The Lumberjack's Wife

On Sunday, David and the boys went hunting and the girls and I cleaned the house.  I am starting to get the impression that I do a lot of house cleaning.

Anyways.  My neighbor calls.  Apparently two of my steers are over at her property trying to socialize with her bison herd.

Yes.  My neighbor has a bison herd.  Doesn’t yours?

This is so embarrassing, Friends.  Not too long ago, she would have to call me about my naughty dogs being on her property.  Last Spring, Little Dude lost a piglet and they found it on their property.  I fear she might be getting the feeling that we don’t have our ducks in a row over here.  And she is probably glad we don’t have ducks.  Because if we did, they would probably be over at her place.

I go out to “help” her get the steers in.  Basically, I am just standing out there for moral support while she tells me the plan.  And that is for the best.  You learn to trust people who own bison herds.

Me:  Man.  We finally got our dogs to stop coming over.  Now it is the steers.  Maybe we need to try shock collars on the steers!

*chuckle, chuckle*

We watch the steers run to the back of the property and I get all gooberish with love for them.

Neighbor:  I am telling you, you should name that one Houdini.

“That one” is Dutch Bro.  Dutch Bro is ALWAYS out.

Me:  We already had a steer named Houdini.  But he died.

Taylor.  Spreader of joy and goodwill.

Neighbor:  Oh.

Me:  His name is Dutch Bro because he looks like coffee.  Isn’t he cute?  He was born around the first week of May.  And the other one with him is named Rocky and he was born a couple of weeks after Dutch Bro.  Aren’t they big?

This is Taylor 2.0.  I now gush to neighbors about my handsome steers.  But I can’t believe how fast they grow!  I carried Dutch Bro to safety when he was a day old.  He now probably weighs about 400 pounds.  Have I told you before that I love my cows?

Anyways.  David gets home from hunting a bit later.

Me:  We got problems.

David:  Tell me about it.

Me:  Oh, did the neighbor call you to?

David looks defeated.  This is not what his problems were and now I have added to his list.  Oops.

We decide to deal with the steer issue later and turn our attention to the four children, the messy house, the hungry bovine, and the fact that the children must head to town without us soon.

Around 2pm, the children head out, leaving David and I alone.  I am hoping to take a nap, but David reminds me that we have work to do.

David:  I thought you wanted to take care of the issue with Rocky and Dutch Bros.

Me:  He is just ONE steer!  His name is Dutch BRO.  It is singular.

David:  Sorry.

I get a little touchy about things when I need a nap.

So, we don our mud boots and head out to the cow pen.  David has brought with him the 4 wheeler, a knife, all of his muscles, and many ropes and halters.  I brought my winning personality.

David tells me the plan.  I like when people tell me the plan because I never have one.

We need to castrate Jesse James and we need to rope up Dutch Bro and Rocky and move them to a pig pen.  We are sure hopeful that Dutch Bro and Rocky cannot wiggle their way out of a pig pen.

David approaches a calf and thinks it is Rocky.

Me:  No!  That is Jesse James!  Born to Babs on August 5, 2019!

David:  Oh.  Where is Rocky?

Huh.  It looks like I brought my winning personality AND my superior knowledge of our herd.

So we walk around with these giant ropes and I don’t know how to use one, but David gave me one and humor him I will.  He had to keep stopping me and redoing the rope because I kept messing it up.  But I don’t know how I was messing it up because I don’t really understand the mechanics of the rope in the first place.

Shockingly, David is the one to rope Rocky and not me.  He is struggling a bit and I decide to be his help meet.

Me:  David!  Would you like me to get the harness?!

David (struggling to wrangle Rocky, who is about 450 pounds):  IT IS CALLED A HALTER!

Me:  Sorry.

David gets a little touchy when he is about to be crushed by a steer and his wife uses the wrong vocabulary word.

I grab the HALTER and hand it to him and David has some grand plan to attach Rocky to the 4 wheeler and have me, Taylor 2.0, drive the 4 wheeler and pull Rocky to the pig pen.  Except, I don’t actually remember how to work the 4 wheeler.  Oops.  So David has to struggle with Rocky and teach me.  Then he has to yell at me because I apparently got a rope stuck in the wheels and like I knew that was going to happen.  And he is not yelling at me in anger, I just think he is trying to keep everyone alive.  Because Rocky is not a fan of our plan to move him.

Anyways, after about 45 minutes we get Rocky to the pig pen.

We head back in.

This time, we find our friend, Jesse James.  Jesse James is not a naughty pants who gets out of the pen, but he is due to lose his manhood.  And remember.  David and I are the husband/wife castration dream team.

So my job is to hold a rope tight and David has the bigger job of roping the feet, throwing the calf to the ground, and cutting off the testicles.

Yes.  This is what David and I do when we have the house to ourselves.

Go out on a date?  Heck, no!  Let’s castrate!

Babs, Jesse James’ mother, decides she is going to care about her child at this moment and starts to go after David.  So, now he is struggling with a 200+ pound calf, many ropes, an ignorant wife, a knife, and an angry cow who his wife named, “Babs.”

Babs decides to care for about 90 seconds, then she leaves Jesse James, who is still tied up, to go back to eating.  Cows are fans of eating.

The castration is successful.  Jesse James is now a steer.

Now, we must get the elusive Dutch Bro.  We are out there working on catching him for at least an hour and we are completely unsuccessful.  We watched him wiggle under a wire in the fence about 10 inches off the ground.

?

And he ran away from us. Probably to go and see his new bison friends.

David says we are done because his mud boot is now broken and we head inside to try and watch the football game.

Fun Fact:  We never watch football live.  We always set timers and then avoid human interaction for hours as to not get any spoilers.

As we are watching the game, another neighbor calls to let David know that one of his steers is out.

DUTCH BRO!!!!! (shaking fists in the air)

So David comes up with a new stellar plan that included moving vehicles around as barricades and each of us holding a broom.

And it worked!  He was in the pen with Rocky in about 7 minutes.

Dutch Bro’s mama, Rosie,  is also in the pen with them.  We put her in there last week because she is way too skinny and the other cows are mean to her and won’t let her eat.

We head back inside and enjoy the quiet house of no children and I kid you not, I was asleep by 7:45pm.

Best.  Day.  Ever.

This morning, I woke up to a lot of angry mooing.  Turns out Matilda, Rocky’s mom, is not a fan of our new plan to keep her calf away from her.  She stood by the fence that divides them all morning and moo’d for him.

Naturally, I must call David.

Me:  Hey!  Bad news.  We have broken Matilda’s heart and so I think we need to put Rocky back in the big cow pen with her.

David:  And you are ok with him just going on the neighbor’s property?

Me:  Well, no.  But I think it was all Dutch Bro’s fault.  He is probably a bad influence on Rocky and Rocky probably only follows him out.

David:  *sigh*

Me:  So I know it will be dark when we all get home tonight, but maybe we can figure out a way to reunite them?

David:  *sigh*

I suspect David is LOVING having me, Taylor 2.0, be his help meet in the cattle business.

I am bring him joy.

My new favorite pastime:  Being Home Alone.

Friends.  I highly recommend this.  This happened like, never, in the days of yore.  But now . . . it is happening EVERY NOW AND THEN.

The girls drive themselves and are busy with jobs and sports.

The boys and David love to go buy livestock and hunt together.

And that leaves me to be home alone.

Darn.

And what do I do with this glorious time?

I clean.  And here is the best part:  If I clean a room, and leave, and then come back . . . that room is STILL CLEAN.

I do laundry.  I can actually get all the laundry done and have empty hampers.

I light candles and my house smells good.  I listen to music I want to listen to and deal with no fighting children.  This all makes me a very happy camper.

Until.  They return.

The male folk walk in the door first.  I greet them at the door and begin to flip out if they start to dump junk all over the couches.

PUT IT AWAY.  DO NOT PUT IT ON THE COUCHES.  THIS IS NOT WHERE THINGS BELONG!

I see/smell Little Dude.  He is going through this darling phase called, ¨I do not find it necessary to shower most of the time, but I definitely don´t shower on days I plan to hunt.¨  I sent him immediately to the shower and lovingly yell at him to make sure his clothes end up in the hamper and not on the floor.

You know.  I am going to call that a win.  Because it is a definite improvement from how LD usually leaves his clothes.  And, yes, his underwear is in fact hanging from the decorative wreath.  But it shows he made an effort to get the underwear into the hamper.

The boys are not allowed to eat in the loft, but, alas, they do it anyways and they have completely stained the couches.  They have not shown one bit of care about their infractions until I told them that they had until December 1st to scrub those couches clean.  And if the stains were not out to my liking, they would be buying me new couches.

They work on them every evening.  Feel free to steal that parenting trick.

Genius.

***

My mom got her Disney tree up, and here is the picture, as promised.

It would appear that she has added tissue paper to the popcorn boxes.  Very clever and cute.  I would like to shock you all with a little Christmas decorating I did yesterday, even though it is still November.

Bam.  It is a lovely, festive plant.  I got it for $16.88 at the Walmarts.  And it took me, like, 30 seconds to set up.

***

Let us talk about fighting children, for this is my life.

The girls.

For all eternity, they will fight about clothes.  I used to hope it was a phase, but it has been over ten years and they are taking quite awhile to get through it.

Here is a summary:

The girls are only 15 months apart, so they have always been close in size.  I see this as an opportunity to double wardrobes.  I mean, what fun!?

Now that they are the same height as me, we can share a lot of ¨forgiving¨ clothes.  Like shoes, leggings, sweaters, dresses, etc.

Not, I repeat, NOT jeans.

So, they wear my clothes all the time for work.  And I do not care.  Because I am nice and easy going.  Unlike my offspring, apparently.

Anyways.  The same fight always happens.

DM always allows SP to borrow clothes, but SP sometimes will not allow DM to borrow clothes.  It causes everyone much anguish.  It does not ever make a bit of sense to me, but I just try to keep everyone from physically harming each other.

DM has copped an attitude about it all lately and now will just secretly borrow clothes because she does not see the point in asking SP because SP will just say no.  Even if SP is currently borrowing something of DMś.

You might say, Taylor!  There is a simple solution!  Tell DM to not share with SP anymore!

This approach I have tried.  It has proved unsuccessful.

Anyways, I do all the laundry in the house.  But one night, while I was sleeping, because it was 8pm, SP dumps a pile on my bed and wakes me up to inform me that she is FOLDING CLOTHES FOR YOU, MOM.

How kind.

She actually was not doing this to be kind.  She needed some leggings washed for the next day.

The next morning, I woke up and did a load like always.  So, I put whatever load she washed into the dryer.

SP is always the last to wake up because she does not need to leave as early as the rest of us now.  So she is always waking up when we are headed out the door.

SP:  Mom.  Have you seen my Lululemon leggings?

Have you people heard of these things?  They are leggings that look to me like all the other leggings in the world, but are worth many, MANY, dollars.  The girls have been wasting many dollars on them at consignment shops.  And even the used price is ghastly.

Me:  Nope.

SP:  I put them in the washer last night.

Me:  Well, then they would be in the dryer.

SP:  I checked.  They are not.

Me:  Ok, go out to the car and ask DM is she knows.

Rookie mistake.

Apparently, DM, the crafty gal that she has become, had worn different clothes to the car so SP would not catch on and then changed into the prized lululemons while sitting in the car waiting for me.

And SP caught her in the act.  Which resulted in much fury and DM throwing the leggings out the car, causing them to LAND IN THE MUD, MOM.  And now the LEGGINGS THAT I WASHED LAST NIGHT ARE MUDDY.  And WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT THIS, MOM.

*sigh*

Me:  They look fine.  You can still wear them.  I am sorry.

SP:  BUT ARE YOU EVEN GOING TO DEAL WITH HER?!?

Me:  Yes!  But I need to get in the car and drive!  I will talk to her on the way to school!

*sigh*

DM was definitely in the wrong, but sometimes she is not receptive to constructive criticism.  So.  Guess how well that conversation went.

Parenting.  Not for the faint of heart.

Happy Sunday!

I have mentioned before that this year in class, I have a little English Language Learner guy.  He makes my world go round.

Yesterday, I was working with him in reading groups and feeling like the World’s Most Ineffective Teacher.  I cannot get him to learn ANY sight words.

ANY.

I have been working with him on and, the, and a.  For many days.

Nope.

Discouraging.

Later that day, I had to reign my class in with a farm story.

Yes!  Lucky for me, my husband made us farmers.  And farm stories come in quite handy when you have 25 6 year olds who are going stir crazy from inside recess.  They absolutely love them.

I also neglected to tell you, dear readers, this story.  So buckle up. This will be told to you as Taylor, the first grade teacher, not Taylor, the girl who writes a mediocre blog.

“Last summer, before we all met here in first grade, I was able to watch my cow, Babs, have a baby calf. The calf was a boy.  Boy calves are called bull calves.  At Mrs. M’s house, we have lots of land and Babs did not have the baby close to the house.  After she had the baby, I had to walk all the way back to the house to cool off and get some water.  It was a very hot day and I was sweaty and tired.

When I got to the house, I saw Little Dude.  I asked him if he wanted to go and see the new bull calf with me.  He did.  Does anyone remember how many dogs we have out our house?”

Of course they remember.

“Yes.  Three.  And three is too many.  The two girl dogs are fast and excited.  Tank, the older dog is slow and lazy.  LD and I go into the cow pen and head to the back of the property and the dogs follow us.  Abbie and Cali are with us.  Tank is slow and far behind.  When we get to Babs, she warns Abbie and Cali that she does not want them close to her baby.  Mama cows get very angry if dogs come near their babies. So, Abbie and Cali know to go away and run off.  LD and I stay and watch the Mama and her baby.  A few minutes later, Tank finally arrives.  He is tired and panting, but proud of himself for making it all the way out to us.  He does not know Babs will be angry.  He comes right up to us hoping for a pat on the head, and Babs gets VERY angry.  She starts to attack Tank!  She pushes him with her head.  He gets thrown up against a tree and against me.  LD and I were very worried that he was going to die.  We got him away from her and he limped for about three days, but he was ok.”

The kids are still listening!  I should be teaching math.  Alas.  I am not.

“Now, when I take walks, all three dogs love to follow me.  But when I open the gate to the cow pen, Tank will not come with me.  He never goes through the cow pen anymore, but the girls dogs will.  Why do you think he will not go with me?”

Many hands go up.

Student:  I think the cows are pushing on the gate so he cannot go through.

Me: No . . .

A few other students guess, but no one is quite getting it right.

My ELL friend is sitting calmly with his hand up.  I call on him, but feel worried because I don’t think he could understand my story.

ELL kiddo:  Scared!

Friends.  I about dropped dead.  I cannot teach him sight words, but apparently I can help him make inferences in a story.

I should probably retire now.  It will never get any better than this.  I shall go out on a high note.

***

Ever since Daisy Mae got her license, life has gotten a whole lot easier for me.  Instead of dropping all the kids off before work and rushing around after work to pick everyone up, she drops ME off first.  Then she picks up her brothers after school, and they all pick me up.  Sometimes she brings me coffee.

!

DM:  Mom, don’t you hate not having a car all day?

Me:  No.  Why?

DM:  Well.  You are like stranded.  You can’t go anywhere.

Me:  Where do you think I am going every day anyways?  I teach the kids.  I don’t leave.

DM:  I would hate it.

And, yes.  Sadly.  She has to drive my car, which to her is a “total mom car”.  She isn’t really complaining, but apparently has “backing the car up in the high school parking lot”anxiety whenever the boy she has a crush on can maybe potentially see her.

So sometimes she has friends back the car up for her.

David:  What!?  Who all is driving our car?!

On Monday, we had to take the third car, the one we let Sweet Pea use daily, to the mechanic.

For $1000.00.

The next morning on her way to school, she broke down.  Which is always wonderful the morning after you spend $1000.  On a car that cost you $3000.

I am at school without a car.  DM has my car at high school.  The boys are at school thinking DM will be picking them up.  David is 30 miles away.  SP has college classes, a high school class, and a basketball game.

David calls me and we come up with the perfect plan B.

David will help tow SP back to the mechanic.  Then they will stop by the high school to get my car.  SP will have my car for the day.  DM and the boys will be forced to ride the bus to my parents’ house.  This will irritate DM because SHE DID NOT GET HER DRIVER’S LICENSE SO SHE COULD RIDE THE BUS.  I will be stranded at work until David can pick me up in the work van.  He will then take me to my car where SP left it.  I will drive to my parents and get the three poor bus riding children and David will drive to pick up SP from her game.

See?  Plan B.

Many texts are sent out and I call the boys’ school so they can alert the boys to their schedule change.

Somehow David in all his magic-ness manages to just repair the car on the side of the road.  How does he know how to do all the things?

I don’t know.

So we all switch gears and come up with plan C.  Many texts are sent and phone calls are made and SP is supposed to leave the car keys for the third car in a cup holder so DM can drive that car home and David will bring SP home from the game.

Are you following all of this?  Because we barely can.

DM, the boys, and I get to the car and of course, SP did not leave the keys in the cup holder.  David, who is at the game, asks her while she is on the side line.

David:  Hey.  Where are the car keys.

She just smiles at him and runs on the court.

So helpful.

We find a spare key that David had hidden somewhere in the car for such a time as this.  Because SP has already locked herself out of the car.  Because of course.

On the way home, Little Dude informs me that he is going through puberty.  But he doesn’t know how to properly say “puberty.”  He pronounces it:  poo-burr-tee.

Me:  Why do you think you are going through puberty?

(I actually don’t really want to know.)

LD:  Because my voice is changing.

Me:  Nah.  You just have a cold.

This morning, we are doing our usual morning routine.  This involves me doing lots of loud verbal reminders (not yelling).  I also must coordinate the boys never being in the same room.  There is some magnetic force that draws them towards each other and makes them wrestle/punch/hit/give wedgies.  And no one has time for that.

HD is in the shower.  I need to put in 17 formal requests before he will actually get out of the shower.  LD is ready to get in the shower.  But we cannot have LD waiting in the bathroom for HD because then the shower door will most likely get shattered.  So I send LD to go and pick out his clothes.

HD still won’t get out of the shower.

Me: Get out. (for the 18th time)

HD:  Ok, Mom.  Count me down from 3!

Me:  No.  Get out.

HD:  Ok, I will do my own count down.  3 . . . 2 . . . . 1 1/2 . . . . 1 . . . .ok . . . . ready . . . to  . . . get . . . out!

Can we all be impressed that I have not yet completely lost it?

I am drying my hair.  I tell him to get dressed and not touch his brother on the way.  This is poor planning on my part, because I forgot to arrange HD passage to his room without passing LD along the way.

I hear a scuffle.  I hear noise.  I yell for LD to GET IN THE SHOWER.

He comes up.  He is wet.  He is wet because HD does not know how to dry himself.  Even though he is 12.  And when HD passed LD in the hall, the magnetic force MADE him wrestle LD to the ground.  So LD is wet from HD’s wet shower body.

LD (voice totally cracking. And not from a cold) Gosh, MOM.  I tried to get up here but HD attacked me.

Fantastic.  I think he is going through poo-burr-tee.

Happy Wednesday.

Anyone who might know my mother in real life knows she is obsessed with Christmas decorating. She starts around the end of October and it is this giant production and I will never understand it for all of the days of my life as long as we both shall live.

I like Christmas decor that can be set up in three hours.

She prefers three weeks.

It is a bit much.

Naturally, she had Christmas decor on the brain on our recent trip to Disneyland.

Yes!  Did you forget?  I went to Disneyland.

From left to right:  Jess, me, Ma, Sister Meagan.  They neglected to tell me we were supposed to have our sunglasses on for the commemorative photo.

Jess:  Taylor!  It is Thursday at 9:30am.  What would you be doing right now?

Me:  Strategic Reading Groups! Let´s hit Pirates of the Caribbean.

*Living my best life*

So it is like 80 degrees in California and naturally, Christmas is on everyone´s brains.  My mom remembers that her good friend once had a Disney themed Christmas tree.  Apparently it was just the cutest tree ever and said friend had cute red Disney popcorn boxes scattered about her tree.  Mom texts her.

Mom:  How did you get all those popcorn boxes for your darling tree?

Friend:  I stood by the garbage can and asked people if I could have their boxes when they were about to throw them away.

Yes.  This is what people with themed trees do, apparently.

We convinced Mom to just ask the friendly Disney popcorn maker if she could just buy unused boxes.  Instead of loitering by trash cans and begging for used ones.

She scored some for free.

It was all very exciting.  I will be sure to show you a picture of the Disney tree.  It will surely be amazing.

My mom was slightly interested in taking a tour of Disneyland.  I guess this is a thing?  So she asked a Disney employee if the tour was worth it.

DISNEY Employee:  Uh.  I do not think it is.  I mean.  I guess if you are a big fan of Disney, but, like I am not really a fan of Disney at all.  So I do not think it would be worth it.

Ha.

We decided to get some Starbucks at Disneyland with cute Mickey Mouse heads printed on the cups.  After I placed my order, Ma inquired as to what my order was.

Mom:  What did you get, Doodle-Fin?

Stranger:  Excuse me?  Did you just refer to her as Doodle-Fin?

Me:  Oh!  Yup!  That is my nickname!

Not awkward at all.

Sadly, we drank all our coffee and threw our cups away before we even THOUGHT about using them again as CHRISTMAS TREE DECOR.

For shame.

I highly recommend going to Disneyland on a Thursday in November instead of teaching strategic reading groups.  We had a blast.

***

Next we had lunch with my Aunt Candi and then picked up Aunt Dana.

Dana had this fab picture in her house:

It is my mom!  With baby Sweet Pea!  And baby Sweet Pea is wearing my baby swimsuit!  And my mom is like only four years older than I am here.

*Gasp*

Group photo time:

Let the party begin!

Went to Joshua Tree National Park.

We did not die.

Me the whole time:  Uck.  It is like so brown here.  I like home better.  Much greener and prettier.

Meagan and Jess:  Well.  This is a desert.  Don´t you think it is pretty in its own way?

Me:  Meh.

***

We also hung out in Palm Springs.  It is pretty hot there.

We found this amazing restaurant called Mario´s, I believe.  We ate delicious pizza and enjoyed a glass of wine.

Look at this glass of wine!

It was $5, I kid you not.  I mean between the bargain wine and the free Christmas tree decor, we were basically killing it this trip.

Sometimes pizza and wine and sisters and moms and aunts are all you need.

We went back to the same restaurant the next night.

And had enough leftovers to eat dinner the third night.

So basically, I ate a lot of pizza.  Which is always a topnotch plan.

***

Because I was cool and on vacation, I kept my normal bedtime of 8:30pm.

Me to all:  I am feeling fussy.  I am going to sleep now.

And I would lay on my good ear and block out all sounds and enjoy blissful slumber.  I do not know what the rest of the gal pal group was doing, but I cared not.

One night, around 1am or so, the hotel fire alarm goes off.

I am happy to report that although the hearing in my right ear is below par, I can still hear smoke alarms.

My mom and Aunt Dana are in full blown panic mode.  Aunt Dana, who is the eldest of the group, feels the need to be the mother hen and make sure all of us are getting to safety.  She alerts the others in the adjoining room.

Mother is running around with her hand pressed to her chest, almost as if she believes she is keeping her heart from popping out with fear.

Me:  I am pretty sure this is not real.

I go through fire alarms like once a month at school.  I have become desensitized to them.

I look out the window.  No one is fleeing.  I see no flames or smoke.

Sister Meagan is also wandering around in the same state I am.

Jess never even got up.

I go back to bed.

Mom (holding her chest):  Taylor!  We need to LEAVE!

Me:  Ugh.  Can you just call the front desk and ask if this is for real?

I am happy to report it was not real.  Mom and Dana were not pleased with the actions of us younger gals.  The alarm went off a total of three times and there was an earthquake or two.

It was a restful night.

***

All in all, the trip was a blast and just what I needed!

Happy Monday!

The boys purchased their sisters’old iPhones.  They are using them more as iPods or tablets and will not yet have phone service on them.  They also knew that they were NOT allowed to have ANY social media.

This isn´t my first rodeo, Friends.

On day ONE, I kid you not, I was informed that Little Dude already had an Instagram account.  For the love.

Me:  Dude!

LD:  What?!

Me:  Instagram!  That´s no bueno!

LD:  Daisy Mae MADE me get one.

So, I had him delete the app, but in my old person gooberishness, forgot that his account would still be out there floating around in cyber space.

Sister Meagan:  So.  You let LD have an instagram account.  Have you seen it yet?

Friends.  This was no good.  He had his full name on the account.  First, middle, and last.

And his bio?

Rain drop.  Drop top.  All I do is eat nonstop.  (peace sign emoji)

I can´t.

***

The other day, I was forced to kill time in a store with Handsome Dude.  Out of nowhere, he stops and glares at me.

HD:  So.  When are you going to help me take care of THIS?

He is pointing to his face.

Me:  What?

HD:  This.  These problems.  I don´t know what it is called.  But it is a problem.

Me:  Acne?

HD:  I don´t know.  But I am not sharing face stuff with the GIRLS.

He had not one zit.  But I happily bought him supplies.

HD:  Also, Mom.  I hate the shampoo you make me use.  It makes my hair flap when I run.

?

HD: I need you to buy me MAN shampoo.

So, I bought him Suave for Men 2 in 1.  And I surely hope his hair does not flap and his non-existent acne clears up soon.

A few days later, Little Dude comes out of the shower.  He is dripping wet because, although he is 5´3¨ and 11 years old, he has no idea how to properly use a towel.

LD:  Mom!  I think I have athlete´s foot.

His feet are a strange bluish color.  I think about things and realize he has been working outside with his Pa lately in his blue Nikes (and not the work boots we lovingly provided for him).

Me:  Well, did you wash your feet with soap?

LD:  Why would I do that?

Me:  I will not care one bit about your ¨athlete´s foot¨ until you actually use soap on your feet.  Do you even wash your hair?

LD:  I do now that you bought that manly shampoo.

Excellent.

***

Daisy Mae got her driver´s license.  I received the good news while I was in Disneyland.  I did not get my photo of her posing outside the DMV with her new license because I was not there.  She is loving her new freedom.

***

I just got back from a Gal Pal Trip and it was amazing.  We went to Disneyland, and we rocked our Disney adventure.  We timed everything out perfectly and the longest we had to wait in line was 25 minutes.  We totally played the ¨old people¨ card and spent hottest part of the day watching an Abe Lincoln statue talk and riding on a train that toured the park.

And we loved it. We commented on how great our attitudes were and the fact that no one got fussy or felt the need to throw a fit.  Lovely.

We got Starbucks with Mickey Mouse heads on the cups.

My Mom:  What did you order, Doodle-fin?

Yes.  My nickname is, in fact, Doodle-fin.

Stranger:  Excuse me?  Did you just call her, ¨Doodle Fin?¨

Not awkward at all.

After the magical Disney adventure, we went and met one of my Aunts for lunch.

Hi, Aunt Candi!

(I do not think Aunt Candi reads my blog)

Then we picked up Aunt Dana for our trip to Palm Springs and Joshua Tree National Park.

Long time readers might remember Aunt Dana.  She used to be known as Auntie Datenut.  But I have no recollection as to why she was called that.  She used to read my blog.  I don´t think she does anymore.  She got good and sick of me, I suppose.

When we got to Joshua Tree, we stopped at the visitor´s center.  There were signs printed everywhere near water bottles that read:

¨DO NOT DIE TODAY.  DRINK PLENTY OF WATER.¨

I took a photo, but, alas.  My internet is being fussy and I cannot upload a single picture  for you today.  Such is life.

I certainly did not want to die, so I purchased one of their water bottles and thanked them for their sage advice.

Me to cashier:  So.  Do lots of people die out here?

Cashier, who I shall call Marge, because she was just a ¨Marge.¨:  Not MANY.  But it DOES HAPPEN.

She did not find me witty.

I drank water.  I saw some Joshua trees.  I did not die.  The end.

***

I had a splendid time with Meagan, Mom, and Jess.  I loved visited Aunt Candi and Aunt Dana.  I was hoping to share some pictures with you, but the universe is against me tonight.

Maybe later.

Rain drop.  Drop top.  All I do is eat nonstop.

Peace.

David, laying on the bed, sticking his legs straight up in the air:  Quick.  Tell me if one of my ankles looks swollen.

Me:  Yes.  That one.

David:  Ok.

Then he gets up and walks away.

?

Me:  Well.  Are you ok?  Oh, I see you are bleeding.

David:  It’s nothing.  A calf fell on me.

Me:  Of course.

5 minutes later

Me:  DAVID!  It is too bad it is not your CALF that is injured.  Because then we could call it your CALF INJURY and it would be so punny!

David:  You are hilarious, Taylor.

I am the light of his life.

***

We need to discuss Daisy Mae.  And I am tired of calling her Daisy Mae, but this is what I named her some ten years ago in this blog world, and this is what we shall continue to call her.

Daisy Mae is daughter number two.  She is 15 and tired of people telling her she looks like me.

DM:  I’m like, I know.  I get it.  Let’s talk about something else.  Gosh.

DM is on the cusp of getting her driver’s license.  It is of great interest to David and I to get her licensed because we can already tell she will be a better driver than her older sister, Sweet Pea.

And I am regretting calling her Sweet Pea, but this is what I named her some ten years ago in this blog world, and this is what we shall continue to call her.

Anyways.  DM was eligible to get her license a couple of weeks ago.  I knew I had an upcoming trip (WITHOUT THE CHILDREN AND DAVID), so we decided to try and get her licensed by then so she could assist her father in the daily commute.

My trip begins on November 6th.  In order to be licensed, DM needed to pass a driving test and a written test.  I have the whole day off on the 6th, so I figured it would be PERFECT to take her to the DMV before my flight and get her all ready to go.  Because who has time to write multiple days of sub plans, I ask?

And now, allow me to tell you my tale of woe.

Friday, November 1st.

DM has her driving test with a friendly fellow named Max.  I ride with her.  I lend her my nice sunglasses so she can be that much more awesome.  I feel she nails the test.

Max fails her.  She did not look thoroughly enough through intersections even when she had a green light.  Max feels she is too trusting and might get hit someday by someone who is running a red light.

I appreciate Max’s caution.  However.  He then told me I had to go back to the DMV and pay for another skills test so she can test again.  And she has to wait three days.

And can we not all agree that going to the DMV is the bane of everyone’s existence?

Daisy Mae cried.  She shouted.  She declared the world to be the most unfair world of all the worlds.  And why did she tell people she had a driving test today?  And who doesn’t pass a driving test?  And I (Taylor) might as well drive the rest of the night because OBVIOUSLY SHE WAS NOT TO BE TRUSTED behind the wheel.

She handled her setback like a champ.

I dropped her off at her friend’s house for the night.  I am nice.

Monday, November 4th

I am still trying to get DM her license by the 6th.  I have to rush to work early and write sub plans for a half day so I can go and get DM from school and rush her to the DMV where I will have to waste all of my life in a waiting room just to pay $6.50 so she can drive with Max again.

DM texts me:  Um, mom.  I cannot find my permit.

For.  The.  Love.

This child loses her permit/wallet every 5 minutes and I am not exaggerating

Me:  WELL FIND IT.

So, I call the DMV, as I am writing the sub plans and ask if she needs a permit to get the receipt to retake the driving test.  And while I am on the phone I receive yet another text from the child that looks like me.

DM;  Found it.

So.  We get to the DMV.  On a Monday afternoon.

DM:  Since I am here, can I just take the written test today so Wednesday will be faster?

Me:  Yes!  By all means!

She has studied.  She knows this.  She gets 100% on her practice app all the time.  I am not worried.

I sit at the DMV and continue to waste all of my life while she takes the test.

She walks towards me and looks like a three year old who is about to throw a fit.

Me:  How did it go?

DM (going back to “champ” mode)  I failed it!  I got the LAST QUESTION WRONG, MOM!  Why me?  WHY?  Everyone else can pass!

So we go the friendly DMV gal and she informs us that DM cannot retake the written test until Thursday.  And on Thursday, I will be in a different state.

I call David.  I inform him of his child’s bad luck and inform him that I have fought the good fight.  I have done all that I can do.  I cannot get her licensed before I leave town.  I now pass the torch on to him.

He does not appreciate this news.

Oh.  Well.

Tuesday, November 5th

This is my last morning at school before I leave.  It is A LOT of work to prepare a guest teacher to take over for you for multiple days.

On our way into town, DM informs me that she left her office keys for work in SP’s car and she will need them.  Also, the title for the car is missing from the glove box.  AND MAX NEEDS TO SEE THE TITLE OR SHE WILL FAIL.

The title was under the seat of the car.  Why?  We know not.

I inform DM to make arrangements with SP to get her office keys to her before noon.  I was leaving work at noon for a training.

Later, I get to the training.  I text SP and ask if she was able to get the keys to my car.

SP:  I don’t have her keys.  I have like already told her this like a million times.  Gosh.

Teens.  Sassy.

So, I text DM and tell her she needs to work out the key problem with her sister herself.

No one texts me back.

Next, I get a call full of fury and rage from one Sweet Pea who had to go out of her way to bring me her own set of keys so DM could lock up and found that my car was not at the school parking lot.

The nerve of me.

Me:  I tried to talk to you earlier and would have told you that I was not at school, but you were not having it.   I am five minutes away.  You can find me.  Use the Life 360 app.

Yes.  There’s an app for that.

SP calls me multiple times because she does not understand where I am, even though the app clearly tells her.

She brings me her keys and makes sure I know that DM must know that these are HER keys and DM better not lose them.

Lest we be unclear, DM loses everything.  She is not to be trusted.

I have to leave my writing training early to pick DM up for her drive with Max.  DM is full of gloom and informing me that she shouldn’t even go because obviously she was not meant to drive.  And whilst I am looking for something else in my car, I find HER ACTUAL WORK KEYS.

Me:  Are these YOUR keys?

DM:  Oh, oops.  Yes.  Please don’t tell SP.

We get to the Max meeting spot and I go over with her all the things I think she needs to know before I leave her.

Me:  Maybe you should pray.

DM:  I prayed last time.  And it obviously didn’t work.

Me:  Maybe this all happened for a reason.  Maybe in ten years you will be driving with your little baby.  And you will remember what Max said and look very carefully in all directions while proceeding through a green light.  And you will notice a careless driver running a red light.  And you and your baby will be saved because you remembered what Max told you.

DM:  Doubt it.

*sigh*

She passed.

So I had to take her to Wendy’s for a victory before work 4 for $4 and then drop her off at work.

We pull up to her work.

DM:  Shoot.  Mom, I forgot to pack work shoes again.

She said “again” because she had forgotten them last week.  And I had to save the day last week.

So, I take off my shoes and put on her Nikes.  It is a good thing we wear the same size.

Me:  You really need to try to be more responsible.

DM;  Geez, Mom.  Gosh.  I know.

Me:  Oh.  Where are my sunglasses from the last drive.  I need them for my trip.

DM:  Oh.  Oops.  I left them at my friend’s house.

***

This is Taylor, signing off.  I am going to fly to California tomorrow.  I am going to Disneyland.  I am going to have fun.  I am going with my mom, sister Meagan, her spouse, Jess, and I believe we are seeing a few aunts along the way.

I have written sub plans.  I have sent many emails.  I have mapped out schedules for David.  I have done all that I can do.

I wash my hands of it.  And I will go and see Mickey Mouse.

Happy Tuesday!

We just recently went in on 2 acres of river property for camping with a bunch of family members.
Apparently we are THAT serious about camping.
It was decided that Saturday would be a work day.
Here’s what I was told before we went:
Some people were cutting down tall grass.
Some people were hauling grass and brush to burn piles.
David was going to get started on the electrical hookup.
Yes. Electrical. Apparently we are THAT serious about camping.
As we were getting ready to go, Handsome Dude ran in the house and shouted that me and Sweet Pea needed to get our hineys outside NOW.
Me: I am almost dressed. Can you give me ten minutes?
HD: No! Dad said NOW. Throw a coat on and get out there!
I hate when he thinks he is the boss of me.
So, I threw a coat on over my pajama shirt. I was luckily wearing jeans. I was kind of in a transitional stage of the morning. I threw on my every day boots that are stylish and cozy and ran outside.
David takes one look at me and kind of laughs: Um, you might want to wear work clothes for today.
*sigh*
Me: I am aware. HD told me I had to get out here NOW, so here I am. I will be in work clothes before we go to the property.
David: Sounds good.
So, David had spent many hours and dollars building something for the property. I am sure it has a name, but I know it not. It probably weighs about 700 pounds and he is confident that HD, LD, SP, and myself will be a stellar enough team to help him load it into the truck. (DM was at work)
Me: Can you just use your Bobcat to load it?
(I am the brains of this operation)
David: No because I loaded the Bobcat already.
I don’t understand why we cannot unload the Bobcat, but I hush up and let him tell me the plan. I am a wife worth more than fine rubies.
So we have to pick it up and somehow drag it to the truck. Then we have to lift it up onto the trailer.
David: EVERYONE PAY ATTENTION! SOMEONE COULD DIE HERE!
Well, that’s fantastic.
He goes and gets a variety of jacks and we lift it onto jacks. The word “jack” makes me think of my super tough brother in law, Jack, and his amazingly strong wife, Lisa, who would be en route to the property at that very moment.
Me: Let’s see if Jack and Lisa can swing by and help?!
My suggestion was ignored.
Somehow, we got it up there. No one died. No trips to the emergency room were needed. I was just hoping that if it were to crush any of us, it would crush me and not the children.
That is a mother’s love, I tell ya.
So. Here is the truck and trailer all ready to go for our “work day.”

It felt excessive?

So, we got there and I totally underestimated the amount of work we would accomplish.

David and Jack got right to work on the power set up, including pouring concrete and such.  Everyone else was cutting down grass and making burn piles.

Yours truly operated a DR trimmer mower.  As if yours truly knew such a thing existed.  And I could do a commercial for that thing because wowie wow wow.

Here is a “before” picture:

And some pictures of David putting in the electrical thing.  Of which I do not know the name.

I even assisted him for a bit!  Oh, yes.  I was fantastic.

David:  I need you to help with the concrete mixer.

Me:  Got it!

David:  But be careful.  Do you see right here?  You could pinch your skin and it will hurt.

Me:  Got it!

*10 seconds later*

Me:  Ouch!

David:  Did you pinch your skin?

Me:  Yup.

Handsome Dude is getting to be quite handy.  Here he is on the Bobcat creating a burn pile.

And his burn pile:

He even hopped off the Bobcat long enough to put new string in my DR Trimmer Mower.  I feel the need to tell you again:  THAT THING IS A BEAST.

We got SO MUCH DONE and had gorgeous weather.  Here is a picture of the river from our new property.

It will be so nice!

***

Last week, I was on recess duty.  This happens often.  Anyways, I am out there with the other two first grade teachers and 75 six year olds.

Out of nowhere, a snowstorm hits.  Snow.  Wind.   Craziness.

Cue 75 6 year olds running around and screaming.  Almost as if they had never seen snow before.

We usher them inside.

Me to my class:  People!  We must remain calm.  We have all seen snow before!  We live in North ____.  We all know this happens!

No.  I shall not tell you where we live.  I am not sure why, but it is something I started a long time ago, and I shall keep the tradition alive.

***

The other day, I was a recipient of gifts from my pupils.

One boy brought me in a Diet Coke and a muffin.  He was surely proud and I made a big deal of it for his sake.

Me:  My goodness!  Did you just make my day!  Look at that!  How kind you are!

So another kiddo was watching this interaction and he says:

I have something for you, too!  I brought it just for you!

And he goes to his lunchbox and pulls out his ziplock bag full of chips.

Me:  Oh, buddy.  I don’t want to eat your lunch.

Student:  No!  It is for you!  Take it!

So, I thanked him and put it on my desk.  And told him I must be the luckiest teacher in the world.

I put it back in his lunchbox when he wasn’t looking.  Precious boy.

The next day, another girl came straight in and gave me a gift.

Me:  Oh!  Thank you!  What is it?

Girl:  It is an M&M!  Just for you, teacher!

Happy Sunday!

The other day, while teaching yet another fabulous lesson, one of my students shouted out,
“Mrs. M! Your hands are shaking! Just like an old person’s hands!”
So that was fun.
***
Teens.
How am I old enough to have them? And we all know I am old now, what with the shaking hands and whatnot.
Teens are sassy. And difficult. And funny. And lovable. But mostly exhausting.
Daisy Mae is about to get her driver’s license. She wants a car, but she has not saved up for one yet.
Me: When you get your license, you can drive my car and drop me off at school, then drop your brothers off at school, and then you will have a car at school. You can leave when you are done and you don’t have to wait around for a ride!
DM: No way, Mom. I am not driving your car. It is a total MOM car.
(I would like to submit for the records that this child is also wearing MOM JEANS, which are apparently now in fashion?)
Me: No, it is not!
DM: Um, yeah. I would rather drive Dad’s truck.
*Gasp*
Who is this child? David’s truck is ginormous and awful and gets terrible gas mileage.
Me: Do you not understand the size of his truck? Do you not understand the concept of gas mileage? We drive 40 miles each way to town!
DM (shrugging): Trucks are cool. I want my own. I want to name it Waylon.
I am going to go broke paying for the gas and food for these people.
And too bad for her. I already named our bull, Waylon. So, ha.
***
Sweet Pea is a busy bee. She had a basketball breakfast fundraiser and served the entire fam. Here she is snuggling up with my super cute niece and nephew.

I love all of my nieces and nephews, especially cute little ones when I am deep in the throes of teenage angst and middle school sass.
My nephew, just turned three. He gives me hugs! He loves my cows! We look at cow pictures together!
He came over awhile ago and about an hour after dinner, he looked at me quite seriously and said,
“Taylor. Thank you for cooking me dinner.”
Oh, be still my heart.
My sister in law told me that for days leading up to the dinner, he told his parents,
“When Taylor makes me dinner, I am going to say, ‘Thank you.'”
He is a breath of fresh air amidst the angst and sass.
Speaking of sass-
The other day, the boys were driving me nuts and being loud and obnoxious, as per their usual custom. They were feeding themselves.
This, my friends, is never good.
The fridge gets left wide open. Milk gets left on the counter. Crumbs are everywhere.
Yes, I run a tight ship here. Why do you ask?
Anyways, as I went to close the fridge for the 17th time, I noticed HD had knocked something over in the fridge, neglected to pick it up, and there were drips everywhere.
I asked him to clean it up.
He sighed obnoxiously, did something half-heartedly, and then deemed it clean.
I checked his work.
False.
Me: Dude. No. Look at all these drips! CLEAN IT UP!
HD: Respect the drip, Karen.
Um. Excuse me? Did my son just call me “Karen?”
Both boys are laughing heartily and I am about to lose it because I did not raise these two to call me “Karen” and laugh at me.
Apparently, it is from a “vine.”
And, no. I don’t know what a “vine” is. I am old with shaky hands. But I DON’T wear Mom jeans.
A bit later I told him to put away his clean laundry.
He said, “Chillax, Karen.”
Please pray for Handsome Dude. He might not live to see his 13th birthday.
Good News. I had my formal teaching observation this week. I did not wear jeans! I am not sure how it went, but I have not been notified of my impending termination, so let us call it a win!
Happy Tuesday!
Love,
Karen.