The Lumberjack's Wife

Yesterday was Handsome Dude’s birthday.  I was not going to let him open presents up because:

A)  His dad would not be home

B)  I am evil

He looked at me and said,

“Ok.  Can you just give me that fire truck that is under your bed?”

Well.  So much for being sneaky-sneaky with hiding the gifts.  Daisy Mae, the most compassionate member of our family, wrapped up the “secret” fire truck and made him a lovely card and presented it to him first thing on his birthday.

Because she is the nicest.

And today is her birthday . . . 8 years old!  We were at church late last night, so everyone was sleeping in.  Poor Daisy Mae woke up at 4:15am, eager to open her presents.  She waited until almost 7am, and then came and “discreetly” laid by our bed and whisper/chanted:

“Please wake up!  Please wake up!  Please wake up!”

Me:  What ARE you doing?

Because I am obviously not as nice as Daisy Mae.

DM:  It’s my birthday!

Me:  Happy Birthday!  Now go watch tv for a bit.

DM:  I have been watching TV!

Me:  Go watch more!

Poor Daisy Mae.  She needs another Daisy Mae to come and take care of her on her special day.  Around 8:30, I got up and let her open one gift.  Then at 9, I told the kids to go and jump on David’s head.  Because 8:30 is perfectly reasonable, but 9am is just slothful.  It was truly for his own good, however, because David gets all grumpy-like if he hasn’t accomplished at least 12 manly tasks by 11am.

Me:  What are you doing?

David (cranky):  I gotta get outside!  It’s 10:30am!  This is ridiculous!  The day is half gone!

And I haven’t seen him since.

But good news!  Look at my chicken coop!

Holla!

It has a WINDOW!  Please.  Try not to be jealous.  Not everyone can live in Ruralville.  And not everyone can have snow on March 24th.  Only us special folk.

ANYWAYS.  I mentioned we got home late from church last night and that is because Sweet Pea, our oldest, was baptized at church last night.

And apparently my boys have never seen water without rusty iron in it or something.  Because, have you heard?  We have a well.  With iron issues.

Sweet Pea has been so excited about getting baptized.  We go to a really big church for our area, but it was so nice to see all the people who we have connected with and who have invested in us and our kids along the way, come up and support her last night.

After church, we went out for frozen yogurt. Frozen yogurt with 4 billion toppings choices is all the rage in these here parts.

I can’t be certain . . . .

but I have a suspicion that Sweet Pea stole my camera and took pictures while we were unawares.

I had some questions regarding my hair from a previous post with this picture:

No, I did not cut my hair.  I thought my hair looked A-W-F-U-L in the above picture.  But that is not the point.  My hair is still the same and, as always, I am SUPER PHOTOGENIC, so please take notice of the picture Sweet Pea snapped of me last night:

See?  Same hair.

But, seriously.  What is going on with my face?  I am probably telling a story and everyone else is feigning interest.  They like to humor me like that.

***

A few updates for you, if you will.

1)  I told you all I would keep you apprised of the homemade dish detergent sitch.  It works pretty good, if you use the LemiShine with it.  However, the LemiShine is not cheap.  It was about $4.75 and it says it is for 18 uses.

Well.  That’s like 10 days for us.

So, I have a bunch of this stuff and will probably use it up, but I won’t make it again.  I only want to make it if it works good and saves me money.  Since it does not save me money, I wash my hands of it.

But you may do as you see fit.

2)  The Burlap Wreaths.

The astute reader may recall I was off to make a burlap wreath with mother and Auntie the other day.

It was pretty fun and easy!  Especially since mother and Auntie had already cut out all the burlap squares ahead of time!

Perhaps, one day, I shall tell you how we did it.

My mother insisted on using tacky glue.  I used a hot glue gun.  Because I am on Pinterest more, you know?  I am informed of these things and know what’s what.

Bam!

3)  And what, pray tell, would life be without a Goober Parent Update?

Check out what my mother pinned on Pinterest this week.

(source)

A Beginner’s Guide to Roasting a Whole Pig

Um . . . why?

100 (meaningless) points to anyone who can tell me why she would want to do this?

Your guess is as good as mine.

Please Advise.

Today is Handsome Dude’s 5th Birthday!  He woke up this morning, ran around the house shouting:

“Happy Birthday to me!  Happy Birthday to me!”

Let us discuss some heartfelt memories of the boy, shall we?

1)  When the boy was 2 1/2, he was obsessed with me wearing this one pair of blue earrings.  Every day, he would run upstairs to my dresser and hide the earrings in his pocket.

Then he would proudly pull them out and tell me to wear them.

So precious.

2)  He has always been excellent with glasses.

But this we knew to be truth.

3)  He was a joy to potty-train.

And he most certainly did not open his package of 9 new underwear and put ALL 9 pairs on at the same time, have an accident, and then weep for all the injustice in the world for having no more big boy underwears.

No.  Not my Handsome Dude.  He’s easy going.

4.  He chucked a rock into the ribber, or river for the well-educated people, at Sister Meagan’s big graduation.  And he sorta missed and whacked Daisy Mae in the head, causing a frenzy of Aunts, grandparents, and out of town guests in multiple vehicles rushing to the ER in a state that no one lived in, nor knew where the ER was.

5. He has brought me many joyous, public bathroom memories.

Such as this one from a post I wrote last year:

We had to use the bathroom before we left the library.  The bathroom routine for outings is getting a tad old.  I am with the boys in the same stall (lucky me).  Little Dude still needs to take off his shoes, pants, and underwear.  He still straddles the toilet backwards.  He still sings train songs.  And he still takes forever and a day to have a successful elimination.

Handsome Dude is a speedy little guy, yet his accuracy rate into the toilet is lacking.

I, myself, do quite well, and am a seasoned pro.

Well, this final bathroom run was about the 6th trip to the bathroom that day.  And I gotta admit, the excitement was wearing off.

So, as I got ready to go, Handsome Dude, my blessed son, shouted for all the world to hear:

“Look!  Here comes Mom’s big bum again!”

***

Sons.  Such a blessing.

6)  And, of course, who can forget the time he ran by me and shouted:  “Hi, Mom!  I not smell poop!”

Which, as you can imagine, turned out to be a tragedy involving poop that you can read about here.  But, hello, are you new here?  A lot of the tragedies going on around here involve poop.

7)  And don’t forget vomit and pee.  But we shan’t talk about such things today.  I’m gonna keep things classy.

Today we are just chilling out, doing school and the like.  Tomorrow, we will party hearty because it is Daisy Mae’s birthday tomorrow.  We like to keep things hectic around here.

Before we go, I must share this photo from last weekend. Handsome Dude is refusing to participate in the singing of his own birthday song.  Because, have you heard?  He is stubborn.

Perhaps the cake made him sausage?

***

Happy Birthday to Handsome Dude!

Handsome Dude’s Life Verse:

” . . . So be strong, show yourself a man, and observe what the Lord your God requires:  Walk in his ways and keep his decrees and commands.”

1 Kings 2: 2b-3a

I am wading deep in the trenches of homeschool-planning despair.  We have to do a few odds and ends for our portfolios, of which I loathe, and, no, I am not going to explain what the portfolio is to you.  You are just going to have to accept it.  I have been printing off countless lessons and shall now take a break from my hard work for a cup of coffee and a blog post.  I have nothing to blog about, but what else is new?

In a few moments, I shall be loading up the children to drive to my marmie’s house where she, Auntie Datenutloaf, and I will be making burlap wreaths, as if life could not get any more exciting.  Can you guess where we got the idea?

Go ahead.  Guess.

I am so excited to make this burlap rose wreath thing.  And I think that the later I get to mother’s house, the more the wreaths will be prepped.  If all goes according to plan, I should arrive in time to glue on the final touches and partake in another pot of coffee.

Auntie phoned and told me to bring any and all mending to her and she shall try to do it for me before she leaves.  And, yes, she is getting the Awana vests and patches because I wash my hands of it.

Fun Fact:  Last night as I was walking Little Dude into Awana, I noticed a needle sticking out of his vest from the other night when I tried to be Susie Fantastic and sew on the patches.

Safe!

Anyways. You can understand my excitement to bring Auntie the mending, as I have just gone through my closet and found cute clothes that I thought could never be worn again.  If I lose a button, I look at my sweater with great sadness and mourning, knowing I shall never wear it again.

And, yet, I still put it in my closet?  Because . . . ?

My ma in law is a fantastic sewer as well.  I choose to believe that I am not a complete disappointment to her.  She has recently found a use for me:  tech support for her new smart phone.

HA!

I need tech support for smart phones.  And, yet, I amaze her.  I was helping her with her phone and noticed that she had two different contacts for her daughter, Lisa.  For the purposes of this post, let us pretend that Lisa’s last name is Brown.

So, in her phone, there is Lisa Brown with Lisa’s phone number.

Then there is Lisa Bwn with Lisa’s email.

This was because ma-in-law did not know you could have an email AND a phone number listed for the same person.

I showed her how to do this and TOTALLY redeemed myself for not knowing how to even thread a needle.

Sister Meagan snapped a picture of the epic moment.  Look at ma-in-law.  Completely amazed, isn’t she?  I look like Ginormica.  I don’t know what is going on, but I am actually shorter than my ma-in-law.  Sister Meagan is probably playing a trick on me.

After I wowed everyone with my “phone contact” knowledge, I tried to educate those around me on the joys of the Kindle application.  This got us on the subjects of books, of which none of us have time to read, but we like to pretend we will.

For some reason, I decide to bring up The Hunger Games.

Me:  You should read The Hunger Games!

Ma in Law:  Oh!  What’s that about?

Me:  Well . . . um . . . it’s like this world in the future that was somehow maybe destoyed or, I don’t know, something bad happened and they have all these . . . districts?  And they have all these regulations and then they have this lottery where two kids from each district have to go and fight in these games, and, well, its basically these kids killing each other.  To win the game, you know?

*crickets chirping*

Ma in law:  Hmmm . . .

Me:  Oh, it was SO GOOD.

What can we learn from this?  We learn that Taylor should not write book reviews.

Who else is excited about The Hunger Games coming to a theater near them?

I was totally not into Twlight.  But a book about children killing each other while their nation watched on television?

Yes, please.

Alright!  Off to gather my mending and drive to the big city where fun and merriment awaits me!

We have entered birthday mania over here.  Handsome Dude’s birthday is March 23rd and Daisy Mae’s birthday (along with my niece!) is March 24th.  We had a family party for Handsome Dude and Daisy Mae on Sunday.  Eighteen people came and I was undoubtedly the hostess with the mostess.  I am 30 now, and totally act like it.

Party for 18 people?  Nailed it.

Daisy Mae:  soon to be 8

Handsome Dude:  soon to be 5

Little Dude:  soon to be in trouble for something

Also on Sunday, David started to build the chicken coop.  THE CHICKEN COOP!  GAH! Why am I so excited for this?   What does this mean?  What does GAH mean? Will I ever be able to socialize with city-dwellers again?  Probably not.  I’m too far gone.

Don’t lie, readers.  You just clapped and cheered for excitement, too.  Don’t deny it.

Handsome Dude got a new bike from one set of grandparents and a new wagon from the other set.  I told him I wanted him to wear a helmet with his new bike, and he has equated that to: “I MUST WEAR A HELMET AS SOON AS I STEP FOOT OUTSIDE.”  I ain’t gonna lie . . . I kind of like it.

Any-who.  Handsome Dude needed to be a mini-David, so he took his wagon and loaded up the scrap wood from the chicken coop project, helmet and all.

Could he be any cuter?  I ask you?  I love him.

Auntie Datenutloaf is here visiting and my girls will not leave her alone.  Sister Meagan also flew in, so my kids are in “auntie” heaven.  This means the aunties can come over and I can be left alone.  Daisy Mae gets about 2 inches from Auntie Datenutloaf’s face and just grins for the entire visit.

We played a game called Chronology.  It’s a game where you have to put events in order on a timeline.

Because we totally know how to party.

Anytime my girls would do anything, Auntie Datenut would look at me like I was God’s gift to homeschool.

“Taylor!  Your kids!  They are SO smart!”

And from then on out, I was right by Daisy Mae’s side, standing two inches from Auntie’s face, basking in her praises.  And I shall now homeschool forever and ever and all peoples will rise and call me blessed and ask me for advice and tips and whatnot.

Or something like that.

I decided to go snap a quick picture of the chicken coop again, because, have you heard?  I am excited.

And, hark.  It is snowing on this Tuesday morn.

I think I shall call Auntie Datenutloaf and inform her that I am, once again, driving to the big city in treacherous conditions, such as these.

Perhaps the fact that Handsome Dude wears a helmet at all times now will bring her comfort?

Happy Tuesday!

Yesterday was, once again, field trip day.  Can we not all agree that I am obviously the world’s most exciting homeschool marm?  There’s no denying it.

We were having some crazy rain yesterday morning.  Auntie Datenutloaf, fresh off the plane from California, called to give her salutations and inquire what was up with our crazy weather.  Fun Fact:  Visiting Southern Californians do not like the gloomy rain.

Me:  I think it is supposed to rain the entire time you are here.

Auntie:  I’m sure it will.  What are you guys doing today?

Me:  We are going on a field trip.

Auntie:  You are going to drive in THIS weather?

Me:  It’s just rain!  Not snow.  Snow is what you have to worry about.  And not all snow, just the kind that sticks.

Auntie:  I’m sure the roads are still slippery!

I have, honestly, never heard of anyone staying home on account of the rain.  Tell me, dear readers, do you drive in the rain?  Maybe I have lived in the hearty north for too long.  We should definitely keep Auntie away from driving with David.  He is against the use of windshield wipers.

He finds them “annoying.”

He figures that if he gets his speed up fast enough, the rain will just sheet off the car.

After I hung up with Auntie, it started to snow.  Then out of nowhere came blue skies and sunshine.

That should tickle her fancy.

All week long, I have been stressing about this field trip.  It is not just in the big city, it is in the Even Bigger City.  I know your heads are spinning and you are trying to figure out why I just won’t tell you the names of cities, but it is against the rules that Sir Lumberjack established in the formative days of this blog.  My apologies.

I have a large vehicle, and along with that, a healthy fear of parking garages.  I am quite certain that if I were to attempt to drive the rig into the parking garage, I would decapitate us all.  All week long I have been stressing about this.  I looked online to try and see the clearance for the garage.  I asked friends and loved ones if they thought we would survive the parking garage.

The general consensus was that we would be A-OK, but I was not convinced.  When I got to the children’s museum, the parking garage had a clearance of 6’6″ and that, my friends, is sure to be instant death for me and my offspring.  So, I just kept driving until I found a parking lot about 4 blocks away.  My kids are obviously not used to The Even Bigger City.

“Mom, what is a parking garage?”

“Mom, why do we have to pay to park?”

“Mom, there’s lots and lots of PEOPLE!”

“Mom, how come I am the only one wearing a Carhartt jacket and cowboy boots?”

Because we are hicks, son.  And don’t you forget it.

The children had a lovely time at the science museum.  The girls disappear now in social situations such as these, so I only have pictures of the dudes.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

Yes.  Handsome Dude does appear to be putting out the vibe.  But can you blame him?

Afterwards, we had to rush back to the rig and get to the big city, not to be confused with the Even Bigger City, and get to church.

The GPS froze my phone and I had to find the freeway on ramp all by myself.  And I did.  This is actually amazing and deserves some recognition and praise on your part.

So, I was feeling quite confident in my driving abilities and could not wait to boast of my awesomeness to David.

I was so pleased with my awesomeness that I missed my exit.

And the next one is in about 6 miles.

I called David and he told me I had to go to the emergency vehicle turnout.  I argued with him that this is illegal, but my argument fell on deaf hears.  Because, have you heard?  He doesn’t even believe in windshield wipers.  So, I went to the emergency vehicle turnout and realized what a HUGE mistake that was.

Have you, pray tell, ever tried to pull onto a freeway when the cars are going, oh 75 miles an hour?

Not a good plan, especially for a gal who has a fear of parking garages and unprotected left turns.

A police car came by and I yelled at him to PLEASE COME GET ME!

I figured that I could ask him to give me a ticket and please put on his helpful, flashing lights and get me back on the freeway.

He did not come and get me.

Finally, there was a break in traffic and I floored it.  I am happy to report that no one died in a fiery car wreck.

My dad is totally going to have a stern talking-to with me after he reads this post.

I think for my birthday, I am going to ask for a chauffeur.  Driving is not my strong suit.

Happy Weekend.

Awhile back, I mentioned that mud in my house was the scourge of my existence.

I lied.  Awana patches.  They are the real scourge of my existence.

Do you have offspring in Awana Cubbies, dear readers?  Are you familiar with . . .

The Vest?

Except that does not look like my children’s vest.  On account of the fact that the pictured vest actually has patches attached to it.

Oh, my boys have earned patches.  There are patches in the car.  There are patches in a bowl in the kitchen.  There are patches on the floor.  There are patches everywhere . . . except on the vests.  You see, dear readers, I cannot sew.

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

I blame my mother!  She won’t deny it, either.  She did not teach me one thing about sewing.  In fact, I don’t think she even ever showed me what a needle looked like.  In the interest of full disclosure, I am pretty certain there was a small, tomato-like thing that pins were pushed into at our house in the days of yore.  But I never saw it in use.

Many years ago, when the girls were in Awana Cubbies, I implored my sis-in-law, Lisa, to teach me how to sew.  She gave me excellent instructions and pretended to be impressed when I shouted for joy at my first stitch.

It was pretty dope.

But wouldn’t you know it, my girls kept earning patches.  So, one day, I had to put on my big-girl pants and try sewing the patches on all by myself.

The first step is threading the needle.  I look in the sewing kit . . . that Lisa purchased for me, might I add, trying to ascertain which needle would be best and which color of thread.

Did Lisa say to use the same color as the patch?  Or the same color as the vest?  I could not be certain.

I notice this little guy in my sweet sewing kit and I wonder what on earth he’s got to do with the price of cheese?

I decide that any color thread will suffice and I begin the attempted needle threading.

OH.

MY.

GOSH.

BECKY.

Needle-threading.  Not for the faint of heart.  That little loopy on the top of the needle is so small!  I would try and thread it and the end would get all split, so I would lick it and try to put it through and it would just not work.  I am not exaggerating in the least when I tell you I tried to thread that needle for FORTY-FIVE minutes.

I was ready to give up all my dreams of being a Susie Fantastic when I remembered The Google.

Oh, The Google.  My saving grace.

So, I Googled:  How to Thread a Needle and Google, my new BFF, promptly displayed an informative YouTube video for my viewing pleasure.

You know what this guy is?

A needle THREADER! You  know.  For to thread the needle!  Ah.  Brilliant.

So, I watch the DVD and try it on my own.  Nailed it.  It takes me about 35 minutes, but I sew on three WHOLE patches.  I was uEber proud of myself and went to put it on one of my sweet girls.

Imagine my disappointment when I realized that I had sewed the patch all the way through to the back of the vest.

Don’t you hate it when that happens?

So, that little sewing adventure took place about 3 years ago.  And now, I shall share with you my present-day sewing travails.

I have two boys in Cubbies.  This may surprise you, but I wasn’t too eager to get right on the patches this year.

But, I started to feel guilty when my boys kept asking when their vests would get the patches.  So, I considered my hot glue gun.  I called my marmie, because she is the reason I can’t sew in the first place, and she had a good thought: perhaps the heat of the dryer would melt the hot glue.

She is a smart one, no?

So, I resorted to ironing on the patches.

Oh!  Have I told you?  I’m also terrible at ironing.  It’s true.  I cannot tell a lie.

I ironed on all of their patches and within one week they had all fallen off.  Hence the patches in multiple locations throughout the house.

So tonight, I sat down determined to catch up on all these patches.  I spent five minutes trying to get the needle off the . . . . needle cylinder?  I don’t know what it is called.  And then I remembered AUNTIE DATENUTLOAF!

Auntie Datenutloaf is on an airplane flying to where I live at this very moment.

BAM!

Auntie Datenutloaf is an expert sewer.  And, true, she will most likely be disappointed in me and my lack of domestic skills, but she is my auntie and it is her job to help me out of tricky situations such as these.

So, I am sitting on my bed, needles, thread, and patches scattered about, blogging about how I am going to make my dear aunt sew patches whilst she is on vacation.

She will be most honored.

Can you sew?  What is your level of expertise?

Did you know what this was?

Do you want to teach me your skills?  Or skillz?

Feel free to share.  Or not.  The choice is yours.

We have been going to the big city a lot as of late.  My house is evidence of that.

Now, that’s just sad.  That is a cabinet that holds lunch boxes, and in a morning-packing-frenzy, a blue stuffed bunny became trapped and was left there all day.

Do not ask me why there is a bunny there.

Have you met my boy?

He’s odd.

Please notice the crayon and ruler.

Homeschooling.

Making mothers lose their minds daily.

So, yesterday we get home and there is a white rabbit on the loose.  The girls are really good at rabbit-catching, as all farm and ranch girls should be.

Sweet Pea used to be the rabbit whisperer.

But it’s actually Daisy Mae who does this task the best.

Daisy Mae just gets it done.  She does not shudder at the thought of picking up rabbits.  She just “mans up” and does it what it takes.  Just like her pa.

Sweet Pea might be like her ma.  Pray for her.

Disaster struck when I heard a rabbit start screaming.  Have you, dear reader, ever heard a rabbit scream?

Think of the worst sound in the world.  Then multiply it by a million.

I thought that maybe the rabbit’s legs were broken or something.  Unfortunately, David was not going to be home until after 10pm that night.  I was going to have to call on a neighbor to come put the poor creature out of its misery.

Because this is my life now.  Have you heard?

But, I, Teller Maliblahblah:Rabbit-Medicine-Woman, discovered that the rabbit was not, in fact, in need of such drastic measures!  Go me!

One of the nets had a hole in it that we were unaware of.  When the girls put the net over the rabbit, the torn part snagged the rabbit around the neck.  This was strangling and scaring the rabbit, causing it to scream.

So, I, being the good farm wife that I now am, got a pair of scissors and loosed the rabbit from its deadly entanglement.

Then it ran off and is still eluding us at this very hour.  I wash my hands of it.

But, hey!  Let us be proud of me!  I done good.  Real good.

***

Let’s do some COWs.  For this brings us merriment.

 Mindee‘s response to my awesome $20 fridge find:

$20????
You made very sure that that fridge has never been used to store dead human bodies or parts, right?
Right?

And, of course, I must give a COW to my Auntie Datenutloaf.

K. Have you ever heard of ACLs? Meniscus? Knee reconstruction surgery? MULTIPLE knee correction surgery? No bending all the way down and jumping up 4.2 million times to worship God – He will understand. No moving fridges, freezers, logs, or anything else that will damage a compromised knee.
Using bulldozer when kids are in another city – great idea!!!

It’s a good thing my Auntie is not a worrier, is it not?

She’s right.  God probably would understand.

DO YOU HEAR THAT PEOPLES AT CHURCH WHO MAKE ME LEAD WORSHIP AGAINST MY WILL?  I HAVE A BAD KNEE AND SHALL NO LONGER BE FORCED TO LEAD THE CHILDREN IN “GET DOWN.”  THANK YOU.

Auntie is referring to my five knee surgeries and her general, ongoing fear of the safety of my children in the above comment.  It amuses me.

Alright!  I gotta get all gussied up.  For we are, once again, off to town.

Maybe we just move back there?  Thoughts?

Yesterday was field trip day.  Don’t be jealous.  Not everyone can rush around in the morning, teaching math and language arts, fold laundry, chase boys, monitor the care and feeding of rabbits, and pack lunches for the car all by 11:30am.  Only us lucky ones.

It was pouring yesterday.  And I mean pouring.  If it were up to me, we would have stayed home because, quite frankly, I am not waterproof and after one errand in the rain, I look like a drowned rat.  But, my kids were excited to get all handsome on learning about the wonderful world of mammals, so off we went.

Look!  It’s a beaver!

No.  That’s Handsome Dude.  He is so tricky.

So, we get to the field trip (with several other homeschoolers) and the kids all sit down while a lovely lady gave them a little lecture on mammals.  There are some brilliant kids in this group and I am impressed by their knowledge of mammals.

And then, there’s my kids.

Lovely Lady:  Can anyone guess what other animal belongs in the dog family besides a wolf?

Little Dude (looking oh-so-proud of himself):  DOLPHINS!

Lovely Lady:  Well . . . no . . .

Little Dude:  THE SUN!

Fantastic.

Luckily, Sweet Pea and Handsome Dude both answered questions correctly and totally redeemed the Maliblahblah name.

Sweet Pea correctly identified the bone from a rabbit’s foot.  Go figure.

Handsome Dude correctly identified the tracks from a deer.  Go figure.

Look!  It’s another beaver!

No.  That’s Little Dude.  Keep up, people!

Next, Lovely Lady brought out an injured owl named Barbara.

Right before Barbara’s debut, Handsome Dude was starting to go into meltdown mode.

HD (whining):  When are we LEAVING?  This place makes my heart hurt!

Attention Peoples Who Are Planning On Having Offspring At A Future Date:  If, per chance, you ever are blessed to have a preschooler, please note that when they start complaining about stuff that does not make sense or would never, ever, happen, understand that they are LYING and just trying to get their way.  It is best to smile at the child, show them to their seat, and force them to listen to a delightful speech on owls, hurting heart and all.

Owl Information:  It’s good for them.

Turns out Handsome Dude was fascinated by the story of Barbara.

And later that evening told his dad every fact that Lovely Lady had mentioned.

Color me surprised!

***

After the field trip, we had to run errands because that is what us rural people do.  I have decided to try making my own dishwasher detergent.  I have not heard good things about these recipes, but here’s to hoping.

The recipe, which I got here, calls for:

1 box Borax

1 box Super Washing Soda

3 cups Epsom salts

24 packs of unsweetened Lemonade flavored Kool-Aid (Weird, I know)

You mix all the ingredients and use 1 tablespoon per load. You are also supposed to add something called Lemi-Shine to each load.

So, I get to Walmart, figuring they will have everything I need.  It is pouring rain, and yes, the first thing I heard when I walked through the doors was:

“Boy!  You sure got your hands full!”

Because, apparently, the general public has never seen a mother with FOUR children before.  So uncommon.

Walmart has two of the ingredients.  I am bound and determined to make this detergent today, so off we go to Fred Meyer.

Now, the most annoying part in all of this is that Little Dude cannot fit into his 5 point harness seat with his puffy, winter jacket on.  So at each stop we must not only do the carseat unloading, but also the jacket donning.  Which does not sound like a big deal, but trust me, after about 10 stops, the novelty wears off.

Fred Meyer does not have the Kool-Aid.  We had to go to about 5 stores, but we finally got all the ingredients.

I ran a load last night and so far, it looks pretty good.  I am not sure how much cheaper it is all going to be, so I will have to keep you updated.

And I know you want to be updated.  Don’t pretend this does not excite you, too.

***

Finally, Sweet Pea wrote a letter into a kid’s magazine and it is going to be published this summer.  She is pretty sure this makes her the bee’s knees.  The magazine asked me to send in her picture, so I thought I would share:

Happy Tuesday!