The Lumberjack's Wife

I saw something on Facebook that read something like:

Tell me what your grandmother smelled like.

My Grandma Connie smelled like mentholatum.

I was born in California and did not move away until I was almost 4.  We lived close to my Grandma and she and I were pretty close.  When we moved away, I eventually became penpals with her.  My brother and sister always felt I was the favorite of Grandma Connie (and can you blame her?) and always thought my letter writing/fan mail to Gma was a bit over the top.  A bit brown-nosey-ish, if you will.

One year, she asked what I wanted for Christmas.  I said:

“A framed picture of you,” which gave my siblings more evidence for my “brown-nosing.”

Whenever I missed her, I would go to our medicine cabinet, open it up, and smell the mentholatum.  Still absolutely love mentholatum to this day.

Check out this retro pic of Grandma Connie with one of her gal pals-

She is on the right.  What a fun picture.

We went to the river this weekend, and it was beautiful.

The three dogs really love it when anyone throws a ball for them.  And they all must fight over one ball, they will hear none of this “ball for everyone” business.

Norman the dog is now very interested in jumping as high as he can, yet he always jumps too soon and cannot ever win the coveted ball.  If you look closely, HD hasn’t even thrown the ball yet.  My nephew is with him.

Before we came to camp, it was pig butchering day.  Have I ever told you how much I hate butchering days?

Nephew had asked David to bring him the foot of one pig, and David obliged.

Nephew tried to give it back to us.

Us:  No way!  You asked for it!

Nephew:  I didn’t know it would be this disgusting!

We need a better plan for all butchering days.  The problem is completely centered around three major issues:

1.  Dogs
2. Blood
3. Guts

Remember Norman from the last butchering day?

So yesterday, we kept the dogs in for as long as we could and HD tried his best to get all the mess cleaned up.  But the dogs still found some “leftovers” and then Charlie came in the house and threw up pig blood and guts.

And it looked exactly what you might think vomited pig blood and guts might look like.

Hadley cleaned it up, but didn’t put forth all of her heart into the task and when someone walked by, they knocked the empty box over that housed the blood/gut vomit and it spilled again on the carpet and I had to clean it again.

And so I asked David for a cup of coffee this morning and he was like, “I don’t know.”

And I was like, “Yes, you should, because I cleaned up vomit with guts and blood.”

And so he got me coffee.

Tomorrow is our official “Back to Work” day, but the students won’t come for another week.

I believe I am teaching a K/1 combination classroom.

Yes.  I do believe so.

Yes.  My heart has been broken into a million pieces over the loss of Hazel.  I decided I would cry a river all night Tuesday, and then try to move along with my life on Wednesday.

Let’s talk about Wednesday.

On Wednesday, I was driving to school, with a crying headache from the night before, of course, because it was kindergarten pre-screener day.

On my way into town, I remembered how Hazel would get her head stuck in the cattle panel and not know how to remove it.

Remember?

She did it again a few days ago, and Hadley went and helped her out.  I remember thinking to myself, “Oh, I better keep tabs on her so she doesn’t get stuck and has no one to help her.”  So, naturally, on the drive into work, I started to panic and think that maybe that was what had happened to her.  She was laying right near a fence when I found her, although the area was not visible from the house.  I started to cry, of course, because I know within the past few days, I called for her from the deck, heard her moo back at me, did not see her, but got distracted and went on to other things.  So I was worried that she was stuck in the cattle panel and heard me and then I didn’t help her.

I know.  Bleeding hearts of the world.

I got to work and then looked again at my phone to see the picture I took of her when I found her, dead.  The fence she was near was just barbed wire with no cattle panels.  So it made me feel a bit better, although I don’t know why.  I think I am definitely heartbroken and also hopeful that it wasn’t my fault.

You know what else made me feel better?  Two things:  Kindergarteners and Lunch with Erika.

Kindergarteners:

Oh, mylanta, they are hilarious.

Boy:  Hey!  This is my first time here!

Girl:  So aren’t you supposed to do something fun with me now?

Boy:  I had a birthday a few years ago.  I turned five.

Boy:  I don’t know how to learn.

Me:  Ok, fellow teachers, I will take all the kinders because I love them all so much.

Lunch with Erika:

You know what is supes fun?  Packing a boring lunch, deciding not to eat it, and going out for a delish lunch with a pal instead.  I give it two thumbs up.

I had the most delicious salad and Erika let me talk a bit more about Hazel and even looked at the sad, dead Hazel picture, and that was just nice.  And the restaurant dude let me sub cucumbers for croutons and it was a great choice on my part and very kind on his part.

It was like two surprises in one:  a delish lunch and pleasant company.  And trust me, that picture of Hazel was no picnic.  And we should honor Erika for that.

Erika.  We honor you.

Also:  I got a fountain Diet Pepsi, and fountain Diet Sodas are just what this world needs.

Thursday.  Today.

Today I should get a medal for not flipping out on my boys, although, I must admit, I was close.

Please remember they deserve all the recognition for taking care of me when I found Hazel-for collecting her and burying her and planning for me to plant memorial plants in her honor.

But today.  Today, they were something else.  Especially LD.

LD stands for Little Dude, yet the only person he is taller than at this time is David.  And I feel like he will pass David up within a year.

Before we left for town, of which the boys ABSOLUTELY knew was the plan, we had somebody stopping by the house to buy pigs.

Because David was The Magical Turn Buyer and now we are flipping pigs.  For what we hope to be a profit.

LD, who is 13, and lived on a farm since he was 23 months old, CHOSE to wear white socks and slides (sandals) to help pig purchaser man purchase pigs.

In order to go help the aforementioned pig purchaser, LD would have walked by the boot box that contains a plethora of community mud boots that we encourage all family members to don when working with animals.

Anyways.  I was driving to school with the boys, because, I have to set up that dang classroom, and I smell pig poop.  And then I look at LD.  I look at his shorts and his legs and his white socks and everything is splattered with poo/mud and I feel like I have every right to kill him.

I didn’t.  Rest assured.  But you try driving 40 miles into town smelling pig poop and knowing that your child walked right by mud boots and chose this fate for himself.

Go ahead.  Try it.

Also.  We have a fly problem.  I blame David and his incessant need to purchase livestock. And sometimes flies get in our cars and when we are driving we roll down the windows in hopes that the flies will vacate, but they don’t, and then David said to me, very casually, one day:

“The flies will not fly into wind.  That will only work if you are stopped.”

And it has completely blown my mind.  How did he know that?

Did you know that?  Is he messing with me?

Anyways, I get to my classroom and HD was helping me and LD was in charge of giving himself a sponge bath in my classroom, and can you see me rolling my eyes from where you are?

Then Hadley surprises me with a quick drop by to see if I needed any help and she helped me to do many things and I did have to threaten the boys that I would kill them if they rolled down the hallways again with my rolling chair, but I did get some decoations hung, which was swell.

And three cheers for Hadley!  She is nice.

And then one boy said this:

Boy:  I have armpit hair now.  Like a man.

Other Boy:  Nuh-uh.

Boy:  Bet.

Other Boy:  Bet.

Boy:  Bet.

Other Boy:  Bet.

And then Boy decided to close my classroom door so he could prove the armit hair, yet I was trying to get some copies from the copy machine, so I opened the door.

Boy:  Mom!  Do you want to see my armpit hair?

Me:  I most certainly do not.

Boy:  Well, close the door so your teacher friends won’t see!

Then we went to get haircuts, the boys and I, and LD tried to talk me into letting him get a mullet, and can you see me rolling my eyes from where you are?

Because I am.

I am fit to be tied.   I am missing so many things from when I packed up for eSchool.  The most annoying thing:  my lunch count tray.

Reader.  I had the perfect lunch count system.  I had a try with three compartments labeled:  Main Dish, Choice, and Cold lunch.

Reader.  I cannot find that tray.

I bought the tray about 7 years ago at the dollar store.

For $1.

I went back to the dollar store and they have no such tray.

So I have no lunch count plan, and more annoyed, I could not be.

Anyways, I am now for surely (probably) teaching a kinder/1st combo.

(Most likely)

I went to physical therapy this afternoon and the poor dudes, who annoyed me all day with the rolling chair, had to wait in the waiting room for me.

PT:  Let’s see.  Last time we did 5 minutes on the bike.  Do you have time for 10?

Me:  Certainly.

PT:  Do you have time for the treadmill, too?

Me:  Absolutely.

PT:  Do you have time for the Russian Stem?

(Don’t ask.  I literally have no idea.  But I do it and I don’t like it)

Me:  Sure thing!

PT:  Can you do a full ten minutes or do you want to do five?

Me:  Let’s do 10.

And those boys had to wait a solid hour for me.  And that was good.

Oh, yes.  It was good.

Also.  I told them they are in charge of their own dinner.

I am such a Karen.

My heart is so sad, Reader.

I decided to take my first post-surgery walk to check on cows.  I was calling for Hazel and waiting for her to moo back at me, like she always does.  As I walked further along, I saw a dead calf on the ground.  I didn’t want to go and look to see, but, I did, and it was Hazel.

I cried all the way walking back home.  My boys, who can be so obnoxious, immediately saw me crying, asked what happened, and sprung into action.  They insisted on burying her so I could plant flowers around her.  That was very sweet of them to take the time to dig a hole for her, and it really meant a lot to me.  They even went back and put rocks on top in hopes that no coyotes would dig her up later.

Kate sent well-wishes and ordered a little grave marker for her that I can put by her graveside later on.

I have no idea what happened to her.  I sent some pictures to a vet-tech friend, and really, we don’t have any way of knowing.

I will be ok.  She was just a calf.  But I sure did love her.

On Sunday, I overheard a conversation between David and the boys and I became quite concerned.

I was concerned because I heard them discussing a future purchase of 100 full size pigs.

Me:  Hold up.  What is the deal with this 100 pigs business?

David: (sigh) Ok.  Do you know what a “turn buyer” is?

And he was looking at me like I definitely should know what a “turn buyer” was, but I definitely did not.  But good news, Friends!

David won the right to be THE Turn Buyer!

Lucky him.  And here is what I *think* it is.  4H children enter pigs into the fair.  People from the community purchase the pigs from the children.  The purchasers can either chose to keep the pig for themselves to purchase or they can sell it to the Turn Buyer.

And that was David!  My actual husband!  He put in a bid and he won the bid, but he had to take all the pigs, which could have been up to 100.  And the Lord bestowed his favor upon me, because David was only needed to buy 30 pigs, rather than 100.

The turnly bought pigs had to be picked up Tuesday at 7am, and, unfortunately, David was already committed to being an electrician on Tuesday at 7am.  Hadley was supposed to volunteer at the fair for parking lot clean up at the same exact time, so Hadley, the boys, and I, hauled the stock trailer to the fair so we could pick up David’s lucky purchase.

We arrive at the fair and as soon as I get the truck and trailer near the loading area, I must turn the keys over to HD.

Pig People:  Does he know how to do this?

Me:  He sure does, and you definitely don’t want me doing it.

As soon as he started to maneuver, he wowed all pig peoples and I was pretty sure he was about to get offered a job on the spot.

Pig People were discussing how to load the pigs into our trailer and there were problems because the back of the trailer was too low for the pig ramp, so Pig People were starting to build a makeshift ramp and HD was all,

“Or we could just load them in this side door, which is higher off the ground”

And the Pig People were wowed yet again, but in order to get the side door correctly aligned with the ramp, HD was going to have to do some fancy rig work, but that was no problem for my 14 year old.

Meanwhile, LD, my 13 year old, had found some spare lumber and a drill and was building something?  Because . . . ?

We finally get everything all situated and then we get the pigs loaded.

At this point, we have been at the fair for two hours and Hadley is now finished with her parking lot clean up duties.  She reports that people are disgusting and she picked up a lot of trash, pacifiers, socks, a rogue pair of underwear, and $2.12.

Because I am the mom and the most responsible, I must now take over the truck/trailer driving, much to HD’s chagrin.  So he had to add his critical commentary on how poorly of a job I am doing, and I was like:

“But did anyone die?”

And I got us home safely.  And even all the pigs lived.

As soon as we got into the driveway, I turned the keys back over to HD so he and LD could back the trailer up into our unloading area.

I captured this little video while walking back from getting the mail.  Just so you could hear the pig screams.

You are quite welcome.

And just look.  Look at what I, yes, I, Taylor Maliblahblah, hauled home, not killing anyone?

That would be 7,638 pounds of hog in one trailer.

Next, we had to sort the hogs into three different pens, based on their tag numbers and some sort of perfect pig scenario that David and HD had come up with together over the phone.

And then they were all disgusting and flopped around in the mud.

So there you have it.  And now my part is done.

And if this doesn’t prompt David to finally buy me that #1 Wife T-Shirt, I don’t know what will.

***

After SEVERAL hours and sorting and organizing, I am happy to report that my classroom looks like this:

Bleh.

I work on it until I hit a wall.  Once the wall is hit, I can do no more-not even close cabinets or pick stuff up off the ground.  And Hadley strongly feels I should get a new calendar and ditch the apple calendar that I have had for 8 years.

I kind of agree, but the thought of buying one and laminating one and then putting velcro on the numbers is very off-putting.

I don’t know.  I just don’t want to.  I am teaching some sort of a combination or solid class of anything between K-2.  I told my principal to put me wherever, except I would cry all day if she made me teach 4th or 5th.  Because I like to show my employer that I am flexible, but I do have my limits.

May your day be full of luck, just like David’s was, the moment he won the Turn Buyer Bid.

Happy Tuesday.

There have been times in my life where I was acting all philanthropical and decided to donate blood.  I don’t mean to brag, but I am blood type O negative, so I am pretty much always in-demand.  Unfortunately, they will not leave me alone.  Audrey, from Vitalant, who may or may not be a real person, calls me daily.  My phone doesn’t even allow the call to come through to me and just sends her straight to voicemail.  Because even my phone is over her. And how annoying is voicemail?  So I have to call my voicemail and waste 90 seconds of my life to get to the point where I hear my robot friend, Audrey, chipperly announce:

“Hi!  This is Audrey, from Vitalant!”

And then I delete the message.

Kate:  Mom.  Why do you check your voicemail like that?

Me:  How else am I supposed to check it?

Then Kate shows me on her phone how the voicemails come through in text form and she can just delete them without having to go through the whole song and dance of calling the voicemail and entering codes and all sorts of nonsense.

Kate:  See?  It is easier.

Me:  My phone doesn’t do that!

Kate:  Oh.  Probably because you have that iPhone SE and not the cool iPhone.  Both me and Hadley’s phones do the text voicemail.

Me:  Did you upgrade to this?  Am I paying for this?

Kate:  I don’t know.

So then I had to waste an afternoon trying to dicipher my phone bill to see if I am paying extra for this voicemail.  And I don’t think I am, but I am still annoyed about it.

Audrey and her Vitalant chums have now also started texting me.  In addition to the voicemails.  At the end of each text, it says:  TextOptOut to stop receiving messages.  And everytime I TextOptOut and then soon after they text me again.

The liars.

LD was using my phone when they texted me again.

LD:  Mom.

Me:  What?

LD:  You have so many messages from this place.  And then you have TextOptOut, but then they still text you.

Me:  I know.  It is the worst.

LD:  Mom.  I just texted:  OptOut and they sent me back a reply that said, “You are now unsubscribed.”

Me:  *mind blown*

LD:  You weren’t supposed to include the word “text.”

Me:  Ohhhhhhhhhhhh.

LD:  That was kind of a boomer thing to do, Mom.

Me:  I agree.

Let’s talk about my Emerald Vacuum.  Do you remember the Emerald Vacuum, reader?

This is what has become of my Emerald Vacuum:

Tragic.

Let’s discuss.

Tragedy the first:

One of the puppies at one point in time ate the cord off.  Because even though we love them dearly, they are all very ill-behaved.  David, who is an electrician by trade, was able to put a new plug cord on even though I have absolutely no idea how that would even be possible.  So that big round thing is the new plug he put on after one of the dogs ate the cord.

Tragedy the second:

This one’s a twofer, because not only is the vacuum destroyed, but it is a complete mystery to every single person living in this house as to how it happened.

The boys think it may have happened while they were cleaning their room?  But no one was even touching the vacuum?  It just broke?

Me:  Can we fix it?

David, laughing at me like I am a fool who texts TextOptOut instead of OptOut:  No!  That thing is a goner.

Me:  Duct tape?

(Is it duck tape or duct tape? I am unclear)

David:  Nope.

Me:  Well, you fixed the cord!  And that seemed impossible!  How did that happen?

David:  It is almost like the boys were taking the vacuum and swinging it like a bat and hitting each other.

So, I ponder things.  And would it be within the bounds of reason to think my boys would do something like that?

Yes.  Yes, it is definitely a possibility.

But is it possible they did this without tattling?

No.  I definitely would have heard about someone getting hit with a vacuum like it was a baseball bat.  I don’t know.  I never know what is going on over here.

And, so.  We are laying the Emerald Vacuum to rest.  She served us well for 17 months.

***

I made my first attempt at David’s grandmother’s famous huckleberry pie for his birthday:

It was almost too pretty to eat.  I could look at it all day.

***

Son:  Mom!  I woke up in the middle of the night and my skin was so itchy!  What do I do?

Me:  Hmmm?  Try putting lotion on?

*Half hour later*

Son:  Mom!  I am about to get in the shower.

Me:  Sounds good.

Son:  How do I do that skin thing?

Me:  The lotion?

Son:  Yeah?

Me:  You put it on?

Son:  How?

Me:  You rub it on your skin?

Son:  How?

Me:  *face palm*

Son:  I don’t understand.

***

Yesterday, Hadley , the dudes, and I, started to try and unpack/set up my classroom.  And a more exhausting effort, setting up a classroom cannot be.

Hadley and HD were trying to set up my classroom library.  This is a challenge because I have a partial system in place, and then at some point I stopped caring and so there is no clear direction on about half of the books.

For example, I have a bin labeled “Mo Willems #9” and I have about 7,245 copies of different Mo Willems books because, dude, the kids love those and can read them pretty early on.  So the Mo Willems bin is easy.

But then I have bins that say like Animals #1 and Dogs and Cats #12 and Fiction #15, and #16 (because apparently I was tired of categorizing and just started to lump things into fiction.  And then I stopped putting numbers on books because I got frazzled, so basically, my classroom library is a train wreck.

Me:  Just do your best.  Sort the books the best you can if there isn’t a number on it.  I won’t be mad.

Hadley is able to handle this task with ease, but this task is blowing HD’s mind.

HD:  Mom!  Mom!  Mom!

Me:  What?

HD: I don’t know where to put this book!

Me:  You can start a pile for books you don’t know what to do with and I will deal with them later.

HD:  Mom!  It says “Scholastic” on it!  You don’t have a bin labeled “Scholastic!”  Mom!

Me:  I don’t have books based on publisher.

HD:  Huh?  Mom!  Mom!

And I truly appreciate their help, but like, dude, I don’t even know what to do with all these books.  It is all so overwhelming.  And then my knee starts to fuss and I get hot because the AC doesn’t work right in our building and everything is just blech.

HD and Hadley had to leave for awhile, so it was just LD and I.  I asked LD to help me put a shelf in a cabinet, and for reasons I will never understand, he went and found the custodian and  borrowed a screw driver, took the hinges off, put the shelf in, and put the hinges back on.  Took like an hour.  I am 97% sure he did not need to take the hinges off.  But he was quiet, so that was nice. Then he went and bought a pop from the vending machine and stretched his 5′ 10″ body in the middle of the floor while I tried to shove stupid classroom books into books bins without any rhyme or reason.

Me:  Can you fill my water bottle up in the staff room?

LD:  No way!  I am not going in there so all your teacher friends can say, “Oh!  Look at how tall you are!  How tall are you now?”  It is embarassing.

So, I went to go and fill my water bottle myself, shared the humorous tidbit with my teacher gal pals, and teacher gal pals all walked into the classroom to tell LD he had gotten SO tall and just how tall was he?

It was enjoyable.

I started off the day organizing my room to teach second grade, as that is what it was looking like I was going to teach, enrollment-wise, and then I ended the day being told there was a chance I would be teaching a kindergarten/1st combo class.  So that is blowing my mind.  I am trying to have confidence in me, but it is not easy.

And I asked the custodian if there were more book shelves, and he was so nice and magically put two additional book shelves in my classroom.

And then I pushed my luck and asked if there were more bulletin boards, and he brought a tape measurer down and is, and I quote, “seeing what he can do.”  And that is just nice.  And why is the beginning of each school year so insane?  I ask?

Also, where are all my things?  I cannot find my student book boxes, my clip boards, my tray for lunch count-it is all very vexing.  So I woke up at 4am today so I could worry and wonder where all those things were.

Also.  How does one teach kindergarteners and first graders at the same time and in the same room?

Please Advise.

I took the boys to their well-exams a few days ago.  The doctor asked LD if he had done anything fun, such as go to the local amusement park?

LD:  Nope.  My parents are poor and we never do anything fun.

He is a treasure.

He is also 5’10”, much to the dismay of his older brother, who is only 5’8″.  And in case you were wondering, I, myself, and 5’6″ and spend a lot of my days looking up at these two treasures and attempting to yell/parent them.  And it is going about as well as you might imagine.

They are quite entertaining, those two yahoos.  And they get confused a lot.

Confusing Scenario, Numero Uno:

We had visited family friends and this family had adopted out a child many years ago due to a young pregnancy, and they are open about it and do have contact with her and all is  happy and lovely and blessed.

Son:  Why don’t they see that kid all the time?

Me:  Well, she was adopted to another family.

Son:  I bet she feels bad that they don’t see her often.

Me:  I think she is ok because she has an adoptive family.

Son:  But that’s not her mom and she doesn’t see her mom all that much.

Me:  But the adoptive mother IS her mom.

Son:  What?

Me:  That girl was raised by those parents and she knows them as her parents and loves them and they love her.

Son:  But I bet she feels bad.

Me:  I don’t think she does.

Son:  I am confused.

Me: It would be like if we had adopted you as a newborn and we raised you.  You would know us as your parents, even though we had not given birth to you.

Son:  Oh, so I am adopted?

Me:  *face palm*

Son:  I don’t get it.

Me:  I am not sure how else to help you.

Confusing Scenario #2

Son:  Mom!  Play that “Armadillo” song!

Me:  Huh?

Son:  You know:  Armadillo by morning . . .

Me:  You mean, “Amarillo by Morning” by George Strait

Son:  Nope.  Pretty sure it’s Armadillo.

Confusing Scenario #3

HD is now working.  Like at a job where they needed his social security number and 18 pages of legal paper work filled out.

I. Know.

First, I turn 40.  Then I take a kid to college.  Now this.

He is working at the amusement park that David and I are too poor to take our unfortunate children to.  He is working for a fundraiser for his basketball team, but he will also get paid.

I need you to understand:  he is equal parts thrilled and confused.

He wants new shoes to start his new job and I told him no, he can wear his current shoes and this is displeasing to him because the dogs ate the laces, and, like, what else is new, the dogs eat everything, including, but not limited to, my couch:

Oh, this happened a few months ago.  I am finally ready to talk about it.

There’s not much to say.

The dogs ate the couch.

My dogs are out of control.  My kids are out of control.  I am not running a tight ship over here.

Let’s move on.

The dogs had chewed the laces and the sneakers were showing some wear.  HD was trying to swindle me into buying him back to school shoes early to start work and could he please have SOLID WHITE shoes.

What is wrong with my children?  First, Kate doesn’t know her left and right and now HD thinks it would be wise for him to wear WHITE SHOES.  My child?  Who lives on a farm and plays all the sports and sweats all the time? Are my kids the only kids in the world who lose brain cells as they age?

I washed his shoes and bought new laces.  And I purchased dark blue shoes for back to school for him because I have not lost brain cells.  And he cannot wear them until school starts.  And I can say that because I am the mom and I am still in charge, the pediatrician even said so.

I have gotten super off topic with confusing scenario #3.  Let’s circle back.

HD is so confused about his employment.

Where does he go?  Does he have breaks? Does he have a boss?

Like I know.  I cannot even afford to be amused at this amusement park.

What should he do with his iPhone while working?  What if he is thirsty? How does he work his uniform belt?

Bummer deal for him is I am very special when it comes to things like straps and tie downs and I had no idea how to work this belt.  And, no, it is not a normal belt.  I would tell you what kind of a belt it was, but I don’t even know that.

It was a challenging belt.

Here’s a similar one I stole off the internet:

It is the belt of the devil.

And he had tied it too tight and couldn’t get it to come off.  And this was a problem for two reasons:

1.  What if he had to go to the bathroom?
2. It was so tight he was struggling to breathe.

I tried to help him and I could not.

He eventually figured it out.

He keeps telling me he doesn’t work certain days and the fundraiser person tells me he is and everyone is confused and we have to drive 1 hour 15 min each way to get him to this job where he has to wear old, worn sneakers.

Anyways.  He worked 8 hours yesterday and they have him acting as a cashier and I surely hope people are patient with my poor, confused boy.

The other day, I went to Subway.  And I was nice to that poor, confused boy.

Would you like to know why?

I’ll tell you.

My total was $14.68 and I gave him $20.68 and I completely rocked his world.

He grabbed a $5 and then was grabbing pennies and quarters and looking like he was about to throw up.

I talked him through it and we all came to the understanding that I should get $6.  He was flustered, but I was nice.

Because, maybe,  he, too, has a worried mom at home who is shorter than him and not wealthy enough to take him to amusement parks during the summer.

So I tipped him the $1 I helped myself get back.  But I kept the $5 because I am poor and cannot afford to be overly generous.

Let’s see.  What else . . .

There is a wildfire nearby.  We might have to evacuate.  But we might not.  We probably won’t.

David is now 41.

Kate has NOT used her kayak.

Charlie still cannot swim.

But, Norman can.

We went camping with David’s parents who were celebrating their 44th anniversary.  We went on a kayak ride that literally took 84 years because everyone refused to use their paddles.

It made me fussy.

I still don’t know if I am teaching 2nd or kinder.  My room is in boxes at my house and at the school and I feel like I should probably do something about that.

Later, Dudes.

I came home from my post-op with the knee surgery and had some surgery photos with me of the inside of my knee.

LD:  Oh!  Are you having a baby?

Me:  That would be my knee.

LD:  Hmmm.

I am all the talk at physical therapy.  The peoples had reviewed my history prior to be coming in and expected to see a complete trainwreck walk through their doors on crutches and in a brace.  But, no.  I am walking sans crutches and free from all braces.  I am crushing goals and impressing the socks off of all who encounter me.

Do you have time to hear me be boastful?

I am supposed to be bending to 90 degrees.

I am bending at 130 degrees.

I know.  Be jealous of my progress.

Anyways.  Kate and I took a roadtrip to her new home.  Leading up to the trip, we were discussing what she should pack.  That girl was bound and determined to bring her kayak, so she bought a kayak rack and installed it herself.  I have an unhealthy fear of losing things when driving and causing a terrible wreck.  And, like a fool, I trusted that Kate and David could make sure the kayak was securely fastened.

So, we embark on the trip and about 90 minutes in, I see a blue kayak in my peripheral vision.

Me:  Kate.  Am I supposed to be seeing this kayak?

Kate:  Hmm.  I don’t think so.

So, we stop on the side of the freeway and attempt to tighten the tie-downs and what-have-you.

I texted David:  Almost lost the kayak.  Had to stop on the side of the FREEWAY.  Didn’t die.

David:  Ok.

It was comforting to hear him so concerned.

We hit the road again, and we almost lose the kayak again.  We stop again.  We tighten straps again.  We add another strap for good measure.  We didn’t die again.

And then it happened a THIRD TIME and I told Kate I was literally going to have a heart attack and could we please just leave the kayak on the side of the road.  She scolded me for the idea, claiming I should never litter, and then she called her father and they had the idea to shove the kayak inside the car.

I had my doubts, Reader.  Oh, yes.  I had my doubts.  On account of the fact that her entire car was jam-packed and I couldn’t see out the back window.  Also, please understand, at this point I am 9 days out from surgery and not as spry as I usually am.  So trying to secure and unload and shove and tie down kayaks on the side of a busy highway was less than ideal.

But we did it, and it took about an hour for me to calm down, but once I realized the kayak was secure, my heart started to return to a resting heartrate and I was able to listen to music.  And Kate sang her heart out along with me, and I was happy for her jovial mood, but, Reader, that girl should NEVER audition for American Idol.

Never.

Ever.

Anyways.  We made it to her destination, kayak and all, and I plan on texting her every week to ask her this very important question:

“DID YOU USE YOUR KAYAK, YET?”

Because I surely hope it was worth it.

Sisters Meagan and Jess sent us some trip “fun money” so we were able to stop for Java two times.  In the first photo, you can see the blue kayak behind us.

Kate couldn’t stop laughing at me for how dumb I looked in this picture.  Just, whatever.

We had some leftover monies and got a second treat a couple days later.

Fun times.

Anyways.  Kate is going to live with David’s brother, Jason, and his wife and kids.

Remember Jason?

All my kids double love their Uncle Jason and Aunt Amy, and they triple love their kids, so Kate is excited and David and I feel good about her being there.  It feels better than if she were just plopped all alone, eight hours away, with no one around.

Here’s a throwback photo of Kate with Jason and Amy-prob around 2010.

She loves them!

When we arrived, the little kids were helping Kate unpack and precious nephew-

Remember Precious Nephew?

Precious nephew helped grab a moving box from Kate’s car and ran to her room shouting:

“KATE!  I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU ARE A GROWN UP!”

And it is true.  She is a grown up,

Kind of.

People keep asking how David and I are doing with this-with our firstborn moving out.

It’s weird.

It is sad in a sentimental way, but not terribly sad, because it feels natural.  It feels like it is a good move for her right now in her life.  She went through a hard break up with Auggie and she needed a change of pace, an adventure.  And how lucky are we that Jason and Amy welcomed her into their home?  Kate adores Amy, and Amy has medical background.  Amy can guide her through some of her schooling decisions as Kate is following a similar path.  I feel blessed that Kate is with them and know that they will help guide her as needed.

It is odd to not have her around, though, and that will get some getting used to.  But we are happy for her and hopeful that she will connect with new friends and have a fun time.

Sometimes, we feel terrified.  We feel like she might not be ready.  Like when I was trying to help her find her new job in her new town and told her to turn left and she had to hold both of her hands up in front of her so she could see which side her thumb made an “L” on so she would know which one is left.  It is moments like those where I think, “I am not sure you are ready to be an adult here, Missy.”

But then I took her on this road trip, and she got her room all set up and paid for all of her things on her own and even offered to buy me some food at one point, and I think, “Ok, you are on the road to adulthood.”

I don’t know.  It is weird.  And happy.  And sad.  And terrifying.

We went to the river this weekend, and I opened the medicine cabinet up to brush my teeth.  I saw Kate’s toothbrush, and I thought, “Well, what do I do with this?”  Because I do not know if she will come to the river again before camping season is over.  And that was a strange feeling.

I left it there.

I helped Kate get her room all set up.

Complete with the parting gift we all got her for her farewell-

A personalized planter box with a plant-she is always SO hopeful she will be able to grow plants.  Yet, she kills them all.

Sad.

I had a lovely time visiting with my nieces and nephew.

I said goodbye, left my child 8 hours away, and hopped on a plane for home.

And now we are a party of five.

I guess?

Happy Weekend.

I am sure you have all been waiting with bated breath to hear whether or not HD finally has a working iPhone X something.

Yes.  Yes, he does.

Unfortunately for him, the new phone came via uSps on the day of my surgery and no one was headed back to town to help him activate it.  I was still a bit groggy from the surgery and HD decided to bring both of his phones into my room for a quick little phone convo.

HD:  Mom!  How do I keep my pictures?

Me:  Huh?

HD:  If I sign out of my old phone, what will happen to my pictures?

He is currently holding up two iPhone X somethings that look exactly the same.

Me:  Well, I don’t really know.

HD:  Mom!  This is important!  I have pictures of my buck and Norman on the phone.

Me:  I believe there is a Cloud?

HD:  A cloud?

Me:  Yeah.  I think Google made a cloud and all your pictures are there.

HD:  Where is the cloud?

Me:  I have no idea.  But I believe it exists.

HD: How do I find the cloud?

And then I think I drifted off to sleep.  I cannot be certain.

In all honesty, I am not so good with understanding the cloud myself and I truly have no idea what will happen to any pictures.  With help from David and Hadley, he was able to get his phone all squared away with service and he is a happy camper.

About two months ago, HD talked me into letting him get a dirt bike.  I know, I know.  I promise you this, Reader, I did not go down without a fight.  David was Pro-LetTheBoyHaveTheDirtBike and I was Pro-KeepTheBoyAlive.  David’s solution was to have HD and I come up with a contract for the dirt bike with several safety measures in place.  The perk to this contract was anytime he spoke in a sassy-pants way to me, I could take the dirt bike away.

Reader.  He is so sassy, that bike is grounded until September.  It is very easy to keep the boy alive on the dirt bike when he is never riding the dirt bike.  And the new disrespectful thing the boys do is call me a racist.

Boys:  Mom!  There is nothing good to eat.  Can you make biscuits and gravy?

Me:  No, not today.

Boys:  Gosh, you are such a racist.

And then they get grounded from all the things because of their ignorant comments.  Parenting is fun.  I am basking in the glory of the teen years.

Basking.

But, I digress.

Yesterday, we permitted the dudes to have a companion over. They talked me into allowing them to ride their bikes (non-motorized bikes, of course) to a beach to fish and swim.  There is a restaurant near this beach and they also fancied grabbing something to eat.

I said -“Fine.  But everyone needs a helmet and you need to take your phone in case of emergencies.”

Please remember, I am still in knee-surgery-recovery mode and spending a lot of time icing and propping.  I am also getting really good at the game “Word Forest” on my phone, but that is neither here nor there.

So, off they went.

I soon get a call from HD.  HD says LD lost a fishing pole on the bike ride to the fishing spot and it was Dad’s fishing pole and it is worth $500 and Dad is  going to be so so mad and can I please make LD go back and get it.

I have so many questions, but talking to these people is pointless, so I say they have to all stay together with the phone and go and get their father’s fishing pole.

And I had NO IDEA David had a fishing pole that costs $500.  It begs the question-

Does he really have a $500 fishing pole?  Or was HD embelleshing his story?

So, I am icing, propping, killing it on Word Forest, and tracking them on my phone.  I then can see that David, who was driving home near their bike route, had stopped with them.

They are all stopped for about 20 minutes and the service there is spotty so I cannot call anyone.  So, I hop in the car and drive to them.

And this is what I discover.

HD is bleeding.  HD is bleeding because he wrecked his bike.  HD wrecked his bike because the bike he was riding didn’t have brakes.

Me:  Did you know you didn’t have working brakes when you left?

HD:  Yes. Two of the bikes don’t have working brakes.

Me:  And you didn’t think this would be a problem?

HD:  No, because I had a plan!

I didn’t hear the full story of his plan, nor was I interested in the story, but I did hear how he wrecked the bike.

He was going downhill and increasing in speed.  He saw a random driveway that led uphill, so he swerved to go up that driveway to slow the bike.  He did not know that random driveway had a random cable stretched across it, so he hit the cable and went flying into the brush.  Hence the bleeding.

Me:  Where is your helmet?

David:  They have one helmet in a backpack for all three of them.

Me:  *Face Palm*

HD:  Mom, I had a helmet!  I just didn’t NEED it.

Me:  *Face Palm*

Meanwhile, LD is completely oblivious to where he lost his poor father’s fishing pole.  David is not happy about this news, which is understandable, but LD has no clue what happened to it.

Me:  Did you set it down?  Did it fly off your bike?  What exactly happened?

LD:  I don’t know.

Sadly, the three amigos never made it all the way to the lake to swim and fish.  And David and I, being the unreasonable parents that we are, made them load up the bikes and come home.  Except, bummer for me, because now I need to feed them since they weren’t going to get food at the restaurant.  And even though I just went to Costco, they have already plowed through all the vittles.  And, yes, I read a book set back in the days or yore and have been DYING to use the word, “vittles” in natural conversation.  I feel like I worked it in well, don’t you?

Oh, yes.  All the chicken nuggets-gone.  All the cans of Chili-gone.  I have chicken patty burgers, but no buns because LD likes to make garlic bread with the buns.  I don’t have the “good” chips and I don’t have the specific yogurt flavors that are preferred, although I do have the less desirable yogurt available.  But, sadly, the boys can eat strawberry flavored yogurt, but vanilla yogurt makes them gag.

I did have some leftover spaghetti sauce from the other night, so I started to boil some water for noodles when LD comes in shouting joyfully-

“Guess what!  The fishing pole was here all along!  I never even brought it with me, so I didn’t actually lose it!”

So that’s that.

In other news, Kate is moving away very soon and I am starting to realize that I do not think she is ready to take on the world yet.  I mean, she is 18 and allowed to go, but I don’t think that girl is done baking, man.  It’s like I am checking the oven and she is still not ready to go, yet I have to take her out and get her ready to take on the world.  But ready or not, world, here she comes.

So that’s also that.

And this picture popped up in my memories from 9 years ago today.

The Dudes.

This will always be my favorite pic of the two of them.  I mean, just look at it.  It is gold!

Why is HD doing that?

We may never know.

Happy Tuesday.