Chaos Mayhem and Trouble

Thank you, Mom

2011-12-16T10:39:00.000-08:00

The twins celebrated a birthday. Mom (other wise known as Oh-my) thought air powered rockets were a fantastic idea. One for each. Can't leave one unarmed. At first, it was going just great. The boys would run around outside, stomp their hardest on the rocket launcher, and with a mighty POP it would jet for the sky.
Then it got cold. Boys were unwilling to spend much time outside. Which means inside became a war zone. Cereal and popcorn were found in places they were never meant to travel. Shoes, socks (did I mention it was cold?) were strewn about with careless abandon.
Then I hear it. POP. Seriously? In the house?
Wasn't it going to crash into the ceiling?

No, not if you are targeting a brother. With one brother aiming the device, and another applying the pressure to launch the foam target, they were busting through the house, waging war on all they encountered.
This included dogs, brothers, furniture and moms. As I write this, there is a mighty POP and I feel the rocket hit me in the tush. Gales of laughter. A fight over launching rights. POP. That one hit me in the back at close range. That'll leave a mark. I turn and grab my camera to capture evidence.

That is my camera getting hit. Nice. I decided to switch to video.

As you can see, the toy is being used in a manner wholly inappropriate with the instructions and designs. You can also see that the dogs are totally un-phased by the activity, or being in the line of fire. When I later called for help, I was put on hold:

Nap time being so very, very important. Every since the kids took over feeding them, and they now sleep in the girl's room, they no longer feel the need to defend me against the children. They know where their bread's buttered.
So feeling much abused, ignored and battered, I called a cease fire in the only way I know how: WHO WANTS LUNCH?

And how was your day?

Snow Day Part Duex

2011-12-06T13:17:00.001-08:00

A winter storm slammed into Eastern New Mexico. Like all the weather we get, this weather came with a lovely dose of wind that lowered our temperatures, froze roads and canceled school. Since house bound is never a good thing for us, we bundled up and took to the great outdoors. And then froze and came back in. Games were played, popcorn was consumed, cookies were backed, cookies were eaten, ornaments made and rooms were cleaned (had to sneak that one in there!).

I ended up circling this wild storm that was my children. A little snow, never stopped them. So we sledded, we horse sledded, we had snow balls and snow angels. Then inside to warm up for the next adventure.
And how was your day?

Clear Skies and calm winds

2011-11-23T07:04:00.001-08:00

Yesterday, in her home in Ireland, famous Sci-fi author, Anne McCaffery died. She was 85. She began writting partly because she hated the way women were represented in sci-fi literature.

I discovered her novels as a junior in high school. I have remained a loyal and steadfast fan of her works.

Her Dragonriders of Pern series are by far my favorite, but I also found much enjoyment in her many other series, including her brain ship series, which stressed the importance of brains over beauty. She pinoeered not just the wonderful art of taking readers to new worlds, but investing her novels with as much science as was applicable. Education and the pursuit of knowledge were always stressed for both her male and female characters.
Someday, when we discover new worlds that are alike to our own, I hope that, for Anne, we name one Pern.
Good flying, Anne, find clear skies and fair winds.

For All Veterans

2011-11-11T07:34:00.001-08:00

Veteran's Day 11-11-11

A Veteran is someone, who at one point in their life,wrote a blank check payable to the United States of America for an amount up to, and including, their life. Regardless of personal religious or political views, that is an honor, and there are way too many people in this country who no longer remember that fact.

Only two defining forces have ever offered to die for you, Jesus Christ and the American Soldier; one died for your soul, the other for your freedom... Thanks for serving!

Thank you to the brave men and women who are serving and who have served. I truly enjoy my freedoms thanks to your sacrifices. May God Bless! Have a wonderful day.

My Papa was a veteran of World War II and I was always proud of him even as a boy. Today I am thankful for all the men and women who serve our country. We cover you with our prayers! And for my brother-in-law Josh serving on the other side of the world - I love you and am praying for your safety!

Thank you to all the veterans who fought/fight for my freedom, but especially to one whom is close to my heart, ------! I love you brother and am very proud of you!

Remember, if it weren't for the deeds of the veterans, we would not be where we are today. We owe them the respect they have earned.

‎11/11/11...Happy Veterans Day! Thank you all active and retired military for your service! God bless you and your families for the sacrifices made!

Happy 11-11-11! We are saluting all you wonderful and dedicated Veterans out there who defend this great country and our way of life. "Thank You" hardly seems good enough, but...THANK YOU

Thank you to all who have served, are currently serving, or have made the ultimate sacrifice for my freedom!!

Thank you Veterans. Words can't express.

America's veterans embody the ideals upon which America was founded more than 229 years ago.
Steve Buyer

America's Veterans have served their country with the belief that democracy and freedom are ideals to be upheld around the world.
John Doolittle

"When our perils are past, shall our gratitude sleep?" -George Canning

"In war, there are no unwounded soldiers." -Jose Narosky

"We often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude." -Cynthia Ozick

The first set of quotes were ones I gleaned from Facebook, of friends expressing their grateful hearts. The rest are some I found on the internet.

From this indebted citizen, a profound thank you to the men and women in uniform.

And how was your day?

It's a Dirty Job

2011-11-07T18:43:00.000-08:00

The second most feared words in my world, (the first being, Where's the plunger?) are: I think we left the water on. This means that the water was left running into the horse water tank. Which is in the barn. Which is only a seventy-five gallon tank. In November. When it get cold.
I went out to survey the damage. The barn was six inches deep in water. This is the second time in about a month that the kids have flooded the barn. The first time, I dug a hole next to the concrete footer. I dug a matching hole on the outside of the barn. We managed to connect the two and made something of a poor man's sump, but even with the water (mostly) drained out, the resulting sludge was not healthy for horses.

I decreed that after church, we would come straight home and work on bringing dirt into the barn. Earlier this year the wind moved a great deal of dirt from most of New Mexico and deposited it along my fence line. I decided that the easiest (insert cheapest) way to provide the horses with a proper barn floor would be to move said dirt into the barn and spread it out. In order for this to work, we borrowed a handy piece of equipment from my parents. We borrowed the trailer that is hitched to the lawn tractor. It has a removable gate and a tilt mechanism to dump the dirt.
In theory, it was going to be great! Sadly, we should all know by now that nothing I do goes as planned!!
We started with a cranky lawn tractor. It gasped, blew smoke and reluctantly chugged forward to the fence line. The children started with basic picking up of loose baling twine. Steve and I started shoveling the dirt in. It was working, and easily! This is great! Steve starts up the tractor, backs it into the barn and we learned you really need to unhook the tailgate prior to tipping the dump.

Okay, we can shovel.
Then we discovered that due to the blade guard, we couldn't pull the tractor forward through the narrow gate back into the pasture.
Bad words were said. Adults got grumpy. We discovered that it could pull through the side gate (after I learned about the all important slow gear on the tractor and I was no longer in danger of killing everyone) so we drove through the side gate (had to have a kid lock it), drove around the front of the barn, have a kid lower the ropes for the pasture truck gate, pull into the pasture to the fence line for dirt.
Okay! Back in action. We can make this work.
Steve feels confident enough that he goes out to the station to help the engineer on a project (something quasi important, just the EBS system). I feel puffed up with the success of one dirt load and bounce through the pasture to the fence. I stop and start loading the dirt in. Slower with just me doing the shoveling, it is still done in quick order.
I then discover why Dad sent along his bike pump. Both of the tires on the trailer were now flat.
Son of a biscuit.
Due to extreme stickers, we have tire issues on all of our equipment. Bike tires are slimed more often then my van gets an oil change. These stickers are also referred to as sand spurs and goat heads and they are all evil.
I pump up the tires, now encrusted with stickers because that seems to be all I have grown this season. I feel good, fire up the tractor and trundle back to the barn.
Our barn entrance is five feet wide. The gate to the corral that fronts the barn is only about 42 inches. Well, Steve got it through.
I pulled forward, lined up the trailer and put it in reverse. I started backing up. The trailer zigged to the right, so I corrected. The trailer positively swung to the right, so I corrected the other way. Nope. Not gonna do it.
I pulled forward. I started to back up. Trailer zagged left. I corrected. Trailer swung fully left. WHAT!! THE!! BLEEP!!!
Kids are watching me, trying to motion with little hand signals which direction I should go. This is often helpful in a car or a truck, but on the tractor, I am seeing everything and what I can see is that I cannot back up a lawn trailer to save my life!
What gives?!?! I can successfully grab a round bale with either a truck or large tractor with the round bale carrier. I can successfully back up a 16 foot stock trailer around a curve and up a hill (I don't care how hard it is to put back, I am terribly grateful to my friend, Carol, for letting me borrow her trailer!). I have mastered horses fighting in a trailer, horses falling in a trailer. I backed up the stock trailer into a chute when Belles wouldn't load to come home from the vet and I am being defeated by a Craftsman lawn tractor and John Deere trailer. Shoot me now.
FINE!
I use a shovel and smash a wee bitty piece of concrete and prepare to turn the tractor around to pull it forward into the corral and dump the dirt at the barn entrance. I sigh, make a face and turn the key on the tractor.
Whirrrr, whirrr, cough, whirrr, whirrr.
Huh?
I slap it. I stomp my foot.
Whrrrr, whrrrr.
Now what?
Determined that my horses will have fresh dirt, I send the children to fetch the two plastic toboggans. I figured we could "sled" the dirt to the barn.
I texted Steve the latest drama.
Does it need gas?
Gas? OH! I run back to the shed and fetch the gas can. The tractor gulps it up, soaks it up, slurps it up and burps for me.
I turn the key. Whirrrrr, cough, pop,growl!!!!
Back in business! I turn it around and squeeze through the gate and turned sharply to have the back of the dump near the barn door.
This time we remembered to unlatch the gate and then tilt the dump. Whoosh! Dirt in the doorway!
The other two kids have trundled back with the sleds, and gathered rakes and shovels.
I pulled through the side gate, around the front of the barn, through the truck gate and over to the pasture fence.
I loaded up another load of dirt, inflated the tires and bounced back to the barn. I pulled through the gate, turned and discovered that the kids were working really hard at moving the dirt from the pile to the barn.
LIGHT BULB!
I pull up, position a sled under the dump and unlatched the gate! SCORE! The dirt piled into the sled, was dragged into the barn and dumped in the exact place needed. Yes! We have learned!
We repeated the process several times. It was made easier when Steve came home and proceeded to help with the shoveling parts.

Shovel, inflate, bounce, squeeze, dump, pull, tip and spread! BOO YEAH!!
This whole process was helped along with horses that were very curious. They were in the barn, next to the tractor, behind the dump. in the dirt pile and trying to escape the through the gates.

In the end, the barn is now filled with soft, dry dirt. The lawn trailer was tucked into the shed, and the dump trailer was returned with with inflated tires and a collection of stickers.
What have learned?
TURN THE WATER OFF!

And how was your day?

The People In the Community

2011-11-02T17:01:00.000-07:00

A community isn't just a collection of people that all happen to live in close proximity to one another. A community is also more than just a collection of people working toward a common good. Community is that rare feeling of kindred spirit you feel when you are working with a diverse group of people. Community is grabbing a hand that reaches out for help, offering to open a door, chopping apples and offering a smile.
Wait....chopping apples? Yes, and celery. And being elbow deep in a salad mix (relax, severe handwashing in progress, I have proof). Where have I been and what have I been doing?
Every year the First United Methodist Church in Portales has a Turkey Dinner. This dinner has been served in our community for fifty-eight years! This means over an entire human generation. Babies have been born, come into adulthood and had children of their own. The church has fed them through it.

Some Amazing Facts:

46 turkeys

84 Gallons of Green Beans

450 apples

250 Pumpkin Pies

26 large roasters of dressing

156 dozen rolls

150 bunches of celery

18 gallons of Cranberry sauce

Last year, 1855 dinners were served! In a town of only 17,000. I find that number astounding.

But, may I say, let us part the curtain and go behind the counter and into the kitchen. I have participated in the consumption of this dinner for many years, but this is the first year I have had the honor of helping to prepare it.

Every year, volunteers are called for. Baking pies, corn bred, cooking turkeys and chopping apples. Many years I have wanted to, but the pulls of motherhood has kept me from participating. For all of those who have the time, but decided not to help....boy, have you missed out on something good.

None of the work is arduous, and you are greeted with a warm welcome and a smile.

There are no orders issued, just the wonderfuly turned phrase of, "I'm going to let you...." and insert chore of choice. When you accidentally spill, everyone laughs and you are told, "You still won't get fired. Nice try."

The men and women are all of a generation that learned to give and to do. They are from a group of people that don't take breaks according to clocks, but push on because, "I am also done!" Apples by the score were washed and we cut and quartered them. They were chopped further. Celery met the same fate.

When I asked to keep the cores for my horses, it was greeted with warm enthusiasm. My horses made out today, apple bits that made them nicker from a bag so heavy it almost ripped.

I was new to the system, but quickly intergrated. I worked smoothly along side men and women who have participated in this even since their own young adulthoods. The youngest person was the son of the chairperson and he called his mother mama, and her parents, Grandmother and Grandfather. He was a very young adult and sported a newly broken hand, no less. He did more one handed than so many other whole body people do. I was proud to see him, and a few others of my generation. But, quite frankly, it is the generation prior to mine that is so generous of their time and efforts. Their sincere efforts motivated me to step up my own, to be more but not for myself, to be more of myself for others.

We made jokes, we laughed, we helped, we washed and we were a communtiy. We were men and women united not just in purpose, but on purpose. We were a fellowship of Christians, making dinner that would be served to all who come. There is no discrimination. Everyone will be invited in, welcomed with a smile.

Just as I was, this morning.

And how was your day?

And now a word about costumes

2011-10-31T19:43:00.000-07:00

Halloween. One of my absolute favorite holidays. Goblins and candy, life doesn't get any better.
But what, oh what to be? The joy of this holiday is not foound in dumping a load of cash to a store or website so you can look "out of the box" like everyone else. The best costumes involve creativity on a budget.
Take this Halloween at our place. Conner was Harry Potter...again. But this time he opted for the red quidditch robes. We added some hair spray, a fake scar, and an orange sweater. He was thrilled. William wanted to be a Dino Hunter. I have no idea where that came from. I went to Goodwill, bought camo pants, a fisherman's vest and he wore a floppy hat. We printed a dino hunter's license and he was good to go.
James initally wanted to be a dog trainer, but then opted for pirate. Arg! My favorite! Baseball pants with an old loose blouse of mine, too much cheap jewelry, some scarves and his sister's black boots.
I was not orginally going to dress up. But then my inner child threw a tantrum and I raided my closet. Last December the twins had a Spy Academy birthday party and I had gone to Goodwill and purchased what I believe are black paramedic pants. God Bless them. Not only do these rocking pants look good as a spy master, I paired them with my Star Trek red shirt and went as Dead-Nameless-Red-Shirt guy. Those pants have some awesome pocket; phone, keys, flashlight! Check!
But the real winner this year, was Caitlyn. She was set on being.....The Headless Horseman. How on earth could I deny that?!
Back to Goodwill. I swear I keep that place solvent. We purchased an oversized white shirt and black heavy blazer. We added a cheap cape from the dollar store. I built up fake shoulders and a neck stump. Add some riding boots and even the dogs were scared!

So, when you are plotting ahead for next year....think reuse, not purchase. Think outside the box....all the fun costumes are waiting for you!

And how was your day?

Corn Maze

2011-09-25T21:00:00.000-07:00

We did this a couple of weeks ago. I figured I had better post some pictures or I might be hauled a way by CYFD for depriving my children of a childhood! See! We do way more than clean!

Yeah, it was hot and nobody wanted to line up!

These were super! Rubber duck races!

with hand pumps!!

Cow train!

At the start of the maze!

A giant bounce PILLOW!

Go Steve, Go!

Goats ahoy!

I so want this for my yard!

Caitlyn and I rocked the big maze!

Our "Map" notice the Mix logo!

So yes, we do more than clean! We have adventures and the kids are happy, despite what they want to tell you about all of the cleaning we make them do!

And how was your day?

News from the Front....

2011-09-25T14:09:00.000-07:00

Sunday
Portales, New Mexico
USA

This just in: Meanest Mom in the world conspires with Meanest Dad in the world to force children to help clean up house on a Sunday.

We have just learned that mother of four, Momster, called upon the support of her spouse, Dadster, and have, by use of force, made their four young children work in the house.
Witnesses say that there was yelling, protests from the innocent children, in regards to the mess under beds and behind dressers.
"It wasn't mine! I didn't do that," said one victim, whose identity has been hidden for security purposes.
"It isn't right that I have to clean up a bedroom I share with someone! The mess isn't mine!"
More protests were heard from the garage where resistance was even stronger!
"This isn't our stuff, why do we have to clean it!"
"Even God rested on Sunday! Why do we have to do all the work."
The stuff in question seemed to be everything from soccer gear to a multitude of shoes, confirming the rumor that there was no way these four innocent children could possibly be responsible for the wide range of debris. Two dogs were also implicated, but their fate isn't certain. They were found hiding in crates and were not available for comment.
The two adults in this altercation had this to say:
"I am tired of playing, "dear-heaven-what-is-that-smell". These kids live in this house and they need to start making an effort in keeping it up. I can't do it all on mine own." This is obviously an attempt to get out of work on her part. She refused more comments, claiming that she needed to finish scrubbing the floor and ridding the laundry room of, "some strange funk."
The male in the equation had this to say, "This isn't a punishment. No one is being punished. This is simply everyone working together to do what needs to be done."
Last seen was a seven year old boy sitting, crying on the floor. He was being forced to sweep crumbs and dirt into a dust pan. There is no word of his fate.
Another lingering sight, is of an eight year old boy, cruelly given a separate chore from his twin. He was too overcome to give a comment.
These photos were reveal the emotions behind this story. There were taken by an infiltrator with a hidden camera.

Representatives for KAWC, Kids Against Work Coalition were reportedly on their way. The feeling is strong that these two parents need brought to justice for their crimes against childhood.

We will bring you more from this story as it develops.

"Motherhood: 24/7 on the frontlines of humanity. Are you man enough?" - Maria Shriver

And how was your day?

A little bit f rain

2011-09-18T18:39:00.000-07:00

Anyone who follows me knows that I am fussy about weather. I hate being cold, I hate the wind, I love the rain and I love the fall. We, on the High Plains, have had a heck of a spring and summer. Spring brought horrific winds, but no rain. We have had hay shortages and crispy pastures. But in the past couple of weeks, we did have some rain.
One night, as I sat in the cozy comfort of the Shabby Sheep Yarn Shoppe, it started to rain. We laughed, this couldn't be, we had forgotten what rain was like! It would sprinkle and then stop. Honestly, water falling from the sky? Santa Claus, yes. Rain, no.
So, when we left the shop, after cookies and crafting, imagine my surprise when I encountered a full fledged High Plains thunderstorm. Serious rain pelting down, a temperature differential that had to be at least 20 degrees, lightening flashing across the sky and thunder shaking my very bones. I crawled home, my out of use wipers not even making a clean sweep in the rush of water on the glass. Lightening, more than headlights, lit my way home.

The sweetest surprise was the next morning. All of the rain had run off to our northeastern corner of our pasture. I had, long ago, promised the children that we would play in the mud after the first rain. We made good on that.

and how was your day?

A Little Bit of Hero in Us All

2011-09-14T19:58:00.000-07:00

Not to long ago, in the far off land of New Mexico, we celebrated heroes. It was the end of a month long drive to find the heroes among us. It started innocently enough, and easily enough, at least for me. I sit with Grandpa! Mr. Terry at the church might not think so. All of my kids act as acolytes. They love to be the ones to light the candles, to walk proudly in front of the church in the beginning and end of service. Through service, they sit with Mr. Terry, a very kind and patient gentleman with the silver hair of knowledge. He is a saint. Between girl giggles and twins poking each other, he keeps the acolytes calm and focused on their part in worship services. A steady supply of teddy grahams helps. On this particular day, since we were wrapping up a summer and a month of heroes, all the acolytes were there, to show their part in the community. There were fourteen. Mr. Terry kept calm rein on them, no one burned the church or alter cloth, no one dropped the offer and no one killed any one.

After service we were treated to a display of hands on learning from the sheriff's department, the police department, the fire department and some fun activities from the church. There was a cake walk, which is a William favorite, there was face painting and a wonderful game called Holy Hosing. The children tried to throw a football through a hoop. If they make it, they get to hose the pastor down with a fire hose. James and Conner managed to give the pastor a good shower! Caitlyn did sidewalk chalk drawings and Conner learned the finer points of hand bells. Grandpa Tom was able to go through the group and I even snapped a great photo of him with the other two former Navy Sea Bees we have in our congregation. Many, many thanks to the volunteers and servicemen and women who make this day so much fun!

And how was your day?

Horse Show Practice

2011-08-22T12:24:00.000-07:00

Starting in early summer a text goes out to at least a dozen people on the High Plains. Horse show practice will start. Those that get the text realize that to answer the call is a unique opportunity for the coaching of our sons and daughters. A very selfless vet student, who has done the show circuit, helps out any who answer the call. All she asks is that you come to practice and have a good attitude. This is the third year we have answered the call. There are times I don't want to: I am tired, I can't borrow a trailer, I just went, it's too hot...But, most times we respond with varying degrees of enthusiasm. The only time we didn't have fun was when Shiloh refused to get in the trailer to go home and I had to ride him home (six plus miles, over active railroad tracks and across a four lane highway), but even then, we had fun until that happened. This year we have a supportive and fun group that worked on trail class one evening. The moms have figured it out and this night we had a potluck with pulled pork, chips and cupcakes that even the horses got into. Many thanks to all!

And how was your day?

My first Hay Derby

2011-08-11T13:55:00.000-07:00

Hay. Yes, hay. Who would have thought that hay could inspire people to send their day waiting, lifting, driving, unloading and sweating.
We have been low on hay. All summer, as a matter of fact. Hay has been in very short demand due to the exceptional drought. The news always says, the drought in Texas, well, New Mexico is surely just as dry. Sure, there are irrigaters to water the fields, but hay has to be the right humidity to bale. One day I drove 20 miles to find hay. Even the feed stores were out, because like us, they get their hay from the farmers!
My dad was getting nervous about hay. His fields have been fallow all year. He has a friend who farms his acreage and since it is a dry land crop, it never rained enough for him to even plow! Last year he had a gorgeous crop of winter wheat and summer hay grazer. This year = zero.
We tried to buy hay from a local farmer about two weeks ago. Nothing, every stick was purchased by the dairies (yeah, thanks for that and four dollar milk!). We were going to try again. We were supposed to pick it up on Wednesday....it rained Tuesday night. You'd think I would be grateful for that, but if you have hay that isn't baled, it can't dry out in the rain! ARG! So, we were told Thursday morning. Fine. I made a call and my Dad hired my friend's high school son and his buddy. Extra muscle. Let's face it, Dad walks with a cane and I am a 39 year old woman who's had four kids. Not exactly very good DIY material.
So I decide to place another call and a friend loaned me a stock trailer. YAY! He owns and runs Knight Construction (free plug) and is a heck of a guy. And I am not just saying that because he loaned me a trailer!
I swing back to Dad's in his truck with the trailer and I am feeling really good about this. Wyatt and Nate (footballers! WOOT, Go RAMS) hop in and Dad announces that he is driving. Okay, his truck, his rules, but I drive the truck with this trailer, almost weekly in the summer, and am used to it. HE'S DRIVING! Okay, I get in shot gun, because Wyatt and Nate are gentlemen.
We pull up to the farm house and I call Hal. He says, go a half mile east and a quarter mile north and you'll see us. They haven't started to bale yet. I ask if we should call back after lunch. He chuckles and says, that would be too late. I totally did not understand what he meant by that.
So we went east and then north and then holy dust balls, batman. There were about ten trucks and trailers lined up at the edge of a cut circle (irrigated fields here are in circle form) waiting on the baler. At first the baler wasn't baling. Older gentlemen and one seriously tall farmer (Hal has to be almost seven foot) were inspecting the hay.
I spotted someone I knew (don't ask a name, I can never remember) and I wandered over. Which bugged Dad, because he wanted me to wait in the car, but Hello! I can network and get information!
I walked over and asked why everyone was here for my hay. I got a laugh and a chuckle and was told I was still ornery, which I promptly said was my Dad's fault. I was informed that we were all waiting on hay, and that it wasn't quite ready to bale yet.
Three more trucks with trailers pulled in behind us.
I told Dad and he was astounded. We had never been part of a hay derby before! We had always just pulled into Hal's barn, loaded and left. Every now and then, Hal would have us drive to the field and pick some up, but never had we waited in line to pluck it from the field!
Two more trucks pulled up, one with a huge flatbed trailer and about four people.
We waited. The baler moved through the circle, the bale slid out the back. It was inspected. It was found worthy. Two balers started up.
The first truck in the Que pulled into the circle as the baler started going along the raked row. The second truck in line waited. Another baler pulled around us and set to work. There were now about 18 trucks with trailers in the lineup!
Our turn came. I bungeed the trailer door open and the two young men walked and heaved the bales into the trailer. I stacked hay inside, then called to Wyatt that I was pooped. So I walked the ring with Nate, grabbing bales that had been deposited by the baler and thumping them into the trailer.
Twelve bales, Dad has to slow the truck a bit. Twenty bales and I am red faced and can now only walk along the truck and motion when Dad should slow down so Nate could load easier.
Forty bales. We have to stop on occasion so Nate can help Wyatt wedge the bales tightly into the trailer.
Fifty bales and the trailer is racked, stacked and packed. We take a breather and shut the trailer gate. We open the tail gate of the truck. There are three tractors towing balers. There must be a half dozen trucks slowly going along the circle, men and women tossing bale after bale onto the trailers.
We begin to load the truck up, Nate throwing them, Wyatt stacking them and me explaining how to "weave" the bales so they hold each other onto the truck.
Sixty-Eight bales. We climbed into the cab and started trying to rehydrate. I guided Dad over a gully in the field left by the irrigater wheels that had to have been two feet deep. We pulled to the side of the field and there were still trucks, waiting patiently. We handed our checks to a woman who was family to Hal and a retired teacher that knew Wyatt and Nate.
We slowly made our way home, unloaded and the old people collapsed, while I am sure Wyatt and Nate went to hang out with other teens before football practice at seven.
Never doubt the strength and stamina of a farmer. There were men there well into their sixties, slinging bales with ease. There were teens there, like Wyatt and Nate, that hauled, lifted and stacked, working a man's job, no complaining.
This area of the world is frugal in its rain, generous in its storms and wrath and creates a strength in people that is uncommon in this world. We joked about line jumping, it never happened. Gloves were exchanged to those who had none. Opinions and suggestions, support and laughter were currency used in abundance.

We all came for hay, we all received memories and God's blessing of community at the same time.

And how was your day?

Flying to the 'topes

2011-08-11T13:15:00.000-07:00

We live in a relatively small town. We boast 18,000 people and I think that number is largely due to the families that are hear from Cannon Air Force Base. So, our population is, fluid, to say the least. Due to population and demographics, we lack certainly things that larger communities take for granted.
We lack a Denny's (okay, some might think that is a bonus, but I like them!), we lack a variation in eating establishments, and if we have a water main break (which we do with alarming consistency) then there is no place to eat out, because the whole town shares a water co-op!
We lack an airport, our nearest being a small commuter airport in Clovis, 20 miles away. We lack movie theaters (don't even get me started) and while we lack major shopping establishments, one has learned to find great joy in the more traditional, mom and pop owned store (may I suggest the Shabby Sheep Yarn Shoppe on 2nd.)
For all of that, I am not complaining. Sometimes it is irritating, having to drive further for something the rest of the world seems to have at their finger tips (hello, Ross and Target), but in the end, seeing someone ride their horse into town, or stopping to chat with someone know (because let's face it, you know almost everyone) the small town life is much to be enjoyed.
But.....we lack baseball.
There is Little League and co-ed softball, but not the stadium ballpark baseball that my husband loves. Not only does he love it, he understands it.
Why on earth would I say that? Because my dear husband was NOT born in America. He was born and raised in Ireland. You would think this would make him a huge fan of Man United or Newcastle, but no, he is a tied and dyed San Diego Padres fan. Wow, where did that come from? Working at a radio station that carried the Padres. He learned everything he could about it. He loves baseball.
Now, jump to this past spring. Our boys played in their first round of Little League. Steve could not have been a more involved Dad. He made almost every game (the ones he missed, I had to text play by play), he even coached first base, he was at practices and he worked with the boys at home.
Okay, I was delighted. The kids have played soccer, which I love. I have coached, assisted with and supported. Two kids show horses, I haul trailers, meet with the coach and push fluids in the heat of the summer. It was wonderful that Steve was so involved with baseball.
Then the talking started.
"I wish we could take the boys to a real game."
"Yup, but there aren't any nearby. I don't even think there are any major league teams in the state." Shows that I know very little.
"Well, there is Triple A in Albuquerque."
"Okay" Triple A? Double A, whatever, no meaning to me!
"What if I could get tickets?"
"And Albuquerque is only across the state, three and a half hours away." (insert sarcasm).
"What if I could get flight vouchers for the commuter plane?"
"You want to put our kids on a small plane? I get to sit next to James and Caitlyn!"
In the end, I sat next to Conner, who was nervous, but far better than William. William is not big on new things. Or things not on the schedule. Only the promise of a ball game got him on that plane.
He closed his eyes, gripped Steve's hand and proceeded to hate the entire flight. With his eyes closed.
Caitlyn and James kept putting their hands in the air, like on a roller coaster. And William had his eyes closed. They would point out structures on the ground and at first, Conner wouldn't look, but then his curiosity took over and he was soon exclaiming over the sight.
William still had his eyes closed.
We landed with mild turbulence, which is common in Albuquerque. William had his eyes closed. Caitlyn was giddy with excitement, claiming how much she loved landing. William opened his eyes and said that he liked landing, but for different reasons!
We hopped a shuttle to our hotel and cooled off with a plate of nachos before the game (it's all about the food). The kids swam a little and then it was off to the ball game.
We took the shuttle, complete with a fabulous driver, to the stadium. As far as Triple A action goes, the Albuquerque Isotopes have an incredible stadium. The boys were in awe. Even Caitlyn was impressed when we discovered we had clubhouse seats. We were almost directly behind home plate.
It was a fun game with the Isotopes loosing to the Tacoma Rainier's. The Isotopes really played poorly, except for their catcher. On the other hand, we witnessed; a double play, foul balls into the stands, several home runs, a stolen base, a broken bat and a fight between an umpire and a manager.
The only bad part was the next morning, our flight was canceled. The altimeter was busted, and gee, you mean you need to know what your altitude is? The air line was very apologetic, but we decided the best course of action would be to rent a car and take the long drive home. Which we did. And no one was happier about that than William.

And how was your day?

A Magical Birthday

2011-08-11T13:04:00.000-07:00

Conner, my very own Potter-head, turned seven on Sunday. He had very specific wishes for his birthday. He wanted....a Harry Potter party. Imagine my surprise. So we planned and worked hard and had a very Harry Birthday. The birthday boy is over joyed and still walking around with a plush owl on his arm. :)

Interfere not in the affairs of Dragons....

2011-07-19T09:40:00.000-07:00

Dragons come in many forms. They are cleverly hidden. Let me take you on a short journey of a few I have run into lately.
It is no secret that at my house, we are all "Pot-heads", i.e. Harry Potter fans. We are all still too young to even think of a midnight showing. And quite frankly that is usually when the freaks come out, you know, things that go bump in the night.
So we opted for a Monday morning matinee, first movie out of the box! We bought our tickets early (didn't need to, but it made us feel special) and donned our glasses. The movie hiccuped several times in the first couple of minutes, then it stuttered, it paused and then went black. Several times. I stepped out of the theater to check and the second time, I was offered a refund. Yes, I do believe I will. I signed up for the refund and went back to the theater. My children were not unattended, let me make that perfectly clear. We had been joined by another family and were sitting in a large group that took up one plus rows.
In the end, we sort of saw the movie. We will likely see it again. I found out that after our disaster of a screening, the theater stopped selling Potter tickets for the day. On the way home, the children told me about the dragon.
They hadn't spoken earlier, because my Mama Bear would have emerged, searched out the dragon and vanquished it in a flurry of large words and pointed insults. Bet you didn't know that I am a WereBear!
The kids said that when I went out of the theater (when the film had stalled out, mind you) the boys (my twins and another) had chatted. Hey, kids talk. They talk at dinner, they talk while in the shower and they talk during movies. That is why we went to a matinee. It was the "kid hour". When the children had chatted, a dragon disguised as a women in front of them, had turned and said, "Shut the F--- up!" Except she didn't use dash marks.
I was so angry! Of course kids talk, in a kid movie! It isn't as if we took them to an adult movie or even an evening showing. We took them to see a kid's movie based on a kid's book!!! So this dragon had a lot of nerve and I wish the children had told me earlier. Then again maybe not. I might be in jail right now!

Another type of dragon we have is quite common for us, but is actually an endangered species: Horned Lizards, or as we call them, Horned toads. We are lucky enough to have a very healthy population at our home. We catch them and play with them, as they are fairly gentle creatures. We always return them to their home. Today, I had a rare chance to see something most people will never, ever see; an infant horned lizard.

He was maybe the size of a nickle. That is a half inch standard garden hose next to him. He had almost no horns or spikes, just bumps. I returned him back to his area, a place where he fit under weeds, like I stand under a tree. For more information on horned lizards go HERE.

So, may the dragons in your life be the kind that scurries through the dirt and not the kind that drops f-bombs on your kids!

And how was your day?

Harry Potter's room, had he not been raised a muggle...

2011-07-16T10:56:00.000-07:00

We finished the room. It is everything he wanted and more. There are two details that haven't been completely finished, so sue me! I was a tribe leader for VBS all this week and add on a fund raiser for cheer squad, well, you get the picture. I have the Mirror of Erised sitting in my garage awaiting Pop-pop to hang it on some serious stud mounts. It is old and heavy, just like the real thing. I also need to paint the trunk in proper Gryffindor colors. In case anyone is wondering, all the real candles have had their wicks removed and the rest are LED faux candles. They are fabulous, they even smell like vanilla candles! The room is a delightful flight of fancy, but in the end, let us heed wise words:

"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that." - Albus Dumbledore

And how was your day?

Woman Power and Santa Claus

2011-07-15T09:22:00.000-07:00

My days are never, ever empty. I am filled with trips to cheer practice, VBS, swimming pools and horse show practice. I can hitch a trailer (and back it up, thank you very much), load cranky horses, fix the strap on stiff swim fins and even...help build a fence.
I say help, because my husband and I both have come to conclusions about our fleeting youth and hired help to make the fence. It started out as a project for a friend's fiance. I had a section of fence that was down a lot and it kept grounding out my hot charger. I had him come out and walk it, give me an estimate and we filed it away, planning our projects (I will have flower pots in the front yard, etc.).
Enter an extremely tense conflict with a neighbor. The fence line is now in error and posts are going up in my pasture. Personally, loosing 10-20 feet of pasture isn't a grave concern, t-posts without fencing are. The horses don't see them since they are new, and the potential for injury is there. My horses are just like me, accident prone.
So, project planning changed and one afternoon I found a section of fence line unhooked from a corner post and I knew that fence building had to become a priority.
The young man I had planned on doing the building was getting some great hours with his real job and was unable to come any time soon. Step in his fiance (my friend), her friend and a great friend of mine who lives on a farm. Let's face it, I have horses and poultry, but no true farming experience. When Jenny does a fence, it is measured in miles!
I admit, we did a great job. In two days we had sunk and concreted two telephone poles to act as corner posts, pounded in 12 t posts (into hard pan soil) and about 12 rebar posts in between. We then took heavy wire (think bard wire without the barbs) and using a truck and 'come-a-long' stretched that puppy tight. Twice. We used post clips, insulators and very fun tools. We did it with laughter, beer, soda and sunburn! We did it while the horses stuck their heads into truck windows and while the kids ran water to and from.
In short terms, we rocked it.
The second half of this post goes to my son, William, who makes life a grand adventure. Yesterday morning, we were waiting on a delivery of t-posts and William was schooling Amanda on checkers, I sorted through bags of hand-me-downs and came across a costume. William was thrilled. He had to put it on, now. He wore it the whole day. He wore it to VBS.

He was so happy. In the end, I was delighted with him and watched with joy as he made so many people smile.

And how was your day?

More Mystical Room

2011-07-06T16:15:00.000-07:00

More work on the Harry Potter Room

I got the two tables for three dollars each at a yard sale. They needed some paint and I am going to add some more touches. The dresser was Conner's already, it just took some paint and stencils.
The last is our playroom door. I thought it would make a lovely Mirror of Erised. I love to decorate, and this time, well, with Harry Potter theme, I am all in. I think I am having more fun than Conner! Nothing wrong with that. A fun room doesn't have to cost bunches. All said and done, this room is costing less than 200. The joy of it is you don't have to fork it all out at once. Make use of Goodwill and other thrift stores. I found all sorts of items that we are going to be adding to his room that I picked up for a song. I did opt for store bought drapes, rather than sewing my own. I figured he could use the privacy more than I needed to save a buck. As soon as the paint is dry, the drapes will go up along with the wall hangings.
We support Gryffindor......and the Chudley Cannons!
And how was your day?

Decorating and Doggies

2011-06-29T18:30:00.000-07:00

The weeks of summer seem to be slipping by so quickly. Last week at about this time there was a commotion on our front porch. There was some barking and bouncing and a cute, adorable puppy bounded over and greeted me. Now, in the previous week Steve had given an adamant "NO" to two free puppies that I had fallen in love with. He was saying "NO", again! But she chose us! She followed me on walks, always to return to our house. One day I shushed her and yelled, "Go home!", she went to our front porch. We still have her in our backyard and there is a couple with children coming to see her tomorrow, so hopefully this will be her forever family!
This summer our project is Conner's room. Conner's room is a mish mash of space ships and sharks, no true theme.
He has been obsessed with Harry Potter, so it made sense to decorate his room in a Harry Potter theme. This has proved to be a challenge. There is an entire internet of items I could by. Um, this equals PRICEY!!!! I mean, really, why pay 60 bucks for a lamp!
So what's a girl to do? Go to GoodWill! We went and scored some serious wall decor and some great basket pumpkins and candle holders. At a yard sale, I scored matching tables that are really odd and can be stacked. Six bucks!
So today, I started on the hard part, the paint. Until I realized, paper came first! We saw something similar to this on line, but this is a different take on it. For 2.99 I purchased an old book, the Encyclopedia of Dictionaries. For 16.00, I purchased wall glue, a brush, a smoother and a bucket. Here are the results!

Next up, painting and curtains!

And how was your day?

Summer Cleaning!

2011-06-24T14:59:00.000-07:00

Amazing, there is a floor!

Just how Dry is it?

2011-06-21T07:57:00.000-07:00

I have strayed from my usual post about my kids. Is it because nothing interesting happened? Nope, as a matter of fact, I may write about our fantastic mouse hunt, but right now, I think I want to illustrate how dry it can get, and what happens when it does.

I was out with the kids (of course), repairing our hot fence (south side, again) when I really noticed the elevation differences in the land near the fence. I took a picture, which is, as they say, worth a 1000 words. However, in this case, I believe some words are needed to get the full picture!
In this picture, prior to the spring winds, this area had been flat. There was a small rise on a secondary fence that was about 15 feet to the right of those tall weeds. Those tall weeds were shoulder height to me, at 5'4"! There was no rise on the right side of the fence!
The only reason the left side isn't as lifted with blown in dirt, is that is where the horses walk, thus wearing it down!
There is perhaps a three foot rise in elevation behind the fence. In some places, the lower wire, which is supposed to be about 18 inches off the ground, is buried. We went through it all, shifting the soft piles of dirt, lifting wire and adjusting the poles. It was hard, gritty work. We reset all the hot wire on the insulators, cleared all debris and reset wobbly poles.
In the end, is the hot wire hot? Not really. You see, for an electric fence to properly work, the animal must be grounded for the fence to complete the circuit and zap the animal. This is the reason birds land on the fence without harm, they aren't grounded.
This fence isn't hot. The wires can be moved without shocking (as demonstrated by the wires consistently down on the south side). It is literally so dry, our dirt doesn't hold enough latent moisture to complete the circuit!
So, while there are areas of the country that are bemoaning another rainfall, and eyeballing flood lines, we on the High Plains are worried.
We watch our top soil drift, we walk our pastures and see hard ground with no hint of soil. We see the bones of the earth laid bare. Dairy farmers are having to search farther afield to find hay for their herds, and many are selling off herds because there is no hay.
You can irrigate a field to grow things, but without proper humidity, you can't bale the hay.
So as one part of the country prays that the waters recede, another part of the country prays for rain.
Hear our prayer.

And how was your day?

The Flying Floatie

2011-06-16T20:51:00.000-07:00

Nothing says summer like, well, swimming at the pool. We are fortunate enough to be members at the local country club. We love to swim there. The life guards are friendly and take an interest in the kids, the pool is relatively uncrowded and bingo, we are allowed to have floaties. Noodles, inner tubes, mats, whales and sharks, all are permitted.
We went today, meeting up with some friends, to cool ourselves from the 100 plus weather we have been having. I could go on at length about our wind, the way I hate it, the way it lays the earth bare until there is no top soil, the way it is preventing any form of rain from falling, but I won't.
Getting ready for swimming takes an Act of Congress to get us out the door. First is the snacks that I pack. We will be there between two to three hours, so that means hearty provisions. What would happen if food weren't readily available to my ~~portable stomachs~~ children? Sadly, the last of the summer sausage (bought three days ago), the rest of the strawberries, the granola bars, the water and juice. I think we packed heavier than the Donner party. Good thing, you know what happened to them!
Then there is the inevitable fight over who gets to be first for getting their sunscreen. I don't know why this is such a big deal. I have learned not to wait until we get to the pool, heavens, that means no jumping in for at least an extra five minutes! Can't have that!!
I smear sunscreen in the correct places, insist on the proper rash guards (no getting around the fact of how disturbingly white we all are) and yell, find your towels.
I gather either my kindle or my knit bag to amuse myself after my obligatory dip. Gather the million and four goggles, fins, masks and dive rings that must be brought because if I don't bring them, they will be missed and cried over not ten minutes after our arrival.
This time it was seriously hot. The kids dumped their towels and headed straight for water. Andrea, Liberty and I settled and talked for a bit, then the heat became too much. We jumped in and cooled off, doing some aqua aerobics to keep warm before climbing out to dry out.
The wind kicked up as I was dispersing rations to my hungry minions. It swirled around us and scooped up our black inner tube, lifted it out of the water, and over the fence.
James, fast on his feet, took off around the fence and after the rapidly moving tube.
The ironic fact was the tub bounded and spun on edge as if the wind wielded an invisible stick to send the hoop running. Past one tee, James ran after the fleeing tube.
It was gaining speed, but James was persistent and kept running. A golfer at the closest green spotted his trouble and turned his cart around.
Boy and cart and tube were over a small rise (we have no hills here) and out of site. We waited, on lookers at the fence.
Then, behold, the cart was zipping back with a tube on one side, and James in shotgun. It zoomed back to our immense cheers, James grinning like a hero.

So, be wary the wind, it will steal your floaties, and be thankful for the golfer with a sense of humor and a good heart!

And how was your day?

Traffic and travel!

2011-06-11T19:21:00.000-07:00

So I found this new part on blogger that shows almost everything about my viewers. What systems they use (Mac vs PC), web browsers, referral sites, searches and even geography! I have had readers in Alaska and the Ukraine!! I find it fascinating!
We are on our way home from our lovely vacation. We spent a fun filled time in Disneyland (seriously, we stayed on site, I highly recommend that route!), then had even more fun in Las Vegas with Grandma and Grandpa.
We climbed Mt. Charleston (okay, just the Mary Jane Falls trail, but it was rated as moderate, and we went up about 1600 feet in about 1.4 miles!), we walked the strip (Mama, is that real? Why are there Egyptian thingys?), we swam (the pool cleaner is now named Vip the Zip) and made homemade pizza with Grandpa (woot!).
So, it was interesting to me, to stop on my physical journey (hello, Gallup!) and look at the Internet journey that my blog makes. Amazing. My words can travel, and way faster than I can!
We have driven along a route that has shown us the raw beauty of the West. The rock cliffs, the streaked crumbly hills, all send a visceral feeling through me. The ancient human trapped in all of us looks to the cliffs, sees the out croppings and thinks, shelter. There is something pleasing in the landscape. It is something that reassures me as I drive through it.
We journey home tomorrow. My mind is half on the laundry and cleaning that needs to be done. The fence that needs mending (alas, my fence is continually having problems, and only on one side. Frustrating to say the least). The parade that Caitlyn and James are in on Saturday and Heritage days all weigh in the back of my mind.

But foremost, I see the cliffs, striations of red and tan, boldly jutting out of the ground. Sentries, shelter, survival.

Disney and Vegas

2011-06-05T17:00:00.000-07:00

Disneyland was fabulous and then we moved on to Vegas. Grandma and Grandpa look great and it is wonderful to see them. I have gone from being tired from walking all over Disney to being plied with food at Grandma's

Disneyland

2011-05-31T21:51:00.000-07:00

WOW

Summer Vacation

2011-05-29T16:34:00.000-07:00

One of the best things one can do with their family is to take a summer vacation. For us, this normally entails a trip to Las Vegas, Nevada. Steve's family lives there and a a visit always sees us playing in a swimming pool and enjoying fabulous food.
This year is no different. We have packed our bags, we have our swim suits gathered and are ready to go.
What they don't know is that we aren't headed to Vegas....we are going to....DISNEYLAND!
A long time planning and saving has gone into this and I will try to share this incredible event!
Including their reactions when we finally do tell them! Then, when we have spent time in the Happiest Place on Earth, we will go to grandma's house!

Conner Graduates Kindergarten

2011-05-27T10:57:00.000-07:00

There was nervousness, there were tears. There were smiles and there were shinning eyes. And then there was Conner!
Conner had no nervousness or anxiety. He was bouncy and ready to go!
The children did wonderful with their songs and poems. Their gappy teeth and mortarboards provided a unique contrast. Conner was thrilled that his "girl friend", Amelia. could make it.
For me, it is bitter sweet. I am excited for my youngest. I am so proud of him. But he is my youngest. My last through kindergarten with it's sweet innocence, it's ingenuinity, it's stuttered words and lisps. I shall miss pages that are graded with smiles or frowns, where the biggest infractions are running in the halls.
But someday, this little one will be a man, and there is no way on earth I would hamper his journey.
Congratulations Conner Mac!

Finally Friday.....

2011-05-13T11:41:00.000-07:00

Ah, Friday. The day of sleep in. The day the kids, in theory, should quietly sneak from their beds and go downstairs to quietly watch TV and quietly eat a nutritious breakfast of cereal and milk. Friday. The day the dogs are let out and fed without an adult reminding children of their duties. QUIETLY!

My Friday.
6:00 am. Kids rough housing in their rooms. Dogs barking to be let out. Dogs running into my room on their crazy eight path. Kids shrieking to get the dogs rebounding faster until they jump on my bed and mistake me for a pillow.
6:15 am. Kids have new mission to let dogs outside!!! and to feed them and leave mama alone.
6:17 am. Loud argument from children over Scooby vs Spongebob.
6:18am. Disturbing crash from kitchen
6:20am. Loud argument inter sped with, "NO WAY, YOU clean it up!"
6:28 am. Shrill screaming and the call, "COYOTE", "COYOTE IN THE YARD"
6:29 am. Me: where? Kids: (random screaming, dogs barking) Me:I can't shoot it if I can't find it!!
6:31 am. Coyote location identified. Go to window. Nice puppy, not a coyote.
6:32 am. Put rifle away and crawl back in bed.
6:35 am. Try to sleep. Boy child jumps on my bed and says that it was William who did all the screaming. Children given instructions to get dressed and do chores.
6:38 am. Children run upstairs and get dressed with the subtly of a herd of bison in a thunderstorm.
6:45 am. House is quiet.
6:46 am. WHACK, THUMP (metallic clump)
6:47 am. Repeat
6:48 am. Get up and go to garage. Disrupt baseball game being played in garage.
6:50 am. House quiet.
6:51 am. SQUEAL thump. Cheer. Squeal thump.
6:53 am. Go downstairs and disrupt soccer game in garage. Stomp feet, make inarticulate noises and point meaningfully at barn.
6:55. Kids do chores.
7:07. Mom. Hey Mom. Mom. Are you awake?

sigh.

And how was your day?

In a dither

2011-05-11T10:06:00.000-07:00

So long between posts, I have no excuse. I have reasons, which really don't qualify, but are there, nonetheless!
I learned to knit, which when learning anything new, has become something of an obsession. New legwarmers have replaced soccer socks for Caitlyn. I am working on a new stitch on a scarf and, wait for it, I am rocking some circular needles in an attempt to make a Harry Potter hat. There is a great book, found here, that is all projects inspired by good old HP.
I have been totally amazed by the creativity and complexity. I have been scared, cowering away from them, but compelled to desire them all the same! As my lovely friend Annie has said, that's conquerable! Mostly because I think she figured out if she said, oh that's easy, I was going to take delight in putting one of my DPN through her eye.
I have also been up to my eyeballs in kids stuff. Yes, it is the glamorous (cough cough) stuff that fills my usual blogs, baseball, soccer, and animals. We had a wonderful soccer season and are in the middle of our baseball season. Animal season never ends!

So, my life in pictures:

And how was your day?

Sublime to the Ridiculous

2011-04-18T20:04:00.000-07:00

I had the honor of attending the meeting dinner for the Roosevelt County Electric Co-op. James won first place for second graders in the coloring contest and we were invited.
We started off by signing in and claiming our raffle ticket to the door prizes, something that, sadly, was of no further use to us.
A very traditional High Plains spread was laid out in a buffet and then we proceeded to find places in the main ballroom. Some of you may be wondering what exactly is a traditional High Plains meal. Sadly, light cuisine is not one of our qualities as a community. The fare was heavy on starch (which I am trying to be cautious of) with chicken fried steak and white gravy. It is the food of a working family, substance to stick to you during long hours of heavy work. Folks here still have living memories of the Dust Bowl and hardship, of homesteaders and boom towns. For the generations who settled here, a hearty appetite was a requirement.
The dining room was almost surreal. So many people that looked alike. Tall, weathered men with faint tan lines across their brows sat next to bright eyed women who were quick to speak and quicker to laugh. They are all working people with calouses on their hands, muscles worn from the hard work that still moves the community.
They all look alike. Why, why do they all look alike? Because in our community, they are our everything. Across was a "neighbor", meaning closer than five miles. Down the table was one of our teachers. Across the room was members of our church. Sunday school teachers and babysitters. Linemen and dairymen.
All of the people that make up our day to day lives. Sadly, I can't name you the Supreme Court, but I could name some of the Co-op board because they are part of my daily life.
We enjoyed the dinner, heavy fare in all. Looking down the table, the light struck the ever present tea glasses and they all glowed. It looked as if the tables were lit by hundreds of amber candles.
Then, as you will find only in the heart of America, we bowed our heads in public prayer. We asked the Lord to bless our food and send the rains. We asked God to bless our fire fighters that we were so grateful for, and to continue to steer us in our daily efforts. The flag was brought in and we, as a group, stood for the presenting of the colors and the Pledge of Allegiance. No one protested, and if none participated, they weren't chided.
My children were so well behaved, models of manners and patience. It was a long dinner, with many honorable mentions and speeches. The poster winners were called and James proudly stood, and then stood on his chair when he realized no one could see him. He was proud to claim his certificate and T-shirt. No other honor was needed.
I realized as we left, a flood of well fed citizens, I must look familiar, too.

The Ridiculous:
On Sunday, I had the honor of spending almost twenty dollars on Easter baskets being auctioned by our Missions Committee. It was a silent auction. I had bid on a gardening basket. I lost. Then why did I write out a check and walk to my car with seven baskets? Because my children all know how to write their names. Never, ever explain how a silent auction works to children.

And how was your day?

The Lament of the Cleaners

2011-03-08T07:12:00.000-08:00

My kids are basically good kids. We have no major behavioral issues. We have no pathological lying, no stealing, no tantrums. We are blessed not to have anger issues. We have four children who truly get along and enjoy each other's company.
So why, for the love of little green apples. would something as simple as cleaning a room cause so much strife and anguish.
Sure, the twins haven't actually hung up clean clothes for the last week. Yes, it sits in a corner of the closet, next to a Santa hat and a lone shin guard. Sure, Conner stacks all of his clothes on the lower hang bar and if there is no more room for more, he simply throws it over the bar. Of course his toy box is empty but there is a stack of toys on top of it.
Yes, my boys are a bit of slobs. I think that is some what expected. Boys don't really care what they look like. I do have one son with a love of clip on ties. And boy, will he wear them with anything! But no one really expects boys to be neat freaks. It is well documented that (with a few exceptions) most males of the species aren't fully house trained until marriage.
So this brings us to the un-named member of this blog. That would be my daughter, also known as Miss Chif. When she comes down the stairs, she is in matching clothes, accessorized to within an inch.
She has a stable of hats, belts, earrings and other items that match and highlight her outfits, hair and eyes.
So imagine my complete shock when I went into her room to drop off towels. The bed was tossed, there were at least seven outfits on the floor (am I to guess rejects?), there was dirty laundry under the bed, a half eaten cookie and shoes. Dear Lord, there were shoes everywhere!
How does she come out of that room looking so good? Haz Mat should be called in before the whole room reaches critical mass and goes super nova!
So I gingerly put the towels in her bathroom (another frightening zone) and tip toed around her room. I peaked into her closet. I am sorry to say that I will likely need therapy for post traumatic stress.
I gathered all, and I mean all of her discarded clothes and made a giant pile on her bed. I disposed of the Valentines candy (note, it is in March now).
Then I left a supply of laundry baskets, trash bags and bathroom cleaners and I walked out.
I do believe we have reached the point where I am not needed to step in and do the work. We are beyond the point where I am needed to sit and point out one item after another that needs put away.
Caitlyn came how to my wrath. I explained the mess, my disappointment and then I offered her the final straw.
"If you fail to keep your room and clothing neat, there will be no spring clothes. No summer clothes. You will spend summer in cut off jeans and boy t-shirts."
She turned green. Tears welled into her eyes. She stammered several excuses that bounced off my new armor and fell away. I pointed to the mountain of clothes and walked out of the room.
I went downstairs to fold more laundry. I could here sniffling, crying and a frustrated monologue. I felt a great deal of satisfaction. I had pierced the tween facade of maturity, I had proven that I could stick by a plan and mean it.
I folded the laundry and then pulled out a sale catalog from Landsend. Man, they have the cutest girl summer clothes.

And how was your day?

GIVE AWAY!

2011-02-19T09:09:00.000-08:00

Spread the word! On my "work" blog, I will be giving away fabric!

Here is a link!

Fabric Giveaway!

Win fabulous brand new Amy Butler Fabric!!!
Tell a friend!

If the shoe fits......

2011-02-12T18:38:00.000-08:00

Basketball. Just the name conjures the image of large shouldered men running with squeaky shoes. Fade to black and cut to reality.....first and second graders (and Conner, yes I lied just a teensy bit to get him on the team) and uniforms too large and lots of traveling.
My boys are playing basketball for the first time since preschool. They love it and I love to go to the games. It is almost like a playdate for mommies. I see most of my friends and it is great to catch up on people! The kids play a slightly different version of the game. It has some different rules that help them learn and let them develop skills, all in all, a whole lot of fun.
Then I looked closely at my boys. William was doing fine, except for not wanting to be overly aggressive and hurt anyone, which is almost a shame considering his size!
Then there is James, and as I watched him run down the court, I thought, why do his feet remind me of clowns? I hate clowns. They are evil and only exist to eat your brains when you are asleep.
Slap, slap, slap. That was the sound he made as he ran. It dawned on me, his shoes are way to big. He is funny that way, and apparently he had latched onto a pair of sneakers from his large footed cousin.
Then I looked over at Conner (as he had a blond moment and forgot where to watch). He was wearing mock hiking boots. With mismatched socks.
Really?
Really.
So, the game ends in victory ( and at one point the boys were making shots and catching the rebounds and tossing and the ball got stuck between the hoop and the backboard. Dad got it on video, I'll post it later! Classic!) and the boys coming running over the throw themselves at me with incredible effort. I staggered under the weight of Conner. Dang, what does that boy eat?
"We need to go and buy some shoes."
Or as my husband says, "Dear Lord, just take them and get them shoes!"
So, we head to Walmart. To buy shoes. With a six year old and eight year old. Who hate to shop.
When we get in, and they make the obligatory check on the Coinstar machine, we head into a very crowded Walmart. I guess, being right before Valentine's day, there were last minute shoppers. Whatever, move over love birds, we are on a mission.
We go into the shoe aisle and start. They both insist on no laces, Velcro only. Damn, kids today have it rough. We head to the clearance rack because I am cheap! Let's face it, by next week, these shoes won't fit, why on earth would I spend 30 to 40 on shoes when I can go clearance for 7 to 10? Hello?
So we start pulling out various sizes. I honestly didn't know what size they were. I mean really, I am a Mom of four. I aim for clean underwear, homework complete and a correct headcount at bedtime. I have a vague idea of sizes, but they have reached an age where they have to be with me!
Conner starts bugging James by handing him pink Barbie Fairy shoes. James throws a pair of ballet flats at Conner. I grab ears and haul them to wear I see some sporty non lace sneakers. On sale, thank you very much.
Apparently I have been entirely neglectful in my mothering duties (come on, really, who hasn't been there!). Conner is now convinced that if it isn't a size too small, it is too big. I hunt him down some size 12. All sizes are there, but 12. As I start to paw through the racks, the smell hits me.
James is trying on shoes. Fine. But OH MY STARRY HEAVENS!! The smell is pungent and redolent of sweat and that peculiar funk known only to boys.
The clerk that is stocking is swallowing convulsively. My eyes are watering.
"James, you a size 4?" "yes" "great, here are your new shoes, but the old ones BACK ON."
I have to admit that last one came out as a loud hiss.
Conner starts to sing the "you have stinky feet" song and James throws some sparkly mary janes at him. I pull James aside and send him on a mission to find one more pair of size four clearance shoes.
I turn aside to Conner and drag him from the light up shoes. I am NOT paying an extra ten dollars so that my son can wear out an LED shoe light by jumping up in down in a closet!
Conner pulls off his shoes and I swear the world lurched to a halt, gagged and the continued.
The clerk stocking was suddenly incredibly helpful to find us shoes to fit Conner. She searched several aisles in rapid succession and produced two pairs of discount shoes in a size 12. I think we seared out her nasal passages.
I grabbed the boys, old shoes in place, new shoes in hand.
We went to the check out and I braved the self check line. As it turns out, Conner had fallen in love with the only other pair of size 12 shoes. They were light up. While I won't pay an extra 10 for light ups, it turns out I will pay an extra 5. So sue me.
I think the shoe lady was seriously happy to see the back of us.
I am also certain she brought out an industrial strength air freshener.
Little does she know, I have Haz Mat gear to clean their closets.

And how was your day?

On this Day....

2011-02-03T09:44:00.000-08:00

Oh, Lord, on this day:

Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers,
but to be Fearless in facing them.
Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain,
but for the Heart to conquer it.
Let me not look for allies in life's battlefields,
but to my own Strength.
Let me not crave in anxious fear to be saved,
but hope for the Patience to win my freedom.
Grant that I am not be a coward in Your Mercy in my success alone,
but let me find the grasp of Your hand in my failure.
--Tagore

Kiddie Decor

2011-01-26T06:58:00.000-08:00

I have been sick. Yes, I have gotten colds and been a lovely cranky mess. Yes, I have had a tummy bug and yakked five pounds out. But this has really beaten me down. An acute sinus infection that set up shop in my ears, throat and eye orbits. I was told the built up mucus was distorting my eyeball. And here I thought random blurry vision was due to the boy gas that is rampant in my house.
Now that I am feeling human, and can swallow without feeling as if I took up sword swallowing, I noticed ....my house is a wreck!
Granted, when Mama is sick things grind to a screeching halt and survival is at a premium. But I look past the basics of "mommy no feel good". Yes, towels on the floors and toothpaste art in the sinks.
There is a certain look to my house. A look that other moms must recognize.
You see, at any given time, no matter how "clean" (and I use that term to mean disinfected) my house is, there is no doubt that kids live here. When I clean, I don't look to eradicate the kid evidence, just keep Haz Mat at bay.
But it dawned on me as my troop of noise buckets took off for school (God bless a carpool), that there was every evidence that not only did children live in this house, happy children live in this house. It is all in the kiddie decor.
The laundry room has the usual clutter, including a ball pump and an incubator with chicken and duck eggs. The latter being a 4-H project my daughter has embarked on. (guess who gets to help)
Going into the kitchen, the evidence of my juvenile decorating is even more pronounced. Matchbox cars on the table. Child art everywhere. (I feel like such a schmuck if I throw any away!). A corner of the kitchen is designated "art land" and it overflows with ribbon and crayons in a trail of creativity. The latest basketball schedule is on the counted, along with graded papers that have to oohed and awed over.
Soccer pictures, school candids and more artwork is on the fridge, along with a postcard of Hogwarts Castle, as Conner still thinks he might get a letter when he turns eleven.
On the counter are a handful of oranges that someone didn't eat in their lunch. Stray socks clutter a corner of the family room, where a dvd case is flipped halfway through. Obviously a child flipped through their collection and somehow forgot (really?) to put them back.
A tangle of blankets on the couch shows were we snuggled last night to watch American Pickers. A cluster of light sabers and plastic rifles shows the lookout post that kept watch, protecting me from rogue clone warriors.
The little bits are everywhere. Even if I had no pictures of my children (snort snort, laugh laugh) it would be obvious that not only do children live here, children are loved here.

And how was your day?

Magic Fingers Dining

2011-01-21T14:23:00.000-08:00

Typical Fridays start with :Get up, basketball practice.
Followed by Caitlyn: Can I stay at Oh-My's?
Me: call her
Caitlyn: She said yes and that the boys said they are going to clean out her barn today!
Oh, I had forgotten. No big deal. I bring the boys to Mom's after practice. Caitlyn is basking, being the center of grand parental attention. The boys don boots and, reluctantly, coats and stomp out to the barn with Pop-pop.
I am adamant that my parents not pay the children for their efforts. In the past, the kids have been paid well above what I thought they did. They completely work their grandparents, who melt and smile at them and hand over a fistful of bills.
Steve and I are trying to establish a new fact with the kids. You are part of a family, help out. So far there are mixed results, but as I figure it, I have three sons who are reaching the right age for me never to have to take out trash, rake a yard or mow grass ever again. We are still having some issues on the concept of "hang up your own laundry", but it is slowly taking effect.
Pop-pop and Oh-My (my parents) are generous to a fault with the kids. Pop-pop more than Oh-My. Pop-pop will let them do what ever they want, and they know it. Oh-My follows the basics of mother-instinct-safety guidelines and first level home ownership (what do you mean I can't walk around the house in barn boots?).
So the new agreement that my kids have managed to swindle out of their grandparents is very very elemental: Will work for food.
The first time the boys cleaned out the barn, it was ice cream all around. This seemed to fit. My parents have two retired horses that are more lawn ornaments than horses. They do the usual horse things, but there are only the two of them, so it isn't as if the boys are cleaning out a dairy (and living near many dairies, I can say, thanks, but no thanks.).
This time the boys were promised lunch. At Burger King. The barn crew trudged out and with the guidance of the work foreman (Pop-pop) the finished in record time. They also stank. I am used to horse smells. We have 2.5, so it isn't as if that is a foreign smell. There is just something about that particular barn that produces the sourest of smells.
This is why, when we got to Burger King, Oh-My and I had the seating with Caitlyn and Tom-tom (my grandfather) and the boys and their boss got a booth all to themselves.
The meal started with a selection of errors that generally only happen to me or Lucille Ball. The ketch up dispenser was busted (hello? Can you say: crisis?) and then, when I was getting the drinks filled up, I pushed the button for Sprite and it wouldn't stop. I pulled my cup and pushed the button again.
The frothy drink continued to gush. I called out to any employee, but that ketchup dispenser was really absorbing their attention. I gave it some half hearted slaps. Nope. A few other customers were now giving me a wide berth.
Finally, I squinted my eyes and treated it like a home appliance. I grabbed the box over the nozzle and wrenched it upwards forcefully. Silence. It stopped. I capped the cup and told the next person in line to avoid that Sprite fountain. They just looked at me a bit wide eyed....maybe I had done my ninja yell when I fixed it? Who knows.
Our meal was ready by now and I passed food out to the starving masses. After all, it had only been two hours since their last feeding, I was obviously withholding food from them. I finally sat down with mom, Caitlyn and Grandpa.
We put Caitlyn and Grandpa on one side, closer to the boy and their aroma, and Mom and I sat on the booth where the bench connected to the bench of the booth behind us.
Mistake
You see, behind mom and myself were three young ladies of about college age. They had heavily made up faces and hair. They were wearing the latest in animal print clothing and had finger nails that had never ever snaked a drain or scrubbed a floor. Their jewelry was sparkling and they painted the whole picture of young people who have nothing to do.
This didn't really bother me at first. Hey, I was young with no responsibility once. No problem. Then the shaking started.
I guess at first I noticed my drink in my hand vibrating, as if a T-rex had caused an impact tremor. Of course, there are no dinosaurs in Portales. But I looked around to be sure.
One of the young ladies was chatting away on a cell phone. I, personally, will not carry on a conversation on a phone in so public a setting. The entire world can hear you. I had mentally tuned this conversation out after the first high pitched, "NO WAY!". But there she sat, engaged in an animated conversation, with her legs crossed, rapidly bouncing the one leg, which then in turn transferred it's kinetic energy to the entire booth.
Mom and I exchanged glances. It was going to be one of those meals.
Mom and I are used to things like this. We both seem to be cosmic magnets for rude customers, out of control teens and malfunctioning equipment.
We continued to eat when the bench started moving again, vigorously. It was like trying to eat a meal while sprawled on one of those old hotel beds that had the "magic fingers massaging action". If I focused too closely, the edges of my food blurred with the vibrations.
Another shared glance.
Caitlyn, using a new found female radar, realized that there was communication she wasn't privy to. Her radar kicked into high gear when she caught another shared look.
"What?"
"I'll tell you later." She dared to give me a dirty look for putting her off and I informed her that every tween show that had children sassing to adults was now off the menu. We had a lively discussion of what she could watch. We ended up with most things on Discovery, TLC, History and the Food Network.
Now the bench began to actually jiggle. I missed when I went to take a sip from my straw. The movement had my aim off by inches. I am not sure what the girls were doing at this point, but I was starting to feel ever so slightly sea sick.
I hurried up Caitlyn (just how long can she make one ice cream cone last?) so that we could leave.
We ended up leaving first. The movement in the booth was likely to continue for the next unsuspecting customers. The girls were having an animated conversation and I am guessing that multiple hand gestures were part of their language, because the motion on the booth was intense.
Walking to the door, I hurried the boys to the car and thanked Mom profusely for my dinner cruise.

And how was your day?

A roll in the.. HEY! Knock That Off!

2011-01-20T18:38:00.000-08:00

See the big problem with me is my heart. No, I have no physical aliments, my ticker is strong. It is my "heart" that is the problem. Why couldn't I have a harder heart? One that didn't have me melt at every furry or feathered creature that wandered my way. Why couldn't I be one of those people that takes the family on vacation simply after having the mail held?
No, I have to line up an in house pet sitter that is up to speed on horses, birds and attention starved dogs. I have to make sure that feed is in, that the pet numbers are lined up and that my fuzzy babies understand that mummy is leaving for just a bit!
I work hard. I make children's boutique clothing. I save my money to buy feed. Oh, sure, if I were not addicted to the fuzzy creatures of the earth, I could be spending money on myself. You know, lots of clothes, flashy jewelry, the works. But no, I buy at Goodwill and do without, so that my fuzzy and weathered babies can eat better and wear better.
So, after having a wonderful sale (I am not sure how that happened, I listed a steampunk outfit for 200 and it sold), I need hay. I make the call to Hal's Haystack and make arrangements to meet Hal to pick up about 25 bales of quality alfalfa.
I drive over to my parents' house to borrow their truck. When I get the keys, lo and behold, the truck battery is dead. Nuts. I need hay. I have half a bale left. I need hay!
I look at Zippy, my Dodge Caravan. It has Stow N Go. All the back and middle seats all fold easily into the van. I get to work tugging the straps and folding seats down. Soon, behind my seat is a veritable paradise of open space.
One small problem. The interior of my van is carpeted. Hmmm, I really need HAY! Okay, one large piece of painting tarp stretched along the back.
I expected to be able to load four bales of hay. This would tide us over until Dad's truck could be given new juice! However, I completely underestimated Hal's unique hay stacking abilities! He managed to get eight bales of hay in. So if you are ever asked, eight bales will fit in the back of one Dodge Grand Caravan.
Fast Forward: Truck repaired, 17 more bales brought in. Hay stacked neatly (mostly) in barn.
I go out to feed the horses breakfast feeling smug. I am a provider. I am cool on hay for at least several months.
I walk into the barn.....WHAT HAPPENED HERE!
The horses look at me innocently, their calm nickers proclaiming their hunger for breakfast. But how, how on God's green earth could they be hungry after pulling down three bales of hay and eating one entire bale!
I give them ugly, ugly looks. I heft a meager breakfast over the cattle panel that divides the hay from the horses. It bows suspiciously toward the hay. It strains against the hooks screwed into the barn walls.
My gelding, Shiloh merely looks at me, as if, really, did I expect anything less?
So, today, while the horses watched with disdain, I ran hot wire from the fence line down the wall and across the barn and along the barn divider. HA!
I tested it (using a screwdriver, I didn't touch it!) and it works. I look forward to seeing if my naughty equines have managed to by pass the wire and filch hay.
Now, how to keep the ducks from chasing me....

and how was your day?

Throw Mama from the Drain

2011-01-10T19:10:00.000-08:00

Today I exacted my revenge on the stubborn tub drain. The boys maintain their innocence on the matter of why the drain was clogged. I spent my evening pouring liquid plumber down it in an attempt to clear the murky blue water out so that I could see the drain.
I sent the boys to shower in Caitlyn's shower and girded myself for battle.
A leatherman mutli tool, a multi head screw driver and a number 4 boyle knitting needle. Thus armed, I knelt at the side of my foe. The blue water had drained, but there remained a suspicious viscus white sludge. I proceeded to take the drain apart. This required the use of the screw driver, but since the remaining water was still soapy, I had to employ the leatherman grip to turn it. This resulted in my hand slipping off the grip and slamming into the side of the tub.
Several graphic and illegal forms of child torture flitted through my mind. I bellowed for a washcloth and calmed myself with a variety of images of me making my children take care of me in my old age. I plan on living a very very long time, incontinent. Now with my hand covered in the washcloth, and holding the grips that were turning the screw that holds the drain cap, I exerted mighty force. A horrible noise squeaked through the tub and then it gave. Whoever designed a drain that required slippery hands to turn a tool tightened screw at the bottom of the tub should be brought forth and tarred and feathered.
I finally pulled the knob off and there was yet another screw to be turned, only this time it was submerged. I employed my new skill of screw driver manipulation. Another terrible squeal went up and I imagined it to be the plumbing saints urging me on. The mechanism was now fully exposed. Ah! My battle cry reverberated through the bathroom. The dogs quickly left the room, not wanting to be the target of my wrath.
I took my number 4 Boyle knitting needle (please, knitting friends, forgive me) and rammed it into the small space that some childless engineer thinks is adequate to drain a large tub. Resistance and then soft white flotsam came to the surface. It looked eerily familiar. Then it hit me. Memories of the great toilet back up of 2009. Toilet paper. There was roughly half a roll of toilet paper down there!
I stabbed again and again into the heart of the beast. White entrails of paper succumbed to my efforts. Then, more blockages. I reversed the needle and used the cap to snag a small strand of blue mesh. Ah, this I had in front of me, the blue bath scrubby. I tossed it into the trash. The drain gurgled slightly, as if it were a heart monitor sprung back to life! I had to save my patient!
I used the needle again and pulled out enough hair to cover a Yorkie! The drain burped noisily, the life coming back to it. I went in hard and pulled up a plastic bubble stick. The drain sucked in air noisily and the last of the water swished away.
I cautiously ran water and then yelled my war cry! I DOMINATED THE DRAIN!
It was functioning happily! I was happy, the drain was happy!
I went down the hall to put away my weapons and savor success.
"Mom"
I was queen of my domain.
"MOM" Caitlyn's shout crushed my day dream.
"What?"
"Did you say the boys could use my shower?"
"Yes"
"Well, now the water won't go down."

sigh

And how was your day?

The Tell Tale Tub......

2011-01-08T10:25:00.000-08:00

Friday night....Knit Night at the Shabby Sheep Yarn Shoppe. I look forward to this night. An evening filled with laughter, hilarious stories of our children, of yarn projects gone astray (like Erin's Rasputin of a purple cowl!) and yummy food.
I was anticipating the moments when I could snag my yarn bag and skip from the house without a care or a kid. Oh, dear reader, it is never ever that simple in my land.
The children ate a hearty dinner (okay, chicken and rice, my creativity in the kitchen is at an all time low) and were headed to their showers. Sounds simple enough. The boys spent most of the day helping the crew install the metal posts for our new fence and hard work and the great outdoors had definitely scent marked them.
There was the usual giggling, thumping and loud random noises from the upstairs, so Steve decided he was going up.
It was then that the noise escalated and I heard the dreaded words, "Hunny, can you come up here, please."
Oh NO! He called me Hunny, and he said please. I considered my options, flee, suicide or face the music. Option number one graced through my brain, but curses....my yarn bag was upstairs.
Suicide wasn't truly an option, because I have far too many unfinished project (like my life!). So, with a trembling in my heart, I climbed the stairs.
At the landing, I heard Steve berating the boys on their toothpaste painting habit. Maybe that was it. After all, I had cleaned the bathrooms on Monday, could it really be that bad?
I climbed the second set of stairs. Caitlyn was standing in her doorway with wide eyes. Perhaps she shouldn't see the carnage, I sent her to her own shower.
I walked closer and Steve was addressing the boys in stern and serious tones. He saw me. Crap, nowhere to run.
"Have you seen this?" and he pointed to the tub.
(insert horror movie scream)
There was trash all over the floor (hate to admit it, but my boys have lousy aim, more on that some other time). There were towels on the floor. Well, it is a kid bathroom. With a trembling in my heart, I lifted my eyes to the tub.
Bright blue water, the same color as their shower gel. Cold water, with chunks of white ivory soap floating in it. Three shower poufs. A plastic shark. A lego guy (I think maybe young Obi wan). CARNAGE!!!
Steve asks, "Okay, who did this?"
"Not me."
"I don't know"
"I didn't"
Ah, my dreaded extra three invisible children.
Conner said in a small voice, "the water won't go down."
I drop to my knees in agony....not a backed up tub. Please no, no no.
In my world, backed up tubs are far worse than backed up toilets. A toilet you can plunge without getting wet (much) and can clear easily (it is also a good cardio work out). The last time there was a clogged tub, it involved one army figure and a band aid that was murderous to remove.
Steve proceeded to chastise the boys. They hopped to remove towels and trash, scrape toothpaste off the counters and I fished my hand into the tub.
The water was frigid and I felt my hand cramp right away. I turned the stopper to the left and lifted. The stopped turned to the proper open position, but the water remained. Cold and blue, it taunted me.
I couldn't see past the shower gel induced azure, but I was fairly certain a wild experiment involving the drain and floating soap had ensued. I suck my fingers into the icy blue and tried to spin the stopper to remove it from view, to allow my most treasured tool access.....the snake.
The stopper spun merrily and defied my efforts. My hands began to cramp more and my thoughts were: NO! Not on Knit Night! How can I crochet (I am a non knitter)? How can I feel the yarn in all it's textured glory. NOOOOOOOOoooooooooo.
Anger was the next emotion. It must have showed on my face. Steve quickly went to finish dishes (isn't he sweet and SMART), the boys went and had record fast showers in my bathroom and only left one towel behind. I stalked to the closet, Caitlyn popped her head into the hall, saw my face and quickly withdrew and shut her door.
I reached in my closet and pulled out my next best tool.....the wire hanger.
Yes, I still have wire hangers. In this enlightened age you may ask, why?
Because I can MacGyver it into anything. It has cleared out vacuums and hooked items from the roof. Now I was going to employ it to go where my snake was unable to fit.
The children left, the dogs voluntarily went to their crates.
It was me and the cold blue tub.
I closed my eyes and sent a prayer to the plumbing saints (I am not Catholic, but there have to be plumbing saints.) and reached my hands into the icy blue.
I threaded the end of the wire hanger into the small gap left under the tiny space of the open stopper. The wire met resistance. I pushed and there was the slightest sense of give. I was right. Soap. I turned on hot water and as it trickled, fresh foam appeared. I pressed harder with the wire and knew I could move it no further.
I was on my knees, up to my elbows in frigid water. The tub mocked me with it's still waters. I poked futilely on the blockage.
But come on....not on a KNIT NIGHT!
I couldn't feel my fingers, my knees were aching. Motherhood isn't for sissies.
I decided to surrender....for the short term. I gathered my strength and rammed the wire into the softest part of the blockage and left it there.
Mother of Mayhem....giving up?
No, dear reader, a strategic retreat.
I left and soaked my numb hands in warm water. I went downstairs where my clean and freshly showered boys (no getting away with a sprinkle of water and spritz of Febreeze tonight!) watched me cautiously.
I grabbed my yarn bag and told my husband I would deal with it later. I lifted my chin and went to Knit Night, I earned it!
My revenge? This morning the tub was empty except for some boy dirt, soap scum and a bend wire hanger rammed into the drain.
My new plan? Some industrial strength pipe cleaner.
Oh, and I am seriously thinking that the boys should build their own sweat lodge and use that.

And how was your day?

Christmas and revelations

2011-01-06T17:58:00.000-08:00

Okay, I have been a complete slacker. I really don't have any great excuses.
Maybe one, alright, two! or four!
Christmas came with many laughs, too much food and great company.
We had our traditional Italian feast on Christmas Eve and the kiddos were amazed and excited when Oh-my and Pop-pop gave them.....FULL SIZE MOUNTAIN BIKES!
Rock on! They can really cover ground now. They have taken a few trips up the road and back, loving the freedom. One time I followed on Shiloh, who thought this whole process stank, until the kids shared their snacks. Then he was quite happy to follow.
Christmas Day brought happiness in the form of legos. Gotta love those! Cailtyn also was happy to receive a custom pink horse grooming kit and carry case that she had seen and LOVED! We had a less than traditional meal going with brisket instead of turkey, but I have to tell you: Clean up was much easier!
We enjoyed lazy mornings (7 rather than 6!) and family time (I can take you in Sorry Sliders!).
My big revelation? My friend, Liberty, introduced me to ravelry. How awesome is this!!
If you knit or crochet, here is the place for you. I have gotten back into crochet and I honestly didn't realize how much I had missed it!
I have made several scarves and am making granny squares for throw.
I also am at The Shabby Sheep Yarn Shop some mornings, and love meeting all of the crafty people in my community!
So if you are a Portalian...swing by and say hi!

And how was your day?

The Polar Express

2010-12-22T17:22:00.000-08:00

A magical event for the family. We enjoyed cookies and cocoa. We traveled to the North Pole and picked up Santa.
Conner was absolutely smitten with the elves, Buttercup and Peppermint. When asked what he wanted for Christmas, he said, "the elves' phone number!".
We told him that wasn't appropriate, so the little schemer got hugs instead.

And how was your day?

Hay Day!

2010-12-03T16:42:00.000-08:00

We had a photo shoot!

Windrush Alpaca Farm

2010-11-20T16:58:00.000-08:00

What to do on a Saturday after soccer had ended? Windrush Alpaca Farm in Clovis! We spent part of our day there and were delighted.
Rosemary Metcalf gave us a wonderful tour. We started with the rules, no running, no flapping hands and let the alpacas approach you! We went into the main pen with the mamas and the llamas. The alpacas are friendly, but cautious creatures. They sported gorgeous fleeces and colors. Rosemary held one of the younger brown alpacas for the children to touch. He remained calm until Conner started towards his head. Even his "naughty" behavior was mild and when released, Conner commented that he "jumped like a reindeer."
We then went to the "boy pens". We all hand fed the alpacas and one was brought out to show us proper foot trimming, something alpacas require every two months. We explored their lovely and unique coats and saw how thick it was.
The whole time we walked around, the friendliest cat in the world was cosseted and held by my children. The cat, a tom, never once hissed, or even struggled with the kids. The boys also doubled back to a hay barn and discovered more cats that needed their attention.
We went to the farm shop where we were able to see a blanket, socks, hats and other items made from alpaca hair. We were educated and delighted all at once.

And how was your day?

The power of Words

2010-11-17T06:47:00.000-08:00

Words have power. From, "I do" to "help" to "I love you", words contain the power to change our world. My kids are learning all about words. They have learned one of the best things is when they spontaneously say nice things to each other. I love to watch the recipient's face glow, and that small smile power their face.
On the other hand, my children have learned that mean words are not tolerated. That it is far better to not say anything at all. That slanderous words will get them a sit down.
Unfortunately too many adults haven't learned this lesson. While having an opinion is well and good, publicly calling someone out without speaking directly to them first is very immature and uncalled for. If someone has done something to upset me, by all means I will speak with that person directly.
My children are learning to speak up, at the moment of an "incident". "You took my toy and I want it back." "Don't call me that, it hurts my feelings." "I need my backpack, get off of it."
Maybe all of us adults can learn this simple lesson. Tell someone, in person, and politely that something is a problem. If you are rebuked, well, as I tell my kids, you can't control other people, you told them what was on your mind, and the better person will walk away. Do we really need to make a public note with the person's name? Sounds like libel to me.
Sigh, kids may be cruel to each other at times, but it is not really calculated in the way it is for adults. We all need a better filter between thought and deed.
There is the first stone, I am not qualified to throw it.
I don't think any of us are.

And how was your day?

The Eyes have it

2010-11-11T16:46:00.000-08:00

On Thursday, Oct 28, 2010 Conner brought home a sticky squishy eyeball from his Halloween party. He promptly threw it to stick onto the living room ceiling. After James spent an hour shooting suction cup arrows at it, we decided to leave it. November 2, a second eyeball was discovered on the ceiling near the first.
As of November 11, they are both still there. We are officially starting a pool. Leave your guess in the comment box. Winner will receive a batch of pumpkin cookies.

My vote is January 28, 2011.

And how was your day?

Just what is Halloween?

2010-10-29T17:34:00.000-07:00

It is no secret. I have always loved Halloween. I love to be scared, I love to do the scaring, I love the candy. Say it with me, "FREE CANDY"!! I love to play dress up. I wish there were more dress up holidays! I love Halloween.
Yet, it really wasn't until I moved to New Mexico that Halloween was presented with a negative image. Where my biggest fear used to be healthy treats or bag snatchers, here I was told to watch out for my soul!!
So, when things puzzle me, I research. Never having been content with a simple answer, and never having been content to follow the norm, I probed. I found some very interesting stuff. I would note it all in a nice bibliography complete with foot notes, but I do my reading in and around kid stuff. That, and I was once told by an English teacher to stamp out all footnotes before they could breed.
Here is what I discovered. Yes, Halloween is traditionally around the same time as Samhain, a wiccan holiday. Now, here is why.
Halloween, or All Hallows Even, is a Catholic holiday. Did you see that coming? It is before All Saint's Day (all good Catholics must go to mass on Nov 1). That evening or eve, good Catholics (yes, those early Christians) would light candles and go door to door offering to pray for the dead and those in purgatory. Those doing the praying would get a "treat", something called a soul cake. I am betting it wasn't chocolate based.
Also, many people would dress up, or act as "mummers" and act out the lives or their favorite saints. Remember, this was before baseball trading cards and comic books.
Now, why near the pagan holiday....bear with me.
Early Catholic missionaries ran into problems with the early Celts and Brits. Even the Norse. Stubborn, stubborn hide bound people. So the early monks did a bit of, hmmm, blending. They wanted people to feel comfortable in this new fangeled religion (tell me again, the guy died for me?) where there was only one God!! Whoooaaaaa! So, some early pagan traditions were included in early Christianity. Fish on Fridays? Freya the Norse goddess had her holy day on Friday and her symbol was...the fish. St. Brigid? She was the Celtic goddess of healing and letters. It is a fascinating thing to read up one (yes, I am a self confessed nerd).
So, Halloween, All Hallow's Even, was set at Samhain, to give the pagans a sense of continuation. I bet it also drew in all of those wild young folk who were just jumping at the chance to join those crazy Christians!
Also, the calender that was used then, not so good. Most people couldn't count past ten, less if they were missing fingers. Keeping track of anything beyond a lunar calender was rare. The priest were often not even literate. The had memorized the Bible.
Let us also consider the time of year. Harvest is just now over. People have been working seriously hard hours to prepare for winter. There was a mini Ice Age in progress, winter was cold, seriously so. The earth would be tilting her face and the days would have shrunk. Night had a long hold. No electric lights. No modern medicines. It was likely that a sizable percentage of the community would die. For reasons that the people really couldn't understand.
So, like any human, they took a fear, and celebrated it. They brought fear out into the light. The partied, they laughed, they snacked.
The more you laugh at your fears, the harder it is for those fears to seize you. I say this as I still have a lingering fear of that stupid clown from "Poltergeist" to grab my ankles from under the bed.

So, in review. Halloween can be what you make of it. You can look at it's pagan roots and turn away from it. Or you can admit that it also has Christian roots. That it is also a silly Hallmark Holiday, complete with stale TV specials and early merchandising.
But in the end, please, oh pretty please remember: FREE CANDY!

Kids, Kows and More

2010-10-21T18:27:00.000-07:00

Caitlyn recently attended a Fourth grade tradition on the High Plains. She attended Kids, Kows and More, which is an educational agricultural program. In Third grade they attended Farm Safety Day and that too, was a great experience. This is the essay, as dictated to me, from Caitlyn, about her day.

What I learned at Kids, Kows and More
At Kids, Kows and More, we had lots of fun. I’ve learned the six types of cows: Ayrshire, Brown Swiss, Holstein, Jersey, Gurnsey and Milking Shorthorn. The milking was so cool and I liked Grace, the cow.
We learned that you should cook your hamburger at 160 degrees or 180 degrees. We also learned how to properly wash our hands. Step one: wet your hands with warm water. Step two: apply soap. Step three: sing the ABC’s two times or twenty seconds while scrubbing your hands, top to bottom, between fingers and finger nails. Step four: rinse away germs. Step five: dry your hands with a clean towel or a paper towel.
In Ranching, she should have talked about more than her cowboy boots.
We all loved Food Safety, it taught us how to be food smart. We think there should be something on horses. We learned it is not right to stick a food thermometer in not properly cooked meat and then stick it in a nice clean piece of meat
We learned that cotton is a plant. It was funny when the cotton man showed us very huge underpants. You should have taught something about peanuts. We are peanut country!
Next year the third graders will love it when they go in Fourth Grade, like we did. There should be more animals, besides one cow. The burgers we ate don’t count. There should also be something on emergencies.
We all loved South West Cheese. I totally wish I had more cheese!
We learned that we should have three servings of milk a day. We learned about how, if you put too much cheese in the box you will have a blown up cheese box. We are proud that we are the number one best selling cheese factory in the world.
Thanks to the emergency booklet you gave me, I know that we need: a radio, a flashlight, extra batteries, a dust mask, food your family would eat, a floatation device in case of floods, pens, books, coloring books, etc. Also, to keep your pets with you.
For your pets, you need: a bunch of dog toys, food, special medicines, lidocaine, bandages and water. All of that was because of the book you gave me. I read the book.
We all loved the trip! You guys did a good job on the food. All of the kids in my class liked the food, even me!
The way they rotated was very cool, how they put on the music and we rotated left. All of the city kids learned lots about the country. .
We learned so much I can’t say it all. We got to try some grain and wheat. Learning about the ancestors of wheat was awesome.
We had a break after the wheat and we took pictures by the statues. The Dora Coyote’s Fourth Grade had lots of fun. We like the popcorn at the end.
We learned a lot at Kids, Kows and More.

Twin bonds

2010-10-19T05:56:00.001-07:00

I was talking on Facebook the other day about how my kids fuss and fight with each other in the mornings.
Later that afternoon, the twins' teacher replied to my post:

Ah Julie, you should have seen your boys gravitate to each other this afternoon when William wasn't feeling good. Jimmy was feeling of his head and looking in his eyes. It was very sweet!!!!

I love it when the twin bond sets in and they are so caring and gentle of each other.
It reminded me of when they were two and I would take them, one at a time, to an indoor pool. Once, I had James and through the entire swim session, he kept saying, "Nunum" . For the life of me, I couldn't figure it out. We got home and James squirmed down from me, ran to William and yelled, "Nunum," and hugged him. It was "William" in twinspeak. James wanted him brother. *happy sigh*

Dressing Fancy and Parent Conference

2010-09-30T16:20:00.000-07:00

William likes clothes. He doesn't go for trends or flash. He doesn't insist on bling and sometimes his sense of style is...unique.
We are fortunate enough to get some hand me down clothes from a friend of ours. Going through that bag of clothes is a lot like Christmas for all my boys, but mostly for William. Irregardless of the weather or season or even occasion, if he finds something that really strikes his fancy, he wears it.
This morning he came down dressed in jeans (hand me down or HMD), and a sweatshirt (HMD). I could also see the edge of a plaid button down shirt (HMD) peeking over his sweatshirt. Since he wasn't in danger of either having heat stroke, or frostbite, I ignored the color combination and sent him off on the morning carpool with a kiss and a wave.
I did hear back from my morning mom, Tawna. The following is a partial transcript:

William: Mrs. Tawna, do you see my tie, I am wearing a tie.
Tawna: That's great, very fancy.
William: When I am older I am always going to dress fancy. I am going to work.
Conner: Are you going to work for ABC's?
William: No, I am going to work for money.

Tawna managed to get the kids to school without wrecking due to laughter. I had no idea he had a clip on tie (HMD) under the other layers. He liked it, so he wore it, just like when he used to wear the belt and suspenders "just to be sure". Comfort is important, because he had it clipped below the top button (left open).

I might add that we wore a red and navy striped tie with an orange and mid blue plaid shirt, but, he was decent, clean and very fancy.

On another note, we have been seeing the dentist, one at a time. Michelle, our hygienist is a gift of patience. She engages the kids and has them all firming believing that the dentist is the coolest place to go and the "Me first!" rule should be used. To avoid the "Me First" woes, I simply announced we would all go, in birth order. That usually heads off all arguments except when James complains about the one measly minute separating him and William.
Our first appointment was on a day when the kids had off from school due to parent teacher conferences. We went in the morning and Caitlyn got a clean bill of dental health and a new toothbrush. We learned that Michelle's son was attending school at Dora.
Two days later I take William in. Does he say "Hi", "Hello" or "Good Morning"? Nope. He sits in the chair and as soon as Michelle comes in he says, "So, how was parent conference?"
Michelle was only startled for a micro second before giving William a run down of the conference. I told her later he could have given her the lecture on the start and end times of the Civil War (1861-1865) and that while slavery was involved, you just can't decide to leave the nation if you are a state.
It could have been far worse, seeing as his Reading Rocks group is reading a book on Mountain Gorillas (which are big "like Dad").

And how was your day?

Autumn Apples

2010-09-17T16:39:00.000-07:00

It is apple season again. It sends my kids into a frenzy of picking at my parent's house. They have two young trees that compete to over produce. The kids have no limits on picking and bring me every apple they pick.
We discovered that instead of sending the horses into colic by overfeeding them, we make apple betty. If you click on the link, it takes you to a standard recipe for it. I substitute the sugar and make half white, half brown. I also double the batch. Just a tip, when slicing up that many apples, put them in a bowl of water with some lemon juice to prevent browning while you cut and peel.
The kids enjoy this tasty treat and I don't mind making it. It is so much easier and faster than a standard apple pie, and can be made in a large casserole dish.

Today marks the third batch I have made in the past month. The first batch went to Caitlyn's class, where her school mates sang her praises and loved it. We have to be careful in that class, as one girl has chocolate allergies. Bummer, since chocolate is my bestie.

Speaking of friends, the kids are having quite the social year. James and Conner (and sometimes Caitlyn) spend Friday mornings with their friends (Grant, Eli and Sawyer) and then we also have our Ms. Andrea come over, often with Emma and Caden.

Caitlyn certainly enjoys the girl time with Emma and Caden and the boys just roll along. On Mondays, after school, we have Allie and Alex stay for a bit. My house is filled with squeals, laughter and running little feet. We have moved well beyond the pitter patter, seeing as how all the boys take after their daddy!

The dogs think this arrangement is fabulous. They also score extra time with Andrea and Caden on school mornings when we all meet to walk at the Walking Trails, other wise know as Prairie Dog Town. Every school day, after ms. Tawna picks up the kiddos (God bless you) the dogs know it is walk time. The whine and fuss, waiting for me to leash them up and go to the car. We enjoy a one and a quarter mile brisk walk, with time out for "business", watching prairie dogs or the occasional detour from a sunbathing snake.
(Which, honestly Mom, doesn't happen that often, you should join us.)

So now, as the temperature slowly sinks more each week, I await the crisp autumn mornings. I await the time where I will walk faster to stay warm, and get more exercise.
So I can eat more apple betty.

So, how was your day?

A moment to reflect....

2010-09-07T07:43:00.000-07:00

If you choose to use your status and influence to raise your voice on behalf of those who have no voice; if you choose to identify not only with the powerful, but with the powerless; if you retain the ability to imagine yourself into the lives of those who do not have your advantages, then it will not only be your proud families who celebrate your existence, but thousands and millions of people whose reality you have helped transform for the better. We do not need magic to change the world, we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better."
— J.K. Rowling

Imagine a better world, and make it so!

Roosevelt County Fair!

2010-08-24T20:01:00.000-07:00

I will take some photos but I am too excited to wait!
One of my sewing entries won BEST OF SHOW!! I won a bunch of firsts and seconds.
Then, my ducks took Grand Champion and Reserve!
Caitlyn won best female chicken, Best of Youth Barn!!! Wow! what fun!

absolutely couldn't resist

2010-08-19T06:25:00.000-07:00

Resistance is futile

James and the Tonsillectomy

2010-07-29T15:20:00.000-07:00

James finally had his day under the knife. It was a long time in coming and the tonsils had so begun to bother him that he took to asking anyone and everyone to remove his tonsils.
Even our Farrier, Marvin, was asked, when he pulled out a hoof knife to trim the horses. Most people thought James was nervous, and he was to some degree, but mostly he was excited. He wanted those things out. The bugged him, they hurt and they made him sick.
We arrived at Plains Regional Medical Center at seven in the morning. This is after we dropped the siblings off at Matt and Delane's house. They were thrilled to be spending the day with "the Lego Master" and "having special girl time". For those of you that saw the girls out having fun along Road S, Caitlyn was the one in the blond wig, Don't ask.
We arrived and waited only moments before our nurse, Misty, called us to the back. Misty is the daughter of a friend of a friend. While I don't really know her well, I barely recognized her. She had lost weight and was working as a pre-op nurse. She was fabulous. She was calm and caring with James and made a very special note that allowed him to see his tonsils after they were done. Many thanks to Misty.
The doc, Dr. Rowley, was great. With a cheery grin he told James what to expect and with no dithering or hesitation that could induce a case of the nerves, we kissed our boy and in he went.
Fifteen minutes later, I kid you not, out comes Dr. Rowley. He said, James did great. The left tonsil was rotted. Ewwwwwww. He said James took the gas, they put in the IV and took our the tonsils.
In post op we had another round of incredible nurses. Betty and Lorraine were our nurses and they quickly moved James from the gurney into my lap in a recliner. Ice chips and water were brought in, flashlight to check the swelling. James was encouraged and praised. My boy never cried. He walked out of the hospital with his daddy, and promptly asked for a smoothie.
Skip ahead to being home. The narcotic obviously wore off. Maybe I should have asked for a script!
James has reached the painful, I don't want to swallow phase. He is cold, but then again, constant fevers have robbed him of his fat. He requested a bat, my little man so like me. The comfort of being in water still was over ridden by the pain in his throat. He still had an hour to go before the next round of meds, at the earliest! We did ice. He cried and painfully swallowed. He did Popsicle, and he begged, no more. We did ice chips and he teared up. Yet each time, despite the pain, he managed to swallow. I know he is hydrated because he managed tears and the bathroom several times.
It pains me to see him this way. He is my plucky guy, my practical joker, my easy going man. I hate to see him like this.
And I hate that I have spent so little time with the rest of my kids. Will comes up to check on his brother, worry creasing his brow, but the promise of unlimited Wii play sends him back down. Conner comes up on constant food request.
And my dear Caitlyn balanced spending some time with James, fetching for him, and settling down for some iCarly, self sufficient and self content.
I need a nap, but I write this blog, instead. James snores gently beside me, the pain momentarily blinded by his sleep. Holly, naturally, is tucked next to him, her head protective across his shoulder. I pray that tonight the pain subsides, that he can find a smile for his daddy and that we will sleep.

In between the two hour intervals where I have to force liquids down him.

And how was your day?

Horse Practice

2010-07-23T12:22:00.000-07:00

Many thanks to the Kanmore's for the use of a trailer! We went out to practice at the Mounted Patrol Arena.

It is always fun to watch Conner try in vain to get Rocky to move and Caitlyn and Shiloh are doing great.....see for yourself!

Summer Trippin'

2010-07-16T09:29:00.000-07:00

We have had some serious fun the past week. First we went out to Black Water Draw to see the old dig sites for Clovis points. Clovis points are unique prehistoric flint spear points made by a culture of people now referred to as Clovis people. The dig site has also yielded an amazing amount of mammoth and ancient bison bones. The deep area that we walked down into used to me a fairly large lake, however by the mid seventies use of agricultural wells had lowered the water table to the point where the lake dried out. I found that sad.
The kids enjoyed seeing the archeologist working on the dig and a giant grasshopper.
We also enjoyed the natural wonders of the Carlsbad Caverns. While this gorgeous cave is beautifully lit, we discovered the joys of bringing our own flashlight. We did discover that a LED flashlight with the whiter, cooler beam, is much better than my Walmart special. It was still a wonderful time. Recent rains had saturated the ground water and the cave was much drippier than last time. We were able to track drips as they landed on various cave formations and into the cave pools.

The Caverns are a wonder that we in New Mexico are lucky to have. We hope to enjoy it again and again!

What do I do......

2010-07-11T17:46:00.000-07:00

People often ask me what line of work am I in.......and sometimes, I really don't know what to say. I could say a variety of things, for instance:

Wildlife documentary maker- I video and and photography my kids going through natural habitats and behavoirs

Waste Management coordinator- TAKE OUT THE TRASH--NOW!

Law Enforcement- empty your pockets. You are in violation of the no snacks before dinner policy.

Nurtition- eat that and you will be sick.

Fashion Advisor- Honey, I am fairly sure that soccer socks with crocks and shorts was so last year.

Beautician- Don't panic, if I trim you bangs, no one will ever notice

Chauffer- first stop, cheer practice, then load up the horse and go to the arena, then....

Medic- no it won't burn, I will blow on it while I wash

Food preparation- ok, after we cut the pineapple, we put it and the strawberries....

Arbitrator- ok, if you give up the two army guys, you get the blue car...

Meteorology- Mom what is the weather going to be today?

Educator- go ahead, slam that door again and see what happens

Soil erosion expert- Mom, the barn flooded again

Wildlife management- Mom, how do you get twine off the rooster

Therapist- tell me what made you so sad

Pharmacology- ok, three hours ago you had motrin, so now it is tylenol...

I could go on and on, in the end, as with any mother

I am their everything, and that, that is the beauty of it all.

And how was your day?

Cup cake bites!

2010-07-06T17:29:00.001-07:00

After my friend Sarah, turned me onto the many incredible websites devoted to cakes and sweets.....I tried a recipe. This is from Bakerella, a fabulous and talent chef. For the full instructions, click Here. She has fabulous ideas and is very very generous with the instructions.
My only additions to this is the following:

You will need two days. I did it all in one, and there is just not enough Martha in me to do it again. So, bake the cake, crumble, ball and freeze. Do that on day one. Save the balls in the freezer.
The next day, do the dips.

Have lots of dish towels available. I am a messy baker and went through quite a few and nearly went after hand towels from the powder room's stash.

Wear comfortable shoes. Yes, I know, that should go without saying, but man, my feet got tired.

This recipe is easy. It has lots of steps, but don't be discouraged. Mine don't look nearly as cute and perfect as hers, but A) they taste good and B) Hey first time out of the gate!

I highly recommend this recipe, and the Bakerella site. There are so many ideas and she has a gentle and easy way of explaining things.

So yummy up! Make some cup cake bites! Now, go to Bakerella's site and see some really pretty ones!

The Tale of Little Dragon.

2010-06-25T19:11:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, there was a little dragon who was very thick and wide. She would crouch in the rocks by the big blue house and sit and listen. Sometimes the noises perplexed her and she was compelled to see what made such strange noises. She would scuttle and scurry, but if the people from the blue house came out, she would lie low and pretend to be looking elsewhere. She didn't want the people to see her, to know she was watching.
Days would go by and she would inch closer to peer near windows, and then scurry off at the first sign of activity. Curiosity was too much. There were so many interesting sounds. Children laughing, phones ringing, games whirring and beeping. She felt compelled to see these people. Yet she knew she shouldn't.
Today she made it to the arbor door, and as I stumbled upon her, she gave me an "oh-you-don't-see-me-I-am-not-going-anything-wrong" look.
I flicked her with the hose and she scurries away.
But like a good little bug eater, this little dragon, both thick and wide, will scurry back, drawn to the noises of my home.

I love fabric!

2010-06-23T08:17:00.000-07:00

I love fabric. The colors, the designs, the textures......
Here is what I ordered for the coming holiday season:

An ugly ugly thing.......

2010-06-22T15:05:00.000-07:00

A person who destroys another's reputation may be referred to as a famacide, defamer, or slanderer.

Slander is the spoken or transitory form of defamation of character, a legal term that refers to a falsehood presented as true which could harm the reputation of a person or entity. Slander also encompasses body gestures as in the case of sign language. If defamation of character is placed in a fixed form, as in the case of a sign, published paper, film or recording, it is considered libel. In short, slander is temporarily uttered or gesticulated, libel is published or otherwise fixed.

Eye Spy.......

2010-06-21T17:10:00.000-07:00

I woke up today with Pink eye. So annoying. I hate how I constantly feel gunk build up and smudge up my vision.
So, I spend part of my morning wiping my eyes and putting in the burning acidic drops. Caitlyn calls to me from her room, can I tell her what animal is down in the grass, outside her window.
My eyes blurred I looked down from her second floor window and said, "That is a baby bunny eating grass."
Caitlyn squeals with glee, announces she is going to catch it and runs downstairs.
Since we live out in the country, catching wild animals is considered a normal activity, nothing of concern.
I go downstairs and Caitlyn comes back in, flushed.
"That was so NOT a baby bunny"
"Well what was it?"
"I went to catch it and it turned and I saw it's long skinny rat tail. It was a RAT!"

I think I need more eye drops.

And how was your day?

What is brown and white and smells all over?

2010-06-15T11:16:00.000-07:00

Ugh. Dogs. What is with their choice of canine cologne? Our darling dog, Holly, went out in the back yard. This is a normal activity for her. There is sun, there is shade, there is grass to eat and birds to chase and a much better choice of spiders than are in the house. So, the kids and I made second breakfast (yes, I am raising Hobbits), and afterwards, I went to let the dogs back in.
In walks Cricket. I wait. No Holly. I call. No Holly. I go into the back and there are only safe and happy spiders. No Holly.
I scan the pasture for where she would normally be and where our brother ducks were out in the tall weeds playing "Whack a Duck". No Holly.
I gather the kids, all hands on deck. The children are well trained. They put on shoes, grab leashes, my purse and the van keys.
We start cruising. Where would a tired (I walked her a mile this morning), well fed (somewhat fluffy), neurotic dog go?
We go to the turkey farm in case she has a death wish. No Holly. We go down the street to where there are some dogs behind a fence that she never gets to play with. No Holly. We drive around the old wheat field, down the dirt road to the other house with a dog. No Holly. We drive up the highway and around to Mom's because she has a canine visible cosmic sign over her house that seems to beckon all dogs to come and live with her. No Holly. The one dog in the world that hasn't shown up on Mom's porch??
We drive back toward our house, past Joan's. No Holly.
As we pull up our street I see a blur of brown and white, running, four on the floor, across the pasture it runs, flies through our front yard, jumps the fence and sits on our back porch. Holly.

I am not sure if I want to hug her or hurt her. Then I lean down, thinking, hug and the smell hits me. I look closer. Yellowish brown smears on her ear and neck. One side of her body is smothered in.....ick. Spooge. Vile offal. The cast off of a large herbivore. The remnant's of the south end of a north bound bovine.
Cow pie. Buffalo chip. Meadow muffins, land mines. On my Holly dog. She doesn't understand my confusion. She doesn't understand my instant revulsion. I choke back an instant gag reflex.
"YOU NEED A BATH!"
I couldn't have said a harsher thing to her. Her eyes widened, her ears went from pricked to drooped. She dropped to her tummy and wiggled her slathered self at me adoringly, given homage to the alpha female. I wasn't buying it.
"Bath". I only said it to drive home my disgust.
It worked. So, because I am heartless, I said it again. At this point she looked ready to jump the fence again. So we leashed her. And filled Cricket's wading pool with water. And got the "good" shampoo. And hauled her smelly self into it.
Defeat. She stood. We scrubbed, we hosed, we rinsed, we lathered. We squirted, we rubbed, we scraped, we gagged, we soaped some more.
In the end, Holly now smells like oatmeal and coconut. Her coat is back to her normal color. She is walking small. But she is home and safe.

And I now smell like wet dog.

And how was your day?

Pico, Pasta Salad and 'Pologies

2010-05-28T09:27:00.000-07:00

My kitchen has new counter tops. In my joy of having the command center back, I took the time to make Pico and some rocking pasta salad. Since the kids are in a summer program and I had the house to myself, I cranked up the Beach Boys and let my fingers fly.
Pico for me is an easy thing. Chop, chop chop, mix, set.
Pasta salad, too, is a time tested tradition. While I chopped and sorted, scraped and cut, my thoughts flit from place to place. By the time I had set the pasta to cooking, my thoughts drifted back to my father.
You see, yesterday, he came out to inspect the tile. It met with his approval, which is a strange thing to say, considering it is my house, but I respect and value his opinion. Then he gave me a "dad-look" and said that he heard I wrote about him on my blog. He didn't mention if he had read it or not, or had merely heard about it from someone else. My blog apparently gets around.
I went back while the pasta boiled (may I suggest fiori pastas the next time you make salad, they are really pretty for summer) and re-read my blog.
So I am writing an apology. This story wasn't really about my Dad asking for help. It was about my father and I learning together and mastering a new task. I love my father beyond measure, warts and all.
He is often not an easy man to get along with. But never have you met a more generous person. He will open his house, his tool box and his wallet. He will give you help and oh, yes, his opinion.
He makes a mule look biddable, but an ox look under worked. He has never been one to shirk. He worked longer hours and more days ( except for maybe Steve and there are a lot of similarities there!).
Now in his retirement (which he still grumbles about) he is not above learning. And learning, as he will tell you, learning is a life long process. He plays golf and dotes on his grandchildren.
So my previous blog was meant to show that Dad and I both learned this new chore. We both brought something to it. I didn't work with Dad much in the office (ask Jennifer) but I have been my Dad's side kick on so many other projects.
From my Dad's side, I learned to paint and wall paper. I learned how to transplant trees in the fall. I learned out to use a hose to get PVC pipe under a sidewalk. I learned about changing tires, loading moving vans, household chemicals, how to conduct yourself in an interview, the nature of softly treating animals, how to play tennis and how to love.
I saw him love my mother (still does). Not with overt displays, but sometimes with extreme subtly. I have seen him love my sister and myself. We were everything to him and he worked hard to make it so. But he still coached soccer and helped hold horses at shows.

So as my pasta has now come to full al dente (another Dad thing), I leave you with this.

My father, flawed as he is, is a great Dad, Pop-pop and man. He has imperfections, and as we know, there are NO perfect people. Dad had no sons. He had two daughters. He couldn't have been happier.
I am a lot like my Dad. And that is just fine by me.

And how was your day?

Practice Practice Practice

2010-05-22T16:25:00.000-07:00

This is a tale about patience. This is a tale about knowing when you are wrong and can't go any further. And above all of admitting when you need some help.

The enemy:

A very simple and valuable thing. A round bale of wheat hay. An item of importance to most people who own large herbivores. An item that stand over six feet tall and weighs about 1200 pounds. This item cannot be picked up and tossed into the bed of a pickup truck.

This is the tool. A simple and very creative trailer/hauler. The hauler is backed up to the bale, the forks are slid under the bale. A hand crank pulls the bale up into a semi reclining position. The bale is driven to where it is needed. The hand crank lowers the bale in place. The trailer is pulled forward about three feet. The crank is used to lift the forks, flipping the bale onto it's flat surface. The end.
Or so it should be.

Enter my father. My father is an intelligent man who took up hobby farming in his golden years. He, with the help of a knowledgeable friend, grew wheat on his 40 acre plot. That is a postage stamp in these parts.
Good snow. Good sun. Good rain. Good wheat.
Cutting. Curing. Baling.
Hungry horses.
Borrow a hay hauler.
Dad has an older tractor, hence forth be known as Gertrude, that is almost as old as him. It has grumpy gears that don't like to catch, a halfway clutch (won't engage until halfway or better) and a very reluctant fuel gauge.,
Dad had me come out to the field while he drove Gertrude. He had me sit and watch as he tried over and over to line up the trailer with the bale. Gertrude turned left, Gertrude pulled forward, Gertrude turned right, Gertrude backed up. Miss, miss, miss, miss. I sat on the little lawn tractor, which I used to get out in the field because Dad doesn't allow hitchhikers, texting and playing sudoku on my phone.
Finally Dad reluctantly agrees that no, he can not line this up. I casually mentioned that I loaded the last one, with the truck when I couldn't see the trailer. Steam slowly seeped from his ears.
He climbed down (a feat in it's self, considering his bum hip) and grumbled about the nature of poor Gertrude. A tractor has no safeties, a tractor is raw power, it will kill you. Then he was angry that I was "doing the gears wrong and it was scaring him". I tried to not breathe fire back and calmly mentioned that this was my first time with Gertrude and that maybe if he would explain the gears, then maybe I would know them.
More steam, head shaking and some mild stomping. I know there were a host of swear words waiting expectantly at the gate, but my Dad has always been a gentleman about not swearing in front of the ladies of the family. Steve has informed me that he knows enough words and phrases to make a drunk marine blush.
Swearing aside, I take ten minutes to undo his line up and to catch the bale. It is cranked up. I am dismissed from Gertrude with a jerk of the thumb and remanded to my lawn tractor.
He takes the bale out of the field and down to the turn out for his horses. He moved Gertrude along the fence, turning the corner and I am beginning to wonder if he is just going to keep circling.
Through hand signs and yelling over Gertrude's cranky roar, I learn that he wants to back the bale into a corner. I sigh. Two and a half hours have passed since he needed my help in this. It was past 6:30 and I had four kids that were starving for dinner because all of the yummy but nutritionally vague snacks my mother provided were not filling the void that only whining to mom can fill.
Tack is gone, subtly has flown the coop. I yell back to him, "We just spent 45 minutes proving you can't back up!"
He gave me the patented "dad look" that said my complete lack of respect had been noted. He did, however, put Gertrude in park and we went to lower the bale. I leaned on the crank, and the lock didn't budge. I leaned harder and lifted both feet off the ground. The lock didn't budge.
Because I know when I am up against the wall, I called out, "I don't have enough mass to unlock the gears!"
Dad yells back, "That's a first". Lovely.
He climbs down, once again, a long procedure and we fix the locking mechanism. I lower the bale as he starts the process of climbing back up. I then ask him to pull forward three feet. He fights Gertrude into gear and pulls up six, lurches back one and motions for me to lever up the forks to tip the bale over. Crank, crank, crank, slip. Too far forward and the forks don't have any leverage and the bale rocks on it's rim. He makes a face and I think I see a thought bubble above his head, mixed symbols floating, #@$%$%^. Maybe I was wrong.
We both take up the task of pushing and leaning on the upper edge and manage to heave and push the bale over. Hay slivers and chafe filter into my hair, my eyes and worse, my bra.
Dad then announces that the round bale holder needs moved into place.
I loose my patience and inform him that I have four hungry kids waiting in his backyard and a husband who has contacted me twice, wondering where I was. I was granted mercy.

The following day, I get the phone call. I can have a bale of hay. Yipee! I have to help again. Yikes.

Dad pauses and yells, which way should I turn?
Angels trumpeted from the heavens, planets previously lost, found alignment, millions saw the face of God in the clouds.
We managed to load the bale in record time. We haul it to my house, the horses welcome it with fast and happy teeth.
We off load the bale and manage the flip, prefect. Dad never had to dismount. He cranked Gertrude into high gear and sped her home at an amazing ten miles per hour.

In the end, Dad has learned to ask and accept help. I learned to have patience with him. In the end, I think we both should practice more so we can get our time down even better!

Practice, Practice, Practice.

And how was your day?

Wrack Winds......

2010-05-10T10:54:00.000-07:00

It is almost impossible to describe the winds on the High Plains. They are ever present, no day is perfectly calm. Some days they flirt about, toppling a chair or moving errant scraps of paper along their journeys. Other days the wind is very much alive. Seemingly self aware, it coils around your legs, pressing with force against your body. It has a deep throaty sound and has weight that pushes back against your chest, eager to capture your own breath. It roars through the landscape, scraping the earth, throwing up clouds of sand and grit. The tumbleweeds are helpless in its grasp, sailing and floating to land miles from their birth.

The wind is vicious, tearing at your hair, tugging your clothing, desperate to have your attention. There is no ignoring it. There is no pretending it isn't there. It howls defiantly, crowing it's territory, laying the few courageous flowers sideways, and giving trees a permanent sculptured image.
The wind flows through the smallest cracks and holes. It breaks from being the large entity and fingers it's way into the most secure of homes with small puffs of the whole. The dust is dropped with glee around the tightest windows.
Birds have learned to hunker down, deep into the strongest of the plants they can find. Those that venture out are clutched and tossed, their only hope is to stay low. I am sure that birds pray on days like this. I am sure they ask their Maker for safe passage, for a passing of the terrible beast that claims their skies.
Even now, it has knocked over well supported garden structures, it has moved metal objects, it has relocated pounds and pounds of topsoil. It is still angry, I can still here is groan and mutter.
But I am safe within my walls, and when I crouch and go forth, I hold tightly to my son's hand, urging him to keep his eyes closed. I stand against the wind, but only long enough to find safety, not unlike the birds.
It is a beast. It has a voice. And there is none that can slay it.

Conner's Last Day of PreK

2010-05-06T06:00:00.000-07:00

Pictures say it all....

And how was your day?

Aint' Nothing but a Twin Thing

2010-05-05T18:31:00.000-07:00

So the twins were recently on a field trip. They had a wonderful time but I noticed something in my pictures.
While the boys both had different trip buddies, that they stuck with very well, they still have the unconscious need to touch.
The first picture is each twin sticking with their buddy. The second photo I caught a subtle touch, a reassurance of each other, one hand grazing the other.
Sigh, life is beautiful.

So how was your day?

The return of Spike

2010-04-26T18:15:00.000-07:00

Well, in the past I have commented that the return of "Larry" (the name for any and all toads) is a sign of spring time.

Caitlyn ran into the house and I saw she had something, so I said, "No Larrys in the house".

"This isn't a Larry, it's a Spike"

My mistake.
And how was your day?

God loves the little fishies......

2010-04-18T16:14:00.000-07:00

I said no more fish in the house. I meant it. At least, until Conner's fish in the pond turned belly up. The face....the tears.....sigh.

The following Friday we took a trip to Walmart in Clovis and purchased some "house" fish. Conner used a gift card and got three Rosie Reds and a goldfish. Two of the Rosies have died.
Caitlyn got one gold fish and two Rosies. One Rosie died.

So I said it again, after these meet their Maker, no more fish in the house. God really must love them to call them home so quickly, but three toilet funerals in one weekend are my limit.

And how was your day?

I love quotes!

2010-04-11T16:18:00.000-07:00

"Be more concerned with your character than your reputation, because your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are."
— John Wooden

"Reputation is what other people know about you. Honor is what you know about yourself."
— Lois McMaster Bujold (A Civil Campaign)

"Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light."
— J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban)

"Happiness is a warm puppy."
— Charles M. Schulz

"'This is motherhood for you,' said my own mother. 'Going through life with your heart outside your body.'"
— Jennifer Weiner

"The true hypocrite is the one who ceases to perceive his deception, the one who lies with sincerity."
— André Gide

"Change isn't easy... changing the way you live means changing what you believe about life. That's hard... When we make our own misery, we sometimes cling to it even when we want so bad to change because the misery is something we know. The misery is comfortable."
— Dean Koontz

"Human beings can always be relied upon to exert, with vigor, their God-given right to be stupid. "
— Dean Koontz

"Where there is cake, there is hope. And there is always cake."
— Dean Koontz

""Nobody's perfect. Well, there was this one guy, but we killed him....""
— Christopher Moore (Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal)

"Canada is a myth people made up to entertain children, like the Tooth Fairy. There’s no such place."
— Christopher Moore

Unsung hero

2010-04-10T13:22:00.000-07:00

Let me tell you about the unsung hero of our family.
James is twin number two, baby B, and the third child born into our family. His older sister is the only girl and little princess of our family. His twin brother has difficulties and has high functioning autism. His baby brother is only 19 months younger and is the true baby of the family. Where does that leave James?

James is my eternally laughing, joking, sweet and loving child. He is the one that can appreciate a joke, give teasing back and cares for us all. Occasionally he has frustrations and I can see that "third child" syndrome working at him and I feel badly because I know that of all of my children, he can be the most independent. I feel that I have leaned on him too hard or too often.

So here is to James, my Laughing Boy.

Thoughtful to his team members.....

Ever, the peace maker during a water fight.

I thank God for sending you to me!

To Serve Man, or how to cope with chronic pain

2010-04-08T10:47:00.000-07:00

No, this isn't a post about that old Twilight Zone episode where in the end serving man meant serving him for dinner.
I had a unique but readily available opportunity to serve yesterday. My mother is one of a group of ladies that serve a free lunch at the Wesley House on the Eastern New Mexico University campus. I was invited to join and as I have been recently reshaping my lifestyle in a healthier and happier way, I felt this was going to be a fun thing.
We arrived early to start preparing an honest home cooked meal. It was decided that Spaghetti with garlic bread, salad and massive amounts of dessert were the way to go. The ladies were very efficient and welcoming. I swung right into their rhythm and we had sauce cooking and bread cut and tables set.
Then the students came in. They were orderly, polite and hungry. They used the finest manners and were so grateful for the meal. Some cautiously asked for seconds. As long as we had food, we kept serving.
In the end we served somewhere in the area of 50 college students. And in doing so, we served ourselves.
I was delighted to find this act of service to be so rewarding to me. It felt wonderful to try and find extra ways to make these kids happy.

And now for the bigger secret. The one lady who heads up this group, also heads up about a dozen other service projects. She bakes constantly and shares the efforts of her labors with bible school children, and the elderly, committee meetings and friends. She tackles organization, shopping and the front lines.
She told me that you can never do enough and it was easy to see just how good all of this made her feel. Especially when she said, she had to keep busy because she had chronic pain. Her pain was constant and she felt, why be miserable at home. Why sit and be alone , when she can go out in the world and make a difference. She smiled, she laughed, she joked. She moved, she cleaned, she swept. She never once acted like someone in pain. She said the act of helping others was the biggest relief, so she fills her days with it.
She is now the second person I have known in my life who has chronic pain and makes it their mission to use service as pain relief. I have also know some with deep emotional pain, and they find solace in service.

But be warned!!!! Service is addictive! So catch a high, go out and help someone!

Conner's Sniff Test

2010-04-02T19:32:00.000-07:00

While being the laundress of our household, I learn many things about my family.
I learn what they were doing by the contents of their pocket, the stains on their knees and other assorted small clues.
It came to my attention over the last week's worth of laundry, I had only found two pair of underwear in Conner's pile.
This evening, as Conner comes skipping down the stairs from his shower, I asked.
"Conner, are you wearing clean underwear?"
He turns and gives me the upward eye roll only possible as a five year old, pulls down the front of his pajamas, exposing a pair of batman undies and replies.
"Yeah. Wanna sniff?"

There is no anticipating boys. There just isn't.

And how was your day?

World Autism Awareness Day

2010-04-01T16:09:00.001-07:00

April 2nd. World Autism Awareness Day.
Approximately one in one hundred twenty six children will have autism or aspergers.
These children range from high functioning, to where it is almost difficult to tell, to profound, where there is such sadness for a child to be locked inside themselves.
Early intervention is the key.
My having premature twins sent an early intervention group to my door. We worked on all sorts of delays due to prematurity. Through this process we noticed distinct differences in one of the twins.
Five years later we found out he is a high functioning autistic.
Let me make this perfectly clear. I don't feel badly about it. I am not upset. William has had so much intervention that he functions at almost "normal" levels. Except in some things, where he is above the norm.
Sure, sometimes he has a fit because the weather is cool in the morning and warm in the afternoon. Sometimes he is upset because the fresh butter has "wrinkles" in it. And casseroles are the enemy.

I know children often repeat what their parents say. So let it be known. William is not retarded. He should not be called retarded and his slightly irregular social skills should not be an excuse to call him that.
So children at school seemed to think it was ok to say that to his sister. Caitlyn is a strong defender of her brothers. Granted, she wants to sell them on occasions, but she is a stalwart protector of them and she takes pains to make sure that this talk never finds its way to his ears.

So educated your kids, educate yourselves.
Autism isn't retarded.
Autism is a brain that is structured differently than "average".

So on April 2nd we will be wearing blue.
Supporting Autism Awareness.
When you see the child having a fit in the grocery store because of the noise, or re-arranging the soup aisle so the cans are all turned the same way, don't judge.
Smile, instead. You may be the only person to smile for that parent today!

and how was your day?

Couch Debris

2010-04-01T08:41:00.000-07:00

KABOOM!
My family room could not look any worse should a bomb explode.
Let me back up a minute.
Steve and I recently bought a sectional sofa unit. This was huge for us. We haven't bought new family room furniture in 13 years. Our other sofa died a slow horrible kid related death (augmented by dogs) and we replaced it with one from Freecycle (God bless you!). The "new" one had some years on it, but at least the cushions weren't half eaten!
So we had a mismatched set for some time now.
Then there was a huge sale at Skeen Furniture Warehouse. We got this wonderful section over 50% off! Yay!!
It comes today!
So what is the logical thing to do while I wait? Move the old ones and give the floor a fresh cleaning while nothing is there!
Oh-Em-Gee. When I flipped back the love seat, the "check" under it.....I think I hit my target pulse rate.
Under the couch were the expected dog bones and the errant seven pair less socks. BUT WAIT! There's more!
I also found no less than one ray gun and three cap guns (arsenal?) a years worth of granola bar wrappers and empty gogurt tubes (it is a wonder army ants didn't stage a take over). I also found the instruction manual for the Wii (don't ask), two books, a Frisbee, Lego's, game parts, dust bunnies the size of chihuahuas and marbles (I knew I lost those!)
Grumbling under my breath, I swept and cleaned and picked and trashed.
Then I went to the other couch. It made a noise when I moved it. A scary noise. I took up my broom and cautiously made my way to behind it. SCOURGE!! Popsicle wrappers, old homework that "couldn't" be found, rechargeable batteries, more of my precious marbles, more granola bar wrappers (I am pretty sure I feed my children often), three dog bones, two tennis balls (so where are the other dozen?), pencils, birthday cards, pixos, a Christmas ornament and a multitude of things I just couldn't identify.
I am humbled. I know I am out numbered, I went from playing man on man to playing zone as soon as the twins came. I know they sneak, it is a childhood rite of passage, but, WOW.
I think I am going to have to be more proactive in keeping up the family room.
I think it should start by only letting food less, sock less, toy less, naked children into the family room. Well, it's a start.

And how was your day?

Overheard from my Kids

2010-03-30T12:23:00.000-07:00

At church our Pastor asked us to shout out a Hosanna , and of course he asked three times to get the congregation going.

William: He should have heard us the second time.

Me: (choking on laughter)

At home as I got out the clippers to cut Conner's hair.

Conner: Not the buzzers, they hurt my brains.

and how was your day?

Resurrection Sunday

2010-03-29T18:09:00.000-07:00

The holiest of Christian holidays is fast approaching. Easter Sunday marks the day that Christ rose from his tomb. A miracle and the sealing of a promise. But more than the resurrection, what hits me most isn't the fact that Christ rose, it was the fact that he died.
He willingly and humbly went to the cross, knowing the pain and death that awaited him. There were several times when he could have hidden, left, spoken out or performed a miracle, and may have escaped his death.
But he didn't. He knew what was coming. Being a Jew in that time and place, he was familiar with what goes on in a crucifixion. He was well versed in the process and the pain. And he went. He went knowing he was saving countless souls. He went for me. He went for people I will never know. And the most amazing thing, the agape of it all, if he could have only saved me, just me, he still would have gone. Willingly, knowingly, and sacrificially.
We can never have enough thanks. But we can share the love. Live every day with a joyful heart. See the wonder all around you. Feel God's love for you. You are his favorite. Just like me!

Spring Soccer 2010

2010-03-27T18:25:00.001-07:00

Caitlyn scores a hug from her coach at half time and then discusses strategy with Claire.

Soccer started out amidst our Spring winds. We were all bundled against the chill and flying dirt. James was sick so he stayed with Oh-my. His team missed him but was still able to play because Conner came to the rescue. Coach Jody was kind enough to give the little guy a chance to play with the big boys. He did great! And had a wonderful time.

The Dust Bowl Lives

2010-03-27T18:14:00.000-07:00

We joke about spring winds. Well, until you have experienced Spring on the High Plains, you have no idea. I think we had sustained winds in the 40s, and I shudder to think of what some of the gusts got up to. Here are some shots of my pasture, you can't see anything behind it!!!!

Rainy Days and Geocaching

2010-03-24T08:45:00.001-07:00

Holly kisses up to Caitlyn

A lazy rainy day, Holly cozies up to Caitlyn.

The boys find the rainy day a great chance for Wii play.

James is the ultimate in rainy laziness

Will managed to get grass stains on his knees while playing inside

We went geocaching for the first time on Monday.
Here we are getting ready to sign the log.

Success! We found our first Cache!

There is some disbelief, this is the treasure?
We searched for this?
Our GPS was quirky and we ended up using old fashioned tech...our own eyes!

Higher Education

2010-03-24T07:58:00.000-07:00

From the time I was a girl, I knew I was going to college. There was no question, it was what a person did when they finished high school. It gives better opportunities, greater chance of career choices and more choices in general. It gives better speaking and writing skills, higher social skills and appreciation for new situations.
I didn't know until I was older, but my own mother was never encourage to go to college. She was always told it was for boys. She didn't need it. Now, to this day, I count my mother as one very intelligent woman. She is intuitive and savvy, she has a quick wit and is perceptive. Yet, with those gifts, I have often wondered how much more she could have been with a college education.
It isn't that possessing a degree instantly transforms you into something better. There are many graduates that really didn't invest their efforts well, and they come out of a college with an empty piece of paper.
What is the true college experience? It isn't the parties, because, let's face it, most of those will never be remembered. It isn't the friends, though you keep some, your high school friends knew you before you were cool, and they stick with you.
I think it is having your mind opened to something different. It could be an elective class that you really didn't think would matter, it could be one of your serious classes, it could be a brief field trip or a moment in the library. But in the end, it has taught you that your education is never over. Never do we stop having chances to learn and higher education shapes our minds so that we are more aware of information and how to process it.
Do I use the information I achieved in college, well sometimes, but I do use the way my mind was shaped. I learned the way to recognize and organize information. I have learned how to sift through that which is immaterial, and how to latch onto things that matter (at least to me) and how to apply that to what has already been learned.
Afterward, as the brain is less elastic, and capable of less growth, these pathways to learning remain, and give a person a lifetime of exploration. They give pleasure to start new hobbies, clear thinking and a joy in life. Days will always be open in adventure, and all conversations will be saturated with a potential treasure trove of information.
It is never too late. If you feel that college isn't an option, take a class through the distance learning office at your closest University, audit a class, go to community college and take a course on anything that interests you. Don't feel the urge to work on a degree, work on your yourself. You are worth it. It will be a gift that lasts forever.

Explore your world!

A Visit from the Monkey Master

2010-03-21T17:03:00.000-07:00

Behold the Monkey Master, released from Oklahoma for a visit!

Seems like Conner has missed him!

History Day

2010-03-19T07:18:00.000-07:00

Oor high School kids at Dora Schools put on a history day. We had a half day before Spring Break and they used it well! All of the younger kids proceeded to have a guided tour to various points in American History.
The older students did an incredible job making various times in history immediate and fun. The dressed up the rooms, had kids crawling through tunnels, tug of warfare and costumes made this day memorable.

However, the best part was while in the American Revolution with the third graders. This group is smart, wry and cheeky. The High School student dressed as George Washington was their own teacher's son. The know him well.
He recruited a bunch of students to the "Patriot" side of the room and then started talking to them.

"Who am I?" he asked, remember he is dressed as George Washington, complete with white wig.

"You're Ethan!" they yelled.

"Okay, who else am I?" he asked, trying to guide them.

"You're a senior" they yelled again, giggling.

"Okay, who am I pretending to be?" ready to start thumping heads.

"Your George Washington!"

Extra points for his patience!

Ponderings and the Power of Shoes

2010-03-17T08:56:00.000-07:00

As my close friends know, I am pensive and full of worry these days. My beloved Shiloh is at an equine clinic in Muleshoe. While there have been encouraging signs, he is my boy and I fret until he is safely home.
On top of this worry, someone has discovered that I no longer accept anonymous comments and has opened a private blogger profile to continue to leave me comments that are....hmmm, meant to be hurtful, while invoking Christian beliefs. The latest has come under the blogger ID with a Christian reference for the name. This is sad.
But it would be an inexcusable condition of the human soul to dwell on negativity, to wrap its toxins around me and let it seep in. In the deepest part of my heart, I know who I am , and so does God.
"Be more concerned with your character than your reputation, because your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are."
— John Wooden

So, while I know reputations in a small town can be important, I don't think they are important to me. The people who know me and are truly concerned for me, talk to me and write to me without the shroud of anonymity clouding the issue. Those are opinions that matter, those are the voices that I pause to reflect on.
So, mystery commenter, be warned. I am moderating all comments, those that persist in hiding their identity, well that tells me they have some thing to hide, maybe the motives behind the remarks? I don't know, I never will. I am fine with that, but I will not allow the comments to taint my blog. Please find something else to do.

SHOES!!!!
Who would have thought that a bag of hand-me-down shoes had the power to chase worries and tears away?
Caitlyn, upon finding that Shiloh had been transported, was very upset. She and Shiloh have been growing closer these last few months. Cait feels comfortable riding solo around the house and through the pastures. He greets her approaching figure as he would greet mine.
Caitlyn was curled up on the couch, watching a Disney soccer movie, but the face was sad, and tear tracks still marked her cheeks.
I was feeling badly too, but I grabbed one of the huge bags of hand-me-downs that my mother brought back from my sister.
My sister has twin girls, Kate and Kimberly. They are dear sweet children, but very very different. Kate prefers nondescript clothes, unisex in cut and style. Rarely will she indulge in anything overly girlish.
Kimberly is a fashionista. She would change three times a day if she could.
This bag opened to reveal shoes....Kimberly shoes.
Sandals, slippers, sneakers, flats and wedges. They were all there. At least half a dozen fashion flip flops.
Caitlyn took the bag I gave her and wonder spread on her face. Gone was the sadness and replacing it was a look of astonishment.
She tried them all on, one after another. She walked back and forth, she posed, she danced.
I watched each one, knowing no matter how seasonal or slightly small it might be, she would keep it and cherish it.
She gathered them all lovingly in her arms and took them to a spot in her closet.
This morning she came down in shoes (and outfit) that weren't suitable to our two-faced weather. I sent her back up. She came back in the perfect combination, with a pair of new (to her) shoes. It helped her last night, and it helped her get to school this morning, as she wanted to stay home and wait for news.
Ahhhh, the power of shoes.

And how was your day?

Once again......

2010-03-17T05:22:00.000-07:00

Please make a note, this is a personal blog full of personal opinions and observations.
If you don't like it, don't read it. You needn't write me nasty grams.

Refresher course:

http://chaosmayhemandtrouble.blogspot.com/2009/11/just-heads-upsomethings-everyone-should.html

Understand that cyber harassment is punishable by law.

What was it someone tried to throw in my face over and over again:

Judge not, lest ye be judged....

Horse on the Porch

2010-03-14T17:47:00.000-07:00

So, it is an ordinary afternoon. I am headed over to Mom's house to check on her horses. I step in the door and my phone rings. It is Caitlyn. Shiloh won't get up, not even when she offered yummies.
I rush back home and there is Shiloh, laying in the barn and no amount of Cait's sweet talk is motivating him to move. We get him and and get some meds into him. Caitlyn was great about keeping him walking while I prepped the meds. A bit of banamine and he was drinking and trying to graze.
We left him in the backyard to continue grazing and drinking while we had dinner.
Shiloh has always been a social soul, and being in the backyard has one great big perk, the big window.
As dinner ended, Shiloh came forward to check out the kids, the dinner and anything else that was interesting to him.
Could have been worse....we have had a pony live in the garage for a week.....

And how was your day?

The DemonSlayer

2010-03-12T17:09:00.000-08:00

All hail the DemonSlayer, Saralyn! During her riding lesson, Saralyn took on and was victorious over a Fear Demon. Saralyn showed courage and grace and has now gained self confidence, strength and skills!

In her riding lesson the demon tried to scare Saralyn out of riding her mighty steed, Shiloh, through the passage between two pastures. Saralyn was nervous because of angry cow on one side and flakey mare, Bella, on the other. Saralyn showed incredible poise and grace under pressure and rode on. Shiloh behaved, too.

Upon her victorious return she was greeted with accolades by her mother and myself. James the squire brought forth kool-aid for her, to quench her mighty thirst.

Saralyn then proceeded to surprise her instructor but untacking her steed, solo.

Saralyn, today is your day. We salute you!

Soccer and Snow storms

2010-03-11T18:04:00.000-08:00

Spring soccer season has started. My eager young players are ready to refresh their skills and expend their energies. Alas, this morning we had a small blizzard. Maybe not a full scale eastern blizzard, but it was tons of wind driven snow pouring down. Winds gusted and swirled.

How are we to start soccer in this? Luckily, this being New Mexico, the snow was gone by noon and while the wind gusted, we were able to go to practice. The kids wore hats and mittens, hoodies and parkas, but still hit the field.

My team of Under 6 boys have lost none of their skills over the winter break and showed lots of growth. They still randomly tackle each other and wrestle, but that is just fine by me!
I chased them up and down the field several times, threw balls for them to block, and tried to block their kicks to the goal. I left tired, but I am pretty sure they were just getting warmed up.

Hopefully, this freak snow is the last we will have, and we can run happily down green fields!

And how was your day?

The Error of Hypocracy

2010-03-10T16:37:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time there was a woman who made a mistake. She put pictures on her website that contained images of someone else's child. It was an honest mistake, the thumbnails didn't show everything and it had been a while since she had looked at the photos.
She received several vehement emails on every email she had access to, demanding that the photos be removed. She removed the photos and apologized. She swore she would never post photos of the other woman's children again.
Now is where it gets interesting. This woman was recently told that pictures of her own children are on the other woman's facebook and blog, without permission, as well as picture of this woman's personal artistic creations.
Pot, meet Kettle. Your black.

Ag Expo

2010-02-23T17:36:00.000-08:00

Another wonderful start to the Ag Expo. The kids are often excited about my work. While I sew at home, I go to four craft shows/events a year. Today was no different. They went with me to set up at the fairgrounds because there was a two hour delay. They enjoyed cinnamon rolls at the hospitality room and fidgeted until Tawna picked them up to take them to school (many many thanks).
Conner didn't have school, so he stayed with me. He started out coloring at my booth very nicely, then... da da da dummmmm. The "Tuttle-man" showed up. Steve Tuttle is a good friend of Pop-pop's who is willing to put up with anything and everything my kids dish out. Conner has a special connection with the Tuttle-man. Conner quickly made his most endearing expression and was whisked away on a day trip of driving golf carts and begging other vendors for freebies. Later he came back sporting a give away bag, back scratcher, t-shirt, numerous sticks of chalk and more popcorn than one five year old boy could eat.
Here is a picture of him at the booth before his hero came to rescue him:

Steve picked the rest up from school and dropped them off at the gate of the fairgrounds where their Fairy Grandmother (Oh-My) took them to get Sprite and peanuts.
Life is rough all over!

Lest we forget: January 28th, 1986

2010-01-28T10:28:00.000-08:00

It was on this day, 24 years ago, that 73 seconds after lift off, the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded, killing all on board.
To this day, we mourn the loss of seven courageous and brilliant lives:
Michael Smith, Dick Scobee, Judith Resnik, Ronald McNair, Ellison Onizuka, Gregory Jarvis and Christa McAuliffe.
They were pioneers who wanted to reach for the stars......
Ronald Reagan summed it up best:
"We will never forget them, nor the last time we saw them, this morning, as they prepared for the journey and waved goodbye and 'slipped the surly bonds of earth' to 'touch the face of God'.

Godspeed, Crew of the Space Shuttle Challenger, your memory and dream are still alive.

There are boys...and then there are Boys with Brothers!

2009-12-11T17:18:00.000-08:00

I told the boys to put away their clean clothes and to pick up their room. Now, under direct whip and chair, they can complete this job in under thirty minutes. However, within an hour, there was a terrible thud. The silence grew. I rushed upstairs with the call of, "What was that?"
"Nothing," was the chorused reply.
I charged up the stairs and swung into the twins' room. No boys. Just a broken table and chair.
I called for the boys and from under beds and out of closets they came. Shame and fear written on their guilty faces.
"How did this happen?"
I was immediately assaulted by three different versions and three different culprits. There was finger pointing, denial and anger.
After examining the debris field I came to the conclusion that they table had died in a bunk bed related incident. I think they were jumping from the upper bunk to the table.
Why? Why would three boys do this?
Were they trying to ride the ceiling fan, again?
Were the launching stuffed animals from the fan?
I try not to ask why too many times. I stopped asking after they all hung out of a second story window with hard hats on. When they put Conner in the dryer. When they crawled out on to the back porch roof.
I have had to rescue Conner from the washing machine (with James cheerfully sitting on the shut lid). I had to rescue Conner from the freezer, and that one scared me. I put a lock on the freezer after that.
And also after that, the boys stole the key and we were locked out of our food for three days until one of them "found" the keys. Which was a miracle seeing as they were hidden in his sock drawer.
Now, those with only one son will wonder why my boys do these things. But there is a difference between a boy and a boy with brothers.
We did get the remains of the table into the hallway. We will see if Pop-pop will be able to fix it.
Total time on putting away the clothes and cleaning the room: 4 hours 45 minutes. A new record.
I am not raising sons, I am raising Huey, Dewey and Louie.

Twins are Seven!!!!!!!

2009-12-06T17:44:00.000-08:00

Well, the twins are seven! It is hard to comprehend. While they still want hugs when they fall. I still kiss them good night. I find mittens and fix zippers. But, as I look at them, running, playing and working at school, I realize that they are pursuing independence. The "I an do it, Mama!" has gone to ab unspoken realization, that they just do what ever it is they need, they don't have to show me or prove anything.
It hurts in a small way, but on another front, I cheer these victories. These were my preemies, my way early boys who were expected to have lengthy difficulties.
That is hard to imagine them as less than the normal little boys they are. I watch the mock gun battle with cap guns. I see them digging a whole to the center of the earth, running through a pasture with a magnet to find metal.
They are my happy, wonderful boys. They have grown away from the handicaps of their birth and merely go through what every active boy struggles with: being nice to their sister, sharing, finishing their dinner.
Happy birthday my beautiful boys!

Thanksgiving.....dirt dessert

2009-11-29T16:23:00.000-08:00

Yummy, what does everyone want on Thanksgiving? Dirt dessert!
Caitlyn was in charge of dessert this year. She made her famous brownies with the peanut butter chips in them. She also made fabulous dirt dessert cups. These, for those who aren't in the know, are cute cups that look like flower pots. They are complete with flowers and worms. In reality it is crushed cookies, chocolate pudding and some more of the cookies. Add a gummy worm and top with a fake flower. Not only are they yummy, they are so pretty, too!

Before dinner we all had a feisty game of basket-ball. It was everyone against Steve and William. Steve simply stood by the lowered hoop and stuck the ball in. William had the ball taken away one to many times and got his uber-intense look and was like mad man. Tears from Caitlyn, Conner and Will for miscellaneous fouls. James stripped down to his shirt and continued to play after everyone left.

We snacked, we ate, we snacked, we had dinner, and we had dessert. We were miserable, but oh so happy. We enjoyed watching the new Star Trek movie together (ok, new Kirk is way easy on the eyes).
After the kids were home and in bed, Steve had his traditional leftover plate while I stared at him like he was insane.
On Friday the kids helped us decorate. With their superb help we got it ALL up! All of the outdoor lights, two trees and multiple swags.

Saturday was generally a lazy day. The kids helped me take the dogs for a walk at the walking park to get to know Mom's dogs better. I am happy to report that the alphas appear to be reaching a middle ground and we are hopeful for full integration in December!

On Sunday, it SNOWED! Cool, huh!
It hasn't snowed this early since the year of the sick pony:
http://chaosmayhemandtrouble.blogspot.com/2007/11/cold-winter-storm-plus-sick-pony-equals.html

So, winter finally rolls in and we are excited for Christmas!

And how was your day?

Thanksgiving...........

2009-11-26T17:43:00.000-08:00

We had a fun Thanksgiving at Mom's house. The kids played a very heated game of basketball and Will dressed for the occasion. He wore a white button down shirt, dress pants and a vest.

The following is thanks to Dean Koontz, "Santa's Evil Twin"

"Well, now Thanksgiving is safely past,
more turkey eaten this year than last,
more stuffing stuffed, more yams jammed
into out mouths, and using both hands,
coleslaw in slews, biscuits by twos,
all of us too fat to fit in our shoes."

Yup, that is how I feel, sitting on the couch wanting to explode!

Volleyball

2009-11-24T17:56:00.000-08:00

Oh wow! The improvement in the girls is undeniable. When they first started, most of the girls couldn't serve or get the ball returned. With just a two week span, the girls have gotten a calm and serious demeanor.
They are doing great! Caitlyn served all five that were allotted to her! And smoked them all. She scored the winning points for her team's second game.
Even better, it is fun to watch the girls encourage each other. This is a team sport with the emphasis TEAM!

Go Hitters!

Fine Jewlery

2009-11-23T16:39:00.000-08:00

Today Conner came up to me and said, "Look, it matches. It's for you!"

He then handed me a fine necklace made of hand dyed pasta noodles and strung on the finest twine. True to his word, the colors matched nicely with my blue shirt.

So, everywhere I went today, I sported my fine necklace of blue and green pasta.

Take that, Tiffany's!

HAY!

2009-11-22T19:02:00.000-08:00

Recently hay was baled in the field just south of us. It sparked a field trip.