Friday, June 25, 2010

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.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

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.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

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. . .

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

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. . .

Friday, June 18, 2010

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?

Thursday, June 17, 2010

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.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010


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.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

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.