I got a Barbie house. Kev engaged in much more felonious actions as a child than I did, so he has some funny stories that I could share. However, we're hoping our children never hear of those. . .

Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? Usually, all gifts are opened on Christmas; however, this year, Kyler's pajamas are in such sad shape that they each have new pajamas to open Christmas Eve. Contain your excitement--I know they will.

How do you decorate your Christmas tree? Oh, if only I could tell you about my pre-kids tree. . .It was sparkly and perfectly proportioned and each ornament had a special place.

Snow. Love it or Hate it? I live in Arkansas. We don't get much of it, so it's always special. So special that we shut down for a week when the white stuff appears.

Can you ice skate? Did I mention where I live?

What is your favorite Holiday Dessert? cheesecake. or anything chocolate. Enough said.

What is your favorite holiday tradition? I enjoy the weekend where Kev & I get away, do all the Christmas shopping, and wrap all the presents.

Candy Canes. Yum or Yuck? Tradition, but I can take it or leave it.

Favorite Christmas Show? White Christmas or the Nativity Story.

Have a merry Christmas!!!

the hair cut lady

Kady went for her first ever haircut last Friday. Now, we have to play "hair cut lady" every night. You are not allowed to change her title. She "is a hair cut lady like that one, you know, that cuts my hair." Luckily, we've thus far been satisfied with play scissors. . .Now, you may ooh and ahh over my baby girl's cute haircut. Go. : )

the whole wide world

This morning we drove the same route we've driven for all of Kady's 3 years. Today, as we topped a hill, she announced,**

"Mama, I can see the whole world!"

**not our actual view. It might have been the quickest one I "borrowed" from flickr. . .

rambling notes from my christmas card list

Hello, all. Welcome back. Where ya' been? Me? Well, I was on the brink of death from some no-name, pathetic little virus. Did I get sick with the "real" flu bug going around. Nope. I managed to get really, really sick from your everyday virus. I'm an over-achiever that way.

Moving on.

It's time to send out my Christmas cards! I always moan and groan about doing this. I complain about having to pick out a card, and gripe about the trouble of rounding up all the addresses. (I always need an address. My address book consists of a bundle of envelopes scavenged from last year's cards and tucked in my never-opened scrap booking tote. . .)

The truth is that I actually LIKE getting Christmas cards. It's fun to open the mailbox and see a note handwritten by someone you know (and usually like!). Unfortunately, I discovered last year that my mailman IS authorized to deliver something besides bills and junk mail. Heretofore, I had simply blamed him for my lack of written Yuletide Sentiments. . .After stumbling upon my mother's stash of cards, I learned the truth: my family and friends do know how to send cards and are sending cards. . .just not to me. (Hey, S, Mom got your card! It was SO cute. I wish I had gotten one after sending you one for ELEVEN years straight. . .)

Anyway, this year, my new motto is "you gotta send one to get one." I'll keep you updated as to the progress. However, if you've been here long, you know I like to break rules, so I've already added a few new people to the list. Utilizing the old and new list, here are a few observations thus far. . .

• I am an eternal optimist. After years of knowing better, I will try for the "perfect" photo card EACH and EVERY year.
• We can't take a decent family picture.
• If you manage to get both kids looking at the camera, cover the bare feet, and hide (most of) the clutter, your camera will be out of focus.
• In. Every. Photo. completely out of focus. . .
• I know two people who live on Nottinghill. . .in different states.
• I know one person on Bearberry, which is just downright fun to say.
• My mailing region is rather small, even with the addition of 3 new states.
• The coldest place my card will be travelling: Minnesota.
• The warmest place: Texas or Alabama.
• Of course, the idea of a Hog fan's Christmas card travelling to Crimson Tide country could cause catastrophic weather conditions. . .

Do you want to join in on the Christmas card fun? Just drop me an email (rlkendr at yahoo dot com) with your address. Now, I want to know your Christmas card traditions. . .

what I didn't know

In case you've been keeping up with my captivating tweets regarding my illness, I'm still sick. I can't seem to shake this horrible, awful respiratory thing I've got going on. The doctor's take is it's a "virus thing" and I'm just going to have to get over it. . .Anyway, I have managed to squander most of my paid time off this week by staying home and watching crappy tv instead of going on a long-awaited cruise. . .not that I'm bitter or anything. Just to show how much I've been missing out by going to work each and every day and not staying home glued to my tv, I wanted to let you in on an upcoming show Tyra's doing. Seriously.

If you or someone you know attempted YOUR own plastic surgery but botched it, PLEASE call the Tyra show.

I spent the first delusional day of my illness convinced I had missed something, but it came on again the next day. They are seriously looking for people who tried to perform plastic surgery on themselves. Obviously, I've been living under a rock, because I had no idea this was a serious problem. Ssssoooo, share. What types of surgery are you considering attempting?

Nana, the secret running back

My son is a little obsessed with football this fall, after just completed his first season of REAL football. (It was awesome.) He plays football. He watches football. He shops for football stuff. He talks football. The kid likes football. Therefore, the following conversation should not have caught me as off-guard as it did.

Kyler: Mom, did Nana every play football?

Me: Nana? Play football? No, I don't think so.

Kyler: Yeah, did she play football?

Me: No, girls don't play football. [Forgive me. My brain was travelling in many directions trying to figure out where this was going.]

Kyler: No, Mom, like H. Did Nana play football?

Me: No, son, she did not.

Kyler: Are you sure? Because she had 2 of those mouth guards at her house. I asked her, and she said they were not Papa's. SHE SAID they were hers. Are you sure she didn't play football?

The mouth guards in question? They belong with this. . .

Question: What position do you think my mom secretly played before she was my mom?

nothin' much. and you?

Life is busy, and these are my random updates.

I am still trying to get down to my cruise weight. I'm pleased to announce, 10 more pounds, and I am CRUISE bound!! I tried a new workout last night. It's called Zumba. (Search it on youtube, if you're unfamiliar. Be assured that I looked nothing like that.) It's great if you have rhythm or coordination or hips that move. Unfortunately, I don't. I spent one hour and ten minutes attempting to not knock anyone down. I succeeded but just barely.

I will be attending a conference next week. I will be spending Wednesday through Sunday in New Orleans! This will only be my second flight (seriously), so pray that I arrive safely, please. Also, pray that Kyler and Kady behave, stay safe, and stay healthy while I am gone. There's nothing so nerve-wracking as being a mother and being away from your babies.

My long-awaited niece arrived last Wednesday. Miss M is here, and I still haven't managed to see her! I am certainly going to try to see that girl this weekend. In fact, other than cleaning house and packing for my trip, that's all that's on my to-do list. How about yours? Oh, and you can bet I'll be at least listening to the Razorbacks.

Go, Hogs, go!! Beat Troy!

favorite kyler quote of the month (so far)

"Well, whoever finds my underwear can just have it!"

This was said after my 9 year-old son attended a birthday party at an indoor pool. Apparently, his underwear miraculously wandered out of his locker and off to play basketball. . .or something. Yes, he is definitely my son.

just doing my part

It's now official. Arkansas is sin-filled. I am now living in a gambling state. . .and loving it. Really, I'm just doing my part. I'm stimulating the economy, while providing scholarships for the students of my state. I like to think of it as investing in my children's college education. And so far, I'm investing a lot of money. If our so-called "educational crisis"can be solved by throwing money at our educational system, I'm pretty sure we've solved it in about 30 days. And the new vocabulary. . .double down. Quick pick. One pick. Power play. Addiction. Fascinating stuff, I'm telling you. If you'll forgive me, I have to get my scratching quarter ready. . .I've got a winning ticket headed my way. Ooh, and now there's Powerball. . .

it's a bad sign when. . .

you're hoping to keep everyone well enough to get their flu shots on Friday. . .especially, if the odds are looking slim.

Stay healthy and pray with me that my little asthmatic will get her dose of the H1N1 flu vaccine (or Hiney flu--get it H1N1--Hiney?, as one of our hospital volunteers called it). . .or better yet, that she will not get sick this winter. Period.

not one of our better parenting moments*

***Warning: This post is the least family-friendly post I've ever posted. You might NOT want to let your kiddos read this. You know, do as I say and not as I do. . .***

I let Kyler listen to a song that was questionable in nature. OK, not so questionable. It was inappropriate. I let him listen to the song by the Zac Brown band titled "Toes in the Sand." The song begins "I've got my toes in the water, *ss in the sand. . ."

(In my defense, I'm in desperate need of a vacation, and the song makes me feel like I'm on a beach somewhere. . .)

I know. Who knew he was actually listening to this stuff. . .

Anyway, after explaining that he could listen to it but he had to sing it the edited-for-radio version (toes in the water, toes in the sand. . .), I stupidly thought all was well.

Until we got to the phrase about rolling a big fat one.

Yup. You read that right.

Of course, he wanted to know what that meant. I used the age old response of all parents who are chicken: "Ask your dad!"

I then mentioned to Kev that this was coming.

Kev & Kyler had some daddy-son time this weekend, whereupon they discussed rolling a big fat one. Yes, we are JUST LIKE the Cosby family. . .

Apparently, it means you roll a big fat girl across the sand at the beach.

I'm not sure what's worse: the answer Kev gave, the fact that that answer was way better than what I would have said, or the fact that I let him listen to such an inappropriate song in the first place. . .

So, if you can, please resist calling DHS long enough to tell me about your uh-oh parenting moment. Please? And I'm totally available to babysit anytime. . .

weight loss fail

So, these days I'm a long ways from skinny, but I have managed to get in better shape, build some muscle, and lose some weight (18 pounds and quite a few inches...) by working out and going to a trainer. As I'm working out on Friday, a co-worker comes walking through the area. . .

She: Oh, you're still working out?
Me: Yeah. [sweating and lunging and talking simultaneously]
She: Huh. So, you must think it's working, huh?
Me: Yeah, I guess so. [laughing]

just another day in our crazy lives

Kyler had his last football practice of the year last night. Then, we managed to eat (LOTS) at the local Mexican food establishment. As we left, I thought out loud about having forgotten to go to the bathroom. I was laughing as I said, "How can someone FORGET to go to the bathroom?" Kyler replied, "It's easy. I do it all the time!" And he does.

Kady's at her grandma's, eating Popsicles for breakfast on this chilly morning. She was adamant that she ALWAYS has Popsicles for breakfast. She doesn't. I promise.

I'm off to another busy day at work, and one more weekend of working. . .(3rd in a row) Have a great weekend!! Go Hogs go!!

question of the day

Creepy or friendly: "friending" your son's teacher on Facebook?

Just wonderin'. : )

just my luck. . .

Kyler played peewee football this season for the first time. It has been a real learning experience for his whole team. They've went from knowing nothing about football to playing some really good ball. I have thoroughly enjoyed watching him play.

However.

(This is the part he'll kill me for later.)

Winning has been one of the lesser skills we've learned. We've learned how to lose gracefully and not so gracefully. We've learned how to lose close games and "wow-is-that-the-score-and-how-did-they-get-that-many-points?" games. Actually, we only won one game.

Until last night.

Something clicked. I don't know what. I don't know what was different. . .(except my son carried the ball three times for three first-downs, thank-you-very-much! Not that that was the only difference, but. . .) Those boys just played awesome.

Now, you might remember that I'm a huge Razorback fan. [screaming "woo pig sooie" in background] We only get two tv channels, so I've had to make do with listening to football games on the radio. I've listened to almost every game, and I did spend last weekend glued to the tv as we ALMOST beat Florida. (I know "almost" doesn't count, but DUDE, it was this close!!!)

I was SO excited to spend this weekend at my own house watching the Hogs demolish Mr. [mutters under breath] Nutt. (Mr. Nutt used to be our head coach, but then he became a traitor and Petrino became our SUPERMAN coach. Caught up yet?) This is a HUGE game. SO excited. . .

Kyler's football team now plays at the same time as the Hogs. [sigh] You know I'll be watching my boy, but. . .GO HOGS!!!

Lesson learned: Never say your plans out loud. The universe has a way of demolishing your plans. . .

the other woman in my husband's life

I realized today that my bloggy friends haven't met my husband's other love. This is his dog, Maddie. Maddie is an English Springer Spaniel and still a puppy. She lives with my hubs during the week and with all of us on the weekends. She is spoiled rotten and sometimes a pain in the neck, but she's really good for Kev. She gives my hubs somebody to come home to, somebody to play with, and most importantly sometimes, a way to distract him from what he's missing at home. I am sometimes jealous of my husband's four-legged gal (never thought I'd say that!), but I'm also really glad she's there for him. Please say hello to Maddie.

simplifying my life

Life's kicking my rear these days. In an attempt to regain some control, I've decided to simplify my life. After much thought, these are the things bringing me stress, so I've decided to get rid of a few of them in order to live a stress-free life.

Classified Ad #1:

2 kids. slightly used. apparently disciplined little. no tricks, mostly housebroken, and great company--never a dull minute. great deal. owner financing possible. no trades considered. interested? call me.

Ad #2

Antique, classic matched set of parents. Very independent and head-strong. Not for beginners. Requires attention. Comes with great insurance. Matched set of in-laws also available--call for details.

Ad #3

Cozy home available. Decorated in comfortable, lived-in, tornado-blew-through style. Comes with own set of dirty dishes and dirty laundry. will consider all trades that come with hired help (maid/gardener, etc.). Great possibilities for ad #1.

Ad #4

2006 SUV available. umpteen million miles. no major outside damage (thanks to the thousands spent at the body shop after that darn deer ran in front of me. . .). inside decorated in we-live-in-it style (no extra cost!!). Outside currently decorated with 3 inches of dirt/mud. will consider clean up for right price. CALL TODAY!!!

That's it. That's all I can find to rid myself of stress, so until someone calls/contacts me about above, it looks like I'll continue to be one step away from checking myself into a place with padded walls. . .And this post is totally intended as a joke. I would never consider trading my kids or my parents. After all, have you seen some of the other options out there?!

on my soapbox again

Apparently, David Letterman engaged in some inappropriate behavior with female coworkers. Now, he's apologized. Millions tuned in to hear his apology. Basically, he had the best ratings CBS has turned in for awhile. At what point do we stop rewarding bad boys for behaving like bad boys? At what point do men behaving badly face repercussions for their actions? Yes, he made a mistake, and we're all going to make mistakes. However, there just seems to be an air of laissez faire permeating our society these days. Of course, I suppose many generations could say this (the ages of speak easies and Woodstock come to mind).

Maybe I'm just a little introspective over the idea of turning the big. . .oh, never mind. My question to those of you around my age (child bearing/rearing age): Are we making a difference in the world? I'm an idealist who likes to "fix" everything. Things I should leave to God are things I end up trying to fix. We all know how that turns out. . .However, I think every generation tries to make the world a better place for their offspring. Are we doing that? Are we truly making a difference in the world around us? Two (go HERE and HERE for more info) of my favorite bloggers recently blogged about fairly small steps they've taken with their families to impact our world. What are you doing? Do you think we can ever "fix" the world? What are you teaching your children to care passionately about? Discuss amongst yourselves now. Go.

like mother like son

My son can be a little blonde. I have no idea where he gets it. Then again, I once walked into a glass door, leaving lipstick prints on it. The glass door was in my small hometown at my mother's place of employment. Can we all say, "SMOOTH?!" I guess he comes by it naturally.

This weekend, we were attempting to turn into a bank parking lot. It was impossible. Apparently, you can't turn in if you're travelling west, but if you go up one block, double back, and travel to the east end of the parking lot, you can get there. Got that?

After finally pulling up to the ATM, I said, "I've never been so confused in my life."

To which my son replied, "Boy, I have."

pleading the fifth

My mother-in-law has a job that sometimes entails putting ads in newspapers. (Not THOSE kind of ads!) Anyway, she recently put an ad in a non-English newspaper, and this is the email she received.

Um, no comment.

If you're having trouble reading the email (sorry--I just can't get it big enough without distorting it!), the body says

Good afternoon Donna, this is the ad that we will run this Thursday, October 1, please let me know if everything is ok.

Thank you for your bossiness and having a wonderful afternoon.

because nana said so

This week is the book fair at school. Kyler was very excited to take his money and pick out a few books.

Kyler: I had to ask that lady in the book fair how much my book was. She said it was $7.00, but you know what?

Me: What?

Kyler: That was the price in CANADA! It was only $5.00 here. I still had money left over!

Me (because I love to hear how his mind works. . .): Why do you think things cost more in Canada?

Kyler: Because they have more money there.

Me: Oh, really?

Kyler: What? That's what Nana said.

And we all know Nana is always right. . .even when she doesn't remember actually saying that. . .

and that's the only difference?

Kady has officially hit the traumatic three's. One minute she's hyper, and the next, she's showing a lot of maturity. One minute she's inconsolable, and the next, she's reasoning very well for a toddler. Last night, she raced circles through the house. I caught her and accused her of being a monkey. She denied this, saying, "Mama, I don't have a tail!" I'm pretty sure that could be the only difference at this point. . .oh, except for that whole flinging poo thing. She hasn't done that. . .yet. Although, now that I think about it, she did fling the remote control last night. . .

and nana gets in on the action. . .

This is my mom's first blog post. She actually sent this out as an email. And, no, I don't think it's weird to feed saltines to horses. I once had a horse that loved cheeseburgers. Now, THAT was weird!

Just wanted to share a funny from Kady. She was at the house with me the other day and she wanted something to snack on. She was trying to stay awake and she has a really pitiful way of saying, "Nana, I'm still hungee" I was showing her what we had to eat and I asked if she wanted some peanut butter and crackers Papa keeps to snack on. She didn't want that, so I showed her saltine crackers....She said, "No, Nana, that's horse crackers!" Rachel likes to feed the horse crackers and Kady thought those were horse feed!

we survived. . .and have the scars to prove it

I hate children's birthday parties. I love children. I love my children, and I would do anything to make them happy--most of the time. Therefore, last Sunday, we subjected ourselves to 2 birthdays celebrating 3 children turning one year older. The kids had a blast, and truthfully, I suppose you can't complain about another excuse to eat birthday cake! However, awkward conversation with distant family members, one too many sugar highs, and a run-ragged Sunday make me wish we were through with birthdays for awhile. (We're not. We still have three this month. . .I guess you know what people here do in January. . .) As we left the last party on Sunday, Kady was heard screaming, "I no wanna go home. I wanna stay with Sissy! She's my best friend!" I'm pretty sure they're birthday'ed out as well--whether they know it or not. How about you? Do you live for children's parties or are you the official wall flower, like moi?

Need I remind you that the Hogs are still undefeated?! It doesn't matter that they had a week off. It's the record that counts! : )

can you hear me now?

My dad is not a fan of technology. He still has no idea how to work his VCR. Yes, that's VCR--you can forget about the DVD player! He recently got a cell phone. Now, when he's out and about, we're all subjected to random "Can you hear me now?" phone calls. Then, when he gets home, he calls from his home phone to make sure you really could hear him. . .I suppose that voice he hears on the other end could be someone from the cell phone company or government convincing you that cell phones really work. . .[sigh] Parents. 'nuff said.

It's probably not a good sign when. . .

you find chocolate on your bra and you're supposed to be on a diet. . .

you drop your child off late for the third day in a row. . .

you write a political blog post and nobody comments. . .

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Politically speaking, I am somewhere left of of many of you, and somewhere to the right of the rest of you. Now that that is clear as mud, I'm going to enter the dangerous politically-charged, on-my-soapbox arena. I watched with fascination as the warnings began posting on facebook: Obama to implement Hitler-esque youth brigade, etc. I clicked on links that took me to conservative website after conservative website searching for exactly what my son might be exposed to. Yet, I found no evidence that Obama was beginning to grow a funny mustache OR indoctrinate my son, although I was curious as to what exactly the text of the speech might be. I watched and read the speech yesterday, and I found nothing objectionable to me.

I do respect every parent's right to limit what his or her child is exposed to. There is much in this worldly world that I do NOT want my babies exposed to/influenced by, and I respect that each parent has his or her own belief systems. (For example, we do not read/watch the Twilight series. We stress creationism, despite the fact that evolution is taught exclusively in our school system.)

I find it odd that my son's school made the choice to not show the speech at all. We were not given an opt in choice. The speech was simply not shown. It seems that some parents threatened to keep their children home from school if the school showed the speech at all.

I do not always agree with the president. I didn't always agree with the last president, and I think it's safe to say that I will never agree wholeheartedly with any president 100% of the time. Growing up, I remember my parents voicing their disagreement with the president, but it was always done with a note of civility towards the rabbit ears on the tv. I remember a respect for the job that appears absent today.

What (apparently) started as a way for the highest elected official in our country to encourage our youth somehow morphed into an agenda to further criticize one point of view over another, to further split party lines, to disrespect the office of the president. As for me and my house, we WILL serve the LORD. We will also show respect to all people, regardless of their political, religious, cultural, or educational beliefs, including the man elected to lead our country.

That is all. Please feel free to comment. How did your school handle this subject?

scary times

I've been a little absent from this blog for awhile now. It's not intentional. I've said before that this is my therapy. This is my place to unwind, decompress, let it all out. Unfortunately, life is crazier than it has ever been. My office now has 4 people doing more work than when we were 9 people. Hmm, and they say productivity has improved in these tough economic times. How brilliant they are!

Anyway, I dreamed last night that I was laid off. I walked in one day and they were telling us to go home. The scary part is it happened to others this week. Thus, I think I should concentrate on work 24/7 just to be on the safe side (and don't even think about taking a look into my house right now!!).

My point: Thank you, thank you, thank you to anyone sticking around to read my sporadic posts that have become increasingly disjointed and odd. I shall post whenever possible, but I understand if you decide to stop following/reading.

weight loss update

12 pounds. I need to lose 12 pounds, so I can go on the cruise I promised myself. Other than cutting off a limb, does anyone have any other weight loss ideas?

AND THE WINNER IS. . .

Ok, that wasn't really supposed to be all caps, but. . .

The winner of the giveaway fun basket is "G"!!! Unfortunately, she must forfeit her prize for her comment regarding Tigers. . .just kidding. Please send me your contact info. You can either email me at rlkendr [at] yahoo.com.

Here are your random numbers:3
Timestamp: 2009-08-31 21:17:03 UTC

May you all have a great week!

Life in Paradise

Last week, I took my son out to dinner and a movie. While eating out, we saw my high school science teacher and my childhood Girl Scout leader. (They were not together.) It's certainly interesting living in Paradise. Paradise, as you know, is a town small enough that you always know or know of someone wherever you may go. It's more than just interesting, however. When you go to town and see someone like your former Girl Scout leader, the nicest woman who ever lived, you sit up a little straighter. You think before you speak. You worry about what others might think or say.

I was not perfect as a child, and I was even further from perfect as a teenager in Paradise. However, there is an accountability in small towns. I knew that whatever I did would probably get back to my parents at some point. Even if my parents didn't hear, there are somethings you don't want everyone in town talking about. . .

In these days of violent town hall meetings and constant bickering, I wonder what the world might be like if we all lived like we were in Paradise. . .If we all took the time to think before we spoke. . .If we were careful and considerate of how our actions affected those close to us. . .I know I'm not proposing any novel idea, but I do believe I'm proposing an idea that's long been abandoned by some.

I might die

She types, moving one finger at a time, trying somehow to type without moving. . .Alas, movement is inevitable, yet pain filled. . .

Exercise Rule #4: Thou shalt not tell thy trainer it is time to "step it up."

My trainer, Lady of Death, tried to kill me yesterday. She offered promises of buns of steel, a shapely waist, skinny clothes, and cruises clad in swimsuits. I, however, was not misled. While completing lunges of acrobatic type and enough squats to kill a frog, I mentioned her hedonistic personality that had suddenly emerged. She laughed and muttered something about "10 more."

I would hunt her down and hurt her today, but it's almost time to take more ibuprofen. I am also busy trying to take back every bad thing I said about movie stars. They earn every penny they're paid. It's tough work being skinny, and I'm not even there yet! Quick, someone find me a stunt double before next week!

Don't forget to sign up for my goodybag giveaway! You can enter by leaving a comment on this post or the previous post. Drawing will be August 28 @ noonish CST.

random thoughts. . .please join in

1. How can my brother and I be so different?
2. Where did my summer go and why is work so busy? (A twofer)
3. Will the Hogs have a winning year?
4. Will Kyler have a good year of school?
5. When will I win the lottery?
6. Will I hit my goal weight?
7. When will life slow down?
8. How does one handle family strife in a "normal" family?
9. How will I cope with the month of September with all the birthdays, etc., it brings? (Funny note: accidentally typed Septembeer--Freudian slip?)
10. Will we ever get our house ready to sell?

So, what's up with you?

It's been awhile since we had a giveaway. Let's say one lucky commenter will recieve a goody bag that has yet to be constructed. Just comment and I'll draw a number on Friday, August 28th, around noon CST. You do not need to have a blog--you can leave a comment annonymously, but make sure I can contact you somehow.

just sayin'

Now comes the time when I alienate EVERYONE who reads my blog. Yes, both of you.

Have you noticed how many. . .and here I'm not sure how to say this. . .

1. Blogs are written by Latter Day Saints

OR

2. Latter Day Saints blog.

I'm not Mormon, but I mean no disrespect to any LDS readers. In browsing blogs, I slowly began to notice that many were from Utah (not that everyone in Utah is LDS), and how many blogs in general were written by LDS moms.

Is it just me? Has anyone else noticed this? Or have I stumbled on some type of LDS blog link. . .(which I'm thinking is a possibility since LDS families are often large and perhaps the blog writers are all related, linking me from one to one to one. . .)

I love reading blogs, and there are some great blogs out there of LDS families. I just think it seems an oddly disproportionate number. . .

My head hurts. I feel like Seinfeld trying not to offend anyone (I'm not Mormon--not that there's anything wrong with that!). Comment, please. Weird blog connections you've witnessed, etc.?

my little (big) man

Kyler started 3rd grade on Wednesday. His teacher is a "hottie," in case you're wondering. He'll probably need three years of therapy when he finds out I quoted him about that on my blog. . .Oh, well, it won't be the only thing he needs therapy about.

Back to school. As a mom who works full time, I was really sad to see summer end this year. I miss getting to stay up later watching movies or taking a day off to go swimming, etc. (Not that we actually did much of that, but the option was there, ya' know?) However, I think 3rd grade is going to be a great year for my little (big) man. He came home yesterday and said, "It was AWESOME!" Praise from an 8-year-old does not get better than that.

When I dropped Kyler off at school this morning, my little (big) man asked me to walk him into his class one last time. It truly may be the last time, because I know that soon he won't want me to do anything for him. Having your mother walk in with you will be SO humiliating (with accompanying eye roll, if he's anything like I was. . .Note to self: Have I said sorry today to my parents?) I'm really surprised he allowed it now. This is the same child that began dressing himself at 2 1/2 years of age and taught HIMSELF how to ride a bike without training wheels. (There was a longer wait at the baby sitter's house for the bike with training wheels, so one day, he worked and he worked and he fell down and he worked and he fell down and he. . .until he could ride a bike without training wheels.)

I'm not sure how I got lucky enough to walk in with him this morning, but I'm grateful for these days--these days when I see that flicker of the little boy that he will always be to me. God truly blessed me when he gave me my little (big) man.

ever notice. . .

1. Did you ever notice that bad things come in a string? My daughter has pneumonia (in August. . .). My son is having stomach issues. What's next? Forgive me for being absent. I seem to be fighting off plagues, frost bite, etc., before school starts. . .

2. Did you ever notice that if you wait till the last moment to buy school supplies, there will be NO pencils. Sure, they have ink pens in all shapes, sizes, colors, etc., but they require pencils in third grade. There will also be only pink pencil boxes, and even if your son is colorblind, it is inadvisable to buy him a pink pencil box. . .

3. Did you ever notice that just about the time you give up on your husband doing something romantic, he puts the kids to bed or takes you out to eat or does the dishes? It's the little things, y'all.

4. Did you ever notice that flat tires only occur at inopportune moments? For the record, I have no future as a NASCAR pit crew member, but I can change a flat tire in slightly under an hour. Of course, if they had to clean out the back of the race car to get to the spare, we might have comparable times. . .

5. Did you ever notice that God answers prayers in the strangest ways?

6. Did you ever notice that summer goes way too fast?

That said, God is good. He has blessed us exponentially and continues to bless us. School starts Wednesday. Please pray with me that Kyler has an amazing teacher like last year.

butterflies don't do that

Kev doesn't care for pizza. . .normally. He will occasionally eat it, but he NEVER asks for it. A few weekends ago, he asked to go out to "the Hut" for pizza on Saturday night, which is a story unto itself. . .Once I ascertained he was not kidding, was not feverish, and truly did want to eat pizza, I agreed.

On the way, Kady asked what was on the windshield. It was bird poop. (Didn't see that one coming, did you?) We explained that a bird had pooped on Daddy's windshield, which then led to a long conversation. Eventually, the two-year-old tired of learning why exactly (her daddy thinks) a bird poops on a windshield, and she pointed out a butterfly outside her window. Kevin (being himself) began teasing her about her new found butterfly pooping on the windshield. She quickly informed him otherwise. "Daddy, I lub (love) butterflies. Butterflies do NOT poop." Who could doubt the logic in that?

Ssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!

We're back from vacation, and I have to say that vacation rocks. Work, well, it's here. . . : )

Don't tell my hubby, but I took the kiddos to have their pictures professionally made while we were on vacation. For the sneak peek, go HERE. (Scroll down to see big brother, little sister pics.) Didn't she do a fabulous, amazing job?!

More about our vacation exploits later. . .Work beckons.

You've got WHAT on your hands?

This post was originally published on Wednesday, November 12, 2008. This post has gotten more comments than any other I've ever written. I guess doe pee resonates--who knew?!

Forgive me in advance for any false information I share. I am not a deer hunter. I grew up around them. I might have even attempted the hunting thing a time or two. However, the only deer I've ever killed was trying to outrun my car. . .Another story for another day. . .

Kev and Kyler went hunting close to our house this weekend. In fact, they just walked out in "our" woods to their tree stand to hunt. Can we just take a moment for me to realize how blessed I am?

Ok, I'm back. Kyler is really beginning to enjoy this hunting thing, so Kev is letting him do more and more. This time he let Kyler drag the "scent." This involves putting doe pee on a cotton ball and pulling it with a string to lure the buck in. (The buck smells a doe and comes around to find the amazingly, seductive-smelling doe.) Now, most of you are thinking doe pee is not high on the list of things you want to smell in your life. I can now assure you that you are right.

Apparently, somewhere on the way to the tree stand, Kyler dropped the string upon which the cotton ball was attached. Kevin realized this when he turned around and saw Kyler HOLDING the cotton ball. He asked Kyler why he was holding the cotton ball, and Kyler said he had dropped the string. At which time, he apparently thought it would be easier to just hold the cotton ball containing doe urine. . .Really, Kev, it's not like you explained the process to your son. . .(Can you picture Kyler's mind working to try and figure out exactly why pulling a cotton ball on a string was going to make them better deer hunters? I can.)

Kyler then spent the next hour or so sitting in a tree, smelling like a deer whizzed on him, and (bless his heart) holding his hand up for the wind to blow the smell off him. Ah, good times. When they came home, Kyler was sent to wash his hands IMMEDIATELY. When he returned, he (Moms, y'all know where this is going. . .) asked (not his dad but) me to smell his hands. Let's just say he had to rewash them. . .In closing, let me share what we learned from this experience.

Lessons learned:

1. The cotton ball goes on the ground.
2. At all times, the cotton ball goes on the ground.
3. DO NOT TOUCH the cotton ball.
4. Boys are gross.
5. Wind, water, soap, steel wool, acid (I jest) will not remove the scent of doe urine.
6. Do NOT respond to the words, "Mom, smell this."
7. Ever.
8. No matter what.

swallow--don't gag! no, swallow, now!! revisited

Originally published Friday, August 8, 2008, and yes, I'm still late to everything!

Those of you who know me well know that I am NEVER on time. (Don't tell my dad! He's always 90 minutes early. "Better get there. Something could happen, you know?" "What, Dad? A nuclear holocaust? In that case, Dr. Ezell will have bigger things to do than work on your teeth!")

I am lucky that work allows me to be. . .um. . .flexible in my arrival and departure. Amazingly, I was running ahead of schedule this morning. (I know, makes you wonder about the state of the universe, huh?) Well, I called work this morning to ask if I should make the blessed Friday donut run. They were amazed that I was out and about that early. After assuring them I was who I said I was, and no, I didn't get cloned by aliens or stay out all night. . .(Really, what is their opinion of me??), I headed to the donut store. Turns out I would still be late to work. . .

Have you ever tried to talk a 7yo into swallowing a pill? (Kyler has an ear infection, and I have to say, he swallowed the pill with little difficulty last night.) After 30(!) minutes of cajoling, harassing, threatening, etc., I left him hysterical and me emotionally traumatized. (And we wasted 3 good antibiotic pills!) We have since befriended the pharmacist and gotten liquid medicine. Some things are not meant to happen! (Sorry, Dad!)

a letter to my fellow wal-mart customers revisited

This post was originally published on Tuesday, October 21, 2008. I am pleased (yet afraid to say out loud) that it has been at least a month since Kady threw a fit in Wal-Mart. Of course, it's been a month since we've been to Wal-Mart. . .but on a positive note, we did ditch the pacifier! [happy dance]

Dear Y'all,
I'm sorry. Yes, I am THAT mom, and that was my daughter. I'm sure you heard us. You know, the 2-year-old who screamed ALL THE WAY through Wal-Mart. I know several of you thought about calling DHS. Some of you even had your phones out (and may have made the call . . .). I would just like to explain my side of the story (before DHS gets here).

I rarely go to Wal-Mart, and when I do, I usually grab just the essentials. This time, the essentials took up more than my two arms could carry. . .so I got a shopping cart. It turns out my very determined and head-strong daughter (she was Ssssssooooooooo switched at birth with some other totally sweet and laid-back child) didn't want to sit in the cart. She wanted me to hold her. Call me a failure, but I am not able to push the cart and hold her. Thus, she attempted to make the great escape. . .by flinging herself out of the cart. So, while it's quite possible that it looked like I was throwing her out of the cart, I was actually holding her in. I PROMISE.

Shall I just point out that my lovely daughter has red hair? (and the temperament to go with it. . .) This is the child that will have the pacifier until the day that the orthodontist removes it from her braces. This is the child that refused to apologize to her daddy for over thirty minutes after she hit him. This is the child that holds her own against children two times her size. . .not that her brother has anything to do with that. . .And, while we're at it, did you notice my other child standing quietly? (He was thoroughly embarrassed as well. . .)

I'm sorry. I can't say that enough. I know that many of you go to Wal-Mart simply to relax and enjoy the calm, less-frenzied atmosphere. No? Oh, well, then surely you'll forgive me. And, if not, we'll wait till you return to Wal-Mart and you can hold my daughter in the cart. Thanks, for the offer, by the way.

Sincerely,

Well, you can call DHS to get my name and contact information. They'll probably have me on their frequent offender list by tomorrow. . .Just ask for "That Woman in Wal-Mart."

do you smell that?

Within the last month, two different family members have given me 8 different types of shampoo (many of which are travel size. . .I think we have an issue with hotel thievery. . .), 2 full bottles of body wash, and an entire line of skincare products (not to mention 2 sets of shoes and a "just another day in paradise" tote bag). . .What does this say about me? That I'm cheap? I need to bathe more? That I'll take anything?

Theories?

Oddly, I'm not offended and am actually quite pleased with my plunder. . .

Vacation beckons as of today. Like any good "show," this one shall be running reruns for a few good days. Prop your feet up, sit back, eat some cheesecake, drink a Diet Dr. Pepper and enjoy the show. . .That's what I'll be doing, after all!

he might be a giant

Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Kyler. He had ear infection after ear infection. No one could clear them up. No one could make them go away. They became a way of life for Kyler. One day, he went to a new ear, nose, throat doctor. He made his ears better over time. However, on that day, the doctor asked over and over again, "HOW old are you?" The doctor then said, "You're going to be a giant someday."

That little boy is growing up to be a giant.

My 8-almost 9-year-old needs size 14 jeans for school this year. I think he HAS to play basketball. Isn't it a law somewhere that if you're a certain height you must play basketball? It's boding well for his future as a Razorback, however. . . : )

quite possibly conspiring to take over the world

My kids fight. There, I said it. I try to stop it. I try to minimize it. I try to referee or interfere or exterminate it. I thought with 6 years between them, the sibling wars would be at a minimum. Unfortunately, that has not been the case. I've spent the last couple of years pretending (to the outside world) that it doesn't happen. I learned yesterday that perhaps I should be more concerned about their getting along in order to conspire together.

Kevin and Kyler worked all day Saturday to clear a wooded area where our new water line will go. (Side note: Just because you ask the well driller and he says he wouldn't drill any deeper, don't believe him. DRILL DEEPER.) With this new water line, I can have a pool, or a jacuzzi, or a professional laundry business, or. . .sorry, I got sidetracked. Where was I? Oh, so, Kevin and Kyler worked hard at clearing the brush out. Kevin let Kyler, our 8-year-old!, drive his old pickup. He let him DRIVE, as in brake and gas and all. Granted, it was just in the yard, but you can understand how a mother might get a little. . .um. . .nervous about something like that, right? Anyway, somehow, my 8-year-old son and husband survived the weekend without any motor vehicle accidents.

Monday morning dawns bright and early. Kady announces she does not want to go to the Best-babysitter-in-the-world's house. Considering we can all be a little cranky in the morning (although that's usually reserved for Kyler and me), I didn't think anything about it. I continued getting ready and slowly started listening to the conversation taking place in my bedroom. Kady was trying to talk Kyler into driving her to see Daddy. Kyler was explaining that it would take 4 hours to get down there, and Daddy would be at work by the time they got there.

My question is this: How worried should I be? And, could you send Kyler home if you notice him cruising by your house, please?

FYI

I have updated my list of blogs I read (located near the bottom of the page on the right). Now, you can find most of the blogs I read on a regular basis. IF you do NOT want your blog included, please let me know (either leave a comment or email me). Otherwise, show these amazingly creative people some love, would ya?

rednecks R us gets married

My boss (AKA Boss Lady) grew up in an even smaller town than me. The county she's from has NO stop lights in it. None. Not even one. She pointed out this engagement announcement yesterday. . .

(Names and places have been hidden to protect privacy. I can assure you this is an ACTUAL engagement announcement in an ACTUAL paper in Arkansas.)




A*** F*** of Etown and R*** F*** of Ltown announce the engagement and approaching marriage of their daughter, H*** R*** F***, to C*** L*** Y***, son of S*** and D*** R*** of Ptown and L** Y*** of Pville. The ceremony is planned for 2 p.m. Saturday, July 18 (2009) at Fort D***. Family and friends are invited to attend the ceremony and the reception following and bring a covered dish.

Ok. Let's think about this. You might be a redneck if

• you request people bring their own food to the reception.


• you get married at the creek (FYI Boss Lady just confirmed that Fort D*** is a spot on the creek. It's where everyone swims on Piney Creek. I could not make that up.)


• your tattoos show in the engagement announcement.


• you have rebel flag tattoos.


• you are wearing scrubs in your engagement announcement.


• you wear a shirt that the sleeves have been ripped out.


• you wear a camouflage hat for said picture.


• you marry a man that does the above.

Now, help me show these people the love, ok? : )

church lady says. . .

Two aunts and an uncle came to have lunch with my parents yesterday. I think they just wanted to make sure we were taking good care of my dad (Harley) since the big medical scare of '09. . .Evidently, we passed, because they have returned home. While they were here, my dad wanted to take his sister, brother, and sister-in-law to tour the church my parents have always attended. (If you know my dad, you understand that last sentence. If you don't, let me just say, my dad is eccentric, and it's amazing I'm THIS normal. . .)

Their church has a food pantry that is open on Wednesday. A friend of theirs was working at the food pantry. We'll call him Jack. Dad explained that they were showing his family the church. Jack said it was a good church--a good place to be. He then told my family, "We're open every day. We're even open on Sunday, Harley."

Speaking of that church, Kyler and Kady have been attending vacation Bible school there this week. Kady is not really old enough, but she doesn't believe that. They kindly let her attend the pre-K class, where she's been fairly attentive. The music portion is quite entertaining. Kady sings at the top of her lungs and dances to her song. Our conversation after VBS last night went like this.

Me: Kady, you did a great job singing!
Kady: Thanks! (and she starts singing. . .)
Me: Kady, on Sunday, you have to sing what the other kids are singing.
Kady: Oh.
Me: You have to make the same hand movements as the other kids, too.
Kady: Oh.
Me (since we're on a roll here. . .): If you look at Mrs. Jennifer, she'll tell you what to sing and what to do with your hands.
Kady: Oh.

Hmmm. Perhaps preparation is not one of my strong suits. . .On the plus side, Kady does appear to make a joyful (Spirit-filled!) noise.

Alright, let's here it. If you noticed the title, you may (or not) have realized that it was based on a Saturday Night Live character. What's your favorite cast or character of SNL? I have a theory on this, so please share. . .

small town life

Living in a small town is all about making connections. I don't mean the type of connections where you know the dirt on the mayor or city council members (although I just might. . .). Life in a small town is about finding common ground with those around you. It's just what you naturally do. If a small-town citizen meets someone from Los Angeles, the first thing they'll say is, "I once had a cousin that moved to L.A." It's not that we think you might know said cousin. It's that we need that common ground. We need to feel that connection to you in some way. Why? Because life in a small town is made up of those very complicated, twisted, convoluted connections. After having lived in the same area for most of my life (and now working in that same small area), my connections are sounding something like this.

Her mother was once married to my husband's father.

Her father is the one who ****, and her mother used to work for ****.

Her ex-husband is the one who ***, and she graduated with ****. She used to work at ****. Her mother is the one who ****.

Her grandmother is the one who ***. Her aunt works at Dr. ***'s office. Her mom works at the **** school. She's ****'s cousin.

We went to grade school together. She once ***. Her little sister is the one who ****. She married ***.

These are honest-to-goodness descriptions of people I know. This is how your brain works when you live in a small town. This is also how you describe people to others. Eventually, you find a way to explain who you're talking about. Usually, it's not that they don't know the person, it's simply that you haven't found your mutual connection.

This was made clear to me this weekend when we took M and L (my nephews by marriage) to the rodeo in our small town. These boys are used to living in the "big" city. They are not used to knowing everyone at a community event. Every time Travis walked by, they would shout, "THERE'S TRAVIS!" or "HEY, Travis" or "Kyler, there's your buddy, Travis."

The only problem with this? Travis is a grown man. He was meeting his girlfriend's friends for the first time. . .who just happened to be sitting right below us. I can only hope they didn't hear the two wild hooligans sitting behind me. . . Those are connections you might not want to make.

Goodbye medical school

Kyler and Kady were lucky enough to spend some time with two of their cousins this weekend. It was a blast for the kids. I took all but Kady to the rodeo Saturday night. More about that later.

Last night, the youngest cousin, L, threw up. We had just finished eating pizza. The kids had gotten up to play a few more minutes before they all had to return to their respective homes. L just started throwing up. The older boys, Kyler and M, made typical 8 year-old boy noises, e.g., "ew, gross!," "Dude, he's throwing up!," "man, that's gross." Kady started making little coughing noises, which quickly turned into gagging noises. Then, she started throwing up.

MooMoo, the nurse grandma, looked at me and said, "Well, it looks like Kady does not have a career in the medical field." Goodbye medical school. Hello law school.

P.S. Luckily, everyone was well after this.

if only I were kidding. . .

Today was a day like any other. We were headed to work/babysitter. Both kids were in their little worlds. I was driving slowly and cautiously [clears throat] down the dirt road. (My mom reads this.)

Then, Kyler saw a turtle. Before I could truly get stopped, he was out of the car and running to the turtle (or terrapin, if you prefer). He talked me into letting him take it to the babysitter to show the other kids. Then, we were to turn the turtle loose. . .

I expected the turtle to ride peacefully in the floorboard of my car. I didn't expect a wild, out-of-control rock-star turtle who would trash my car. What I got was this. . .

(Don't look at the dirty carpet!)

That would be a mountain of turtle poop. I decided (not knowing the best way to clean turtle poop up) that it might be best to let it dry, and then vacuum and scrub the mess up, lest I smear turtle poop everywhere (eewwwwww!).

Yep, that's my life. . . and this afternoon I might trade places with you. . . if anyone is interested in cleaning up turtle poop.

let's go to vegas. . .

I've never been a gambler. I have gambled exactly once in my life. Kev and I thought it was sad that we had made it to the tender ages of, well, the age wasn't important. The fact is, we wanted to see what we had missed, so one year for my birthday, we loaded up and drove exactly one state over to gamble. It turns out we weren't really missing anything. Now, to be fair, if I had better luck, I might feel differently, but my luck stinks. You know the saying, "If she didn't have bad luck, she wouldn't have any luck at all?" That's me.

I'm also a "usually by the books" kinda girl. I might bend the rules a little, but I'm too afraid of getting in trouble to do too much. For example, we have uniforms at work. They are quite emphatic that we wear solid color scrubs (in our departmental color). Many cheat and wear this or that, but I'm always in my solid color scrubs.

It just so happens that we spent an impromptu weekend with Kev. We hadn't planned on going down at all, but we did. Then, he talked us into staying until this morning (at which point we had to get up EARLY and drive 3 1/2 hours in the pouring rain. . .but it was worth it). The point that I'm slowly making is that I am out of uniform today. Today happens to be the day my manager got an email encouraging her to encourage her staff to adhere to the dress code. . .

I'm thinking of renting out my services in Vegas. I could help people know what not to bet on. You know, if I bet red, you should bet black, etc. Whaddya think?

33 years of devotion

My mom and dad were married 33 years ago today. It's been a crazy 33 years (not that I was around for all of it. . .), but they've made it. My dad is not always easy to live with. He can be a bear, actually. He used to have a quick temper, but that's mellowed over the years. My mom can be somewhat emotional. She can be impulsive at times. She can carry a grudge. . .

There is, however, one personality trait they have in common: their strong devotion to family. Growing up, I always knew my parents would be there for me. No matter what I did, my parents would love me and support me. They have different ways of sharing that love, but there is no doubt the love is there.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO THE BEST PARENTS IN THE WORLD!!

where I completely jump the gun

In an effort to be completely new and unlike anyone else, I'll update you on what's going on in my life. Mom and Dad are getting older. You've read how Dad gave us quite a scare a few weeks ago. (It turns out it was his birthday that week, and he was feeling a little overlooked. Just kidding, but he did spend his birthday in the hospital's cardiac care unit. . .blech.) Mom and Dad have a farm. They have cattle and horses. Dad is looking to sell the cattle, but he will probably keep a few horses. My brother has been doing most of the farm work over the last couple of years. He's fairly newly married (about 2 years) with a fairly new job and will soon have 2 kiddos to chase after. He's busy with his own life, and I'm not sure how long he'll live near our parents.

Enter me.

Kevin, the kids, and I went to Mom and Dad's last weekend. We picked out a place to BUILD OUR HOUSE!! We are absolutely, positively, completely in LOVE with fifty acres to the north and west of my parents. I'm so excited, but unfortunately, I'm jumping the gun a little. First, we have to sell our house. Then, we have to get all of our ducks in a row. Finally in eighteen (!) months or so, we'll get to build. . . Kevin would be embarrassed if he even knew I was already blogging about this. (Luckily, he doesn't read my blog. . .)

Now, I'll be near enough to Mom and Dad to help out. I can be there if they need me. It's going to be much easier than driving 30 minutes from work to their house and then an hour from their house to my house. We will be far enough to give each other some privacy, but I hope they're looking forward to this as much as I am!!

That's all folks. No pictures (yet). No floor plans yet. No house on the market, even. Let's all pray that everything moves quickly, or I'm going to be a nervous wreck!!

If you follow Queen B (and who doesn't?!), you know she's currently building a house. Let's keep this copy cat post to ourselves, shall we?

weight loss update

I sit here eating a white chocolate chip macadamia nut cookie. Don't laugh. The truth is, I've lost 18 pounds so far. Numerous inches have also banished themselves from my waist and thighs. I am thrilled. Kevin is thrilled simply because I'm thrilled. (He says he couldn't care less what I weigh. . .) I told him when I started this that I needed a big incentive to lose this weight. He came through. He has agreed to take me on a cruise (his idea of torture) if I get to my goal weight. I have 12 pounds to go. You read that right. 12 pounds. I can totally do this, right?! So, ideas, suggestions are welcome (and keep me motivated). Give me cruise ideas, hints, tips, etc., please. Oh, and Kevin claims he'll get a spray-on tan when we go. Don't worry, that's definitely blog-worthy! : )

head, shoulder, tickle bugs, and toes

Kev is the fun parent. He tickles the kids. He wrestles with them. He's always there when we do fun stuff. I'm the boring, always-there parent, who gets them dressed and fed and in the bed. The other night, I was quizzing Kady on body parts. I asked her what her shoulders, knees, etc., were named. She was doing great. Then, I showed her my fingers and asked what they were. She hesitated just a moment and said, "Ticklebugs!!" I guess I'm glad Kev's not the only one that has ticklebugs.

boys vs. girls

I tend to view myself as fairly open minded about many things. When I became a parent, my goal was to develop intelligent, empathetic, independent thinkers, who would one day conquer the part of the world they inhabited (whatever part that might be). (I'm also slightly optimistic. . .)

I had everything planned. My kids were going to enjoy school. They would love reading, yet be very athletic. They would be kind and helpful, hardworking and studious. Rigid gender stereotypes would be forgotten and definitely unlearned.

Oops.

No one told me (or maybe I didn't listen) that gender stereotypes are largely unlearned. They are ingrained in their DNA or something. As much as I wanted Kyler to be kind to the baby doll we had when he was a toddler, he insisted on throwing it or shooting it or . . .I was a little worried, or um, I was highly worried but tried not to show it. Somewhere along the way, I realized that Kyler is a wonderfully kind and sweet young man who doesn't give a flip about playing with a baby doll. . .and that's ok.

Along came Kady. She loves to play with her baby dolls. She loves "Barbie" dresses (frilly dresses whose skirt will twirl with her). She "mothers" everything. She is, for lack of a better word, a total girl!

That brings me to my final thought. (Or not, you know how I love to ramble. . .) The kids both made cards for their daddy. Kyler's was cute and boyish (with guitars and such on it). Kady's was girly with colored swirls all over it. The next morning, Kady wanted to take hers to the babysitter and show it off. She also had a doily in her hand. I told her to take the card and leave the doily. She puckered her lip and replied, "but my card might get cold. . ." You are a total girl if you think your card needs a blankie!

and yet he loves me

This post began when I answered one of those silly facebook quizzes. If you want to know how girly I am, I am 0% girly--totally tom boy! I made some cheesy comment about needing to pass gas and scratch myself to show what I thought of those results. My husband, who may possibly have made comments previously about my sometimes passing gas (topic #782 I never thought I'd write about. . .), just had to say something smarty. I may or may not have had to respond with something smarty, and he may or may not have been in trouble for the rest of the night.

Enter the next day, where we are driving home from church. In Arkansas, we have horseflies. (You may call them something else. . .) Horseflies bite. They are especially keen on biting horses (hence the name, I guess). Considering I spent a lot of time horseback growing up, I had to learn to handle horseflies. Many people just swat them, but that can be dangerous. Horses don't like horseflies (They hurt when they bite.), so they can get jumpy when the horseflies are around. Imagine hitting a horse that's already jumpy. It's not always a good idea.

Therefore, my dad has always ripped the heads off the horseflies. When I was little, I would catch them, and he would kill them for me. When I got older, I had to do the ripping myself. My husband thinks this is the grossest, most disgusting thing I've ever done. Even worse than the flatulence issue. . .You know, growing up, you don't know that things are weird. You just do as you're taught. I blame my parents for all my weirdness. . .so far, I think that's valid.

(And yes, my dad is doing better.)

mi vida loca, round 582

Posting shall be sporadic this week and possibly the beginning of next week. (OK, you got me, smarty pants. Read that last sentence: Posting shall be more sporadic than usual.)

My dad is in the hospital. A few weeks ago, he broke some ribs. He's been in a lot of pain, but otherwise, he'd been improving daily. Then, on Tuesday, he developed blood clots in his leg and lungs. Pretty serious stuff. As of yesterday pm, he is in a regular room. He is breathing better. He is getting better.

I shall now leave you with my list of what we've learned from this medical crisis/experience. (I totally feel like I'm "spinning" this to my kids. . ."Papa is sick. He's at the hospital, and they're going to make him alright.")

Top 12 things you learn in a medical crisis

1. You never want your mom to call and say, "your dad is not doing well. Can you come to the ER now?"
2. Hospitals work on their own time frame. This means it takes hours for a procedure/discharge/transfer, etc., but do not think this means you can eat or visit during random times. . .
3. No matter how many times you explain to your father what you do for a living, your dad will mess it up when he tells someone. . .but he'll do it proudly!
4. There is no comfortable place to sleep in a hospital. . .
5. but eventually, you'll look longingly at the hospital bed that your family member is resting (uncomfortably) in.
6. Getting to speak with a doctor is like winning the lottery.
7. Hospitals are noisy--even if it's just the internal ramblings tumbling through your mind at 3 am.
8. EVERYONE calls when you're in a hospital, and you do not have a phone charger.
9. No matter how many times you tell the staff that he's hard of hearing, they will talk softly and have to repeat everything.
10. My father can find out more about someone (and less about his medical condition!) in 3 minutes than most people. (Case in point: His doctor grew up in Osceola, and he could throw a rock from his house to the river growing up. . .)
11. If you wear scrubs, you will get a discount--no questions asked.
12. Words can never express an appropriate level of gratitude for the thoughts and prayers from friends, family, and strangers.

THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR PRAYERS!

tv. . . or the lack of it

We don't have a satellite or cable at our house. We have the old "rabbit ears" antenna that sits on our little 23" or so tv. Therefore, we've been without tv for a week or so now. Our two tv channels went digital with everyone else's, and we were left watching dvd reruns. It was fun to rewatch some of our old favorite movies, but there's only so many times a person can watch Indiana Jones, ya know?

Last night, I finally went to buy our digital converter box that the government has been peddling for eighteen months or so. (I'm still peeved that I had to buy it. . .) Now, we get three educational channels, ABC, and the CW. Kady and Kyler are thrilled at one of the educational channels, because it plays nothing but shows for kids. As Kyler said, "Cool! We get the Cartoon Network now!" I may be stunting my children's worldly knowledge, but that's not such a bad thing, right?

a girl (at any age) is a girl

The following exchange happened this morning at our house and is typical of just another day in paradise.

Kyler: Mom, can Kady wear these shoes? Do they actually fit her?
Me: Yes, they do.
Kyler: You mean, her foot is actually this big?
Me: Yes, babe, she's growing up.
Kady: MY FEET NO BIG, KYLER!

I'm sharing

Privacy and disclosure is something I think we all struggle with when sharing information. There are some things I am an open book on. For instance, my quasi-failures as a mom are always blogging material. I know that I do my best as a mom. I may not be the best. I may not even be good at the whole parenting thing, but I'm willing to share my foibles with the understanding that I'm trying and learning. . .constantly.


There are some things that I'm willing to share some info on, but I'm not sure you're getting the whole picture. I've mentioned I am a horrible housekeeper. I'm not sure you understand the depths to which I sink in this area, but I'm not willing to, you know, show pictures of my inadequacy.

Other things, I tend to keep to myself. We all have headaches. This blog is not my moan and groan session. It's not meant to be my "poor, little, pitiful me" platform. Therefore, I often keep bad stuff off here. (Trust me, I do.) Until today.

Here's the brief rundown. My mom has been getting over pneumonia. She's still sick, but apparently, she is getting better. (I'm ready for her to be well, and she's not there yet.) Friday night, my dad fell. He didn't go to the emergency room until Sunday night, when they diagnosed broken ribs and a punctured lung (less than 25%) and sent him home. He returns to the doctor today, so please pray he is doing well and getting better.

Kyler has been helping take care of my father. He returned to the babysitter today. When asked if he was tired of "babysitting" Papa, Kyler said, "Yes, he's always wanting a glass of water or the phone or something!" Ah, the responsibility threshold of an 8 year old!

We can read!

A wondrous thing happened this weekend. We went to church on Sunday--which is a wondrous thing, in and of itself, but that is not what this blog post is about. We were driving along and Kady asked Kev to read a book to her. Since he was driving and not as adept at multitasking as Mom (I jest--mostly), he felt it would be safer for Kyler to read the book. Kyler read the book aloud to his sister while we were driving down the road. A pretty ordinary thing perhaps. An everyday occurrence, some might say. A wondrous, magical thing if you thought it would never happen.

If you've been around here awhile, you might remember THIS post. In it, I detailed finding out that my son basically could not read. . .at least not well enough. I am so happy and proud to say that he is reading 4th grade books the summer before he enters 3rd grade. He made tremendous progress this year (with the help of The-Best-Teacher-in-the-Whole-Wide-World) and now (sometimes) enjoys reading! This is our answer to prayer. God is good.

If a tree runs a 5k. . .

I did it. I ran my first 5k last weekend. Ok, I had to walk part of it, but I'm still happy. I beat my personal best time! I did it! Truthfully, it was kinda fun. In fact, [gulp] I'm going to do another one. I want to be able to run an entire 5k, so I'm going to keep training. (I know. I think I need medication for this whole "temporary insanity" thing I've got going on! It seems to keep happening. . .)

Here's the really crazy thing. You can look up all of the runners and their times on this website. Except I'm NOT there. . .so does that mean that I didn't run or that I didn't finish or that it doesn't count or. . .I think the answer to this could save the age-old question about the tree falling in the forest thingy or at least a similar "does the race count if no one records it" question. So, what do you think?

In want of change. . .

You know how you put your dollar in the change machine at the car wash, etc., and you get out quarters? Those things hate me. Seriously. I used to believe it wasn't me. I thought I just had funny money. (Not THAT kind of funny money!) I thought that keeping my money wadded up made me the enemy of the change machine, but I refused to believe it was personal.

[sigh]

Then, I started noticing things. Someone else, anyone else really, could use my dollar easily. The machine didn't care about the dollar--it was the holder of the money. Those machines could sense my fear of them. They KNEW it was my money. They knew that I needed those quarters, and they knew that I wasn't going to get them. It became a battle, a war. It was a losing war, but one that I refused to surrender. I tried every trick in the book. (Everyone had a tip for me. . .fold it this way, hold it this way, turn it this way. . .) It was hopeless.

Except. . .

You know how I hate going to the Blue Monster? I still do. Except, I've noticed something. I can tell you that the Blue Monster's self-checkout lines do NOT discriminate. Regardless of my dislike of the Blue Monster, he has no qualms about taking my money. . .unlike his uppity car wash friends.

Rednecks R Us Returns and Offers Tidbits

Remember my impulsive decision to RUN a 5K?! Well, tomorrow is the day. I pray I survive. I am disappointed. Weird, nagging shin splints forced me backwards for awhile, so I am not where I want to be. I will NOT be able to run the whole race; I'll have to run/walk it. I'm trying to stay positive, so last night, Kady and I had fun mother-daughter time, where we treated ourselves to pedicures (and manicures, in her case). You know, a toddler can be very persuasive. She kept telling me she would make my toes pretty. She said I would "lub" it.

She's right. I do. I absolutely "lub" my fuchsia pink toes. She had to go over the toes a few times to get the spots she missed. That's right. Toes. Not toenails. (I'm not sure the picture from my phone does it justice. . .)

In other news, you know you are a redneck who lives in Arkansas, when your toddler tells you she has a tick in her ear. . .and then pulls out a white piece of wax. Eeewwwwwwwwwwwwwww!

HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND! See you Monday!

(Does anyone else think fuchsia is spelled incorrectly? It looks SO wrong, but spell check can't be wrong--can it?)