The Lumberjack's Wife

Fun Fact:  I have never seen that movie.  Nor do I know what it is about.

***

Handsome Dude

Little Dude, aka Cokey.

You may ask, “Taylor.  Why is your son called Cokey?”

Well, dear readers, I don’t know.

But Handsome Dude, who is a stubborn dude, has been calling him that for a while.

So, we all call him Cokey.  Except for The Lumberjack.

He refuses.

That Lumberjack.

Sometimes he can be a grumpy gus.

This morning I had a delightful breakfast conversation with my boys.

And since this excitement is, in fact, my life, I thought I would share it with you.

Please.

Try not to be jealous.

Not everyone can have this thrill-ride for a life.

***

 

Me:  Can you say, “More milk, please?”

Boys:  Pleeeeeaaase!

Me:  Can you say, “Love you Mommy!”

Boys:  No.

Me:  What?  Cokey, do you love Mommy?

Little Dude, aka Cokey: No!

Me:  Handsome Dude?  Do you love Mommy?

Handsome Dude:  No!  I not!  Sweet Pea likes you.

Sweet Pea is my oldest.  She is currently sleeping.

Let us have a moment of applause for Sweet Pea while we bemoan the fact that the boys woke up at 5:51am.

Thank you.

Me:  Why don’t you love me?

Handsome Dude:  Cokey!

Little Dude:  No!

Hmmm.  That made sense.

Me:  Is your oatmeal yummy?

Handsome Dude:  Nope.

Little Dude: Ow!

There was absolutely nothing wrong with him.  He was just trying to get out of eating his nutritious breakfast his mother so lovingly prepared for him.

Whatever, Little Dude.

What.

Ever.

Me:  Why did you spit your oatmeal out?

Handsome Dude:  I no like it.

Me:  What should we do today?

HD (short for Handsome Dude.  Keep up, people!):  Get shoes!  There are shoes at the grocery store!

Me:  We just got you shoes yesterday.

And it was a horrific experience with several meltdowns, tears, and one Handsome Dude laying prostrate in a fit of fury on the floor of Payless Shoe Source.

Good times.

HD:  Where?  Here?  We can go to Target.

Me:  No.  We already bought you shoes.  You don’t need shoes.  What should we do today?

Handsome Dude gets out of his seat and tries to climb on my head.

Don’t fear for me.

This is the way my monster shows love.

HD:  We get shoes  mommy.  My shoes.  Your shoes.  There are shoes at the grocery store, Mommy.  Mommy!  How about we get some shoes, Mommy!  Mommy!  MOMMY!  MOM-My!

Me:  What?

HD:  We can get some shoes.

Me:  No.  We already got some.

HD:  Where.

I fear Handsome Dude’s cognitive thinking skills are below par.

Me:  What else could we get at the grocery store?

HD:  Mommy’s coffee!  I hold Mommy’s coffee and put it in the cart.  It’s time for bye-bye.

He runs and puts on his shoes.

Ironically, they are the shoes we just bought yesterday.

At Payless.

You know.

Expect more.  Pay less.  Payless.

Me:  No.  The girls are still asleep.

HD:  Can we ride our bikes?

Me:  It’s like 6:45 am.

HD:  It’s cold?

Me:  Yes.

I am a liar.  It is not cold.

I am simply lazy and do not want to go open up the shop to retrieve his bike.

Besides.

It is not even 7am yet.

Who, in their right mind, would want to exercise at that hour?

HD:  It’s cold with the trees?

Me:  Yes.

See?  Liar.

Me:  Cokey!  What do you want to do today?

Little Dude:  heeheeeheee-nah?  Huh?

I fear Little Dude’s verbal skills are below par.

Me:  Cokey?

Little Dude:  Mama!

Me:  What do you want to do today?

Little Dude:  No!  Hi!  Mama!

Me:  Handsome Dude, do you see any deer outside?

HD:  No.  I close window up.

This means he is opening the window.

Keep up, people!

Me:  Cokey.  Don’t spill your milk on your tray.

Handsome dude:  Jesus and God!

Well.

That was random.

Me:  Does Jesus love you?

HD:  No.  Jesus love Cokey.

Me:  Jesus loves you too.

HD:  No.  He scary.  And mean.  Jesus naughty.

I fear I have fallen behind in teaching Handsome Dude about . . . everything.

He leads a confused life.

Me:  No.  Jesus is  not naughty.

HD:  YESSSSS!  Jesus wee naughty!

Me:  No.  He is not.

HD throws himself on the floor in a fit of fury and despair.

HD:  No!  He naughty!

And that, my friends, was my breakfast with the boys.

Don’t pretend you weren’t thrilled that I shared.

Happy Monday.

I have this friend.

Let’s call her . . . Amanda.

Amanda is a wonderful mommy who takes the time to play with her kids and do all sorts of fun activities.

Activities like: painting, crafts, and play dough.

Not so with me.

I am not good with coming up with fun activities, nor am I creative.

Do ya’ll recall my “nativity scene” craft?

Why, yes!

I’m glad you asked!

I am an Arts-and-Crafts mastermind.

Look at me and my bad self!

Well.

Needless to say, my kids have been left to their own devices when it comes to the fine arts and creative activities.

And I think they do good.

 

Welcome to “The Nature Club.”

The Nature Club is a little clubhouse the girls built yesterday with their friend.

It was hot yesterday.

Daisy Mae found a little hidden space under a tree and the girls got right to work on building a shaded clubhouse.

They used my bike trailer and loaded up things that they wanted for the clubhouse.

It’s about time that bike trailer got some use.

Then they hauled it to the tree, unloaded their goods, and returned the trailer to the garage.

There is even a pledge that members of The Nature Club must chant.

You know.

In order to preserve the sanctity of everything the club represents.

To say the pledge, first one must dip their fingers in water . . .

like so.

Then you put two fingers, (never three!) on your chest and recite the pledge.

Nature Club members love to ban little brothers from the clubhouse, eat snacks in the clubhouse, and pose for fabulous photos in the clubhouse.

Yeah.

She’s workin’ it.

Ooooh-la-la!

And nothing screams nature, serenity, and peace like a picture taken on top of a . . .

propane tank.

Classy!

Happy Friday!

 

 

Yesterday.

Yesterday, Yesterday, Yesterday.

It was a busy day.

And, yes.  It was my birthday.

You are looking at the new, and greatly improved, 29-year-old version of Lumberjill.

I woke up to a card and gift card from the Lumberjack.  He usually takes the time to write out something special on occasions such as this.  And I truly appreciate it. 

You see, dear readers, my man is not a man of many words.  So I cling to these cards and am thankful for the written proof that he does, in fact, have a softer side.

The boys woke up first.

Naturally.

Handsome Dude was in his usual, “I HATE MORNINGS AND I HATE YOU AND I WANT MILK BUT FIRST I AM GOING TO SIT ON THE FLOOR AND WAIL AT ALL THE HORROR AND INJUSTICE THAT EXISTS IN MY WORLD” morning mood.

Little Dude was, as usual, indifferent to anything and everything.

Me:  Handsome Dude!  It is my birthday!

Handsome Dude:  No!  Is not!

Me:  Yes!  It is!

Handsome Dude: (crying . . . surprisingly enough) No!  Is my birthday!

Daisy Mae and Sweet Pea woke up with shouts of : “Happy Birthday, Mom!  Dad told us not to forget to tell you!”

Then they brought me up this present from the whole family:

It was a new, more comfortable seat for my bike.

Daisy Mae:  It’s for your butt!

*giggle, giggle, laugh, laugh, giggle, giggle*

Then . . . it was time to start my busy day.

For starters, I had to please my man and use the small, more gas-friendly Honda Accord.

This is not an enjoyable ride with the number of kids I have to cram into the vehicle to make the trip to town.

Fun Fact:  Yesterday was the hottest day of the year in wherever-it-is-we-dwell-ville.

Even Funner Fact:  The air conditioning in the Honda does not work very well.

Attention my Ford Excursion: 

Please forgive me for not liking you very much the day my Lumberjack brought you into our lives.  I admit it.  I loathed you when I thought of parallel parking you.  I hated the fact that you made me plug you in when you were cold . . . you fickle, fickle beast.

But I take it all back.  You are roomy.  You are welcoming.  You have air conditioning.  If the kids are fighting . . . I cannot hear them.  For they are so, so, so far away.

I need you in my life.

First we went to Little Dude’s 2 year check up.

Little Dude can get . . . particular.

He does not like to be touched, looked at, smiled at, spoken to, and, definitely, he does not like to be weighed.

But really.

Who does?

I was afraid that they were going to make me get weighed along with him like last time.

But nurse Heather, who is the bomb-diggity, worked her magic and weighed him without yours truly having to step on the scale.

Holla, Heather!

Holla!

Next, we had some time to kill before meeting the renters.  So, we went to my dear friend, Amanda’s, house for lunch.

She bought me my favorite lunch for a birthday surprise.

Aaaaaaaannnnnnnnnddddddd . . . .I love her.

Got the call.  Met the renters.  They did not throw tomatoes at me, so hopefully they like it.  Drove through a stand for coffee. 

Can we not all agree that coffee is ridiculously priced?

  Went to Costco.  Started loathing errands.  Bought my life-savings-worth of diapers. 

Can we not all agree that diapers are ridiculously priced?

Sweating.  Kids fighting.  Sweating.  Boys pulling girls hair.  Girls screaming.  Sweating.  Fighting.

Good times.

Broke into my parent’s house . . . for we needed somewhere to go.  Handsome Dude was naughty.  I sent him to lay on a bed.  He wailed for 23 minutes that his feet were cold.

May I remind you that it was about 89 degrees.

I think not, Handsome Dude.

I

think

not.

Attention Handsome Dude: 

You cannot break me. 

Yes.  I may grow weak and annoyed with your 3-year-old fits of fury and despair.  But I am your mom.  And it is my duty to teach you that you cannot hit your sisters in the head with large sticks.  Nor can you chase them with dog poo or pee on my washing machine.  So, plead all you want.  But, may I remind you that your efforts are in vain.

Took the boys to my in-laws.  Met The Lumberjack and my parents for dinner.

And then we went to see Toy Story 3!

I have been waiting for this moment ever since I won that blog contest awhile ago.  I have saved my winnings knowing that I had to take my girls to see this movie.

Have you seen it?

Have you seen it?

One word:  Ken.

Then we had to drive for over an hour to get home.

What an exhausting, yet lovely day.

Now.

When it is my children’s birthdays, I always share with you their life verse that we picked out for them.

To the best of my knowledge, my parents never picked one out for me.  But if I were to choose one, I would pick Lamentations 3:22-23:

“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,

for his compassions never fail.

They are new every morning;

great is your faithfulness.”

However.

If I were to find a verse that was more fitting to my life, more reflective, if you will, of my life’s happenstances, I might choose this one:

“As for you, be fruitful and increase in number; multiply on earth and increase upon it.”

Genesis 9:7.

Increase in number?

Be fruitful?

Check.

If that were my life’s verse, I have a feeling that when I get to Heaven, the Lord would say to me,

“Well done, thou good and faithful servant.”

Alright.

That’s all.

Happy Thursday!

Wednesday is here.

Wednesday.  The day the first of our *hopefully* many vacation renters will come and stay at our little house.

I will feel nervous until after I meet the renters and hand them their key, but there is a nice sense of relief seeing as how there is really not much more I can do at this point.

Interruption:  Are you feeling confused?  Are you wondering what on earth this “so-called Lumberjill” is blabbing on and on about?  Click here to catch up.  Thank you.

After 7, yes SEVEN years of horrific remodeling nonsense, our 100-year-old house is finally finished.

Kind of.

Sort of.

But really super close.

So, on this the 23rd day of the month of June in the year Two-Thousand-and-Ten of our Lord, I, yes, I, Taylor Mal-a-blah-blah would like to present to you:

The House The Lumberjack Built.

May I remind you that he built this house for yours truly, yet did not finish it 10 days after we moved out.  I am not upset.  I am just pointing out the facts.

First . . . a reminder of just how far we have come on this journey.

And the end result:

Master Bedroom.

With the down comforter that was inappropriately dried and we sincerely hope no one will notice.

Interruption:  Did not my Lumberjack do a nice job with trim in the house?  I submit that there is nothing better than white trim lining everything.

My Lumberjack.

He did it all for me.

*tear*

Bedroom 2:  The boys old room.

I had to wash those walls something fierce.

Dirty fingerprints.

Everywhere.

Boys are dirty.

Who knew?!

Bedroom 3:  The girls old room.

No wall scrubbing necessary.

Now, this room is stressing me out.

Do not the beds look . . . tiny?

But herein lies the problem:  If you have beds on frames in that room, when you sit up in bed, you smack your head on the dormers.

Yet, I cannot put beds over here because:

A)  With the closet door, the wall length is not long enough.

B)  On the opposite wall, there is a heater and I fear that if a guest is cold and therefore turns on the heat, their bed might catch fire.

And that would not be ideal.

We might get a less-than-perfect visitor review if that event were to occur.

Hallway!

Chair rail!

Go, Lumberjack!

Upstairs bathroom.

Fun Fact:  When we bought this house, it did not have an upstairs bathroom.

My Lumberjack is awesome like that.

Hands off, girls!

Get your own Lumberjack-Electrician-Hunter-Home-Remodeler Guy!

Fun Fact:  When we bought this house The Lumberjack and I estimated it would cost about $8000 to remodel it.

Even Funner Fact: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

The Funnest Fact:  We have spent a significant amount more than that.

The Obvious Fact:  The Lumberjack and I are idiots.

Dining Room/Living Room.

Hello, my lovely black, big table!

I miss you!

Return to me!

Holy Lighting!

Can anyone tell that my husband is an electrician?

Beautiful!

Gorgeous!

Wish I could have used it!

Raise your hand if you recall me complaining about the wires for the under-cabinet lighting poking me in the eyes while I cooked mediocre meals for my family?

Remember this photo?

Well, I think my Lumberjack is feeling a bit nostalgic . . . and spunky.

Because look at what he left unfinished:

Do you see it?

Do you see it?

There is one little light unit that has yet to be installed.

Yet, I would like to announce that he did take the time to replace all of the exterior door hinges.

Apparently those were more noticeable.

Lumberjacks are weird.

The Laundry Room.

With the broken, yet still useable, washing machine.

So there you have it!

It’s all done!

Except for that one light, the washing machine repair, a little bit of touch up paint throughout the house, the porch needs to be painted, and the garage needs to be torn down and rebuilt.

But, we’ll call it good for now.

Hey, Lumberjack!

We remodeled a 100-year-old house!

Look at us and our bad selves!

Or, more accurately:  Look at The Lumberjack and his bad self!

For I know not the difference between a Rotozip and a Sawzall.

I merely clean up after his messes.

If I had a nickel for every time I have scrubbed paint out of the sink and swept sheet rock dust off of the floor . . .

Alright!

Wish me luck with the renters!

Oh, and 100 (meaningless) points to anyone who can guess what other event is occurring today.

Toodles!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes, my dear readers.

That one word sums up my life right now.

Honestly, I have no time for this blogging nonsense.

Yet, it is my duty to share with you all the horrific angst my person has been through as of late.

And it is your duty to pretend to care.

#1-I figured out whose idea I stole for the Father’s Day Interview.

I’m a thief.

Who knew?!

Go say “hi” to Naomi, as she is the original mastermind behind the interview idea.

#2- For those poor confused souls who do not understand what the gun show is, allow me to shed a little light on the matter.

A person, usually of the male-gender, says something like:

“Would you like tickets to the show?”

The recipient of this comment will usually say,

“What show?”

Then the aforementioned male makes muscle arms .  . .

as Little Dude is so accurately demonstrating . . .

and says something like,

“Tickets to the gun show.”

You see, dear readers, the guns in this scenario are not actual guns, but are, in fact, muscles.

Hope that clears things up.

#3-Serenity Now!

Yes.

Serenity Now came from Seinfeld and I believe it is what George’s dad said when he was angry . . . you know . . . to try to calm himself down.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5513mXmQbw4]

My life, dear readers, has been full of “Serenity Now!” moments as of late.

Allow me to elaborate.

My husband and I are idiots.

You see, we thought it would be a great and glorious idea to keep our old house and use it as a vacation rental.

We also thought it would be a superb plan to go ahead and book the house for its first rental for about 10 days after we moved to Ruralville.

But, alas!

We did not stop there.

We also were so brilliant that we decided to start the following projects at the original house in the past couple of months:

*Laundry room:  Floor, sheet rock, bead board, trim, paint.

*Kitchen:  Tile, under cabinet lighting.

*Rest of house:  Sheet rock touch ups, paint, install electric cadet heaters (for we cannot assume all future renters will enjoy building fires)

*Outside:  Build new fence.  Build new porch.  Paint new porch columns.

In conjunction with all of that nonsense, we have had to buy about 4.2 million dollars worth of new furniture and appliances to get both houses functioning.

And after all that 4.2 million dollars, I would like everyone to know that The Lumberjack and I do not have a dresser.

Serenity Now!

So, in honor of tomorrow, yes, tomorrow being the day the first renters come, I would like to present to you all a few of the circumstances that have been causing my dashing and dapper husband and I a tiddly-bit of stress.

1)  First there was the whole washer/dryer fiasco, which I discussed a bit yesterday.  Well . . . as my husband and I were moving the original washer back into the original house, we broke the knob off of the washer that selects the wash cycle.

The part won’t be in for 10 days.

Renters are coming in 1 day.

Serenity Now!

2)  The dryer vent pull-out thingie mabob of the old dryer is broken and costs $40 to replace.

Serenity Now!

3)  Our oven in our original house broke.

$135 repair.

Serenity Now!

4)  Ruralville did not have a fridge.

Had to buy a new one.

Serenity Now!

5)  Had to buy 5 mattresses/box springs in the past week.

Serenity Now!

6)  Had to buy a table for the original house’s kitchen breakfast nook.

Found this bad boy at a garage sale for like $100 bucks . . .

But we just needed the table.  Not the benches.

Then, at a later garage sale, we found a nice round pedestal table for $25.

So the above table/benches set was a unecessary purchase and I have to live with it as my dining room table until we can afford to live again.

Serenity Now!

7)  Ruralville came with these window coverings . . .

and the kids won’t stop messing with them.

Serenity Now!

8)  It takes 45 minutes to drive each way from Ruralville to Original House.

This does not agree with our gas budget.

Serenity Now!

9)  My new dryer has this on the inside:

That don’t look safe.

Serenity Now!

10)  I bought a new down comforter for the Original house and my Lumberjack threw it in the dryer without reading the tag.

First of all,  let’s be super thankful that he likes to help out.

Nevertheless!

The comforter became all funked out and I am trying to save it by rewashing it and drying it with the tennis balls, as the tag so helpfully instructed . . .

yet it still smells . . . odd.

Serenity Now!

11)  My husband bought an older Honda Accord to save on gas when our whole family is not driving.

Yesterday.

Yesterday I decide to go into town and I know my husband will be pleased with me if I switch car seats to the Honda instead of using our diesel-thirsty Excursion.

I get everyone loaded.

I get the car loaded with stuff to take to Original House.

And the new key I had recently made won’t work.

My husband has the original at work with him.

So, I had to switch everyone back into the Excursion, along with all the items I had placed in the trunk.

And it was POURING rain.

I would like to remind everyone that Lumberjill is not waterproof and she looked like a drowned cat for the rest of the day.

Serenity Now!

12)  All three things in this picture are broken and need my husband’s attention.

For I am an idiot and need him for my life’s existence.

Serenity Now!

13)  My husband’s work cell phone does not work at our house.

So we had to add him onto my plan and get him a new phone.

After my grandma’s funeral we were at my parent’s house, where no less than 40 people were gathered.

Little Dude throws up.

On my mama’s couch.

In my mama’s bathroom.

All over The Lumberjack’s clothes.

I offer to throw his clothes in the wash while my mother finds him some clothes of my dad.

I washed his cell phone.

Win!

Serenity Now!

And finally . . .

14)  My mother bought me this VHS at a garage sale:

We have two, yes, two VHS players in our house.

Neither are working.

And I must watch this movie.

Soon.

Serenity Now!

Alright.

If you don’t hear from me for a while, just assume I have gone insane.

Thank you.

An Interview with the Lumberjacklings.

Interruption:  I totally stole this interview from another blog, but cannot remember who.  Let me know who you are so I can give you credit!

What is Daddy’s favorite thing to eat?

Sweet Pea:  Deer

Daisy Mae:  Candy

Handsome Dude:  Birthday

Little Dude: Eat!

What does Daddy like to wear?

Sweet Pea:  Carhartts

Daisy Mae:  Carhartts

Handsome Dude:  Horsies

Little Dude:  Horse

What does Daddy like to do?

Sweet Pea:  Shoot deer.

Daisy Mae:  Chew gum.

Handsome Dude:  He likes deer.

Little Dude:  Daddy!

What is Daddy’s favorite color?

Sweet Pea:  Black?

Daisy Mae:  Gray!

Handsome Dude:  He likes big trucks and trailers.  And a work van.

Little Dude:  Huh?

What is your favorite thing to do with Daddy?

Sweet Pea:  Go in his truck and get candy!

Daisy Mae:  I like when Daddy takes me to soccer games.  Because it’s fun!

Handsome Dude:  Purple!  No Or-nange!

Little Dude:  Book!

What is the silliest thing about Daddy?

Sweet Pea:  He said he didn’t want a bike and then he bought one.  And he says he likes purple.  I mean pink.

Daisy Mae:  It’s funny when he toots at the table.

Handsome Dude:  Purple!

Little Dude:  Daddy!

Happy Father’s Day to my Lumberjack . . .

To my dad . . .

To The Lumberjack’s Dad . . .

And . . . Happy Father’s Day to The Lumberjack’s Grandpas Stan and Albert.

Of whom I cannot find a picture at this moment in time.

And to his Grandpa Carl, also known as Jim.

No picture.

Shameful.

I know.

Happy Father’s Day to The Lumberjack’s Great-Grandpa Chick

Who fostered in my Lumberjack both a love of logging and the name Chick.

Of which I just could not name my handsome boys, much to my husband’s dismay.

Sorry, Great-Grandpa Chick.

I mean  no disrespect.

Happy Father’s Day to my Poppy, who passed away in 1994.

and called all remotes “clickers.”

Happy Father’s Day to the Grandpa I never met . . .

And, finally, Happy Father’s Day to this deer I saw out my window this morning when all my house was fast asleep:

Excuse me, Mr. Deer:

There is a man lovingly referred to as The Lumberjack who now owns this property that you eat off of.

I must warn you.

He has 17 guns and a love for hunting.

Oh, dear. (or deer!  ha!)

Is that a boy girl or a girl deer?

I don’t know.

Nor do I really care.

My Lumberjack would be so disappointed in me.

I fear I am a hunting/wildlife idiot.

Tough break, Lumberjack.

Tough break.

Happy Father’s Day!