that was us

Last week, there was a twenty-one month old child found wandering in a highway in our area. Luckily, the child was rescued by a man driving by. The child was taken into protective custody by authorities. The parents' names' and video of their home were shown on the 5:00, 6:00, and 10:00 local news. Tacked onto the end of the report, the station noted that DHS had no prior complaints on the parents.

I do not know these people. They may be the worst parents ever. They might be the best parents ever. Or they could be just average parents trying to survive. Seven years ago, that news report would have been about me. It was a very mild November morning. Kyler was sick. That was back in the day when you gave kids cold medicine. The cold medicine made Kyler hyper--very, very hyper. We were both running on very little sleep by this point. This dose, however, had finally helped him crash, and we were getting some much needed sleep. I had brought him into my king-size bed, because he was so sick.

At around 5:00 am or so, my doorbell rang. I've never opened the door to bad news before, but I just knew this was bad news. It was my neighbor. She was getting her paper. She asked if that was my son walking down the street. Looking past her, I saw Kyler in his diaper, shirt, and boots and carrying his jack o'lantern bucket. I can only assume he was "trick-or-treating" in the middle of the road on our small cul de sac. I ran and grabbed him up, torn between wanting to grab him and hug him and wanting to grab him and scold him. In the end, I did both. (The front door had been locked, but it was the kind of lock that you could still open from the inside. It was replaced that same day.)

It wouldn't have taken much to make a very different ending to our story. Had the weather been colder that morning...Had my neighbor not been up that morning...Had the paper come later...Had Kyler gotten up earlier and been out longer...Had we lived in a busier neighborhood...things could have been much worse. The next time you hear a report of something happening (or almost happening) to a child, please take a moment and realize just how easily things can happen...Please avoid the rush to judge. Please consider just how easily things can happen or that we all make mistakes.

I do not consider myself to be a bad mom (most of the time). I don't consider myself to be a great mom. I am an average mom just trying to raise good kids in a scary world, and I almost lost everything one mild November morning.

I knew he loved me

The last time we went down to see Kevin, THIS is what I found in his fridge. He bought it just for me. (He wouldn't drink it if it were all he had in his camper!) I KNEW he loved me.

when animals attack, part 2

When I was around 3 or 4 years old, a peacock showed up at our house. We have no idea where it came from. One day, it just showed up. It would wander around different parts of our farm, but for those several weeks, it never left.

One day, I went outside to play. I was a little afraid of the great big, bright bird that had taken up residence, but Mr. Peacock appeared to be just as afraid of me as I was of him. Until THAT day. THAT day, the peacock decided my hair baubles (remember those?) looked apparently very tasty. Mr. Peacock began pecking at my head. I began running and crying and screaming (because I can be slightly melodramatic like that...). My mom started chasing the peacock and yelling at him. . Shortly thereafter, my dad caught Mr. Peacock and gave him to a not-very-close neighbor of ours. I've never been brave enough to see that scary movie about birds. . .

And now, you know my secret shame...Beavers and peacocks hate me! Anyone know of an appropriate support group/intervention for my issues?

wfmw tracking weight loss

Sometimes, I amaze myself. I often jump before looking. I volunteered (Who does that?!) to run a 5k. . .and I am NOT in shape! I've been training using the couch to 5k program you can find on cool runnings. My weight, however, had not budged.

Now, I am loving this new website a friend of mine introduced me to. It's called sparkpeople.com, and it lets you input your cardio/strength training info and nutrition info OR let it customize a strength training and meal plan (complete with weekly shopping list) for you. How cool is that? You set up your own page (check out mine HERE) where you can motivate and be motivated by others! I'm afraid to say that I am addicted to it. . . and it's starting to work. I've lost about 7 pounds. More than that, however, I've gotten great encouragement from people who have been through/are going through what I am. The site also gives you points for your hard work, which makes you feel like you're really doing something--even when the scale doesn't!! It works for me. To see what works for others, check out We are THAT Family.

Oh, how I wish I were kidding. . .

I was once attacked by a beaver. For the record, please attempt to never have to type that sentence. It was shortly after Kevin and I got married. He was fishing late one evening at a spot on the river that I drove by on my way home. I knew he was fishing there, so I stopped. We talked for a few minutes, and Kevin mentioned that he had seen a couple of beavers since he arrived. I didn't think anything about it. By this time, it was really dark. He was behind me a little ways, working on his fishing pole. I heard the grass rustling just in front of me. It was loud, as if a very large animal was coming out of it. About that time, I could just see the grass parting, and a creature coming at me. I was shouting Kevin's name, and backing towards the river. I backed up too far. The next thing I knew, I was sliding down the bank towards the river, and the beaver had started down the bank. I managed to jump/climb up the bank as the beaver slid into the water. I stood up, dusting myself off, and trying to look as if a beaver had not just tried to eat me alive. Remember, we were newlyweds. It was important for me not to look fazed by this incident. I looked over at him, and he's literally down on the ground laughing. . .so much for remaining unfazed.

Stay tuned for the "Peacock Incident of 1983." It's a riot. . .if you're not me, that is.

snakes and snails and puppy dog tails

I admit it. I just don't get little boys. Never having been one myself, I just don't understand where they're coming from. For example, what is it about an 8 year-old boy that makes him, um, pass gas on a doctor but embarrasses him beyond everything conceivable when the doctor looks at "all his parts" during his well-child visit? I think the rationale for this behavior is buried somewhere in that y chromosome that neither you nor I have. . .

Did you see that?

It's Friday. I wasn't sure we'd made it to this point this week, but we did! We staggered out to the car this morning, not quite sure we were awake yet. After getting everyone and everything (Do all 2-year-olds require this much junk?) loaded in the car, we started to town. On the way, Kyler asked about something that happened about two years ago.

There were no illegal substances in use--I promise!

It started as a day like any other. We were driving down the dirt road, hurrying to school/work like we always do. Suddenly, two buffalo came around the corner. Yes, you read that right. A mama buffalo and her baby buffalo came running around the corner, so I cautiously pulled over to the side of the road. They were swiftly followed by the daddy buffalo. All three continued on up the road. If you've never seen a buffalo that close, let me tell you, they are extremely large creatures, so I didn't hang around. I slowly and cautiously pulled on around the corner and met two gentlemen "herding" the buffalo from their trucks. (I'm not sure you herd a buffalo anywhere it doesn't want to go, however.)

At this point, Kyler and I just looked at each other. It was a very surreal experience. He giggled, I giggled, and we did what we always do when we see something strange: we called all the grandparents. All but my dad thought we were pulling their leg. My dad told me that the buffalo must have gotten out of the field across from such-and-such's house. I've looked several times since then, but I've never seen the buffalo since. . .