tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77516182790715386902024-03-21T17:34:48.988-07:00Crazytown1. Often misinterpreted as a bad characteristic, crazy is used to describe people that are random, hyper, creative, and flat out fun to hang with.(adj.)Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.comBlogger1152125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-53407566270306413312015-08-20T22:29:00.002-07:002015-08-20T22:49:38.713-07:00Two things have happened since we moved to the great state of Idaho that have changed. my. life. Being occasionally overly dramatic was not one of them. #1. I joined a book club. #2. I started doing Krav Maga. I'm not sure if it's the adrenaline from punching people or the rush of being around other women who like to read and discuss and debate while still being nice, but at any rate, I'm fired up. When I get fired up I get chatty. One thought triggers another and I'm off reading, researching, reading and wanting to discuss it some more. Especially Tuesday and Thursday mornings after a workout. I've been reminded that this can kinda freak some people out. It's been mentioned that perhaps Facebook is not the platform for such discussions. While I disagree, I can definitely see how spewing the stuffs I think back here in my own space has some definite advantages. For one, I can type, and type, and type, and type as much as I like and anyone who reads it does so of their own free will. Welcome to Crazytown.<br />
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I'm going to copy and paste a couple of my most recent comments from FB because I am lazy but also because I think they are a pretty good example of all the crazy that's going down in Crazytown.<br />
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I'm in a couple of on-line book clubs. One of them is reading through the Great Books of the Western World Series. This was one of those awkward "Hi, Please state your name and introduce yourself" assignments where you never know exactly what to say, how to say it, or if you're ever going to hear from these people again.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.466667175293px;">"I'm **** (My name is too easily Googled). I purchased our set of Great Books the week before we moved in April of this year and hauled them with us. Not knowing anyone here in ****, I decided that a book club might help me meet other Moms who like their kids and reading. That's how I met ******. And ****** happens to be my neighbor. The summer I turned nine my Mom offered a penny per page read. I made fifty bucks that summer and when I started teaching myself to speed read she cut me off. I've been re</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.466667175293px;">ading ever since. I admit to enjoying my share of "junk" reading for pure entertainment, but try to balance it with reading things of substance that help me understand people, the world, but especially myself a little bit better. I appreciate people who can agree to disagree in a nice way and those who are willing to share what they've learned. We have four children ages 7,5,3,and 1. The oldest two are stuck with Mrs. Mom for school again this year."</span><br />
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So, Planned Parenthood. Does it get more controversial than that? This was my response to someone urging friends and family to participate in a peaceful protest against Planned Parenthood, abortion, and selling baby parts this coming weekend. I responded primarily because the insinuation was made that not participating was burying your head in the sand. This is my position. I obviously didn't get into whether or not I believe Planned Parenthood should receive government subsidies or whether or not I believe they are actually selling body parts.<br />
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<span data-reactid=".6g.1:5:1:$comment10207575173724391_10207575753578887:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.0" style="background-color: #f6f7f8; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.9999990463257px; line-height: 17.8666667938232px;"><span data-reactid=".6g.1:5:1:$comment10207575173724391_10207575753578887:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.0.$end:0:$text0:0">"I think your desire to do right comes from a good place. However, I think participating in anti abortion activities can potentially send the wrong message. Not to politicians, or those out for a profit, but to the women seeking these services. Most wo</span></span><span data-reactid=".6g.1:5:1:$comment10207575173724391_10207575753578887:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.3" style="background-color: #f6f7f8; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.9999990463257px; line-height: 17.8666667938232px;"><span data-reactid=".6g.1:5:1:$comment10207575173724391_10207575753578887:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".6g.1:5:1:$comment10207575173724391_10207575753578887:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$text0:0">men who have or have had an abortion do so because they feel they have no other choice. They feel trapped, scared, and alone. They should be lifted, loved, and supported. THAT is the biggest issue IMO. Women have been having and helping eachother to have abortions since they've been birthing babies, legal or not. When it hasn't been legally available it's been done in back rooms threatening the lives of the women who sought it. I would not choose an abortion. I've experienced the pain of losing three babies through miscarriage. I have a daughter because a beautifully brave woman chose adoption. As a mother I would hope that my daughters would never be in the position to have to consider an abortion, but if she found herself pregnant I would like to see a wider variety of resources available, not just so that she could be safe but so that she felt supported, loved, and felt that there is always more than a single choice. For me personally, I will not say I'm anti-abortion. I'm pro empowering and educating women so that they always feel they have the power, strength, and ability to make a better choice."</span></span></span><br />
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When the response I received was that this was more than a "woman's right to choose" and that we are way beyond that I replied with....<br />
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<span data-reactid=".6g.1:5:1:$replies10207575173724391_10207575867181727:0.1:2:$comment10207575173724391_10207575993584887:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.0" style="background-color: #f6f7f8; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.9999990463257px; line-height: 17.8666667938232px;">" </span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".6g.1:5:1:$replies10207575173724391_10207575867181727:0.1:2:$comment10207575173724391_10207575993584887:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body" style="background-color: #f6f7f8; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.9999990463257px; line-height: 17.8666667938232px;"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g" data-reactid=".6g.1:5:1:$replies10207575173724391_10207575867181727:0.1:2:$comment10207575173724391_10207575993584887:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".6g.1:5:1:$replies10207575173724391_10207575867181727:0.1:2:$comment10207575173724391_10207575993584887:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.0"><span data-reactid=".6g.1:5:1:$replies10207575173724391_10207575867181727:0.1:2:$comment10207575173724391_10207575993584887:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.0.$end:0:$text0:0">Is it about politics and funding? Bioethics? Or a religious philosophical objection? The history of fetal tissue research goes back to the 1930s. Most chronic and major diseases (Cancer, immunizations, liver disease, diabetes, Parkinsons) and so many m</span></span><span data-reactid=".6g.1:5:1:$replies10207575173724391_10207575867181727:0.1:2:$comment10207575173724391_10207575993584887:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".6g.1:5:1:$replies10207575173724391_10207575867181727:0.1:2:$comment10207575173724391_10207575993584887:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".6g.1:5:1:$replies10207575173724391_10207575867181727:0.1:2:$comment10207575173724391_10207575993584887:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$text0:0">ore have made advancements through fetal tissue research. It is legal and has been for a long time. Bioethics is complicated. My position remains that until we have improved access to healthcare/mental health services and expanded educational and employment opportunities for all women we will never be beyond a woman's right to choose."</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".6g.1:5:1:$replies10207575173724391_10207575867181727:0.1:2:$comment10207575173724391_10207575993584887:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body" style="background-color: #f6f7f8; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.9999990463257px; line-height: 17.8666667938232px;"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g" data-reactid=".6g.1:5:1:$replies10207575173724391_10207575867181727:0.1:2:$comment10207575173724391_10207575993584887:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".6g.1:5:1:$replies10207575173724391_10207575867181727:0.1:2:$comment10207575173724391_10207575993584887:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".6g.1:5:1:$replies10207575173724391_10207575867181727:0.1:2:$comment10207575173724391_10207575993584887:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".6g.1:5:1:$replies10207575173724391_10207575867181727:0.1:2:$comment10207575173724391_10207575993584887:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$text0:0"><br /></span></span></span></span></span>
Are you still reading? Whatevs. Your choice.<br />
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From my own status.<br />
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".6g.1:5:1:$replies10207575173724391_10207575867181727:0.1:2:$comment10207575173724391_10207575993584887:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body" style="background-color: #f6f7f8; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.9999990463257px; line-height: 17.8666667938232px;"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g" data-reactid=".6g.1:5:1:$replies10207575173724391_10207575867181727:0.1:2:$comment10207575173724391_10207575993584887:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".6g.1:5:1:$replies10207575173724391_10207575867181727:0.1:2:$comment10207575173724391_10207575993584887:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".6g.1:5:1:$replies10207575173724391_10207575867181727:0.1:2:$comment10207575173724391_10207575993584887:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".6g.1:5:1:$replies10207575173724391_10207575867181727:0.1:2:$comment10207575173724391_10207575993584887:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$text0:0"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.466667175293px;">"I saw a post this morning from a woman who I don't know commenting that she wished she had more patience so she could homeschool. Look, if you don't want to homeschool, don't. But please for the love! Let's not perpetuate the myth that Mom's who homeschool are more patient, more organized, or more anything. It's not only not helpful, it's not true."</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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So, obviously the response on this one was mixed. Mom friends who homeschool were all "Amen, sistah!" While a couple of Moms who don't didn't relate. The best thing that came out of it was the comment from a knitting group friend who said, "<span style="background-color: #f6f7f8; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.9999990463257px; line-height: 17.8666667938232px;">That seems to be a frequent "excuse" when someone doesn't really want to something: archery, knitting, etc." </span><br />
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Yes!!!!!!! ^^^^ For the record, she does not homeschool. She just got it.<br />
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For another record, I do homeschool. I am an enthusiastic, outspoken Mom who has chosen to homeschool. So obviously I might have some things to say about it.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.466667175293px;">"A few experiences this week and a convo posted on my wall has me all riled up this morning. Socialization and homeschooling. Ay ya yay. #1. Socially awkward kids are socially awkward whether homeschooled or in public school, or on the moon. As long as they aren't sociopaths and a danger, socially awkward folks can make a pretty damn good living. #2. Advice dispensed by virtual strangers like this bugs the crap out of me. You're going to tell me how to raise my kids without kn</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.466667175293px;">owing anything about me or my family? Get some social skills, why don't ya!? #3. I don't believe homeschooling is for every kid or every family. I do believe it's my decision to make for MY family thankyouverymuch. If you don't want to homeschool, don't. Welcome to America. #4. From what I've seen, this argument usually comes from fear. That's a really poor position to be making rational, informed decisions from. #5. It's my house, I can homeschool if I want to. #6. When you pull this card within just meeting me, I pretty much gather that you and I are not going to be friends. Not because we disagree on educational philosophies, but because you don't actually want to hear my perspective or listen to me, you just want to be right. I get the impression that you're waiting for my kids to fail and for me to proclaim that I hate my life, just so you can be right. I don't need "friends" like that."</span><br />
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That pretty much sums up the week. I did make some salsa (from my garden!) which I've enjoyed by eating the entire bag of Food Should Taste Good chips while watching late night runs of Gilmore Girls and canned some zucchini relish (also from my garden!). Why the zucchini relish? I'm not sure since I don't know that we've ever purchased relish before but so help me! We're eating hot dogs with relish at least once a week from here on out. They were able to start on our backyard early which is freaking awesome. I have too many knitting/house/craft projects going, a stack of books to be read, and I need to put the second coat of paint on the front door.Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-60694165165461494312015-07-08T22:20:00.000-07:002015-07-08T22:20:09.113-07:00We came home from a family reunion last week and as I was flipping through the picture gallery on my phone I noticed that I only had one picture. One. One? How is that possible? I was either having fun, trying to keep my kids alive, worrying, or I'm the worst picture taker ever. Or all of the above.<br />
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I hope my children's memories are good enough. Not too good that they'll remember every detail of the mommy tantrum in the front seat and banning all movies in the car forever (which lasted three days), but good enough that they'll remember cousins on SeaDoos, swimming across the pool, and special time with PopPop where they got to hear their Great Grandpa tell them how much he loved them and him bear his testimony of the Savior. Through the muffled ugly crying of every female in my family, the thing that stood out to me the most was,<br />
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"I hope I've been an example to you. I hope you will take it and improve upon it."<br />
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I am doing the best I can.Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-919268052455130692015-06-04T14:49:00.000-07:002015-06-04T14:52:06.477-07:00Oh, Mister. I call him George. Also known as El Monito or The Little Monkey. It helps me to think of him as a curious little monkey who doesn't mean to be naughty and get into everything, he just can't help himself. If he had been my first, it's very likely he'd have been my last. There's just so much busy packed into the little dude that I need my other helpers in order to keep up and to help keep him alive.<br />
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Yesterday was very exciting. We cleaned the toilets. I took him from bathroom to bathroom with me because the toilet lids were all up and he cannot be trusted. He was mesmerized! All the swirling and splashing and flushing. It was almost too much. He took a long nap when we were done.<br />
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Besides trying to stick EVERYthing into the electrical socket or into his mouth, he also likes to play hackey sack.<br />
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<br />Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-9029757731381342202015-06-01T15:22:00.000-07:002015-06-01T15:22:30.996-07:00I am mostly a little bit wicked. No, it's true. I try to think good thoughts, but I sometimes can't help how quickly my mind jumps to, "Ohmagosh, stupidhead!" This can't be good for my mood or my karma. So, I quit Facebook. Ok. not quit, but logged out. And not forever, just for like two weeks.<br />
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Each morning one of two scenarios play out...1. I wake up before everyone else, reach for my phone and hustle to the bathroom. Don't even act like I'm the only one who's hit 'send' more often from the bathroom than from the office. I don't have an office so there ya go. In scenario #2. I am woken up by Husband heading out the door handing me our youngest Monkey. I reach for my phone and nurse. I review my calendar, start my to-do list, and check FB. Sometimes in reverse order. More than a handful of times over the last two weeks I've wandered into the kitchen to scrounge up breakfast and noticed that I was cranky. Like really cranky. And not just PMSing cranky or I'm so tired because my baby still nurses at night (don't offer me advice on that one) cranky, but I don't want to be the grown up here cranky. And the day hadn't even started. I decided to blame Facebook. Too many articles, too many memes, too many status updates, too many stupidheads. I was on information overload. I kept putting it off by justifying that I'd miss out on my favorite parts of FB, my homeschool groups and the craft swaps. And then I remembered that I homeschool and I haven't even unpacked my craft room. So, I declared it the last day of school and logged out.<br />
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That's how I ended up here. I think this might be a better, or at least a more authentic platform. On FB I might have posted something about "Yay, Monday! Crepes!" But on my blog I can say, "Yay, Monday! Crepes!" and then go on to add that while I was finishing up making them Scrunch woke up and wandered into the laundry room to find her clothes. She came out and instead of reporting to me just started drying her feet on my new family room rug. "Why are your feet wet?" "Oh. There's a whole bunch of water in the laundry room." I deserted the rest of the batter, turned off the stove (so as to only have one emergency at a time) and found that the laundry room was in fact under about an inch of water. Awesome. I left my stupidhead plant in the sink to take a bath and Juju must have scooted him over to wash her hands. With him in the way she couldn't turn off the water, so it continued to run. For like 45 minutes. I started to dry up the water and decided to pull the washer and dryer out so I could dry underneath them. I've been meaning to paint the laundry room and with them out of the way and Little Mono down for a nap, I might as well take down the cabinets. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I'm only in the middle of about fifteen other projects. The cabinets were much heavier than I planned .One of them crashed to the ground and the other pinned me between the wall and the dryer. I had to have Scrunch and Porkchop come and rescue me. Now the cabinet was in the way of hooking the appliances back up, putting an end to laundry day. At this point I abandoned thoughts of getting to paint the laundry room and instead went to finish cleaning up the kitchen. Porkchop was spotted in the backyard playing with the hose. He stepped in cat poop in the garage. Awesome. Crepes, no laundry, no painting, and cat poop. Yay Monday!Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-71513362759356646762015-01-08T15:35:00.001-08:002015-01-08T15:35:07.709-08:00I stopped writing a few months back and have done myself, my family, and my posterity a disservice. I don't feel like going back and "catching up", but I can start from today.<div>
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#1. I am putting some concepts into practice that I've done a significant amount of reading on and I am excited by it. As a Mom of four who spends an inordinate amount of time getting excited about pee and poo IN the potty and not on any other surface, it feels so good to be excited on an intellectual level as well.</div>
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#2. Remember my 30 before 30 list? I went off track when we decided to sell our house, move to the country, and have a baby. I'm only trying to tackle 2/3 of those again, so it feels like perfect time to get back to it. My first violin lesson in a long, long time is tonight.</div>
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#3. I Pinterest searched 'minimalist craft room'. Not a whole lot came up in the search. Is hoarding just part of crafting? </div>
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#4. Crafty projects I'd like to put into practice this year... knitting socks, making my own buttons, sewing machine writing, and a stained glass Nativity.</div>
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#5. My children are growing like weeds. Most of them speak fluent English now. It is the source of much of my frustration and hilarious at the same time.</div>
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Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-39377360622334914232014-07-10T22:04:00.001-07:002014-07-10T22:04:40.458-07:00July 10The irony is not lost on me....there was once a time when I would have sold organs on the black market in order to be pregnant. Today? I just want this baby out of me. Today is my due date. And except for four and a half weeks between back to back miscarriages, I have been pregnant since last May. Only elephants should be pregnant for years- it makes humans cranky.<br />
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It's a been a rough farm week. I came home from a long day and appointment with my midwives and just sat in the driveway. I noticed Mama llama having a fit down on the lower fence line which was unusual. I looked down to the newly fenced poultry pasture to see a dog (not ours) chasing our poultry. All the ducks, chickens, and turkeys are fenced within a half acre area. Not only have we found out that within that fencing is a fox den, but apparently a dog can get in. Thankfully, Husband happened to be home because I can't run very well at the moment, and especially not in 102 degree heat. Damn dog killed two chickens and our biggest turkey.<br />
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Our last doe kidded unexpectedly last week as well. We thought she was doing fine, but I noticed yesterday something was off with her. Tonight when we took the last three babies to be disbudded we found out what. She has pink eye and is most likely blind in at least one eye. Because she's so young she probably got it during birth and since we weren't present during the kidding she didn't get the same attention as the others. She's been quarantined to the garage in a pen to avoid spreading it to the rest of the herd. We came home after hitting the drugstore and I busted out my rusty nursing skills. I'm hoping we can clear it up and she will keep at least some of her sight. Thankfully at this point no one else has it.<br />
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Have I mentioned that it's bloody hot? Oh, well it is. But because of that the deer don't have as much to eat so they have taken to stalking my porch during the night. One night Husband sat waiting for them with a pellet gun. He's also got a little pile of rocks sitting next to the front door so he can lob them in their direction if he sees one. Last night I thought he was going to break his neck sliding down the hillside when he decided to chase one around the property. I just let Jango loose on them which seems to do the trick for at least a day or two. Most of my plantings are "deer resistant", but I have a couple that I've tried to sneak in. Only a few things have been damaged and it's not that big a deal, but it just adds to my crankiness.Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-66729448532147342032014-05-14T21:48:00.000-07:002014-05-14T21:58:50.938-07:00I used to blog. And get pedicures. And I prided myself on a wicked clean kitchen floor. But, that was a long time ago. Life before we had baby goats living in the guest bathroom because the chicks/ducks/turkeys were taking up the Master. And before we milked cows and goats and counted poultry at dawn and dusk to be sure of their numbers. And there was that time I chased a coyote with a golf club. That was awesome. Thankfully we don't have neighbors or someone might have called the cops.<br />
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"911, what's your emergency?"<br />
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"Uh, yes. There's a very pregnant woman running down the road screaming "BASTAGE!!!!!" at the top of her lungs and swinging a golf club."<br />
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In my defense, the bastage had my drake in his mouth. That's a male duck by the way, not some weird Urban Dictionary phrase you need to look up. In fact, please don't. I just probably don't even want to know.<br />
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But we live in the boonies, and I could yell profanities at predators all the live long day and no one is going to bat an eye. It's kind of awesome actually. If we had pesky neighbors they might be put off by the fact that we have encouraged our children to pee the perimeter of our property because it keeps the deer out. I may or may not have done my part in protecting my crepe myrtles. I'll never tell for sure, but I will have the most beautiful purple crepe myrtles lining my front drive. So help me!<br />
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So, yeah. I might not have written for a while. But this is still very much Crazytown.<br />
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<br />Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-3209510063272629212014-03-31T23:11:00.001-07:002014-03-31T23:11:35.256-07:00TodayPacked up some wood puzzles of a craft swap.<br />
Bottle fed our baby goat.<br />
Milked the cow in the rain.<br />
Found the secret hiding place of the chickens and collected ten eggs.<br />
Started tiling the backsplash.<br />
Cleaned up a little.<br />
Had a home assessment for solar installation.<br />
Friends over to play.<br />
Made my favorite dinner of bulgogi, spicy kimchi coleslaw, and sticky rice.<br />
Lost another chicken to something that is really starting to tick me off.<br />
Milked in the rain again.<br />
Went and cut more wooden puzzles for a different craft swap while Husband did the bedtime routine.<br />
Came in and found my wool coat so I could warm up and have a bowl of ice cream.<br />
Chatted with a friend on-line for a bit.<br />
Headed out to cut the last puzzle and feed Bella her last bottle.<br />
Go to bed.Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-25992047902863659252014-03-03T13:13:00.001-08:002014-03-03T13:13:27.213-08:00Conversation in the front seat....<br />
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"What does he do for a living?"<br />
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"Um, I think he's a nurse."<br />
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From the back seat...<br />
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Girl Child, "Wait, are you saying boys can be nurses?"<br />
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Boy Child, "I HAVE NIPPLES!"Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-79405404744875528562014-03-02T21:38:00.003-08:002014-03-02T21:38:51.253-08:00Yeah, about that...I rarely talk about money, especially not on my blog. Or ever if I can help it. Few subjects make me more uncomfortable. I get this awkward anxiety over it that takes me back to third grade and some lasting awkward memories.<br />
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You see, when I was little my family had money. Or at least the<i> appearance</i> of money. We lived in Mexico which I'm sure helped to skew the perception. There was a maid, a full time gardener, private school. We lived in a big family house with a pool. But I also remember when my Mom and Dave separated and we moved to live with my grandparents. At one point there was a reconciliation, but our lifestyle was completely different. My mom worked nights as a CNA. Dave went from being president of a company to at one point delivering pizzas and then as a beauty supply sales rep. Job to job and next business venture to next business venture and somehow (I don't know the details) we were living in Texas. My mom had gone back to school and was to finish her semester by staying with some people from the ward. My sisters and I were to move back to Utah with Dave a few weeks before my mom could come. Someday I might write about that trip, but most of the memories from it leave me with a pit in a my stomach. We made it only through the generosity of strangers and had to miss Trick or Treating that year.<br />
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Back in Utah, Dave and my grandma took us school shopping at D.I. I remember seeing and wanting a denim jacket. I wanted it sooo badly. It was $8.00. They said I couldn't get it because it was too expensive. I wasn't an idiot. I was going to be in third grade. I knew what money was and I knew that eight dollars was not a ton of money. It was standing embarrassed at DI that I realized something was wrong. The weird anxious feeling that accompanied is the same feeling I still get when having to talk about money.<br />
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Later that school year a boy at school made fun of my grandma chosen shoes by saying they were just like his grandma's shoes. It wasn't until this week that I realized that, oh my gosh, they could have been his grandma's actual shoes. Along with the memories of the neighbor boy I was madly in love with down the street, my favorite elementary school teacher, and breaking my nose by jumping a crack in the sidewalk on one foot in rollerskates on a dare, I also remember that Christmas happened due to the generosity of family members and knowing that my aunt paid for my Mom's plane ticket to visit us over Thanksgiving. When I think of my mom, I still picture her meeting us after school that day wearing jeans, a turtleneck, and a pink sweatshirt with puffpaint like teddy bears and a faux fair aisle embossed pattern.<br />
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Even though things were tight, I never went without. My mom worked hard so that when they divorced we stayed in our house. By the time my mom married my dad in Jr. High, life was different again. We lived in a middle class neighborhood in Southern California. There was always the expectation that we work and earn our own money, but we went to Disneyland at least once a year, ate out, built a new house. My parents worked hard and still do, but shopping at thriftstores has been for a long time more about the thrill of the hunt for me than necessity.<br />
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When John and I got married we had nothing, but we were too young and dumb to notice. We were waiting tables and going to school. We busted our backs to put each other through school. I became a nurse and he an electrical engineer. We were never going to be rich, but nice and steady paychecks every two weeks is what I'm about. The uncertainty of starting a small business or jumping from job to job makes me feel like an awkward third grader whose teeth are too big while wearing some punk's grandma's shoes. Life insurance, health insurance, 401k. That's what I'm about. But life still happens. Sometimes you make stupid choices like buying a new Mini Cooper on a whim and others you fulfill God given callings like taking in three kids on your dime. Either way, life is expensive and the money's got to come from somewhere.<br />
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So, knowing that talking about money makes me almost physically ill, you can imagine how awesome the conversations around our house have been when we found out that the company John works for is downsizing this year and offering severance packages to those who voluntarily leave. Good ones. One we couldn't pass up. Even if it meant that we might have to move after just planting an orchard in a house we thought we'd live in forever. Completely out of character for us and a little risky, we had to take it. As of the end of March, husband will no longer be employed with the company he's worked for for eight years. He has to take his sabbatical so he will be "on vacation" for eight weeks. That's only part of the good news. The other good news is that it looks like I don't have to move. We are expecting the official job offer to come in this week or next with a company that's actually one mile closer than where he's been working. More good news...I don't want to throw up or jump out of my skin due to anxiety anymore. Also, I'm going to be cow-sitting at my house in a few weeks for a couple months and milking a sweet black Dexter named Pepper.<br />
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Moral of my long and boring story...things have a funny way of working out.Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-69156089242345595822014-02-21T08:07:00.000-08:002014-02-21T08:07:00.357-08:00Sometimes, on a good day, I knit to relieve stress. Wednesday I cast on a pair of socks, a dishcloth, and Scrunch's Easter sweater. I have already needed to frog the socks when one of my bamboo knitting needles snapped from my holding them too tightly and then again when I accidentally yanked the cording from the needle on my circular needle when I switched to magic loop.<br />
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Saturday I am driving a van full of my knitting group to one of the biggest yarn/fiber expos on the West Coast. The day cannot come fast enough-except that I have to clean out my car before then and it might take me all day. It is a very needed and well timed outing for me. And my car is grateful.<br />
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When I was in nursing school we took a mental health wellness quiz based on life stressors. You got points for major life events like a relationship status change, new job, moving, etc. Then you tallied all your points and it gauged how likely you were to become ill. At that time, I had enough stressors to be dead. I used to joke about it because I didn't even have kids or a mortgage! Ten years later, I guarantee that quiz was faulty. Had to be. Or that's why this is Crazytown and I'm it's Mayor. In the next two weeks (preferably one), I hope to have more clarity on a few of those stressors that are giving me and my knitting grief.<br />
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Some of my nearest and dearest kept going through all this major life drama. I was literally sitting in a hospital parking lot (because it was the cheapest, closest parking to our Pioneer Day fieldtrip at the Fort) when I got the voicemail from one of my oldest and dearest that she was being admitted to the hospital. This has helped to give me perspective. But then I think I'm going to lose it if I don't clean out my car, and I'm back to square one. My kids are fine, my marriage fine, but if one more person clogs another toilet I'm going to run screaming down the gravel road.<br />
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I had a self imposed afternoon of bedrest because this baby feels like it is trying to climb out, but I didn't knit. While Juju and Porkchop napped, I traced dresses for Scrunch's paper dolls. I played on my computer while she glued sequins and buttons to everything, including the back of my skirt I found out later. There are sequins and bits of ribbon still all over the bed. We laughed at her silly baby name suggestions. My favorite being Rainbow and Peter Pan of the ones that will never make the actual potentials list. This was a welcome change from stressed out, cranky mommy of the last couple days.<br />
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Who knew parts of being a grown-up were going to be so lame? And it's not the things that FlyLady can help me get a handle on. So, I knit. I might never actually finish something and have to keep restarting, but I'm still here. Tomorrow I hope to recharge and stock up so I can keep going.Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-30273712269125596212014-02-05T02:36:00.001-08:002014-02-05T02:36:31.889-08:00Insomniac with a paintbrush.<p dir="ltr">I am several weeks past being able to squeeze into my lucky thrifting pants so I sat in the parking lot of the Korean market downing my lunch of noodles, sushi, and kimchi while the couple in the car next to me hunted down some jumper cables. I jumped their car, finished my lunch, and hoped I had secured enough karma to make my two hour trip to furniture heaven worth it. Four chairs and the beginnings of a bench later, me thinks it might be worth it to start carrying my own set of jumper cables and eating in the parking lots of every ethnic grocery store in the county.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-SndYgrIOOZI/UvIULDw4ysI/AAAAAAAAGSQ/iL7aeq2qxMs/s1600/2014-02-05%25252002.27.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-SndYgrIOOZI/UvIULDw4ysI/AAAAAAAAGSQ/iL7aeq2qxMs/s640/2014-02-05%25252002.27.10.jpg"> </a> </div>Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-31405984872744794202014-02-01T04:39:00.000-08:002014-02-01T04:40:19.427-08:00Let's talk about me.This post is about me. Weird, right? Since it's my blog and all.<br />
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#1. I have pregnancy induced insomnia- all three times. Yay, wee morning blogging where my lack of sleep is evident!!<br />
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#2. I recognize that my problems are first world problems. Pediatric hospice, multiple organ transplants, and potentially terminal cancer in a friend's spouse is a little too close to home right now, so believe me, I get it. My whining sounds shallow even to myself.<br />
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#3. If you have known me long, you will come to find out that I call for help pretty much when my house is on fire. Thankfully, my house has never been on fire, so yeah...I guess I'm a little proud. Ouch. That hurt even to just type it.<br />
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#4. On the surface I could be described as a Northern California homebirthing, home-schooling, hippie who recently moved very close to living on the edge of "the grid", is trying to raise as much of our own food supply on our property, and milks and then drinks raw milk.I know you're thinking, "Wackadoodle!" But please don't misunderstand...I'm not an idiot or a Kool-Aid drinker. I can only advocate and support homebirth when attended by experienced, <i>certified</i> midwives who have made it their life's mission to assist women in doing what has been done and <i>attended by women</i> since Eve's daughters. And only if low risk, and blah, blah, blah. I home-school because well, really? Read up on it. It's cool, and I don't have to worry about whose going to see me bra-less and in my pajamas when I drop of my kid at the butt-crack of dawn. Our move to BF nowhere came about because I wanted some goats and some chickens and my husband wanted somewhere high enough and far enough that light pollution didn't mess with the night sky and his telescope. Yes, I am growing a no GMO, organic garden and we're going to (soon I hope!) butcher our own pigs and stuff, but I also like Del Taco a little too much. And if the nacho cheese on the Nachos Bell Grande is mostly made of plastic, I'm kind of cool with it. The milk thing...well mostly, why not? It's pretty tasty and very handy to not have to go to the grocery store for it.<br />
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So, now I can tell you my story.<br />
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Two (or three) weeks ago I was watching my goats out the window and saw Moira, the herd "boss lady" wagging her tail a little too much. Aw, crap! She should not be in heat. She's supposed to be pregnant. So, I kind of went on a rampage trying to find a new buck and figuring out what I was going to do. Through some e-mails and a recommendation off the FB dairy group I belong to, I found a vet who would come out that week and teach me how to draw labs and would ultrasound my girls. While she was here she recommended that we test for a panel of zoonotic diseases, including brucella, coxiella burnelli, and leptospirosis because we were drinking raw milk. Based on #4 above, I agreed because well..hello? I'm not an idiot. I get why pasteurization is done and I would never drink raw milk unless I personally knew the udders it came out of.<br />
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So we tested for these rare, but still potentially disease causing agents and wouldn't you know it? Two of my does came back with positive titers for leptospirosis. Don't know where and I don't know how, but they were two does who I purchased together. I got the lab results late one evening and emailed the vet for clarification because positive titers only means that an exposure and immunity and has been developed, not necessarily that there is active disease, but it's hard to know. She called me first thing the next morning and very professionally, but with a tinge of panic explained that while transmission risk was low leptospirosis is "a known aborting agent in both goats and humans most often occurring late in pregnancy." Oh, great. But really not so great. Her recommendation was to isolate the two goats, re draw titers in 30 days to see if it was past exposure and then make a decision. As she put it, in one of them the level was high enough to "warrant humane euthanasia, although not her first recommendation". I was not to touch them. I am not to attend their kiddings unless gloved, gowned, and masked and I needed to consult my family doctor to have labs drawn on me to verify that I was not exposed during milking. At this point, I'm thinking that I got an over-zealous vet who was going a little overboard who was freaking me out! Did I mention my Husband was gone on a last-minute trip to Portland?<br />
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I read, and read, and read. I got a second opinion from another vet. I even emailed a homeopath in the UK who treats both animals and humans. They all said the same thing. "You're pregnant. Don't touch the goats." I called my midwives. I hemmed and hawed about actually finding a lab and having the tests done. I mean come on! I cared for AIDS, Hep C, and MRSA patients- all the time! And where was I going to find a GP who was a) going to take a new patient in their second trimester and b) be "Yay, homebirth! Yay, raw milk!"<br />
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Through the wonder known as the internet, I found an ND (naturopathic doctor) a few blocks from my husbands work. I saw her yesterday. I love, love, love her. She is one smart cookie. I was totally upfront with her. "I'm pretty much only here so you'll write me an order for a lepto titer and a CBC." "Oh, yes. We'll definitely do that, but since you're here do you mind if we talk a little and go over some things." "Um, no." I only had to drop off a 13 page history at least 24 hours before my appointment. She asked me a bunch of questions. I asked her a bunch of questions. Have you ever heard of <span style="background-color: white; color: #000066;">methylenetetrahydrofolate reductase deficiency? Yah, me neither. But she's sending me to the lab again to have a panel drawn. She thinks there's a chance I might have it. It's a common genetic mutation of a gene responsible for making enzymes that do a bunch of stuff. One of them is to properly process folate. There is some debate, but they are finding this deficiency more common in young women with recurrent miscarriage. Also, I had a son with cleft lip/palate even though I'd been on folic acid for a loooong time in trying to get pregnant.I don't know if anything will come of it, but for the first time in nine years someone is trying to figure out the why of things. I'll do the labs soon and in three weeks I'll find out if I have been exposed to a rare bacterial infection and/or have a genetic mutation. Awesome. Not so awesome.</span><br />
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As for the goats, we've decided that it would be best to sell two of them if I can. It just isn't worth the risk that it be spread to the rest of my girls. I am so bummed. Sparkles is my favorite and I was so excited she's due with twins. In 6th grade I butchered and then ate my pet goose, Raffiki, to impress a boy so it seems I have a fickle, fickle heart when it comes to livestock. I will get over it. I don't even plan to replace her. At least not for a while. I do plan on doing a major day of thrift store shopping when the sun comes up though. It's been sort of a rough week and vintage chairs for the kitchen table would be an appreciated consolation prize. Especially since Amazon also e-mailed me to tell me that the order of amazing chairs I had ordered at an amazing price was not going to be fulfilled.<br />
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#5. I have very good and very bad luck.Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-67269647531174454992014-01-30T04:43:00.001-08:002014-01-30T09:58:06.893-08:00We came home from the park on Tuesday to find two guinea hogs chillin' in the driveway waiting for us. Cute, but um...not where they are supposed to be. I thought I was going to cry. I just wanted to go inside and finish painting gold dots in the girls' room and listen to my book while the kids played house. Instead, I channeled all the strength of my pioneer ancestors and went searching for the post puller and driver. Damn it if I didn't build a DIY fence stretcher, string a straight fence line, and set those posts by myself. Don't get me wrong...I am living the dream. Raising our family on acreage with lots of animals and plans for a big garden. Our home orchard is even under way. We have gotten so much done as fast as we can in the last four months. It is just so much back breaking, never-ending work. Why couldn't my dream have been a white, minamalist, two bedroom condo on the beach? In my dreams I simply glazed over the necessaries of fencing and vet bills. By late Tuesday afternoon when I called Husband to bring me Subway, like now, I also informed him that I was moving back to my almost finished house in the golf course community. He could shoot the stupid deer who ate my broccoli. Stupid, stupid disease-carrying, garden pillaging nuisances. Bambi and his buddies are further down the crap list than even the well pump, which seems to be behaving itself for the moment. Thank you for that because Mommy's time-out is a hot shower- drought or no drought.<br />
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I keep reminding myself that I was in a similar slump four years ago. I found out I was pregnant the first month after moving into our last house. For all my planning, things still moved in slow-motion for about two years. Maybe it's a blessing. I don't make the wisest pregnancy paint choices. Remember my yellow kitchen and the "cheap South American hotel" color scheme? I can't find a picture of it right now, but honest. Picture a cheap South American hotel minus the paper mache Jesus on the wall and you'd have my house back then. So, I keep reminding myself...Patience. It's a virtue. One I lack. Like it or not, I am being forced into working on it.<br />
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Just so you know, eventually things came together. When we listed our house it no longer looked so South of the Border. These are the pictures from our listing. They make me miss my old house, but also help remind me that it took me years of back breaking, never ending work to get there and that was a much smaller house and yard to work with. This was staged for the listing. I know because it was hard to move out my beloved green piano, all our family pictures, and my even more beloved cow-hide rug.<br />
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<br />Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-64563328225870025922014-01-27T03:34:00.000-08:002014-01-27T03:34:33.443-08:00Her Majesty Turns 6After her breakfast of donuts and pink milk (which she promptly switched out for chocolate milk because she likes the color of pink milk, but not the taste) Scrunch announced, "Well, you can call me 'Your Majesty' since it's my birthday. I agreed but only after noting that maybe she should call me the same every other day. I still haven't gotten a straight answer as to whether or not it will happen.<br />
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At first, I wasn't sure it was such a good idea, but we went with it after seeing her reaction to singing 'Happy Birthday' to 'Her Majesty'. She laughed and laughed and laughed. Scrunch can be an intense kid and is not always so easily amused so it was worth her reaction. I think she might have been better behaved than usual because Her Royal Highness felt the obligation to set the example for her subjects. She was so excited that all of Primary would sing to her ON the actual day of her birthday.<br />
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She seemed to love her birthday this year. As the first one up she got to spend a little more time just with Mom and Dad which she usually forfeits by being my latest sleeper. She carefully reviewed each of her presents before opening them. Her gift wrapping is one of her favorite parts and it has now become a tradition to see how they are wrapped. The glittered 'after Christmas sale' ornament bows seemed to cut it this year. I was so proud of her when she said 'Thank you' after opening each present without being prompted. We put off a 'friends' party for another year and I was worried she might regret it when we went to a birthday party on Saturday, but she didn't even mention it. You just really never know with her.<br />
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The last several weeks have been filled with some intense conversations about her adoption as she processes what it means. There have been tears when talking about her Birthmom and lots of questions. I read some really great articles from qualified professionals that used the metaphor that processing your own adoption is like climbing a mountain every adopted child has to climb. Depending on their personality it may affect how they approach it and at what point, but they all have to do it. Some choose to go around it, others ignore it's there, others a little bit at a time, and others up and over. True to her personality Miss Scrunch seemed to take it on and not stop till she had conquered it.<br />
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These questions and all the talk of adoption kind of came out of nowhere. We've always been open and just treated it as a fact. "All babies grow in tummies. Not all of Mommy's babies grew in Mommy's tummy." Things like that. At one point she commented that she had been for sale. Turns out she heard somewhere how adoption is expensive and because she knows that her Birthmom 'chose us' she interpreted it to mean she had been for sale. She took a few opportunities to push the limits and made some comments about not really being "part of this family". I was so grateful to be able to tell her about the temple and her sealing to us and for her to be at an age where she could understand a little bit more about what that means. We finally figured out that all of this wasn't really about her Birthmom, but about her. She is still 6 so in her mind the world still revolves around her.<br />
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My pregnancy opened up some questions for her as to where she fit in. I knew we'd address the fact that other children were biological at some point, but I didn't think it would be kindergarten. I was thinking more along the lines of 13. But that is Scrunch. One morning I told her she was my favorite Scrunch and would always be. She asked me if she would always be the oldest in our family and I told her that she would always be my first baby. We talked a little about the night she was born and that was it. She seems to be cool with it and hasn't mentioned it since. On her birthday I told her that we loved her and hope she knew how much we loved her. "I know Mom. And I know C loves me too." She looked at me waiting for my response. "Tha'ts right. We all love you very much." She smiled and that was it.<br />
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Her birthday is the one time we make contact with her Birthmom. I had given her the option over the last couple of weeks to draw a picture or write a letter to her but she wasn't interested. I sat down last night to write her my yearly email and debated whether or not to tell Scrunch. When she came in to ask what I was doing I told her and asked if there was anything she would like me to tell her. I was a little bit nervous as to what she would say and whether or not I was prepared to fulfill my promise to relay the message. "Tell her I wish I could drive and that I got a bean bag for my birthday. Also that I am going to see Frozen again in the movie theater." You got it. Your wish is my command. Happy Birthday Your Majesty!<br />
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Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-18639163976360553942014-01-20T20:12:00.003-08:002014-01-20T20:20:38.021-08:00I just figured out how to post multiple pics in a post from my phone.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-aeUHeoBsh5w/Ut3y4rFH4lI/AAAAAAAAGOE/K5PaHA2niZU/s1600/2014-01-20%25252020.07.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-aeUHeoBsh5w/Ut3y4rFH4lI/AAAAAAAAGOE/K5PaHA2niZU/s640/2014-01-20%25252020.07.34.jpg"> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-NIuIuGOdqjc/Ut31ePxgKKI/AAAAAAAAGOc/eJW4gS9bKW4/s1600/2014-01-20%25252020.17.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-NIuIuGOdqjc/Ut31ePxgKKI/AAAAAAAAGOc/eJW4gS9bKW4/s640/2014-01-20%25252020.17.43.jpg"> </a> </div>Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-80797837186317182014-01-20T20:12:00.001-08:002014-01-20T20:21:28.682-08:00<p dir="ltr">Taking pics of Scrunch during tumbling is joke. She's too wiggly and I'm too slow.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-SBAaNIlqSEU/Ut3zrIHL9_I/AAAAAAAAGOQ/6qeAVDTxxU4/s1600/2014-01-20%25252020.11.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-SBAaNIlqSEU/Ut3zrIHL9_I/AAAAAAAAGOQ/6qeAVDTxxU4/s640/2014-01-20%25252020.11.17.jpg"> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-PYfdMmdEcQM/Ut31xgwErWI/AAAAAAAAGOk/Qq0AmPfNqgo/s1600/20140117_195558.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-PYfdMmdEcQM/Ut31xgwErWI/AAAAAAAAGOk/Qq0AmPfNqgo/s640/20140117_195558.jpg"> </a> </div>Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-45970236112117487352014-01-20T20:05:00.001-08:002014-01-20T20:05:06.757-08:00Let's see if I can figure this phone blogging out.<p dir="ltr">I look at this picture and think, "Holy Crap! My three year old is huge. And has very big feet."</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-uATNcH0LX7s/Ut3x73rsXUI/AAAAAAAAGN8/KVCuncZjM2w/s1600/2014-01-20%25252020.02.42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-uATNcH0LX7s/Ut3x73rsXUI/AAAAAAAAGN8/KVCuncZjM2w/s640/2014-01-20%25252020.02.42.jpg"> </a> </div>Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-21378530103904956332014-01-19T19:15:00.000-08:002014-01-19T19:15:10.269-08:00Stream of ConciousnessI am going to blog more. No really, I swear. I really am. Right after I figure out if I want to write about the books I've read, the books I want to read. The projects I've gotten done. The ones I haven't. That I finally cleaned my craft room! Oh my gosh, I have a craft room! My kids. Oh, my kids. My goat kids? My favorite goat is having "at least" twins! I thought I was going to cry during her ultrasound. I was offended on her behalf when the vet commented that she didn't have the "cleanest looking uterus in the world". What does that even mean? We'll start a club Sparkles and I. I learned to draw labs on a goat. I've been a nurse for ten years this year and I have done more venipuncture on caprines. Weird, huh? I think I'm going to puke. Why do I still want to puke? I am starting to feel better, but not awesome. After waiting, and waiting, and waiting we finally heard a heartbeat. My midwife was prepared to stand there until the baby grew big enough to hear for sure. Everyone was relieved. I didn't realize how stressed and anxious I was. I like visiting my midwives mostly for the book recommendations. Are audio books the same as the "reading"? I actually "read" (not listened) to two Jane Austen books. Audio books let me spin, do the dishes, clean the bathroom, and fold the laundry while being entertained. Listened to Anne of Green Gables with the kids. Oh so good! Stitches is only a couple of weeks away! So is Juju's birthday and Scrunch's birthday is next Sunday. I managed to put off a "friend" birthday party for another year. She just wants to go to the movie theater again. They won't stop singing the soundtrack to Frozen. Thanks a lot Aunt Goose and Aunt Miq! Come back Aunt Goose and Aunt Miq! Come back Grandma and Grandpa! We've had out of town visitors every week since Christmas and it's the only motivation I've had to clean my house. Tomorrow I am going to clean my bathroom. No really, I swear. I really am. I might blog again, too. Maybe.Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-88788970131012984122013-12-24T11:15:00.000-08:002013-12-24T11:15:15.972-08:00Simply ChristmasI made it. Not just through a week of solo parenting while Husband went to Israel, but to Christmas Eve. And there's a tree up (which I almost thought wouldn't happen), presents wrapped, and most everyone's pajamas made. And I'm twelve weeks and still puking with regularity. My goals for the rest of the year have been accomplished. I've given up on trying to get the front door painted or the rest of the tile.<br />
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Things have been scaled back to survival mode as far as activities and Christmas fun this year because of his trip and my being down, but Husband thinks this might be his favorite so far. I have been reminded that my kids are so young and so naive in some ways that they have no clue what they might be 'missing'. My kids aren't on Pinterest or FB. Is there any hope that we have moved on from social media before they get there? Zombie apocalypse? Global warming? Anything but Scrunch on FB.<br />
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For now they don't know about the fortysevenhundred different shaped and sprinkled Holiday cookies and personalized, printable cocoa mug labels you can find tutorials for. They were beyond THRILLED with going to the grocery store with their Papa to get me a drink to come home and have a picnic of donuts and Diet Coke in the front yard. They weren't anything but plain-shaped run of the mill donuts but in their minds it should become a tradition.<br />
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We didn't make it to any parades or light show extravaganzas, but Porkchop is learning the difference between 'left' and 'right' by updating us all on where to look and see the lights as we drive. He was in complete overload when we drove to the San Francisco Airport to pick up their Papa. I might be raising a country boy since he thought the usual city lights were all for Christmas. We might need to get out more.<br />
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Our Christmas miracle occurred when I puked in his Cars tool bucket while stuck in traffic on the Bay Bridge. And then Juju gagged on a piece of ice she was sucking on and threw up. Porkchop watched and then he started gagging. The miracle being that even though it took us almost four hours to get home, I didn't have to shampoo any carpets when we finally did.<br />
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Husband pointed out that for at least Porkchop and Juju their concept of time is such that they won't remember we didn't have our tree up three weeks ago, only that there was a tree. But I'll always remember Porkchop standing in front of it today and telling me, "Mom, our tree is the very most perfect." Big deal too since pronouncing an 'f' sound mid-word is a huge effort for him.<br />
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I rallied last night and we went out for Mongolian Barbecue and to the zoo. We celebrate all birthdays with Mongolian barbecue and apparently that includes Jesus. The zoo trip was killing like four birds with one stone- animals, lights, Santa, and a train ride. Plus, animals that are usually sleeping every. single. time. we've ever been to that zoo were wide awake. Juju's disappointment in the zoo came when she begged "Let him out! Let him out!" to the wolf hybrid and I did not oblige. We stopped for some last minute stocking stuffers on the way home. I'll go to the grocery store later to pick up the salmon and asparagus we'll have for tomorrow's dinner (at the kids' request) and we'll call it a Merry Christmas!<br />
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<br />Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-74754131751688978202013-12-10T09:49:00.002-08:002013-12-10T09:49:24.998-08:00I was reading some old posts from when I was pregnant with Porkchop. I completely forgot how sick I was. It all came back to me in flashbacks of late night 'Say Yes to the Dress' marathons and living on the couch. This is worse. It feels so wrong that feeling this bad could mean that this pregnancy is healthy. The good news is that in three years I won't have any recollection of it.Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-56845510759812505862013-12-09T11:39:00.001-08:002013-12-09T11:39:20.944-08:00Last Thursday I posted a picture of some yarn and pizza I made. It wasn't even good yarn (my first with my new spinning wheel) or pretty pizza (although it was pretty dang good) with the caption "Take that Thursday!". It prompted a couple of very flattering comments which, while very nice, made me feel....not guilty...not bad...but maybe... uncomfortable? Perhaps undeserved.<div>
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I posted the 'Take that!' because the rest of the week completely kicked my butt.When I post a picture of my newly decorated living room, I'm not posting a picture of the same laundry pile that moves from my bed to the recliner, bed to recliner day after day waiting to be folded. If I say I spent the day cooking freezer meals, it's because if I don't my family will likely eat Subway three times a week. I sit and make yarn right now because it's the only thing I can do to distract myself from the feeling of simultaneously starving and wanting to puke at the same time. There weren't any pictures of cute ballet flats with skinny jeans and cozy winter sweaters because at that point I'd been in leggings and my slippers for three days. Oh, yes I'm amazing, but I also have a Christmas tree under six inches of snow leaning up against the house because I can't find our tree stand. We both have a vague memory of leaving or ditching it at some point during the move, but can't explain how or where. I didn't post a pic of our newly decorated tree because it's almost mid-December and except for the paper chains hanging in the kitchen doorway there is no semblance of the Merry Holiday anywhere to be found in my house. </div>
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Don't get me wrong, I work hard. Really, really hard. I wake up early, go to bed late. I have ADD and need a project (or eight) to keep me moving forward or I just spin in circles. I don't watch t.v. or get my nails done, or have a gym membership. Not anything against those things, they just take time. And I spend my time doing different things. I have talents, sure. So does everyone. They might be nicer and less snarky than I'm prone to be. So, am I amazing? Maybe sometimes. Some people think so. But so is everyone else which means you're probably pretty amazing too.</div>
Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-22391812657120698362013-12-03T20:51:00.007-08:002013-12-03T20:51:50.225-08:00At 7:27 p.m. all three kiddos willingly went to bed. <i>Willingly! </i>Sweet. By 8:13 p.m. I guesstimate that I will have fallen asleep during the opening scenes of <i>P.S. I Love You. </i>Before that happens though I need.....<br />
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Excuse me. My seemingly perfect evening was interrupted by Husband kicking me out of the recliner to rock a suddenly not so willing Juju and then Porkchop came down the stairs. "You going to come up and cuddle wif me?"<br />
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And then Scrunch heard Porkchop ask me a question so she climbed on the other side of the bed, but only after taking Jango (the dog) down to the utility room because he kept sniffing and tickling Porkchop. Then they both needed a refill of waters. After a half hour of baking between the two not sleeping monkeys I kicked myself out of the bed with a, "Mommy's got to go downstairs. I think I'm going to throw up." I left the room with both kids making puking and gagging sounds.<br />
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Turkeys. But cute turkeys who are doing their absolute darndest to not be sassy or say "stupid", "crybaby", or "shut-up" (Thank you Finding Nemo) because they really don't want to lose all their paperclips (I couldn't find my button jar) so they can go to the movie on Saturday. A movie with popcorn in the theater- that is the ultimate bribery, I mean positive reinforcement, for eliciting more of the behavior I'd like to see. Smart turkeys.<br />
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<br />Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-69706440523223362242013-11-22T04:22:00.001-08:002013-11-22T04:22:43.092-08:00The wind is keeping me awake. It's really whooping it up out there. As Scrunch so<i> helpfully</i> hissed to her younger brother over the dinner table, "It sounds like ghosts."<br />
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Greeaaaat. Thank you Scrunch.<br />
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"But only nice ghosts." I offered. Was that answer really going to work? It seemed to and thankfully, for once, Porkchop completely ignored his sister. Juju, however, picked up on it and asked, "Whas dat?" about forty seven times.<br />
<br />
I got even with her after dinner when I cut a hole in the middle of what I did not know was a fleece blanket she even knew existed. "Mo-om!"<br />
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"Why'd you do that?! That was one of my favorites!"<br />
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Oh, really? Since when? Well, I'm the mom and it's cold, and I have to go outside in the dark <i>with the ghosts</i>. I only thought that though.<br />
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"Well, sorry kiddo. I'm the Mom and had to make an executive decision."<br />
<br />
"What's executive?"<br />
<br />
Hand smack to the forehead.<br />
<br />
"Nevermind."<br />
<br />
Gosh. Maybe my husband is right. Maybe I AM cranky. (For the record, "Gosh, honey you're probably right" is NOT how the conversation went down when it was first suggested.) I offered a list of pathetic (but still true!) reasons as to my recent irritability. Usually reasonable and understanding, he mostly didn't get my number one offered (and kind of lame) excuse. Maybe you will? Or the Internet? The internets have a way of understanding all sorts of crazy. Or least I will get it off my chest and be able to lay down and go back to sleep.<br />
<br />
Yeah. So. I'm pregnant. Having been a staunch believer in 'Do not announce anything until in your second trimester', I feel like a traitor to my camp. Buy you guys, I need to sleep.Plus, I say something when I'm not anymore so what the hell?<br />
<br />
This not so recent knowledge weighs on me daily and grates on my last nerve. This was not planned or intentional. Almost ironic (is this the correct use of that word?) that I taught and even helped write published material on Natural Family Planning for a state Health Department. Off the record I was known to say that, "If you're doing it, you're planning it." Thank you, thank you. Add that to the list of things I've said that have come back to bite me in the...So yeah. This was less than planned. And it is good. And I will be happy.... If I get a baby out of it. Ok, there. I know that is wicked and selfish, but jeez! I think I handled the last two miscarriages really well. And I promptly filled up my life with all sorts of distractions (and baby animals). No joke. I have a bottle calf right now. But we're reaching capacity here, folks. I am reaching my limits. God would not let me have three miscarriages in six months, would he? Not after everything? I mean, "Come on!" as Scrunch has been known to say.<br />
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But, oh yes. Yes He would. And He might. Because I know God has very little to do with it. Lest you think me sacrilegious, let me explain. There are natural consequences and events we are subject to due to our mortality and then there are Godly interventions. And how the two intersect in my life, and others, remains still a mystery to me. A giant, fat fatty of a mystery of epic proportions, but a mystery none the less.<br />
<br />
So there it is. I think about it when I wake up, when I go (or don't go) to sleep, and every time I pee I think, "Please don't let there be blood. Please don't let there be blood." When Juju gives me a famous squeeze hug I sometimes think, "Oh, good. My boobs are still sore." When I slowly haul my exhausted and should be in better shape and used to it by now butt up the hill from watering my boy goats I think, "What's wrong with me? Why am I so tired?...Oh. yeah." My skin is crazy itchy from the additional hormones I'm taking, I sometimes feel like I want to jump out of my skin, and I AM CRANKY. OK!? I am looking forward to Christmas not because of the merriness of the holiday but because by then I will be well into my second trimester and the chances of miscarriages are drastically statistically reduced. P.S. Statistics don't mean crap when it comes to babies coming to and from this planet, but there you go.<br />
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On Sunday I was set apart for our callings as Stake Spanish Group Specialists. Whatever that means. (It means we get to work with the Spanish group, I teach Sunday School in Spanish, we attend a different ward, but my kids get Primary in English still. Score!.) Between Juju and Porkchop having complete meltdowns and being the complete opposite of reverent and making it impossible to hear, I managed to catch one line of the last part. of the High Councilman's blessing..."As you fulfill your calling, your concerns at home and the those things that weigh on your mind will be resolved." I might not have noticed, except the counselor in the Bishopric commented afterwards that he strongly felt the Spirit and I had been blessed with a great gift.<br />
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Huh, what? I have not, until now, let my mind go there. Crappity, crap. They went and brought God into this. And now I have to figure out if I truly believe, have faith even, that if I fully commit myself to preparing and searching the Scriptures "my concerns at home and those things that weigh on my mind will be resolved". Do I believe this? I think I do. I mean, it sounds reasonable and true. Nothing tangible like our well functioning properly or a baby was promised so it's not like I can get bitter. But I don't know yet. I hope so. I will have to test it. For now, I will let you and the Internets worry for me. And who knows? Maybe I will be less cranky. It is quiet now. I think I'm going back to bed.Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751618279071538690.post-32278564801864817222013-11-02T20:35:00.001-07:002013-11-02T21:09:29.274-07:00In regards to my previous post...<br />
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To Do list? I'm sorry. Did I say, "To-Do" list? I meant to say Suggestion List. Or perhaps Possibility List. Like 'You Could Possibly Accomplish All of The Things You Put on Your To-Do Lists if You Animorphed Into a Humanoid Squid With Eight Functioning Arms Or You Take On a Sister-Wife or Two'.<br />
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That's it. From now on I don't write 'To-Do' lists, I write Possibility Lists. Like, "I will possibly get to it, but there's a bigger possibility that I won't."<br />
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In my defense, it rained last week. It is really hard to paint a front door if it is raining and you've only partially cleaned out the workshop. I did move the chicks outside permanently, built two garden boxes, ordered our orchard trees, bought the garlic to plant, set a date to wash apples and make applesauce, picked up our new buck and set him up with Pan in their temporary housing, and bought the bins for the barley fodder system. I kind of forgot that I had to attend an all day parent training for a super fun school activity for Scrunch today and was reminded by the fact that my sister was also coming this weekend.<br />
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I negotiated Halloween by telling my kids that they could each pick 20 pieces of Halloween candy we already had in a bowl we were supposed to take Trunk or Treating, and we went to In N Out and Home Depot instead. But they were happy and by complete coincidence were wearing orange and black. So even though I might be a loser Mom, my kids won't realize it until they are older. They got what they were in it for.<br />
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I did manage to Google everything on my 'To Google' list. But of course I did. Because I stay up waaaay too late (not sleeping) and Googling the most random subjects and other weird things. I somehow found myself on a blog of a distant cousin's recent ex-girlfriend where she talks about their breakup. And evil, hard-hearted Halloween-ditching wench that I am, I was totally entertained and even laughed. I might be truly wicked.<br />
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Other weird thoughts I've been having lately..."Where's my gun?" Tonight when were we were driving home we saw a fox run up the road and on to the corner of our property and I thought, "Where's my gun?" Whaaaat? I don't even have (nor really want) a gun. But I saw that evil, fluffy tailed little bastage and it brought out a very violent streak.<br />
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Husband remarked (after we debated about what it was), "Oh, isn't he cute?"<br />
"No. Hit! him!!!"<br />
"What?"<br />
"Hit him. He's going to eat my babies."<br />
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The only thing I can come up with is that I have become supremely protective of my little cheepie babies, or the artificial food coloring from my (way more) than 20 pieces of Halloween candy are starting to affect me in a weird (and a little bit scary) way. Nothing should really surprise me though. My brain is completely fried. Fried. Fried by my five AND A HALF for the love don't forget the half! year old's incessant questions about everything. EVERY. Thing. I can't even put on a movie in the car for some peace and quiet.<br />
<br />
"Mom, is 'Finding Nemo' a learning movie?"<br />
"Not really, but we'll be in the car for a while so you can watch a fun movie."<br />
"Mom, can you pause it? I have a question."<br />
"What's your question?"<br />
"If Dory and Marlin got married could they make babies?"<br />
"No." Followed by a ten minute conversation on (I kid you not) inter-species breeding. Do not under-estimate the potential for all moments to become learning moments.<br />
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"Mom, can you pause it? I have a question."<br />
"What's your question?"<br />
"What's Frauline Maria's name in real life?"<br />
"Julie Andrews."<br />
"Oh, can we go visit her someday?"<br />
"No." Followed by a ten minute conversation on why famous people don't want to hang with us and why I didn't want to become an actress."<br />
<br />
But the best of all was at the nursery while I asked the young nursery worker if they carried kelp.<br />
"Guess what? We got a stinky goat today."<br />
Nursery worker.."You did? A buck? What kind of goats do you have?"<br />
Me- "Oberhasli"<br />
Nursery worker, "Oh fun. I have a pigmy goat."<br />
"Mom, I have a question."<br />
"What's your question?"<br />
"What are the two hanging things between his legs that Pan doesn't have?"<br />
At which point the nursery worker stifles a laugh, excuses himself to check their stock, and I commence on a ten minute conversation about the difference between a buck and a wether, hormones, and what "neuted" is.<br />
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Laws. I am. so. tired.Mayor of CrazyTownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11459062526298631115noreply@blogger.com1