The Lumberjack's Wife

Weeds.

I loathe them.  If you were reading my blog last year, you might recall that I spent most of my summer weeding my stupid, stupid, stupid, dumb garden.  I am bound and determined to not have a repeat of last summer.

There is more to life than weeding!  I am sure of it!

The astute reader might recall that we foolishly housed pigs in about 3/4ths of our garden.  As a result of this decision, 3/4ths of our garden is hazardous to plant in this season and will sit barren all summer long.

Epic fail.

The good news is this:  I only have to deal with weeding 1/4th of the garden!  The size of the entire garden is about 40ft by 100ft.

Since we had to wait until all the little piggies had turned into bacon, I didn’t get into the garden until last week.

Believe it or not, there are strawberry, blueberry, raspberry, and blackberry bushes somewhere in that jungle.

Here is a picture of the unusable section of the garden.

It is a dry, barren, pig poop-filled wasteland.

Please take note of the bike that is ditched on the ground.  My boys are the cutest things ever.  Naughty?  Yes.  But also cute.  They live all day on their bikes.  They check on Handsome Dude’s pet bunny, “Ellie.”  They get the mail.  They check for eggs.

They got stuff to do, man.

Anyways.  David is too busy to deal with the garden during this time, so the task of weeding the jungle fell on yours truly.

And can we all stop a minute and be impressed with me?  I mean, really.  Those were a lot of weeds.  And my helpers spent more time bickering with each other than actually helping.  But we finished it in two days and on the second day, I told the kids that if we finished by lunch time, we could hit the beach.  And we did!

Here is our weeded garden:

After we weeded, we laid down newspaper and straw.  I am hoping to put a stop to any more massive weeding sessions.  Ain’t nobody got time for that.

I would also like the people to know that I, yes, I, Taylor Maliblahblah operated a weed whacker and a mini-rototiller during this fun-filled weeding session.

I even pull-started both machines all by myself.

I’ll give you a moment to recover from your understandable shock.

***

David finished the wood shed this weekend.  Poor guy.  He has been working on that thing for a couple of months now.  He had to rip it all down and start over.

I have named it, “The Million Dollar Wood Shed.”  On account of how many man-hours he has into this thing.

I would not have ripped it down and started over.  That would have infuriated me!  I would have thrown a fit, moped, and either:

A)  Just lived with the one that wasn’t “square”

or

B)  Hired somebody else to do it.

But he did it.  And he did not throw a fit.  Nor did he mope.

***

And now I must show you the most exciting picture ever!  (Remember, I am old now and strange things excite me)

Look at my cute chicken coop!

IT HAS A HANGING BASKET!  As if life could not be any more exciting.  My mom and I made our own hanging baskets this year in an effort to save money.  I think they turned out nicely.  I made two for my Ruralville house and four for my rental.

Look at me with my big girl gardening pants on!

I am a little stressed as to how I am going to keep the rental baskets watered all summer long.  We rent the house out as a vacation rental during the summer so there will be times when I am only there once a week to water them.

This will probably kill the lovely hanging baskets.

I put a diaper in the baskets to help hold in the water.  Pinterest told me I should.

I put a water bottle with holes in the sides in the center of the basket to help with the watering.  Again.  Pinterest.

But will that be enough?

Only time will tell.

Alright!  I am off to town to work on the aforementioned rental.  We have been busy working on sprucing it up for summer.

Later, Gators.

I have not blogged in many moons and so much has happened!

We have a lot of ground to cover.  I hope you have your party pants on!

1)  We went to visit Sister Meagan who lives many hours away in the great city of Boise.

Remember Sister Meagan?

(She is the one who looks like she is about to murder David, who was taking the picture at the time.  And understandably so.  He was exasperating us.)

My mother joined us for the awesome 8 hour drive with four kids in a minivan.  She was excited, as you can imagine.

What was really exciting was the fact that mother and I wore striped shirts and were twinsies without even planning it!  When we checked into our hotel, Sweet Pea changed her shirt and, as luck would have it, she was all stripey, too!  So, in the spirit of togetherness, Sister Meagan changed into stripes.

Could we be any cooler?  I ask you?

Yes.  I am taller than my kin.  I am like Ginormica.

So, we were visiting Meagan at her abode and she brought out sidewalk chalk for the dudes to entertain themselves with.  And it was during this visit that I realized just how un-city-like my boys have become.

Meagan lives in a duplex.  Little Dude does not understand this and he just tried to walk in the other people’s front door.

Also.  They don’t understand streets and just keep coloring and tried to color in the street.  Sister Meagan used her quick-like thinking skills and came up with a motto for the boys to repeat during their visit:

“THERE WILL BE NO DYING IN BOISE!”

And, so, everywhere we went, Little Dude would randomly raise his fist in the air and shout:

“NO DYING IN BOISE!”

It is a good motto, you must admit.

Whilst in Boise, we visited the Capitol.

I am pretty sure the boys have no clue what a Capitol is.  I care not.  I figure they need to first master the “th” sound without spitting all over me.  Then we will move onto the wonderful world of government.

Here is a family photo of the six of us posing with our good friends, Lewis and Clark, and their friend whose name I cannot recall.

David.  Ever so happy.

A kind passerby took this group photo from inside the Capitol building.

And I am just now realizing that Meagan is not in the picture.

Meagan!  Where were you?  We lost you!

We were clearly quite concerned.

We also went to the zoo and it was extremely exciting for the children.

Sweet Pea convinced me to take this fun photo:

I make a good tortoise.

Handsome Dude feeding the goats:

Raise your hand if you think we will get a goat someday.

Little Dude checking out the penguins.

Sweet Pea.

With a photobomb courtesy of Meagan.

Daisy Mae and Sister Meagan.  Plus two giraffes.

And that concludes my recap of the Boise trip.  And no one died.

2)  Handsome Dude graduated from Kindergarten.

The astute reader might recall that I was a bit worried about the education of the boy.  I am happy to report that he has come a long way from the beginning of the year!

He can read!

He can write!

He can tell time, add simple numbers, determine place value, and copy sentences.  He even remembers to include a period at the end of a sentence.

My son!  Properly punctuating sentences!  Holla!

Sadly, he still cannot properly aim into a toilet seat.  Perhaps that will be a first grade skill.

3)  The girls had a piano recital

Sweet Pea is in pink, Daisy Mae in the dress.

4)  We finished school last Friday.  On Friday, I was just trying to get through the day.  I started Sweet Pea’s grammar lesson.

Like I have done.  Every day.  All the livelong year.

Me:  Let’s say the definition of an adverb together.

Sweet Pea:  An adverb is a-

Me (slamming book shut):  I cannot do this anymore.  We are done.

Sweet Pea:  Seriously?

Me:  Yup!

And, so.  Our last day of school ended at 10:08 am.  And I wash my hands of adverbs.  Until September, of course.

5)  Last week I was doing laundry and I noticed my boys marching, very solemnly, down the driveway.  They were carrying a shovel.

After I folded the laundry, I went outside to feed the chickens and rabbits.  Because, have you heard?!

I am a farm person.  Not by choice, but by marriage.

Handsome Dude rode up to me on his bike, as he is wont to do.

Me:  Hey, what were you boys doing with that shovel?

HD:  Oh, we found a dead baby rabbit.

Me:  You did?

HD:  Yup.  A white one.  We buried it.

And then off he rode.

I didn’t know whether to cry, be proud, or sanitize him.

Happy Tuesday!

Over the past few days, we have had a wild turkey hen come and hang out with the rabbits.

Yes!  We also raise rabbits.  Be impressed.

Anyways.  I am not sure why this turkey keeps coming.  She just hangs out and eats their food.  Part of the rabbits’ yard shares a fence with the chickens.  When the turkey is near the chicken pen, the rooster goes nuts.  Methinks he wants to meet her.

Roosters.  Very interested in the females.

Handsome Dude went to get eggs and was uber thrilled to find the world’s largest egg in the coop.

The kids were thinking maybe our turkey hen friend laid this humdinger.  But I don’t think a wild turkey would fly over a 6ft high fence, crawl through a small opening into a chicken coop, sit on a nest box next to the other hens, lay an egg, and leave.

But what do I know?

Not much.

I bought myself a hydrangea plant.  All my life I have wanted to grow beautiful hydrangeas.  I think I tried about three hydrangea plants when we lived in town.  And they all died.

Tragic.

I saw a beautiful hydrangea at Costco and could not resist.  And I bought it . . . so I could murder it, most likely.  Because that’s what I do best with hydrangeas.

I planted it yesterday right by the garden fence.  The astute reader might recall that the garden is where the pigs currently reside.  Daisy Mae came up to me whilst I was planting.

Daisy Mae:  Mom, aren’t you worried the pigs will eat the flowers of your new plant?

Me:  Nope.  The pigs will be dead in about four hours anyways.

Daisy Mae:  Oh.  Cool!

And off she went.  My kids are so farm-ish now.

But, guess what!  David butchered the pigs yesterday and, for those of you keeping up with such things, that means we have NO MORE PIGS!

Can I get an “Amen?”

I will bet you many dollars that we will have pigs again in the future.  Apparently David has been hearing from “the people” who have bought our pigs and “the people” are raving about the delicious-ness of David and Taylor’s homegrown swine.  “The people” are telling David they would be interested in buying more pork from his next year.

I think “the people” need to keep their mouths shut.

Anyways, as I mentioned, David butchered the last two pigs yesterday and he loaded up the pig bodies into the back of the truck.

Fear not!  They were not visible to passersby!  Tarps hide wonders.

So, we load the pigs and a bunch of our garbage.  Because, didn’t you know?  We haul our garbage to the dump.  As classy people do.

So, off we go down the road.  David and Taylor.  Four kids.  Trash.  And pigs.

David to Daisy Mae:  Can you keep an eye out the back and let me know if anything looks like it might be falling out?

(He was referring to the garbage.  I did not realize this. )

Me:  David!  We can have pigs flying out of the truck!  That is not safe!

David:  The pigs aren’t going anywhere.  They weigh too much.

Handsome Dude, who obviously is not hearing things correctly:  Cake?!  Who gets cake?  I want cake!

Daisy Mae (exasperated):  Not CAKE!  PIGS!  Pigs are in the truck!  There is NO cake!

Handsome Dude is upset because he does not get cake.  And understandably so.

Daisy Mae:  Dad, I think something is about to fall out!

David:  What?

Daisy Mae:  Oh, never mind.  It was just a milk jug.  It rolled across the pigs, but it is good now.

I think the only thing missing from our trip to the dump was a banjo playing in the background.

Don’t fear!  Nothing flew out of the back of the truck and the dump is only about 5-10 minutes from our house.  So, it’s all good.

*sigh*

I promise I used to be normal.

I had a lovely Mother’s Day this year.  The girls made me nice cards and the boys filled out little “questionnaires” about me for co op.  I wanted to share what the boys had to say.  (Their answers are in bold)

Handsome Dude:

My mom is 12 years old.

My mom weights 14 pounds. (Score!)

My mom’s favorite color is blue and orange. (Nope!)

My mom always says, “Be Quiet!” (Yup!)

My mom cooks the best chili.(It is Nalley, lest any of you are impressed.)

My mom’s job is to clear the dishes. (Surely I have a bigger purpose than this? 😉 )

My mom laughs when we do something funny.

If my mom had time, she would love to play sports with me.

My mom and I like to pet our cat.

My mom really loves cats.

I LOVE my mom because she feeds me. ( I try to feed him.  He is never satisfied.)

Little Dude:

My mom is 31 years old.  (Nailed it!)

My mom weighs 1 1/2 pounds. (hmmm  . . . )

My mom’s favorite color is  pink and purple. (Little Dude thinks all females love these colors only)

My mom’s favorite food is rice. (Not at all.  But I cook it often.  For it is cheap.)

My mom always says “Brush your teeth and go to bed!” (Bed time. ‘Tis glorious.)

My mom cooks the best cookies, brownies, and cakes.

My mom’s job is to cook food and fold laundry. (Pretty much.)

My mom laughs when I talk weird.

If my mom had time, she would love to go to the store for food. (Seriously.  The boys are always hungry.)

My mom and I like to read books and cook dinner. (This is true.  Little Dude loves to read books with me and always asks to help me cook dinner.)

My mom really loves me! (He’s right.)

I LOVE my mom because she reads books to me.

Aren’t my boys presh?

And “presh” is how cool people, such as myself, abbreviate “precious.”  FYI.

***

My Dad got me foil wrappers for Mother’s Day.

He finds himself to be quite the humorous fella.

***

I have some sad, sad, sad news.  Back in February, you might remember that our cat, Peter, went missing.

Well, we searched and searched and could not find him.

There is a room in our shop that we call the “school room.”  We called it thus because when I first started homeschooling, we did it there.   This lasted for maybe one month.  But it has always been called the school room since.

Not to be confused with the current school room that is inside our house.

Our poor children.  They never know which room I am talking about.

Moving on!

Last week during dinner David asked if I smelled something bad lately in the school room.  I agreed.  He said, and I quote,

“It is bad.  I think something is dead in there.”

And at first I had no idea what could be dead, but then I realized it was most likely Peter.  The cats spend a lot of time in the school room.  We keep their food and water there, as well as the litter box.  They go in and out of there often.

So, on Mother’s Day, we decided we had better figure out the smell.  And David found Peter in there.  I have no idea what happened.  He was not stuck or trapped, he was just under a table, but there were things surrounding it so we could not see him.  Every day after he went missing, we would call for him and he did not meow or anything.  So, he must have been sick or hurt.  I guess.

Handsome Dude and I were pretty bummed about it.  As you might notice from Handsome Dude’s Mother’s Day Questionnaire above, the boy loves the cats.

So, we dug a hole and he was buried.  I refused to look at him because . . . gross.  But we got a peony plant yesterday and planted it above the spot where we buried him.

So.  That’s what happened to Peter.  So sad.

David always brings me a cup of coffee in the morning before he leaves for work.

Isn’t he the nicest?

Anyways.  I subtly hinted one day that I would like him to do this by whining explaining that it is just so hard to get up and get a cup of coffee in the morning.  I want to wake up early and get things done, but the thought of actually walking to the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee is more than my little soul can bear at such an hour.

Dramatic?  Not at all.

So, this morning around 5:45am,  he brought my coffee and off he went to work.  Before taking a sip, I decided to visit the bathroom.  And as a I looked out the window I saw the most horrendous site.

A pig was loose.

David was gone.  It was before 6am.  I have not had coffee.  I am in my jammies.

And a pig was loose.

So, I went outside-looking fantastic I might add.  Old jammie shorts and one of David’s old sweatshirts that has some sort of large game displayed on the front.  I am also donning my large muck boots because that is what they are for.

And I chased that pig.  He was naughty and ran all over the place.

I don’t like him.

I finally got him in after about 30 minutes and got to drink my coffee.  Chasing after pigs before 6am with no coffee is no good.  I do not recommend it.

***

I just have to share this cute little mistake Handsome Dude made in his lessons yesterday.

That says “nuts,” not “huts.”  He got a little carried away with his “n.”  I know it was “nuts” because “nuts” was in his little word bank.

Word bank!  My boy!  He is so learned!

Anyways.  I thought it was hilarious and he did not understand what was so funny.  And I am certainly not arming my boys with the information that there is a different meaning for “nuts,” other than peanuts and the like.  This is knowledge they need not know.  Because, have you met my boys?  Mmm-hmmm.

Happy Weekend!

For those of you who have been following along during our “pig journey,” I must update you that we now only have two pigs left.  We had seven, butchered three, bought three more, and have since butchered 4.  Actually, we don’t technically “butcher.”  We just perform the “kill.”  FYI.

Taylor’s blog.  Full of pleasantness and glad tidings.  Welcome!

Anyways.  As of Tuesday, we had three left.  One of the pigs was all fat and ready to go, so we declared Tuesday to be “the day.”  The people who are purchasing this certain pig want it to go to a butcher who requires the pigs be delivered live.  The other butchers have all wanted them dead, so this was our first experience taking a live pig to the butcher.

It was a family affair.  Contrary to popular belief, pigs are not as tame and friendly as one might imagine.

So.  David is in the pig pen.  AKA garden.  He has a pole of some sort and his job is to try and herd the pig out of the pen and into the temporary pen.  Handsome Dude is “helping” David. The girls are standing by holding the gates to ensure the pig follows the path to the temporary pen.  Little Dude, looking ever so stylish with his missing circle of hair, is being naughty and climbing on a gate.

Taylor is supposed to be helping her husband.  She is, instead, taking pictures.

You’re welcome.

I snapped this one last photo and then joined my beloved.  For those of you dying to know, yes.  I do have the same muck boots as my husband in the above photo.  They are a must for all activities involving swine.  I also grabbed a pole and we all worked as a team to get the pig to the temporary pen.

This took awhile.  Pigs are not concerned with making life easy for us.

Now it is time for the tricky part.  We do not have a horse trailer or any sort of animal-friendly trailer.

We do, however, have a utility trailer, extra sheets of plywood, a bucket, and one determined David with a “can-do” spirit.

David put a bucket over the pig’s head.  I forgot to ask him why.  So sorry.  But I would guess it would be to calm it down and make it go with David.

But really.  What do I know?

David then took the pigs tail and head and tried to force it up the inclined ramp, while we were holding sheets of plywood up as sort of “gates” or “sides.”

It was pretty tricky trying to hold up the plywood and take a picture, so this was the best I could do.

The astute reader might notice that the tail of the pig is at the wrong end at this point.  Obviously things were not going well at this particular moment in time.  However, David was able to get that 300 pound hog into the trailer.

Road trip!

So, we all loaded up and drove to town.  I felt pretty awesome when I looked at my capris, of which I had worn for the pig wrasslin ordeal, and noticed a brown mixture splattered all over them.

Was it mud?  Was it poop?

We may never know.

***

Sweet Pea was helping Little Dude with his Awana lesson yesterday.  She had to help him fill in some activities he would like to do over the summer.

His responses?

Ride bikes.

Feed the “trickens.”

Dig dirt.

Jump on the tramp-er-ine.

Go to the beach.

Water the “trickens.”

Catch rabbits.

Take a bath.

He’s going to be a busy, albeit clean, kid.

***

David did a little weekend shopping last Sunday.

Handsome Dude heard me talking to David on the phone about it.  When I hung up, he attacked me with excitement:

“When’s Dad bringing home the Black Cat, Mom? WHEN!?”

I think a “black cat” would have been a bit cheaper.

Happy Thursday!

I am having a day.

A “DAY,” I tell you.

Let us begin.  Because I am assuming you want to hear all about it.  Yes?

Yes.

Someone down the road has a dog.  This dog gets loose often and terrorizes my chickens, rabbits, and kitty cat.

He scares our cute kitty, Mr. Poppers, and makes him get stuck in the tree.  Of course, Mr. Poppers is too ignorant to climb down.  This causes my children to weep and wail for all the injustice in the world and “why can’t mom get the kitty down?”

The dog also eats our chickens and tries to eat the girls’ baby bunnies.

Me and this dog are going to get into a fight.

This dog has been coming around since November.  Now, I am not one to judge someone for their animals getting out.

I mean, I myself have been known to have my swine running down the road.

I shan’t not judge.

However.  This has been going on for months now and it is getting a tad old.

So, today we were trying to do our school work when Little Dude looked out the window and proclaimed,

“That naughty dog is here and he is eating a chicken!”

Well.  He was here and he was eating a chicken.  So we stop school and go outside to catch him.  This takes about 45 minutes and we get him all tied up to the mailbox.  We leave a chain at our mailbox and these people come and get their dog.  This is the arrangement we have, even though we have not spoken.  And it happens so often, I just leave the chain there.

The dog got loose three times after that.  And all three times, I would have to stop school and tie him up.

Three hours later, the owner comes.  The dog is not at the mailbox because he is too busy trying to eat another chicken.  She almost drives away but I wave her down and she drives up.

She does not seem to be bothered by this at sitch at all.  And she is sure that I will understand that she, herself, who is apparently a fellow homeschooler, was busy doing school with her children and forgot all about the dog.

She also said that next time I should just fire a gun in the air because guns scare the dog.

Because that sounds like something I have time for.

“Alright, kids.  Let’s pause this science lesson whilst mother goes outside to fire a weapon.”

Anyways.  I am annoyed and don’t know what to do.  Meanwhile, David is calling me often because we are trying to coordinate the picking up of our broken down minivan, dropping off of a rototiller to his sister, and taking a pig to the butcher-all tonight.

We start school again around 2 and I am bound and determined to get through my lessons when I glance at Little Dude.

Little Dude has decided to cut his hair.  As little boys are wont to do.

And I quit.  I am quitting today.  The end.

I chose to blog instead of fix his hair.  We are from the Ruralville.  People won’t bat an eye at the boy’s new look.

What.  A.  Day.

Fire a gun in the air.  Ha!

Happy Tuesday!

My head is pounding.  I think I am getting a sinus infection.

And here are tonight’s top stories.

1)  By Friday, all of my college work shall be submitted.  This is glorious news because who has time to do college?

Not me!

2)  Fun Fact.  Remember when I first started these online classes and I made fun of how O-L-D I am now and how H-A-R-D it is for me to figure out the meshing of the classes and Interwebs?  Sure you do.

Anyways.  I was going over my grades last week and I completely missed an essay worth many points.  Like just missed it.  Did not even know it existed.  Did not know what is was on.  Nor when it should have been due.  Clueless.

I sent a message to the instructor, certain she would tell me that something along the lines of “tough luck.”

She did not even respond to me.

About a week later, I am having trouble in this same class submitting a paper.  The paper is for bonus points, of which I desperately need.  Seeing as how there are Essays due that I don’t even know about.

And have I mentioned my obsession with getting A’s?

This is all getting my panties in a bunch.  A bunch!

So.  I email the instructor once again, hoping this time she will talk to me.

You see, dear readers, I have two classes.  The first class I am doing well in and communicate on a regular basis with the instructor.  If she messages me, I get a cute, little envelope on my Blackboard homepage.  So this is what I assumed would happen when the other instructor replied.

I don’t know how it happened, but it must have been Divine Intervention because apparently, there was this whole other email account I didn’t even know about.  And the OTHER instructor has been chatting with me via this mystery account since January and I have never seen it.

She had responded to my email last week.  Her response was:

“Hi, Taylor!  Have you read the syllabus?  Have you been following along with the course outline telling you when projects are due?  Could you please find my policy regarding late work on the syllabus and reply back to me stating what my policy is?  Thanks!”

Boy, did I feel sheepish.

*Head Hanging in Shame*

So, I repeat back to her what her late policy is, feeling like an idiot.  And apparently she is nice and lets people turn in work up to one week late.  But I am like, oh SIX weeks late.  But I apologized and she told me I could still turn it in.

Yay for nice people!  It makes my Grade-A loving heart so happy!

I am too old for school.  I will admit it.

3)  Point #2 went a bit long.  My apologies.  You probably just skimmed it, didn’t you?  DIDN’T YOU?

4)  My head is in a bit of a fog.  We are down to our last roll of toilet paper and there is like 4 slices of bread left in the house.  We are out of cereal, all canned goods, and cheese.  We have like, hmmm, 1 cup of milk.

5)  I do, however, have Handsome Dude’s tooth on my nightstand.  So, there you go.

6)  I had to pull out his tooth the other day.  He was upset because, and I quote,

“The Woose Toof  is making me not breave.”

And since I am all for breathing, I yanked it out.

7)  In other news, a coyote ran across our property while I was pouring my morning cup of coffee.

Doesn’t this sound like bad news?  I thought so.

Well, in all honesty, I have no idea if it was a coyote or a wolf.  I hope it was a coyote because I think wolves mean business.  But I really don’t know how to tell the difference.

I texted David, certain this was our ticket out of here.  I mean we can’t have wolves/coyotes running around!  That’s crazy.

We need to move post haste.

So, I texted him asking if we should be concerned.  He said no.

GoshDarnIt.

8)  I remembered that once upon a time, my neighbor had texted me to warn of coyotes, so I decided to return the favor and text him a similar warning.

Neighborhood Watch:  Animal Style.  It is what us country folk do.

He, like David, seemed unimpressed.  Then I remembered that he texted me about COUGARS, not coyotes.

In my defense, they are both creepy animals that start with a “C.”

9)  David has to tear down the entire wood shed and rebuild it because he apparently made a mistake.  Isn’t that the pits?  I say we just slap a roof on the crooked thing and call it good.  Which is why I don’t make a living in the field of home construction.

10)  We have had a rabbit explosion.  There are baby bunnies everywhere.  We have a whole passel of them living under the chicken coop.

And can we not all agree that “passel” is a fun word?

The bunnies and the chickens peacefully coexist.  No one tries to murder anyone, so I approve.  Yet, if the cat gets in the chicken coop, the hens get all crazy-like and try to eat him.

11)  I just saw our kitty, Mr. Poppers, trying to hunt a loose baby bunny-because have you heard?

Bunnies are everywhere!

This made me wonder if any of my darling children are remembering to feed Mr. Poppers?

I’ve been sick.  Things are slipping around here.  WE HAVE NO FOOD!  And the toilets need a scrubbing something fierce.

12)  Do you save your kids’ teeth after they fall out?  My mother in law did.  She handed me all of David’s baby teeth in a sandwich baggie years ago.  I think sometimes I save my kids’ teeth and sometimes I forget.  I might have a couple here and there scattered throughout the house. When I die, my children will have a grand time finding random bags of teeth, never knowing from whence they came.  It will be a fine legacy to leave them.

So, what do you do with your kids’ teeth? I think they belong in the trash, to be honest.

Thoughts?

Alright.  Goodbye.