The Lumberjack's Wife

The other day, I was doing school with the girls and I heard Little Dude calling for the dog downstairs.

“Tank!  Tank!  Here boy!”

He continued to call, and I continued to teach.  A little while later, he came upstairs.

He was no longer wearing pants.

Little Dude:  Tank!  Tank!

Me:  Dude.  Where are your pants?

Little Dude:  Moooom!  I need Tank!

Me:  Where are your pants?

Little Dude:  But, Mooooooom!  I NEED Tank!

Me:  You were wearing pants a minute ago.  Where are they now?

Little Dude, exasperated:  Mom.  I had to poop, ok?  Now where is Tank?

Me:  Why did you take your pants off?

Little Dude:  Because!  Now where’s Tank?

Me:  Did you wash your hands?

Little Dude (sighing):  No!

Me:  Go wash your hands and put your pants on.

Little Dude:  Mom!  I am not done pooping yet!

Me:  Then why are you walking around??!!  Go finish up!

Little Dude:  But I NEED Tank!

Me:  You do not need Tank.  Go.

Little Dude (crying and heading back downstairs):  But I NEED to show him something, Mom!  I need to!

This, my friends, is why I am helplessly addicted to coffee.

***

The children wanted to pick out presents for our pets for Christmas.  True, that could get a bit our of hand at our house, seeing as how our animal count is near the triple digits.  However, we just consider Tank the Dog, Peter the Cat, and Mr. Poppers the Cat our pets.

The pigs, chickens, and rabbits do not have a special place in our hearts.  Sadly.

Handsome Dude was so excited about the presents. He wanted to wrap them quickly before any of the animals saw them.  Because, clearly, animals are aware of Christmas surprises.

He put all three of the gifts in a gift bag himself.

He proudly wrote:  “CAT CAT DOG” on the present, because those are words he can spell.

Yes! MY boy!  A speller!

Who knew?!

Is that not precious?  Of course, the girls had a fit when they saw he had used an American Girl store bag.

But what is life without drama?

Happy Saturday!

This week has been so sad.  I cannot believe what happened in Connecticut last Friday.  I think about all those poor families constantly.  I cannot imagine the pain they are going through.  I am praying.

***

Last Monday, we had horrible wind.  Our house lost power around 8am.  The power came off and on and went off for good around 11:30am.  Thankfully, we have wood heat, so we were not cold.  We do not have a land line, so my cell phone was the only way I could make calls.  My phone’s battery was quickly dying, so I decided to go outside, start the minivan, and charge my phone for awhile.

And for reasons yet to be determined, the van doors were all locked.  With the keys AND the spare key sitting neatly inside.

Drat.

I was holding up well until about 2:30pm.  I learned, dear friends, that I am strongly addicted to caffeine.  You can imagine my woe when I realized that coffee will not be making its way into my cup.  Seeing as how I lacked power.

Oh, sure.  There is probably some way that pioneer women made coffee on wood stoves back in the days of yore.

I am not that woman.

Around 3:30, I realized it was going to get dark and I was going to need to come up with a plan.  The kids and I found all the candles and flashlights and got all set up for a night of darkness.

My phone kept shutting down due to low battery, so I decided to make one last call to my beloved.

Yes, my beloved.  Remember him?  The guy who wanted to move out to the middle of nowhere?  The guy whose dream house I am living in?

Yes, him.  He who was in the big city enjoying the modern convenience of power.

Me (being dramatic, because, hello, I have had no coffee.  Or power.):  Hello?  My phone is dying.  Still no power.  Keys locked in minivan.  WHEN ARE YOU COMING HOME?

David:  I don’t know.  A couple of hours.  Just charge the phone in the truck.

Well.  I hadn’t thought of that.  Clearly I am not the brains of this operation.

Me:  Ok.  Well we have had no power all day.  We can only eat peanut butter and jelly for dinner.  Just letting you know.

David:  Do you want me to pick up something?

Me:  Not necessarily.

David:  We could heat up soup on the wood stove.

Darn him and his pioneering ways.

Me (shouting,because my phone battery is beeping. And shouting will help.):  I NEED TO HANG UP AND PUT THE PHONE ON THE CHARGER.  JUST COME HOME SOON.  AND PLEASE BRING COFFEE.

It is a good thing I am not a bit dramatic.  David appreciates that quality about me.

I hang up and go outside to charge the phone.  As I am returning, I see the pig gate is open. Because that is precisely what is missing from my day.

Loose pigs.

Thankfully, the pigs had yet to notice the good fortune of having the wind blow open their gate and all seven were safe and accounted for.

Yes.  We have seven pigs.  Don’t you?

As I was locking up the gate, Handsome Dude opens the front door and shouts:

“Mom!  Come quick!  Little Dude is hurt WILLY bad!”

So, I rush in and Little Dude is being comforted by his sisters.

Daisy Mae:  Mom.  He climbed onto the counter and touched the candle wax.  I told him not to, but he did and now his finger hurts because he touched the hot wax.

I would like the records to show that I had already had the candle safety talk with the children mere moments ago.

The sun went down and the kids and I gathered in the living room to await the arrival of the patriarch.  We told stories and sang Christmas songs.  And the kids most certainly did not argue over which song we should sing when.

Nope.  Not my kids.

David came home around 5:30 bearing gifts of a latte and Christmas cookies from someone from this work.

Glory!

The kids and I huddled around the cookies while David pulled our camp trailer up to our house.  We have a generator in our trailer and apparently, David, the fine electrician that he is, was able to hook it up so we could have a bit of power in the house.

Don’t ask me how.

It worked and we were able to have a few lights on and the TV.  David then got to work on trying to get into the locked minivan.

He makes a better electrician than a locksmith.

The power came back on later that evening and a nice, traveling glass repairman just came out here and replaced with window for many, MANY dollars.

Happy Wednesday!

Little Dude teared up during the blessing last night and asked God if we could please decorate for Christmas soon.

Epic Parenting Yuletide Fail.

We are decorating tomorrow.  Poor kids.  Their parents are lame.

Today is the last day of school before Christmas break!  Be excited.  Earlier this week, we went on a field trip to see the eagles.  Even thought I grew up in this area, I had no idea that there is a specific species of salmon that comes to the lake here, spawns, and dies.  Eagles come from who-knows-where to eat the dead salmon.  David had to tell me all about it so I would not look like THAT homeschooling mom who knows nothing at the informative eagle field trip.

Its amazing I graduated from high school.  And college.  And with honors.

?

This is the one eagle we spotted.

At least I think it is an eagle.  There were many seagulls flying around, too.  Just to trick me, I am sure.

After we spotted the eagles and seagulls, we went to a little presentation from Fish and Game.

For some reason, Mrs. Fish and Game looked with favor upon Handsome Dude and he was chosen to

A)  Hold up a sign

And

B)  Compare himself with the size of an eagle.

As a result of Handsome Dude’s good fortune, Little Dude plunked himself down in the chair, arms crossed, and eyes full of fury, announcing to the world that life is:

“NO FAIR!”

His attitude is exemplary.

***

The girls had their Christmas piano recital last weekend.

Sweet Pea

Daisy Mae

Sweet Pea is starting to get like me.  When I was a young lass, I would get extremely nervous during piano recitals.  My hands would shake so hard I could barely play.

My mother had to drug me.  True story.

***

In my last post, I showed you some bad Christmas photos, yet, I forgot to show you the ones that worked.

It happens.

I do not love either of these pictures, but I cropped them a bit and made them work for our card.

That David.  If he smiles any bigger, his face might explode.

Happy Friday!

Want to know what is sad?

We do not yet have a Christmas tree.  I KNOW!  What are we not thinking?  Our poor children keep asking us when we can get one.  And we just don’t know.

Do y’all remember last year’s fiasco?

Yeah.

Let’s recap last year, shall we?

We had decided to try and find a tree on our own land.  The kids, and this might shock you, were naughty.  We found a tree.  We put it in our living room.

The tree was a bit large.  And it fell over every day.

It was magical.

So, this year, we decided to not get a tree from our property and we just have not had time to drive to town and buy one.  Because we are lame.

I wonder if I can talk David into strapping one on the top of his workvan and bringing one home tonight?  That would be festive of him.

We took our annual family Christmas card photo.  A horrific tradition if there ever was one.

Exhibit A:  Self-timer fail.

Exhibit B: Naughty boys fail.

Check out Handsome Dude.  He is putting out the vibe.  Or something like that.

And, yes.  I strategically place my children in front of me for pictures.

Stand down, readers!  I am not a liar.  I do not have a Christmas tree.  This is my parents’ house.

Exhibit C:  Pinterest photo idea fail

I suppose we could use this photo as a subtle hint to our friends and loved ones to please send us more pants for the boy.

Help!  He is growing by the minute!  We cannot keep him clothed!  I repeat, we cannot keep him clothed!

Seriously, though.  The kid is a giant.

Remember Peter the cat?

This is he from the days of yore.

Methinks that Peter has been jumping directly into the bag of cat food and helping himself to a 24 hour buffet.

He is looking not as svelte as he once did.

What say you?

Oh, we must do a COW.  Because if I don’t do one at least once every six months, y’all are going to think this whole “Comment of the Week” thing does not exist.  And that would be sad.

This week’s COW goes to JoAnn.

I think maybe Taylor Swift needs to do some serious soul searching. I mean, WHY does she have all this DRAMA? I don’t have any drama. Maybe she should dye her hair, get married, have three kids in rapid succession and move to the suburbs? Then she can write songs that reflect REAL LIFE (in my case) like, “I woke up on Saturday and the cat had pooped in the sink”

I’d buy that CD

And what, pray tell, is with the cats and the poop?  Sure, they lure you in with promises of pooping in the litter and not making messes anywhere else.

But what they forget to mention is that they will get fat:

and the litter box soon can no longer accommodate their bums and they miss and make the poopoo all over the floor.  Which is disgusting.

Moving on.

I was chatting with some other ladies the other day and I was discussing marriage.  You see, in my opinion, romance changes over time and the things you once thought were romantic, you know, like flowers and a dinner date are completely forgotten about. Romance takes on a whole new meaning.

Before I go on, we must first insert a little story about bunkbeds.  I know.  I am losing you.  But hang on!  The point is coming.

I have wanted bunkbeds for the boys’ room ever since we moved to Ruralville.  We finally were able to purchase some around the beginning of September.  David got busy and was not able to actually go and pick them up.  For like forever.

I asked him if perhaps the $60 delivery fee sounded appealing.  He said no.  I got over my sadness and moved on.

Around the end of October, he picked them and they sat in our basement.  (Hello, hunting season!)  I painted the room (goodbye, peach walls!) and got things all ready for him to set them up.  Meanwhile, the boys have been sleeping on mattresses in the piano room.

And more annoying, this could not be.

Finally, David goes to set up the bunk beds.  And, as luck would have it, they forgot to include screws.  We called and it took about 2 weeks, but they sent us some hardware.

Great!  Fantastic!

However.  They did not send us enough of the hardware.  He was only able to get about halfway through the set up process.

So.  I am upstairs cooking something pork-ish for dinner.  I am not used to cooking pork and my main goal is to not dry it out.  Because, apparently, it is my mission to dry out all meat whilst cooking it.  It is my lot in life, my burden to bear.

He calls me down to ask me to assist with the epic bunkbed setup disaster.  We are trying to get things all sorted out and I look and notice that one of the posts of the bed is damaged pretty bad.  I ran my hand along it.

David:  Yeah, I know.

Me:  What?

David:  The bed is ruined.

Me: How di-

David:  I did it.

And the look he gave me was a look like:

It happened.  Move on.

So, I said no more.

Meanwhile, while I was downstairs not saying anything about the slightly ruined bed and helping figure things out, my epic pork dinner was being over-cooked.

GoshDarnIt.

So, we are eating dinner.

Me:  The meat is overcooked.

David:  I think it is fine.

And then he took seconds.

SECONDS!

This man does not eat seconds, people.  It was all very exciting.

So, there you have it.

After 12 years of marriage, romance has turned into me not making a fuss over a ruined piece of furniture and him pretending like the meat was full of all sorts of tasty-goodness.  And that is better than flowers.

***

The kids and I think we are hilarious.

And we are.

We are wondering how long it will take David to notice.

Sister Meagan and I are currently texting each other Taylor Swift song lines.  As if we cannot be any cooler.

Remember Sister Meagan?

It goes something like this:

Me: So, he calls me up, and he’s like, “I still love you.”

Meagan:  This is exhausting.

Me:  We are never getting back together again. Like ever.

(Name that song)

*Pause for more serious communication regarding crock pots and laundry*

Resume Taylor Swift awesomeness.

Me:  You’re the reason for the teardrops on my guitar.

(Name that song)

Meagan:  I know.  I’m sorry its come to this.

(Name that song.  I did not know it.)

Me:  All those other girls, yeah, they’re beautiful, but did they write a song for you?

(Name it.)

Meagan:  I go back to December all the time.

(Name it.)

Me:  You don’t have to call anymore.  I won’t pick up the phone.

(Name it.)

Meagan:  That Taylor Swift cannot catch a dating break.

Me:  Don’t you think I was too young to be messed with?  The girl in the dress cried the WHOLE.  WAY.  HOME.

(Name it.  Meagan did not know it)

Yes.  We are thirteen year old girls.  Be humored.  We are, in fact, hilarious.  And never in ONE MILLION years would I have guessed that Sister Meagan was of the Taylor Swift persuasion.

Mind blown.

David is out hunting on our lands and we just heard a gunshot.  All the children were acting like they won a trip to The Disneyland.  They need help.

More disappointed they could not be when we ascertained it was not David.  Probably a neighbor.

Gunshots!  I know!  It’s like I live in a dangerous neighborhood.

But I don’t.

I don’t even live in “a” neighborhood.

Yesterday, Lisa, Amy, and I got together and did a few little Christmas Pinteresty things with the children.

We made applesauce ornaments.

You can find the directions here.

They smell really good and are cute little things.

The kids also did a painting craft.  Lisa is certainly a brave gal to have six children painting at her lovely dining room table.

Either that, or she is not so smart.

Alright.  I need to make some dinner.  I think I am going to make this Chicken Pot Pie Soup from Skinnytaste.  Has anyone tried it before?

But I, of course, will be leaving out the mushrooms.  Mushrooms give me the willies.

Pop Quiz!

How do I make the kitten stop jumping on the table?

Please advise.

PS-  I promise I am not Taylor Swift’s biggest fan.  I have two young girls.

Honest.

I have two daughters.  This we know to be truth.

And their personalities have gotten so different lately.

Today in school, they each had a review lesson in grammar.  They use the same grammar curriculum, however, they are at different grade levels.  They just happened to both fall on a review day today.

So, without further ado, here is a sampling of how different my girls are.

Please.  Pretend to be interested.

Reviewing common and proper nouns with Daisy Mae (age 8, 3rd grade).

Me:  Ok, so I am going to read you some nouns.  If you think it is a proper noun, stand up.  If you think it is a common noun, stay seated.  Got it?

Daisy Mae (grinning and squirming with delight):  Yes!  Got it!

Me:  city

(She stays seated)

(Homeschooling for the win!)

Me:  Abraham Lincoln

Daisy Mae stands up and does some sort of a jumping jack move with a twirl that ends with jazz hands.

DM:  Proper!

***

Reviewing common and proper nouns with Sweet Pea (age 9, 4th grade)

Me:  Ok, we are reviewing common and proper nou-

Sweet Pea:  Yeah, I know.

Me:  You remember what common and proper nouns are?

Sweet Pea:  Yeah, mom.  I know.

Me:  Fantastic.  Let’s review.  If I say a proper noun, you need to stand up and  if –

Sweet Pea:  Seriously, mom?

Me:  What?

Sweet Pea (dramatic sigh):  I have to . . . stand up?

Me:  Fine.  How about if you just tell me if you think the noun is proper or common after I read it.

Sweet Pea:  Fine.

Me:  city

Sweet Pea:  Common

***

Reviewing action verbs with  Daisy Mae.

Daisy Mae is still on a common noun/proper noun high from before.  And understandably so.  Because what could be more exciting than the reviewing of the nouns?  I ask you?

Well.  Maybe a little “action verbs.”

Me:  I am going to say an action verb.

DM (grinning and about to fall out of her chair.  Life is that good for her right now):  OK!

Me:  If I say, “wiggle,”  you need to show me what wiggling looks like and say a sentence with the word “wiggle” in it.  For example, you could wiggle and then say, “I wiggle in my chair.”

DM (beaming):  OK!

Me:  Ok, the first verb is “sing.”

Daisy Mae, stands up and clears space around her.  This is a survival instinct, of course.  The girl is known to walk into street signs, walls, and the like.

She dramatically throws her head back and sings in the most obnoxious, operatic voice I have ever heard.  Hands flailing.  Legs twirling.  Knees bending.

Why?

I have no idea.

DM:  I sing beautifully.

Me:  Alright.  Next verb.

Reviewing action verbs with Sweet Pea.

Me:  Let’s review action verbs.

Sweet Pea:  Mom.  I know what action verbs are.

Me:  Ok.  But we are still going to review them.  I am going to say an action verb.  You need to complete that action . . .

Sweet Pea is looking at me almost as if I were an insane-crazy person.

Me:   . . . and you need to tell me a sentence using that action verb.

Sweet Pea (sighing):  Seriously?

Me:  Yup.  First word:  sing.

Sweet Pea (in the most monotone voice ever):  I sing.  La.

***

And there you have it, guys and gals.  My girls are complete opposites.

That is all.

I have an announcement to make.

I, yes, I, Taylor Maliblahblah, drank my first glass of wine on Thanksgiving.

I KNOW!  Look at me with my big-girl-pants on!

I said to myself,

“Teller.  You are 31 years old.  Let’s do this.”

I was also encouraged by my younger, obviously hipper, sister-in-law, Amy to partake in the wine.  She is such a bad influence on me.

I think you will all share a chuckle with me when I inform you that the wine was, in fact, huckleberry wine.  Mmmm-hmmm. Seems fitting, does it not?

For the Day of Thanks, we all met at my parental units’ house.  It was a mash of David’s family and my family all rolled into one.  17 people in all.

So, we played Bunco.  Naturally.

100 (meaningless) points if you know of The Bunco.

When someone got a bunco, they had to wear Daisy Mae’s turquoise headband.  I had two Buncos, yet no one snapped a photo of me.

Luckily for my dad, I was able to snap a photo of him.

You know what he is thinking right now?  He is thinking:

“I am sure lucky that I have a daughter who takes ridiculous photos of me and posts them on her dumb blog.”

Oh, yes.  Yes, he is.

My mother might feel the same way.

But I cannot be certain.

It was a fun time had by all.

Here is Amy (you know, the “bad influence Amy.”  mmm-hmmm) and Little Dude at the end of the fun-filled night.

The next day, mother and I did a little shopping.  Yes.  I am one of those people.  Although I am not a crazy.  We left her house at 7:45am on Black Friday.  Which is basically the most slovenly thing you can do on a Black Friday.

Throughout the day, my mother would make comments such as these:

Mom: “Isn’t Amy cute?”

Me:  “Yes, Mom.”

Then, about an hour later.

Mom: “Boy, Amy had a cute shirt on last night, didn’t she?”

Me:  “Yes, she did, Mom.”

Another hour later.

Mom: “That Amy sure has cute hair, don’t you think?”

Me:  “Yes, Mom.  It is very pretty.”

Mom: “Amy had a cute necklace on last night.”

Me:  “Yes, it was very nice.”

I would like the records to show that Mother did not mention my hair.  Nor my shirt.

That’s all.  Just thought I should mention it.  Not bitter.  Just making conversation.

And, yes.  I, too,  cannot deny that Amy is cute as can be.

Alright.

Happy Monday.