My baby on our four-legged baby last spring

kyler on Junebug, spring 2010

good question

We had to make a stop at the doughnut shop yesterday morning. Yes, we HAD to. I promised Kady. (And it had nothing to do with the fatty, gooey goodness that was in the doughnut shop. . .)

[wipes crumbs off shirt]

Anyway, as we're waiting in line, Kady noticed the dogcatcher in line in front of us. I didn't even know she knew what the dogcatcher's truck looked like, but apparently he sometimes stops in at the-best-babysitter-in-the-world's house to visit with her husband/talk to the kids. (I told you Paradise was a small town!)

After pointing out the dogcatcher, Kady asked, "Mom, why are there not cat catchers?"

I explained that I thought the dog catcher did double-duty, catching what needed to be caught.

Kady, however, knew that couldn't be right. After all, the dog catcher has dog paw prints painted on his truck but NO cat prints.

So. . .why are there no cat catchers? : )

kady: attitude and sass abound

Even wonder what exactly my daughter's personality would look like in the form of clothing?

[Well, pretend you have.]

Look no farther. I could not have summed up her personality better than the outfit she has on today. She's wearing pink cowboy boots, a pink and yellow tutu, and a t-shirt that reads "saw it, wanted it, had a fit, got it--Cowgirls Unlimited."

THAT is my Kady girl.

RIP Ellie

Item # 387, 423 "they" didn't tell you about before you had children:

Kady attended an awesome birthday party this weekend. It had a circus theme complete with a jump house and clowns. The clowns provided face painting and balloon animals (none of that scary clown stuff!). Kady chose a balloon elephant, which miraculously did not get popped. If this had been Kyler's balloon, he would have popped it within five minutes, had a minor meltdown, and moved on. Kady on the other hand, has named her elephant. She even tucks him in under a blankie each night.

Last night, we noticed Ellie (the balloon elephant) was slowly dying. . .or deflating for those of you still in the real world. Poor Ellie is suffering a slow, horrible death, which is traumatizing my daughter. She wakes up and immediately checks to see how Ellie is doing. We get home, and she determines how much more air Ellie has left. Unfortunately, Ellie is on his last breath (forgive the pun), and there's nothing this mama can do. . .unless someone can teach me how to make a balloon elephant in the next 12-48 hours. . .

Monkey What?

I bought a candle last weekend, which is not an unusual occurrence for me. I love candles. This is the first time I've ever bought a candle with this particular scent, however. One look at the candle and I could not resist. It was definitely original, and the scent was. . .um, different--not bad different, just different.

The scent?

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Monkey Farts.

Yep, you read that right. I'm saving it to use as a prank gift at Christmas (so if you're related to me, watch out. . .). I didn't realize monkeys were indigenous to Mississippi. . .Did you?

The NEW Crocodile Hunter

Kev knows no fear. The man loves adrenaline. He gladly tries any new adventure. Learning to ski as an adult? Done it. Hunt mysterious animals in the middle of nowhere? Repeatedly. Try the world's largest roller coaster? Sure, let's do it again. . .

Luckily for Kev, our little man, Kyler, is also quite the adventurer. He's tough as can be and loves trying new things. I have to constantly tell him not to run his horse, because fast is the only speed that boy knows. He kinda reminds me of Hammy on caffeine from Over the Hedge--remember that scene?

And then we had a girl. Kev worried and fretted about what this would mean. He has no sisters. He had no idea what to do with a girl. Tiaras and tea cups were foreign to my big, burly husband. Somewhere in that big jumble of chromosomes that is Kady, however, is the speed gene. Kady's first trip on the 4-wheeler ended with the words, "Go fast, Daddy, go fast!" This pink-loving, dress-wearing little girl is Kev's little adrenaline junky. (We went to a Japanese steak house this weekend. Her narrative of the events glossed over the FIRE, and instead, detailed our near-death driving experience and the fact that we drove SO FAST!!)

This morning, Lightning McKady was reminiscing. (Who knew 3-year-olds had so much to reminisce about. . .)

Mom, remember when you, me, Daddy, and Brother went in that little boat down the river?

Yep. That boat is called a canoe.

Well, it would have been more fun if there had been crocodiles.

and the award goes to. . .

We're in Mississippi--again!! We're on one last before-school-starts trip to see Kev. It was a very boring, uninspiring trip down here. . .until we were five minutes from our destination. That's when Kady decided she had to go to the bathroom and SHE COULD NOT WAIT. If you have kids, you know that when kid has to go, you better find a bathroom NOW. We stopped at the first gas station we came to, with Kady assuring me the entire time that she was JUST ABOUT TO GO--NOW!! We took one look at the bathroom, and I freaked. I've seen nasty, but this was radioactive. (Brief synopsis: unisex bathroom with visual filth, dirty mop and mop water in front of toilet, broken-long-ago soap dispenser and sink, mysterious cup sitting next to toilet, etc.) I immediately threatened my daughter within an inch of her life if she touched anything--including the sink. (I asked if she was sure she couldn't wait, and ever the optimist, she said, "um, maybe I can wait," as she danced in place. . .) I held her over the toilet and we did the "hover pee" maneuver that many of us perfected back when gas stations had outside bathrooms with keys the size of a yardstick that you had to go inside and ask for(remember those?). We then found anything we could thing of to try to sanitize our hands, e.g., Germ-X, saniwipes, bleach, mysterious acid found in car. . .The wait is on to see if we caught something contagious. . .If you need to know where the nastiest bathroom in America is, I can show you--well, at least tell you. I'm not ever going back there!

Mickey Mouse, a Dream, and a Rebel Named Nutt

Alternately Titled: I've ruined her geography skills for life or Squashing a Dream

Some people give birth to children that have MAD geography SkILz. I do not. Sure, my daughter can find her way around the small town of Paradise, but then, if you can walk in a straight line, so can you. The problem became apparent when Kev began talking about a job in Florida, you know, where the mouse with big ears and the princess in a shiny palace live. Ssssooooo, like so many insane parents out there, we tentatively began (possibly) planning a summer getaway to Disney World.

Alas, the job in Florida was not to be. Instead, Kev wound up in Mississippi--still hot, still a Southern state, but not quite the same. Kady, however, became completely confused. This confusion grew as our impending travel date to Mississippi grew closer. Somehow, my attempts to ease this confusion made it worse. Our conversations went something like this.

Kady: I want to go to Mickey-ippi.

Me: We ARE, but we're not going to Disney World.

Kady: Uh-huh. I want to go to Mickey-ippi AND go to MICKEY'S HOUSE.

(At which time, she would become so excited that all rationalization was lost.)

Thus, I fear her attitude towards Mississippi shall forever be biased. . .although on the plus side, this could insure that I NEVER, EVER have to cheer for this man again. . .

Thank you, Mickey-ippi, thank YOU.

my redneck gripe with the rebels

Hubs is working in Mississippi these days. We visited him this past weekend. My biggest complaint with the grand state of Mississippi? Y'alls bathrooms in your Wal-Marts are backwards. The women's bathroom is on the side that the men's should be on. Yes, you may judge me, but please, please be nice about it. My fragile redneck self can't take too much criticism after the fun (but tiring) weekend we had.

dear mr. postman

Please excuse the rant...it had to go somewhere.

Dear Mr. Postman,

I'm not sure what has you so confused lately. Whether it's the fact that my last name AND address are posted on my mailbox or the fact that you've been delivering our mail for 4 years now, please overcome the obstacle so that I might get MY mail and NOT my neighbor's. After a long day at work, it does me no good to find medicaid notices for the neighbor's dozen kids (with a dozen last names) or their mail from their parole officer or their (continuing) unemployment benefit status or their subscription to Pit Bull Illustrated...Whatever it takes is worth it. By the way, can I interest you in a beautiful house in a wonderful neighborhood? I hear it's got great neighbors...

Sincerely,

Rachel in Paradise

those crazy americans

I have a well-traveled friend ("Mrs. C"). She's always going on one vacation or another. I, on the other hand, have never travelled to exotic locales and am always interested in hearing more about one place or another. Mrs. C apparently has specific packing requirements for each of her trips, which she passes along to all who accompany her. It was with much laughter that Mrs. C and a fellow traveller relayed this story.

Mrs. C enjoys bringing many souvenirs back from her travels, and is thus, always looking for more room in her suitcase. Therefore, she throws her dirty underwear away. (Her rationale? "Who wants to carry dirty underwear around for a couple of weeks?") This has proved quite useful on several trips. However, on her first trip to Paris, Mrs. C must have royally confused the housekeeper. The poor housekeeper found dirty underwear in the trashcan EVERY DAY, but she dutifully folded it up and placed it near Mrs. C's bags. Can't you hear her muttering now? "Crazy Americans--this is no laundry service!"

you know you live in a small town when, version 3,586

Mary Poppins, our wonderful fantabulous baby sitter had a bit of a crisis last week. Her husband had a heart attack. He's doing MUCH better now and things are back on their way to being semi-normal. I'm sure part of the quick healing has occured due to the high number of prayers and well wishes for this family...In fact, he received 2 get well cards on Friday. One was from his ex-wife and her third husband. The other was from his ex-wife's second ex-husband...only in a small town like Paradise... : )

it's actually kinda logical

Like all kids, Kady has went through the bandaid obsession phase. You would find her covered in bandaids anytime she stumbled across them. They would be on her arms, legs, stomach, face--it didn't matter as long as she managed to use the whole box. However, I think we're slowly outgrowing this phase...

Tonight's conversation with Kady:

Me: Kady, go put those bandaids up now.

Kady: I can't Mom. I'm looking for a boo boo.

I don't envy her

I dropped Kady off at the best-baby-sitter-in-the-world's (henceforth known as Mary Poppins) house yesterday. As I was leaving, one little girl (We'll call her Abby.) asked if Mary Poppins knew where her doll was.

Mary Poppins: No, I didn't even know you brought your doll today. . .

Abby: Oh, I didn't bring my doll to your house.

Mary Poppins (to me): Do you see why I have gray hair?

I can honestly say I have the best baby-sitter in the world, and you could not pay me enough to do her job!

Names have been changed.

On days like today. . .

I really, really miss my favorite car ever. It was the first "new" car Kev and I bought together, and we had it over 10 years. And I seriously want it back. . .

Sometimes being a responsible adult is not all it's cracked up to be. . .

creepy crawly went too far

There are very distinct divisions of labor in my household--despite the fact that my husband is away from home frequently. These divisions are especially apparent when it comes to rodent and pest removal. Kev is responsible for the absolute destruction of all snakes and mice--especially the mice. I hate those blasted things. I, on the other hand, am responsible for the removal of all creepy crawly spiders.

These divisions became rock solid a few years ago. Kev, who had never been a friend of spiders, was bitten a few years ago by a brown recluse. He sought quick medical attention due to the fact that one of his coworkers was, at that time, recovering with a wound vac on his back side to heal his spider bite. (That can leave a big impression on even a macho man. . .) Kev recovered fairly quickly, but he still has a round scar on his leg. I, on the other hand, do not mind the eight-legged creatures. Sure, I would prefer the poisonous ones stay out of my house, but most of the time, I catch and release the little buggers.

This weekend, we made a quick trip to Branson. Arriving at our destination, I looked up and noticed a "dead" spider near my window. I attempted to brush the poor little guy out, when he decided to wake up. And JUMP. The nasty little creepy crawler jumped on my leg and started crawling up my pants, while I was shooing him frantically off my leg. He kept going, and I started to panic. . .you know, not wanting to have a wound vac attached to my crotch and all. . .Finally, I unbuckled my seat belt and jumped out of the car like the Boogie Man himself was about to get me. . .to find several vacationers watching the speedy exit of one pleasantly plump blond from a dirty SUV.

I'm turning over a new leaf. My new motto? A dead spider is a good spider. Dang Charlotte's Web. . .

it's a small world

Paradise has been filled with lots of horseback riding this spring and summer. After years of giving it up, I'm back in the saddle. Not that the saddle fits the same, mind you. . .) Kyler and I are entering the horse showing world. We're learning lots and gradually improving. Hopefully, I will have updates on that eventually. This post, however, is all about Kady-bug.

Kady has a pony. Her name is KoolAid, and she's more pet than actual riding pony. (Don't you just love her name?) She's old, has bad knees, and just can't take much riding. (I know the feeling, girl, I know the feeling. . .) However, Kady talks about her like they've competed and won at the National Finals Rodeo repeatedly and plan to do so again. That girl LOVES that pony.

A few weekends ago, we attended the rodeo in my hometown. While walking past the bucking horses, Kady, who never met a stranger, started talking to them.

"HEY, HORSIES! How are you? Do you know my horsie? Her name's KoolAid!"

Because, you know, they might, um, run in the same, er, pastures?

car crazy

Let's go 3 for 3 shall we? The last two posts have been about kids and cars, so we'll just continue that here. Kyler is 9 1/2. The legal driving age in the state of Arkansas is 16. He's been very upset lately. It seems the local Ford dealership sold the Mustang he had picked out. He has recently become very obsessed with Mustangs, and he had decided that THAT Mustang should be his. Seriously. Very upset. . . I may not make it through the actual teenage years.

wrapped

You remember that new (used) truck I mentioned in the last post? We've been driving it quite a bit. The kids love riding in the big, tall pick up. The other night, Kev drove the kids home in his new truck, and I attempted to drive the large, impossible-to-see-behind-you work truck. (If I met you on the road, I'm sorry. I'm pretty sure I took my half of the road out of the middle.) Anyway, Kady asked Kev if she could have the truck when she got big. She said she wanted to drive the truck and get a boyfriend. . .I'm pretty sure his heart jumped a beat or two. . .He bargained with her, saying, "How about if you take the truck and DON'T have a boyfriend?" She agreed, "OK, I'll just marry you, Daddy." And he is now OFFICIALLY wrapped around that little girl's finger.

it's all about the smell

Kevin bought a new (used) truck. He bought it to drive when he's home, so he's not having to drive his work truck. He also graciously allows his wife to drive it. . .occasionally. Tuesday, I had a low tire on my car, so we all jumped in the truck and took off to town. On the way home, Kady sniffed really loudly and announced, "I like Daddy's truck--it smells GOOD!" It must be the vanilla air freshener my macho husband hung. . .personally, I thought it smelled like a public bathroom air freshener. Don't tell Kev.

at least she's trying to clean up after herself, right?

Kady stayed with Moo Moo yesterday. They went to Wal-Mart, where Moo Moo apparently walked in, raised her arms, and announced, "Choose anything you wish, my darling granddaughter." At least, that's the only possibility I can come up with, considering the variety of goods Kady brought home. There were the hair barrettes, and the new toothbrushes ("one for me and one for brother!"). Then, there were the snacks. . .

and Kady's all time favorite. . .
Both of which somehow found their way to the refrigerator, so in case you were worried, Kady's marshmallows and goldfish did not ruin over night. . .Not that she wants to share. : )

We R Redneck, edition 562

Through this blog, I've slowly allowed myself to accept the idea that I am, in fact, redneck. (You might remember THIS post. . .) Kevin has always readily admitted his redneck tendencies, which he has passed willingly and purposefully to our children. Want proof? In language arts, Kyler has been studying parts of speech. His teacher had them make a mobile of sorts in which the students named nouns. Kyler had the following nouns listed.

• His best friend
• Michael Waddell, a professional hunter who appears in most hunting videos that Kyler has watched
• tree stand
• the local tire shop
• Bass Pro Shops
• tom turkey
• coon

Kev is way more proud of this than I am. I am wondering where I went wrong. . .

what was he thinking?

Kyler's school is having a party for those children who met their reading goals in 3 out of 4 semesters. I am very proud to say that Kyler has met his goal in each semester so far. That makes me a little curious as to why he's suddenly trying so hard to make his goal in this last semester. I receive an email each time he takes a quiz over a book. Recently, he has started taking a quiz on every book he's ever read. . .or apparently, every book he's never read. This morning, I received this email. . .

Dear Rachel,

Kyler took an Accelerated Reader Reading Practice Quiz.
Title: El Capitán Calzoncillos y la invasión de las horribles señoras...
Author: Dav Pilkey
Score: 30% correct, earning 0.0 points

My son, the monolingual speaker. . .We obviously need to have a chat.

questions you don't ever want to ask

#1. What is that on the toilet seat?
#2. Why would there be popsicle juice on the toilet seat?

There was lots of fog this morning. Kady asked why we could see the sky this morning, which felt very reminiscent of Chicken Little screaming, "The sky is falling!"

26

Hubs rented a storage unit while we attempt to downsize in hopeful anticipation of putting our house on the market. (I think I'm the Queen of Clutter. . .) Anyway, I was worried I wouldn't be able to remember which unit was ours. . .until he told me the number. It's the same age I've been for the past 4 1/2 years! As long as I don't age, I should have no trouble remembering our storage unit!

my stinky child

What are little boys made of?
Frogs and snails
And puppy-dogs' tails,
That's what little boys are made of.

What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice
And all that's nice,
That's what little girls are made of.

We've all heard the rhyme. I always thought it was a little bit of a disservice to little boys, but what do I know. . .After having a little boy AND a little girl, I can attest to the fact that they are completely different. Kyler is definitely ALL boy. And that? That can mean stinky, smelly, and gross.

I once again have a horrible smell emanating from my car. (The most embarrassing part of that sentence is the "once again".) Anyway, the last time I had this odor in my car, I found a mildewed, dirty, icky sock crammed way back under Kyler's seat. I'm still trying to locate this smell. . .As to what little boys are made of, I can't be sure, but I can assure you the smell is reproachable.

a rare romantic moment

We went canoeing this weekend--more about that later. As the shuttle (an old school bus) was taking us to the river, Kyler turned around and caught Kevin and I stealing a kiss. He asked, "Are you guys having a romantic moment back there or what?!" To which Kev replied, "We haven't had one of those in 9 long years. . ." ; )

how to sell jeans. . .eventually

So, I know I promised this a few, um, days weeks ago, so here goes for anyone still hanging around. . .

Background: Kevin was working in Shreveport. I went to visit, and Kev encouraged me to go shopping. . .My first stop was Cavendar's Western Wear, where I planned to purchase a pair of boots (I last purchased boots when I was 15. . .), a pair of jeans, and maybe a nice shirt to wear out that night.

The Cavendar's employee approached me just as I managed to knock over a display of boots. (Oh, yes I did!) The employee shall henceforth be referred to as CG (Cavendar's Girl). CG asked if I needed any help. Considering the last time I purchased boots and jeans, I was essentially a small person lighter, I thought another opinion might be helpful. After picking up the boot boxes and deciding on a pair to buy, CG asked what size jeans I wear. I answered xy.*

Her response?

"Oh, I don't think so. You don't look like an xy to me. You look smaller."

Although I appreciated her improvement as to my physical size and shape, I assured her I was, in fact, an xy. . .

so she brought me a size xu to try on. . .

and I couldn't get it past my knees.

She tried again with a size xx,

which was, of course, too small.

So, she finally returned with a size xy,

which was also too small. . .

To which she responded,

"OK, now you're my personal mission, and I will find you a pair of jeans that fits!"

And she did. . .

after approximately 45 minutes and untold pairs of jeans. I'm extremely satisfied with the fit of the jeans she sold me, and you can't argue with the personalized service; however, when a pleasantly plump woman announces she's a size xy, you should never, ever doubt that she's at least that size. . .

*and you're crazy if you think I would allow my size to be posted on the internet. . . : )

only I could. . .

Only I could get stopped for speeding in the middle of our small town.

Only I could get stopped for speeding in the middle of our small town on the way to take Kyler to school.

Only I could get stopped for speeding in the middle of our small town on the way to take Kyler to school on the very day that we're running late.

Only I could get stopped for speeding in the middle of our small town on the way to take Kyler to school on the very day that we're running late AND Kyler has his class field trip.

[sigh]

Yes, I am THAT mom. . .

*The very nice policeman gave me a verbal warning to slow down. This was far better than Kyler's fear of me getting a ticket for $7,000 and not being able to pay it. . .apparently, speeding tickets are costly in Paradise--who knew?!

sunny days update

Hello. I'm ba-ack! We'll see how long I manage to keep up this time. . .

We have been very busy in Paradise. Thanks to the beautiful weather, we've been spending evenings and weekends outside. . .doing anything BUT housework. Thus, my house looks as if it's been hit from a cyclone from the inside out but my yard is pretty.

We spent last weekend at Nana and Papa's riding horses. Since the horses hadn't been ridden all winter (and are young and less predictable), we took them to the nearby arena. I'm happy to say I didn't get to see just how soft the arena dirt was. Kyler and I rode with my brother for hours on Saturday and Sunday! [humming Back in the Saddle]

Kyler is quite a horseman these days. He spends the time on his horse day dreaming of one rodeo after another, but I'm just glad he's riding. We're even talking about going on some all-day trail rides this year.

Kady decided this year that she wants to be a cowgirl. She has ridden twice so far this year and is loving it. I'm so happy! She rode Kyler's horse in the arena on Saturday and did awesome!!! She does have a lot to learn, such as the lingo. I rode beside her on my horse, and my dad led her around on Kyler's horse. She looked over and said, "Mama, I like your seat," while pointing to my saddle. I said, "Thank you, Kady, but it's called a saddle." She said, "Mama, you're supposed to say 'I like your seat, too, Kady.'"

One more Kady-ism: When Nana was carrying her over to the horse, Kady looked down and yelled, "DON'T STEP ON THE BEAUTIFUL FLOWERS, NANA!" Thankfully, all of the dandelions were saved.

Thought for the Day

Family:

God gave us the family we have, because He knew that's the only way we'd associate with those people. . .

Feel free to discuss. : )

And no, I don't hate my family. I LOVE most of my family. I just don't count some of those people I'm related to as family. . . : )

I'm sorry/You're welcome

If you know me at all, you know my drugs of choice are cheesecake, chocolate, and Diet Dr. Pepper. Recently, I've been introduced to a new version of drug, more specifically a new candy bar. It is a candy bar so rich and scrumptious that you will not be able to resist. If you're partial to your size 6 jeans, run away now. If you want to experience the chocolaty goodness that I now need a daily fix of, BEHOLD. . .Seriously, I feel like I'm pushing the chocolate equivalent of heroin. . .

Attack of the Pouffy Hair

Kady, who has beautiful naturally curly hair that inevitably gets wild by the end of the day, spent yesterday at Moo Moo's house. Moo Moo has a next door neighbor that always has fun kiddos to play with, whether they are visiting grandchildren or foster kiddos. Yesterday, Kady met a new best friend. (They're all best friends at this age. If you meet Kady, you too, are her new best friend.) Apparently, these girls really did have a blast together. In fact, Kady's new best friend told Kady, "I have a friend named Katie where I live. She has pouffy hair, too." Well, there you go. I think she meant it as a compliment, dear. . .

Goodbye Shreveport

Kev's work in Louisiana appears to be over. Here are some things I'll miss about Shreveport.

1. Shreveport is a city full of friendly people from a variety of backgrounds. Unfortunately, it appears to have an identity crisis. It's not really big enough to be a big city, but it's much bigger than a big town. I guess it's a small city. It's in the corner of Louisiana, with some Cajun-ness, but also a lot of Southern and Texan personality thrown in. I guess that's why it's doubled as so many cities in movies.
2. needing to use my Southern dialect versus my Redneck/Hick dialect in order to be understood, which I'm proficient at thanks to a father from Pine Bluff, Arkansas. . .
3. seeing Washaterias. My father always called laundry mats washaterias, but I've never seen them called that elsewhere. . .
4. The food: steaks at Saltgrass (amazing!!), burgers at Whattaburger (yummy!), breakfast with *free* entertainment at Waffle House (including the guy with the money safety-pinned to his apron. . .), and various seafood munchies thrown in. [sigh]
5. The hair cut lady at the mall. Her name is Kamey, and she cut my hair, Kev's hair, and Kyler's hair, and did a phenomenal job each time.
6. listening to books on tape. I never do this at home, but it's such an easy way to entertain on the road.
7. shopping. Believe it or not, I actually enjoyed buying things for me and the kids when we were in Louisiana.
8. The sales people at Cavendar's Western Wear. . . story forthcoming, I promise.

What I won't miss about Shreveport. . .

1. The sales people at Cavendar's Western Wear. . .see above.
2. the lack of family entertainment. We're not casino people, and there's not a lot for kids to do in Shreveport.
3. educating my son on the ways of the world, which are significantly absent or at least well hidden in Paradise. . .
4. The drive.
5. especially if driven with 2 tired, cranky kids. . .
6. Enough Said.

Soon enough, we'll be on to our next adventure. Who knows where Kev will be working next, so be on the lookout for our wild bunch in a city near you. (OH, the horror! Can you imagine seeing our bunch in your neighborhood blue giant store? I can assure you that we're every bit as loud and crazy in person. . .)

Raising a Princess

Kev is bald. He has a little less hair than when he was eighteen, but mostly, he's always kept his hair cut very, very, very short. Enter Princess Kady. I am not a girly-girl, but somehow, my daughter totally is. She LOVES the color pink, dresses, and fixing her hair. Remember the hair-cut lady experience? She's already asking for another hair cut.

Last weekend, we went to Louisiana to see Kev--very low maintenance, very bald Kev. We were getting ready Saturday morning when I realized I had forgotten Kady's hair products. We always use mousse or gel in her very curly hair, and I had brought nothing. . .As I break the news that we had nothing to use on her hair, Kady takes matters into her own hands. She leans out of the bathroom and yells,

"What you got? You got mousse? You got gel? What you got, Daddy?"

hi ho, hi ho, to louisiana we go

Sorry, I have no time to update now. We leave for Louisiana on Friday. Wish me luck. I have a dirty house, a mountain of dirty clothes, no energy, and two very tired kiddos. Have I mentioned I HATE all time changes? I do. Anyway, we are spending a few days of spring break with Kev, although he will most likely be working the entire time. That translates into massive amounts of needed distractions for the kids. All ideas welcome. Please!! However, if we forget clothes or toys or anything else, at least we have our very own copy of The Princess and the Frog to watch. . .Never fear, all is right in Kady's world. : ) Our only concern is how she'll be able to dance when she's strapped in her car seat, because that girl? She danced like crazy when we took her to see it in the theater.

This kind of thing only happens to me, 468th edition

By my calculation, I've had 11 prior posts dealing with deer. (From, the "oops, I hit a deer" post to the "what's he got on his hands" post to the yep, that's our very own deer head in that picture post to the post where I try to make use sound LESS redneck but actually do the opposite, deer are everywhere. . .) Thus, I'm in the dangerous position of labelling myself a redneck once and forever by writing this post. Stay focused, however, and let's lay blame where it's truly due: Bethany. It's all her fault. In THIS post from yesterday, she asked readers to detail what grosses them out. It just so happened that I was having one of THOSE days. . .

I walked in the door at work to our new therapist and a patient asking me if I noticed the dead deer in the parking lot. Yep. You read that right. I looked out the window, and sure enough, there was a dead deer that had presumably been hit by a car and collapsed, blocking the main (but obviously not the one that I use) exit. Knowing that most of our patients are elderly and of the questionable driver persuasion, I knew Dead Bambi had to be moved. . .and quickly.

The Boss Lady, who gets paid to deal with such nonsense, was at a meeting. Not knowing exactly who to call to come pick up Dead Bambi, I asked the new therapist (henceforth known as New Girl) to help me move Dead Bambi. We donned latex gloves and proceeded to the parking lot. Since I was pretty sure New Girl had not dealt with dragging dead deer thus far in her professional (or private) life, I wasn't sure how she'd handle it. I took the front legs, assuming it was the heaviest end, she took the back legs, and we heaved Dead Bambi into the ditch.

Later, I watched a 3 year-old scratch poop off his unwiped bottom and had another kiddo with a perpetual runny nose wipe said nose across my shirt from shoulder to shoulder. I figure those things are par for the course when you're a speech-language pathologist (or in any career dealing with healthcare and/or children, actually); however, no one ever told use we'd drag dead deer off the parking lot when I went to graduate school. . .As for New Girl, she handled Dead Bambi like she'd been dragging deer all her life. In fact, we're considering partnering for the annual Dead Deer Dragging Days held in Redneckville every deer season. . .We might even give up our amateur status to go pro. . .

he doesn't know me

I hate to shop. OK, a random day at the Christian book store is fun, or maybe an occasional jaunt to Tar-jay. Generally speaking, I'd rather not spend my time shopping, especially if it involves driving large distances. Kev is working in Louisiana--Shreveport to be exact. He's about 8 hours away from us. We haven't seen him for several weeks. I will drive 8 hours to see him on Friday night and then return Sunday afternoon. (Kyler will go with me; Kady will stay with Nana.)

Yep, you read that right. I'm driving 16 hours to spend the weekend with my hubs. It gets better. He works all day Saturday, so that day is out. We'll get to see him Saturday night, but. . .Wait. It gets even better. . .They may work Sunday, too. He won't know until Saturday, and at that point, we'll already be there. . .Kev's response: "Well, come on down, and if I have to work, you can just spend the day shopping or something. . ."

Hello? Have we met? M E N ! ! !

Buttering Up

Kady loves to help cook. Kyler, to this day, hates having to help in the kitchen. I feel the need to apologize to his future wife now. I tried, but he’s just not interested in anything to do with preparing food. Kady on the other hand, never misses an opportunity to help cook, including last night. I went to the kitchen to prepare supper, and Kady, knowing what I was doing, ran ahead of me. She opened the refrigerator and announced, “I’ll get the butter.” Never mind the fact that we were having frozen pizzas. Now, I’m wondering just how much butter we use. . .

A Public School Presidential Education

There are many people who question our current educational system. Arkansas, in particular, has had many recent changes in hopes of improving our state’s ability to teach our children what they need to succeed. Being a graduate of this great state’s educational system myself, I never really doubted my son would receive an adequate education (with the possible exception of doing math in my head—I still can’t do that. . .). Recently, I’ve come to question what exactly he is learning. It seems Kyler has confused this man. . .

With this man. . .

That’s right. He thought Abraham Lincoln was Elvis. What ARE they teaching him?

This post is intended as a joke. It is in no way intended to be a reflection on Kyler's current or former teachers, who by and large, have been phenomenal!

Ordering the Truth Around. . .But Just a Little

Kady tends to be a little. . .bossy. Bless her heart, if she had been born first, Kyler would have never made it. Despite the 6 years he has on her, she bosses him around constantly!! This weekend, she was ordering Kyler around once again.

Finally, I called her over and asked her, “Kady, who is the boss?”

Kady: Mommy and Daddy

Me: That’s right. Kady, are you the boss?

Kady: Weeeellll, I is a little boss.

And that pretty well sums up her viewpoint on why she’s here. How do you argue with that?

A Series of Unfortunate Events

Alternately Titled: A Day from H*LL OR The Worst Day Ever

The day before Valentine’s Day is rough if you’re single or, in my case, just unable to be with your spouse. I knew it would be emotionally challenging, but I was doing my best to make it a good day for the kids. I had already given them the small gifts from Kev and me. After surviving theblizzards that wouldn’t end, Kady’s plague of pneumonia, and several days at my parents’ house, we arrived home to bare cupboards—eating stale popcorn and scraping the sides of the peanut butter jar type of bare cupboards.

We took off to the “big city” of Fayetteville to get our groceries. The Fayetteville Wal-Mart ended up being our destination, despite some objections on my part (it’s right beside the mall and most restaurants—almost insuring traffic issues on the Saturday night before Valentine’s Day).

Sure enough, it was BUSY. The check-out lines were 5 deep when we walked through the door, but have you ever tried to drag children out of a Wal-Mart before they’ve had a chance to look? I’m sure it’s DHS-call worthy, or at least the sounds they would make would appear that way. We stayed. I decided to suck it up and bite the bullet and just do it and all those other cliché things people say when the situation pretty well stinks, but you don’t have a choice. . .

Almost immediately, Kady began cheering. Loudly.

“GO RAZORBACKS! I LOVE TO CHEER—GO RAZORBACKS!”

It was cute for a second. I mean, at least she wasn’t cheering “Roll Tide” or something truly embarrassing. However, I reminded her that she was inside, and she must use her inside voice. . .To which she replied. . .

“I IS A CHEERLEADER AND THIS IS HOW CHEERLEADERS TALK—GO RAZORBACKS!”

It’s amazing how quickly you can grocery shop that way.

As we were leaving, Kady apparently thought she saw her daddy, despite the fact that he’s 8 hours away. She was loudly yelling, “DADDY, DADDY WAIT! WAIT, DADDY!!!” I was never quite sure which one she thought looked like Kev, but I can say there were a few men I’d never seen before making a speedy get away. . .

After slowly (due to VDay traffic/auto accidents) making our way in the general direction of home, I called a single with no-children, teacher friend of mine, who is often intrigued/appalled at the misadventures my hooligans get me into. As I was talking to her, chaos suddenly ensued, and I found myself saying something I never dreamed I would say. . .

“I’M GOING TO HAVE TO CALL YOU BACK. I JUST GOT HIT BY A SWEET AND SOUR SOAKED CHICKEN NUGGET.”

My daughter had attempted to throw a chicken nugget at her brother and missed. The sticky, poultry ball had ricocheted off my jacket, rolled down the arm, and bounced in my lap.

I can assure you that we are not in the regular habit of throwing food. My theory? Apparently, when one recovers from pneumonia, one finds themselves with an overabundance of energy and the need to throw food towards one’s sibling. . .What can I say, it’s the best answer I’ve come up with.

Anyway, as you can imagine, we immediately began discussing disciplinary actions that would occur as soon as we were home. Kady began crying. She announced that if I tried to discipline her, she would throw me in with the frogs. Yep. I checked it twice, because I thought I might not have understood. If I tried to discipline her, SHE WOULD THROW ME IN WITH THE FROGS. . .I managed not to laugh, but it was one of those parenting moments when you can’t decide whether to laugh, cry, yell, or just give up and completely LOSE IT. . .

And, just when you thought I survived (without getting thrown to the frogs), I arrived home to find that I had washed a pull-up in the washing machine. . .So, how was your Valentine’s Day?

we're friends, right?

You might remember that I both complain and rejoice at the fact that we don't watch much tv. After all, it's hard to watch much tv when you only get two channels. . .We do however, watch a lot of movies, but there's only so many times you can watch Hope Floats. . .Enter Christmas.

This year, I bought myself a REALLY, really nice present.

I "invested" in the complete season of Friends on DVD. I used to LOVE to watch Friends, and there's something so fun about sitting down to watch a couple of good episodes of tv (minus commercials!) with a load of laundry to fold. . .OK, scrap the laundry. . .except that it's still there. It never goes away. . .but I digress.

Anyway, I think we might be overdoing the Friends-watching. The other morning, Kady walked into my bedroom and asked Maddie, "How you doin'?"

Oops.

Bonus points for anyone who can name the body part Phoebe found in a can. Or anyone that can name the person Chandler got stuck in the bank with. Or the type of pet Rachel got. . .and got rid of. Or. . .name your own trivia question. . .Come on Fans of Friends, challenge me. : )

Kady's finally getting better, after having a rough go-round with pneumonia. I'm trying to avoid getting caught up on housework--in case you couldn't tell.

it's possible we're not in (ar)kansas anymore: when winter hits arkansas

Arkansas averages one good snowfall a year. To us, that means we get 1 or 2 inches of snow that the kids make (muddy, rocky) snowmen out of. This year, we've already had two good snowfalls, including last week's 7 (!) inches. A 7-inch snowfall all but REQUIRES everyone not using a walker to get out and play in it. Out came the boots, the snow suits, the gloves, the. . .WHERE ARE THE HATS? WHO HAS A HAT? WHERE DID YOUR HAT GO?!

My question to the more northern readers: How do y'all do this ALL winter long? Is it possible to surgically attach gloves or hats to children?

Kev drove more than 8 hours in ice and snow to see us. That's love. I'm not sure if it's love for me and the kids, his dog, or playing in the snow, but I'll take what I can get.

Sunday (since it was the blizzard of the year and church was cancelled--seriously.), Kev took the kids to his brother's house to sled. Sledding around here involves a 4wheeler, a rope, and something else. Sleds are SO optional. The guys sledded until they removed all snow AND grass from the ground. Not everyone can come home from sledding muddy. . .

My niece (possibly the smartest of the bunch) decided to build a snowman instead of being on the redneck-ride-of-death-and-dismemberment. Kady found the buttons she had "forgotten" on the snowman and returned them. Oops. I guess we need more practice at the snowman bit.

they are not most children

Most children have an imaginary friend. My daughter has an entire imaginary school, including 3 rotating teachers. Her teachers' names are Anna (pronounced "awna"), Anka, and Ona. Anna must be the lead teacher, because she frequently issues commands. Within the last week, Anna has issued two very important commands that Kady has relayed to us. The first was a directive for "PINK (Mommy, they MUST be pink!) ice-skates from Wal-Mart." We live in Arkansas. There are no ice skates within 100 miles. . .

The second directive came after Kyler announced that he MUST read the Star Wars book he checked out from the library. This book would give him all the points he needs to meet his reading goal, so he NEEDS to stay up until 9 or 10 EVERY night to read. . .

Without missing a beat, Kady said,

"My teacher, Ms. Anna, said I have to read the new Elmo book, so I have to stay up and read too!"

How long before they can totally and completely manipulate me? It's obviously VERY close. . .

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

On a very different note, please continue to pray for those affected by the Haiti tragedy. If Only I had Super Powers directed me to a very touching blog written by a worker at an orphanage in Haiti that was killed during the earthquake last week. You can read about her work and experiences HERE.

because I thought it was funny. . .

My mom just sent me this email that I hadn't read before (which is amazing in and of itself because I've now received every other possible forward at least 9 times. How many times can I possibly die from not sending a forward on in 9 minutes?). I thought it was funny, so you better too. : ) (Sorry if you have read it.)


Random Thoughts of the Day:

1) Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.

2) I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.

3) There is a great need for sarcasm font.

4) How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

5) I would rather try to carry 10 plastic grocery bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.

6) MapQuest really needs to start their directions on #5. Pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

7) Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

8) I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.

9) Bad decisions make good stories

10) You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you've made up your mind that you just aren't doing anything productive for the rest of the day.

11) I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten page research paper that I swear I did not make any changes to.

12) I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? Damnit!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voicemail. What'd you do after I didn't answer? Drop the phone and run away?

13) I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.

14) As a driver I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrian I hate drivers, but no matter what the mode of transportation, I always hate cyclists.

15) I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.

16) I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lites than Kay.

Bonus Funnies:
I was so depressed last night thinking about the economy, government, health care, real estate prices, the stock market, the federal deficit, Iraq, Afghanistan, global warming, my savings, Social Security, credit card debt........I called the Suicide Hot line. ... I got a call center in Pakistan .....told them I was suicidal.. They got all excited and asked if I could drive a truck.

socially inappropriate behavior by the parents

Kyler is my ear child. He would be a perfectly healthy child except for those darn ears of his. The child has had multiple sets of PE tubes, a tonsillectomy, an adenoidectomy, and even a frenectomy (He was tongue-tied.). We spent New Year's Eve getting another set of tubes placed. If you'll recall, I'm a speech-language pathologist, so I was familiar with this physician outside of being my son's doctor. Kevin and I both went.

OK. Now that I've set the stage. . .

The doctor comes in and introduces himself to Kev (who had never met him). The doctor then procedes to tell us what they (himself adn his wife) will be doing to ring in the new year. The doctor, whom we saw at his main office also has an office/home in Paradise, which he made reference to. In response, I announced, "I WONDERED what you were doing."

I really hadn't. . .

But at that point, it was more uncomforable to correct myself.

The doctor once again mentioned Paradise, stating that he would be driving there when he finished up with Kyler. Kevin, being the completely-friendly-but-total-smart-aleck that he is, said, "You could just ride with us," which was never intended as an actual solicitation. . .I mean, we were in the "big city," with specific shopping needs ahead of us. We were not missing this opportunity.

The doctor was very quiet for a L O N G moment before replying, "Um, thanks, but I'll just drive myself."

As the awkwardness died away (i.e., The doctor left the room.), Kev and I had one thought: Our first restraining order was approaching.

Parents. . .you just can't take them out in public.

don't judge

The Scene: After a long day of playing in the snow, it has just been discovered that Kyler is the second victim of the chicken pox invasion. He has spots covering his whole body and is running a low-grade fever. Mom and Dad are also fatigued to the point of exhaustion.

Me: Almost time for bed!

Kyler: Mo-o-om, I don't have school tomorrow. . .Please let me stay up late!

Me: OK, you can stay up until 9:00, but it's already 8:30.

Kyler: YES!! [fist pumping]

The actual time:

Don't judge us.