Monday, May 14, 2018

Crummy Chicken

I cleaned with all the windows open today because it was such a beautiful day.

And because I found a bowl of rotten beans in the fridge and was trying to air out the place.

Through the open window I heard Samera laugh and say, "Hey, you little nut job, you're just so stupid, aren't you?"

I quickly knocked on the window in a warning fashion and asked her who she was talking to.

"Just Chicky Nicky, Mom."

Chicky Nicky is the runt of the chickens.

Tamest chicken you've ever seen. The kids love her, and she loves them back

(if chicken love is demonstrated by staring blankly and not running away,
no matter what the kids do).

And, while it wasn't the nicest comment, and I won't endorse the use of it anywhere else,

I could not argue with it.

So I didn't.


*I can never see my kids' affection for chickens without thinking of The Smothers Brothers. Hence, the title of this post.

Monday, April 9, 2018

From Bad to Worse

The other night we wanted to watch a show together as a family.

Which usually means a cooking show.

Which reminds me: we watched a show about America's obsession with cooking shows. The host's opinion was that the reason we love watching other people cook is because we, as a society, have moved away from cooking, but it is still such a fundamental part of our lives that we crave the comfort and familiarity and love we associate with cooking.

Meh.

I think it's just because cooking shows are the only shows we can watch with our little kids without being bombarded with profanity and nudity.

At least that's why WE watch them.

Anyway, I got a show going and then stepped into the kitchen to finish cleaning up dinner (which I cooked, thank you very much TV personality!).

Five minutes later, I went in to join the family, and they had switched over to a science show.

I asked Ty why, and he told me that the cooking show had used the "F word" four times in the first few minutes! Well I never...!

Anyway, we watched a science experiment show instead.

It wasn't the greatest, but Sylas was enthralled.

The guy on the show had all sorts of ways to make things catch fire or explode, which just happen to be Sylas' favorite things in the world right now. Besides shooting guns.

I grew increasingly uneasy.

But it was his,

"Dad, if I put suchandsuch and soandso together, would it explode like that?"

that made Ty and I glance at each other and bust into nervous giggles.

It was then I exclaimed,

"Turn it back to the cooking show!

Let's teach this boy the F word!!"

Friday, March 30, 2018

Distinguished

Do you ever watch your child do something hard that you would/could never do, do it well, and just feel your heart grow eleventy-five times stronger with hope and faith that everything is going to be okay?

That is how I feel.

Especially since I was a nervous wreck (I vascilated between wanting to cry and wanting to jump out of a window) because I hadn't seen Saylor practice anything, or been to any of the many meetings and trainings she attended. This was all her.

ALL. HER.

ALLLLLLLLLLLL.

HERRRRRRRRRRR.

She does not overshare (we are lucky to get two words/day out of her. no exaggeration.), so I had no idea what they were (supposed to be) learning or doing. All texts and instructions were hers alone, and I was completely out of the loop every night. Most nights I didn't even know where she was, and would text her and get a short response, "DYW". (Distinguished Young Women Scholarship Program)

(*returning home*
Me: So what did you do?
Saylor: Oh, you know. Just practiced. Good night!")

And guys, she never practiced her actual talent performance.

And she has never danced a step in her life.

And there were three dance numbers.

(And I have never attended one of these events before, and there were no parents allowed at dress rehearsals or back stage, so I was literally clueless)

Can you imagine how scared that made me?

(a pox on my decision to wear a Hand Wash Only shirt on such a sweat-filled night! Nice knowing you, shirt. See you in the afterlife. Which is when, I can only assume, I will finally get around to washing all my hand-washables...)

And then she was awesome. And hilarious. And unflappable.

And the stage hand, you guys.

THE STAGE HAND who saw the easel falling (we discovered later that the chain that extends to hold it up was tangled, so when the guys set it up, it was already super unstable, dang it) and ran as fast as he could behind the stage to the other side to try to save the day, but got there too late and still sacrificed his body to do all he could to help. I want to bawl every time I think of him. God bless him, wherever he is!

And then, she told me, all the girls were like, "Oh, Saylor! Are you all riiiiiiight?!", expecting her to cry after her talent went awry, and she was like, "What do you mean?! That was AWESOME!!" cause she had so much fun.

I have a bad mothering habit of assuming my kids are like me, and have the same weaknesses, and expecting less of them than I should.

It is strange and beautiful to realize that your child is perfectly capable of navigating things without your (overbearing and) constant supervison/control.

I am allowing myself a few days to feel excessively, punch-drunk proud.

Beware.

(and also be aware, because we were not until it was too late, that the spot light made it impossible to see what she painted, *sad face*, but that she is going to finish it and refine it, now that she has longer than 90 seconds, and it will be for sale soon)





https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ghBsaICD5Es&feature=youtu.be






Monday, February 22, 2016

If Hell Needs a Fresh Coat of Paint, I Know a Guy

Did I ever tell you the one about the guy who came to prep our house for paint and ruined it?

No?

Well, it's not funny. At all.

Luckily (if there is a luckily in this situation), we stopped him before he could slap paint all over the place and ruin it even MORE.

So now we're on the hunt for a new painter.

And an extra $10K.

And a few extra doses of patience to make it through this project.

And a magic trick for getting MASKING TAPE residue off of every window in my house.

Masking Tape! Seriously! How stupid can one person be?!

Bleh.

Wednesday, January 13, 2016

Dumb As A Rock

I hate granite countertops.

There. I said it.

It feels so good to put it out there!

I do not like them, and yet I feel forced to put them in this house because we build to sell, and a house in this price range must have granite.

(you wouldn't believe how many buyers we lost over the granite-less state of our last house)

(by the way, I loved my inexpensive laminate countertops with a love that rivals the top three love stories you can think of right now)

And I know what you're thinking:

"Then do quartz! Or quartzite! Or marble!

Shut it. You don't think I've thought of that? Give me a little credit, people.

Those are MORE EXPENSIVE than granite. By quite a bit, actually.

I tried to talk myself into some gorgeous quartz, but THAT PRICE! I could buy a new car (granted, the cars I buy are not fancy, but still)! And like I said, we build to sell, so I don't want to invest my life-savings on countertops that I don't get to enjoy. On the other hand, you might be saying to yourself, "If you're not living there long-term, why not just suck it up and put some cheap, ugly granite in that sucker?" Well, we build to sell, but we also realize that the market doesn't care about our plans. The last time we built to sell, we lived there eight years. I cannot look at spotty, dotty, gold-swirled granite for eight years. I just can't.

Especially when it's (let's stop beating around the bush here and tell it like it is) REALLY expensive! I mean, really. It freaks me out that granite is my "inexpensive" option! When did we start thinking it is okay to spend that kind of cash on countertops?! It feels a little (lot) wasteful to me. Do people in Africa even have countertops?

Bleh.

Anyway, back to the story:

So today I went to the third granite yard in as many months, and fell in love.

It really happened, you guys! I never thought I could feel that way about granite. I might see, just a tiny bit, what all the fuss is about.

(not really - I could have found a lovely laminate in so much less time and with so much less anguish)

I made them put my name on it and everything!

I am feeling so encouraged and excited.

If I can find true love in a granite yard, there really might be a friendly solution to all global issues!

Probably not, but I have hope!

Now I wait for the bid to come back...

(but even if it's too much, at least I know I can find something I don't detest)

(and can't afford)


Saturday, October 17, 2015

New Build Post #1

So this one time, we built a house.

We planned to do it every two years until we had a house paid off.

It was really exciting and fun and stressful and horrible. And we decided we never wanted to do it again.

So we waited 8 years until, on a whim (and a very rough, very low, very inaccurate estimate from The Builder), we decided to build again.

That was almost 4 months ago.

It is really exciting and fun and stressful and horrible. Again.

Today I had to go talk to The Builder. I didn't want to because I was very super frustrated, I had a headache, and I hadn't gotten enough sleep. I knew I would't be able to keep my cool. I took some deep breaths, took a bite of fried chicken (cause the rest of it, like everything else today, fell on the floor) and drove over.

When I got there, The Builder told me that Ty called to warn him I was on my way and that I wasn't feeling particularly charitable, so to keep the conversation clear of certain topics.

I was a little offended at the insinuation that I can't fight my own battles, or that I need someone to rescue me, but as I left The Builder with these parting words,

"I'm going to go take a nap before I kill the whole world,"

I realized that I DO need rescuing. Often. And I should just be grateful there is someone out there who realizes it before I do.

Long live Ty.






Wednesday, November 5, 2014

Halloween 2014

Did you think because I only post twice/year lately, that I would forego my Halloween post?

Don't kid yourself.

Count Fauxhawk Dracula

Owl
(I know the feathers look like leaves. Get over it.)

Black-fanged Dracula with an owl on his shoulder - don't worry, just dressing up as Dracula was enough to send his over-active imagination into a tail-spin of nightmares and wanting to sleep with BOTH sisters (instead of just the one he shares a room with). Sigh. This is why we usually make him dress up like a pirate.

Fawn
(thank goodness for windstorms that bring all the tumbleweeds to my yard - I've got enough for a whole herd of deer!)


Halloween 2014 was so ideal, that at one point I opened my front door, took one look, and exclaimed, "Ty, come see this: WE LIVE IN A MOVIE!" and teared-up. No joke. The sunset was perfection, the weather was a dream, the hay ride wagon was loading up for another turn around the subdivision (complete with festive music), all the neighbors were strolling around, laughing and talking, with their exceptionally cute little costumed children, and it was just too much exquisiteness to take in. If your child happened to be in the group who came up my walk at that precise moment, and came home with tales of the weird lady who was passing out tear-stained candy, now you know it was me.

And now you know that I am really, truly serious about my love for Halloween.



The next day, our last baby was baptized. 

It was a sublime end to an impeccable weekend.




The End