The Lumberjack's Wife

Hello!  Today I am linking up with Joyce and her uber cool questions.  Feel free to join in, if you so desire.

“Running Bear” by Sonny James.  And no.  You haven’t heard of it.  No one has.

Every time I hear that opening “oomba, oomba, oomba,” I get chills.  Chills, people.

You may proclaim: “Taylor!  Why,  isn’t that is a disturbing song about two lovers dying?”

Yes.  Yes it is.

Drool if you must.  That is man is all mine.

8. Insert your own random thought here

Little Dude, being the slave to fashion that he clearly is, dressed himself the other day.

Snazzy.

Yes.  My walls are still peach.

What of it?

It’s Monday night!  And you know what is absolutely necessary?

A picture in which a bunny is smiling.  You’re welcome.

Sweet Pea’s birthday is coming up.  Well, not really.  But to an 8 year old, it is definitely right around the corner.  Her birthday is December 31st and it is the only birthday of our children my husband can remember.

Why?

Tax break.

Anyways, she has come up with this uber exciting plan for her birthday festivities that basically excludes all loved ones in her life, except my dad.

Here is a picture of Sweet Pea with her PopPop.

Feel free to pin my fantastic rendition of a Titanic cake on The Pinterest.  The people will thank you.

Sweet Pea’s 9th birthday wish?

Brace yourselves.

She would like PopPop to take her to:

A)  The library near Ruralville

B)  The library in the town we used to live in

C)  Take a break and get a corn dog (ew).

D)  The library in a completely unrelated town.

E)  Join the rest of the family and feast on a cake shaped like a book.

Dang, Sweet Pea.

What’s up, my nerd?

Aaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnndddddddddddd . . . . I love her.

So.  My first child is almost nine.  When I think about how fast time flies, I sorta panic and start lecturing myself on all things I’m not, scolding myself for not being that “perfect” mom I always thought I could be.

I’m not very patient.  I’m not very fun.  I’m not very crafty (surprise!).  I’m not very organized.  I’m not the best teacher.  I’m not the best baker.

Sometimes, I’m not even very nice.  Which truly is a bummer.

In spite of me, Sweet Pea is growing up to be a fine, young lady.  One of the things I am most proud of is her desire to seek the Lord.  She is very disciplined at studying the Bible, memorizing verses, and establishing her own devotion time.

A habit, regretfully, she probably hasn’t picked up too well from me.  Since I’ve had kids, my days are turned upside down and nothing is predictable, making it hard for me to have a consistent devotion time.

Case in point:

I bathed two boys this morning and got them dressed in nice, fresh clothes. I started the girls on some school and told them I would be right back after I loaded the fire.  I was downstairs, when Handsome Dude peered out from the downstairs bathroom to inform me he had a bit of trouble wiping his bum.

There was poop all over hisself.

And, yes.  Hisself is not a word.  But fun, nonetheless.

So, I take him upstairs to the bath where, lo and behold, Little Dude is standing with the SAME POOP PROBLEMS all over hisself.

Twenty minutes later, I return to girls who are making up songs and dances.  Which is, most assuredly, not in the homeschool curriculum.

So, there you have it.  An example of my day.  Don’t be jealous.

Anyways.  I have learned that if I wait around for the perfect “quiet time” to come around, well, it might just not come around.  Sure, some days are better than others, but most days are plain hectic, and I have learned the simple beauty in praying while folding laundry . . . reading a few verses when I have a moment . . . and switching the music to worship songs.

My friend has written a book called “Never Go Hungry Again.”  She is giving it away for free and I had the privilege of reading it a couple of weeks ago.

I loved it.  I was encouraged, challenged, and convicted while reading it.  I want my children to remember me making God a priority in my life!  I want them to see me spending time with Him more.

Anyways, since I loved it so much, I wanted to share the link with you all, as I know many of you who read this are also busy moms who have hectic days, just like me.

The book becomes free to everyone on November 15th.  If you are reading this on the 14th, you can sign up for the email reminder.  The book downloaded extremely fast for me and I was even able to read it easily on my phone.

(This is not an ad and I am not getting paid to send you here or anything.  I just read my free copy, found it extremely helpful, and wanted to share it with you!  Angela, does however, know I exist.  And she feels blessed in that knowledge.  Ha! Kidding!)

(Or am I?)

Alright.  I’m off to do laundry, oh joy of joys.

Later, my nerds.

Happy Veterans Day!  Thank you to all who have served and are serving our country.  My grandparents both served.  They are gone now, but I have many wonderful memories of them.

My friend Erin’s husband is currently deployed.  I cannot imagine how hard this sacrifice must be for them.  So, thank you.

***

It is 12:55 pm on a chilly Friday afternoon and I have not done my hair, nor my makeup.

Gasp if you must.

What do I care?  No one sees me. I showered.  I am wearing real clothes, not sweats.  We are going to church in a bit and I shall make the necessary preparations before departure.

So, just a bit ago, I was doing the boys’ Bible lessons with them.  Which isn’t as easy as one might think.

Me:  Who wrote the Bible?

Little Dude:  NOT me!

Poor guy.  He is kinda always in trouble for something.  He wanted to make sure he didn’t get blamed for something else.

Me:  No.  Dude.  Not who wrote IN the Bible.  Who wrote the Bible?

Little Dude:  Oh.  Ummm.  Jesus?  God?  Jesus and God?  Hmmm.  God.

Me:  That’ll work.

Handsome Dude:  Mom.  Are you a different Mommy today?

Me:  No.  I am the same Mom you have always had.

HD (short for Handsome Dude . . . keep up, people!):  Why does your hair look like that?

Me:  I just didn’t fix it yet.  Why?

HD:  It not look good, Mom.

Me:  Ok.  Thanks.

HD:  It looks cranky.  You can’t go to church.  The people will be scared.

He said that.  I kid you not.  And I wasn’t planning on blogging today, but I was afraid I would forget that lovely conversation with my son, the fruit of my loins, so I hopped right onto the computer to forever record this horrific memory in time.  “Fruit of my loins” is a disturbing phrase.

I need coffee.

I have still given up the creamer.  It’s not so bad, although the sky is no longer blue, the sun no longer shines, and I never hear birds singing amongst the trees.  But I’m sure I will get used to it.

I had to go to Handsome Dude’s parent/teacher conference last night.  This may confuse you, as I claim to homeschool.  And I do homeschool the girls, but I outsource the education of the boy.  Because I have cranky hair and no creamer in my cup and something has to give, you know?

I kid!  I jest!  He is in preschool, but I will homeschool him when he is in kindergarten and the other boy will go to preschool next year.

I know.  It confuses even myself.

So, I went and was all afeared to hear what the teacher was going to say.  And no, I do not know if afeared is an actual word.  I blame the black coffee.  Now, Handsome Dude has eye problems.  This we knew to be truth.  And I recently switched him to a different doctor in the big city and she completely changed his prescription for glasses and told me that his little brain was going to have to relearn images.

I know.  It confuses even myself.

So, Handsome Dude is a bit behind.  The teacher was telling me that he does not try to draw or write anything, he just scribbles.

Me:  I have noticed that.

Teacher:  So, that’s just something we will all keep working on.

Me:  So . . . is he . . . well-behaved in class?

Teacher:  Yes!

Me:  Mmmm-hmmm.  And if you try to, oh, I don’t know, help him with his drawing, does he let you?

Teacher:  What do you mean?

Me:  Well.  If I try to help him, he yells and shouts and gets frustrated and throws himself on the floor with his little hiney in the air and then pretends his legs no longer work and lays there like an infant for a few minutes before getting up again at the table.  Does he do this for you?

Teacher:  No!  Never!  He is such a little sweetheart!  A delight!

What.

A.

Punk.

Me and my cranky hair are gonna get that kid writing letters.  Even if it kills me.

Let’s do a COW.  Because I am trying to avoid starting school again this afternoon.

Deb wrote:

One time I had jury duty for 4 days and I accidentally got derailed from homeschooling for 6 weeks.

True Story.

I have NO idea how that could happen.

Alright.  I’m gonna go get all handsome on a curling iron.

Later.

After dinner last night, David asked me if I had driven into town to vote.

Me:  No.  I forgot.  Did you?

David:  No.

Me:  Hmmm . . .

David:  If we leave now, we can make it before they close at 8.

Me:  Ok.

So, we informed the children with our plans to go voting, and our plans were met with much resistance.

“But, Moooooooom!  Look outside!  It’s dark time!”

“I have to put my SHOES on?”

“We are going boating?!?”

“Do we have to drive FOREVER?”

“Do I need my swimsuit?”

“Can I bring my DS?”

“I don’t wanna go boating!”

“I not need shoes, Mom!  I need BOOTS!”

“It’s too cold to go anywhere!”

And so, we rushed around, trying to make everyone look presentable.  David went out to start the rig, because our rig is fickle beast that does not like chillsome weather.

With great effort and four billion questions, we were able to locate:

4 children, 6 jackets, 6 pairs of socks, 5 pairs of shoes, 1 pair of  Toy Story Cowboy boots (100 meaningless points to anyone who can guess who wears those), 1 pair of mittens for Daisy Mae who was still wondering why we were going boating, and 2 Nintendo DS players.

Now, this is not town  town.  This is the actual town of Ruralville, home to about 200 peoples.  So not much was happening.

We unloaded the children and got them all situated to sit and be quiet while we voted, or boated if you are still a confused Daisy Mae.  We threatened them with their lives and bribed them with the promise of candy and good fortune if they promised to SIT AND BE QUIET.

David went in to vote and was greeted by a lovely Ruralvillite lady who was wearing the ever-popular sweatshirt with a lace doily stitched around the collar.

If you enjoy the look of a sweatshirt with a lace doily stiched around the collar while manning a voting booth, I mean you no ill-will.  I, myself, wear a flannel shirt while grinding elk meat for my beloved.

To each his own.

Doily Lady:  I’m sorry, sir, but you are not allowed to vote in this election.

David:  Oh!  Why?

Doily Lady:  Well, you do not live within any city limits, and therefore you cannot vote.  But I do thank you for coming by.

David:  Oh.  Ok!

Boy did we feel sheepish.  So, we tried to usher out our ever-confused children when Little Dude started shouting.  Which does not surprise anyone.

“I want to see the WATER!”

Doily Lady:  Well, we have a drinking fountain?

Little Dude:  NO!  WATER!

Me:  I’m sorry.  He thinks we are going out on a boat.

This did not impress Doily Lady.

Little Dude:  NO!  WATER AND THE ROCKS AND THE WATER FALLING DOWN AND ALL AROUND ON IT!

Little Dude is trembling and heartbroken and I have no idea why he thinks we were going to see a waterfall.  He had to live with that disappointment.

So, we load them all back into the rig and David decides that since he has already wasted gas money on this pointless adventure, we shall take the scenic route home so we can look for deer.

Because we never see deer at home.

Handsome Dude to his sister:  Give me your DS.  Now!

Sweet Pea:  No.

Handsome Dude:  Yes!

Sweet Pea:  NO.

Handsome Dude:  MY TEACHER . . . MY TEACHER . . . MY TEACHER . . . TEACHER SAYS THAT ALL THE CHILL-REN IN THE WORLD NEED TO SHARE. SO YOU

GIVE

ME

THAT

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!

Sweet Pea:  No.

We live in beautiful harmony.

I was horribly car sick, because David drives like a hillbilly down yonder country roads.  I got completely disoriented and had to ask him if we were even still in our home state.

David (laughing at my ignorance):  Yes, Taylor.

Me:  If you were to make me drive right now, I would have no idea where we were.  I would have to use the GPS.

David:  Use your GPS!  That would be hilarious.

Me:  Fine.  I will.

So I went to type in the address, became dizzy from car sickness, went back to type the address, then got distracted by an email.

All the kids:  WOW!  Look at that!  Wow!

Me:  What?

David (laughing at my ignorance):  You didn’t see that?!

Me:  No.  I was checking my email.  What happened?

David:  Like 10 deer ran right in front of us!

Me:  Oh.  Neat.

And that was our night.  The night where we tried to be good citizens and vote and were denied.

That is all.

I have been wading deep in the depths of homeschooling despair, and therefore, have had a hard time posting as of late.  I have only a bit of time, since the kids are outside on “recess”, so let’s go with a list today.

1)  I took Sweet Pea and Little Dude in for eye exams last week.  Sweet Pea still needs glasses (she has the same eye problems as Handsome Dude).

Little Dude does NOT need glasses.  The Lord has looked down upon me with favor.

2)  Little Dude is something else these days.  When the doctor came in with her two assistants, he SHOUTED, as per his usual custom:

“Hey, YOU.  Hey, LADY.  Why you need those TEACHERS with you?”

And when they would try to cover one eye and ask him to read pictures, he would smack their hands away and give them the stink eye and tell them to “STOP COVERING MY EYE, TEACHER!”

Because he is lovely like that.  Very well-behaved young man.

3)  When poor Sweet Pea was trying to do her exam, he would shout the answers to her.

“Hey, it’s C!”

“No! Is not a D, sister, it’s a P!”

I had to restrain him with my hand over his mouth for most of the visit.  Didn’t look dysfunctional at all.

4)  A dear friend who must not really read my blog, offered to watch Handsome Dude and Daisy Mae while I took Sweet Pea and Sir Shouting Pants to the eye doctor.  Then, the aforementioned friend made us a delish lunch and let us all stay for awhile and visit.

She’s one of those crafty peoples who I am envious of.  Her house was like being in Pinterest.  I just kept looking around, pinning ideas so that I might steal them.

But I won’t steal them.  Because I lack creativity, sewing skills, basic hand/eye coordination, and, loveliness, in general.

When we left, Daisy Mae asked me:
“Mom!  Was she the Pioneer Woman?”

5)  She is my Pioneer Woman.

6)  I am switching to black coffee.  FYI.

7)  Handsome Dude is constantly saying he wishes we lived at our old house in town.  The other day, I asked him if he was starting to like our new country house.

HD:  Well.  Mom?  You know that freeway?  That road?

He is referring to the highway we have to take to get back into town.  We have to drive on it for about 30 miles or so.

HD:  Well, I not like that road.  It takes too long to get somewhere.

I thought that was cute.  So I shared it with you.  You are so very welcome.

8)  I strongly believe that cutting out my favorite chocolate raspberry creamer, of which I am shamelessly addicted to, will cause me to lose 10 pounds instantly.

What say you?

9)  Handsome Dude told me my dinner was “too sausage” last night.

Whenever Handsome Dude doesn’t like something, he weeps and wails for all the injustice in the world and cries:

“It makes me sausage, you know?”

What a punk. And I made him eat it ALL, just for spite.

10)  Even if it was kinda of sausage.  You know?

11)  Little Dude has called me “Dad” several times today.

12)  I feel pretty today.  Very feminine.

13)  I have gone 7 whole hours without creamer and my pants are not any looser.

14)  Fun Idea:  We had a game night last night and I let the kids make their own milkshakes using up some Halloween candy.

Because nothing makes candy healthier like smooshing it into ice cream.

Bad Idea:  Trying to play Pictionary with the dudes.

Even Worse Idea:  Handsome Dude chose Smarties and Jolly Ranchers for his candy milkshake.

15)  That makes me sausage, you know?

16)  I took all four children to the MALL yesterday, because I like to inflict misery upon myself.  A lovely, older lady and her husband came up to me:

Lovely Lady:  What lovely children!

Me:  Thank you!

Lovely Lady:  Oh, wow!  The littlest one . . . he doesn’t look like the others, does he?

Me:  No.  No, he doesn’t.

Lovely Lady’s Husband:  Looks like you got three track stars and a linebacker there,  Mom!

17)  It’s true.  Little Dude is kinda buff.  For a kid who weighs 35 pounds.

18)  I have no idea how much he actually weighs.  35 pounds sounds good.

19)  Yes.  Little Dude is David’s child.  Stop whispering shameless rumors about me.

20)  This list is a bit long.  My apologies.

21)  Speaking of Little Dude’s paternity, here is a funny little story about David’s sense of humor regarding the whole sitch.  I have shared it before.  But it is necessary for you in the upcoming item #22 of this very list you are now reading.

I work in children’s ministry at our church.  There is this guy who works in children’s too, and I have not one clue what his name is.

For the purposes of this post, we will call him Gerald. Simply for the fact that Gerald is a fanstastic name.

Gerald is always hollering (not holla/nor hola) to me from across the lobby.

“There she is!”

“Hey, you!”

“Here comes trouble!”

Am I trouble?

Anyways, I find Gerald’s actions to be odd.  But I smile and nod and get the heck away.

Because there’s one thing I know about Gerald:

I don’t know who Gerald is.

Anyways, I never told the Lumberjack about Gerald, nor had Lumberjack ever witnessed Gerald hollering at me.

One night as we were in the parking lot, Gerald walked by The Lumberjack and I.

Gerald:  Hey!  There she is! WooHoo!

And then he did that weird like thumbs up shaking thing that cool people, other than myself, do at times to express great excitement.

And Gerald continued to head into the building where he would be serving in children’s ministry, bless his heart.

The Lumberjack sighed and looked at me.

“That’s Little Dude’s dad . . .isn’t it?”

ha!

22)  When we were walking into church last Friday night, Little Dude was ahead of me with David.  When I got into the building, I noticed Little Dude was not with David.  I asked David where he was, and David, being the more responsible parent, did not know.

I panicked a bit and searched the bathrooms and alerted a few friends to help me find him.

My friend,Shelly, came down the hall, holding Little Dude, and laughing hysterically.

Shelly:  You’ll never guess who found him!

Me:  Who?

Shelly: Gerald!

Alright!  Recess is over.  Children are in my midst. Coffee is in my veins.

Homeschooling.

Let’s do this.

The girls spent the night with their grandparents last night.  David had many errands to run today.  I was tempted to join him, but they were all pretty “farm and ranch-y,” so I told him I might rather stay home.

David:  Are you sure?  I think the boys want to come with me.

Me:  That’s cool.

David:  I feel bad that you might be home all day by yourself.

Me:  Have you heard about my life?

How could he think that would be a bad thing?  But, alas.  Handsome Dude decided he would rather stay with me.  This is very un-Handsome Dude like, as his entire purpose in this world is to become exactly like his father (because that is precisely what the world needs: two Davids.)

So.  Little Dude got all ready to go with Dad.  He even donned his new Carhartt jacket.

He points out the Carhartt “patch” to everyone.

“My patch!  See?  Patch?  SEE!?  Like Dad!    SEE?  SEE?!?!?!”

So, I was looking forward to a quiet day at home with my Handsome Dude.  Thought I might even catch up on some reading.  Perhaps even relax.

But I must have forgotten that I was spending the day with Handsome Dude.  So now, for your reading pleasure, I would like to present:

A Day  Two Hours with Handsome Dude.

First on the agenda:  A bike ride.

See?  He has the Carhartt patch, too.  He wears it with pride.

My bike had a flat tire.  I called David to see what sort of heavy machinery of his I would be needing to remedy my tire sitch.  As soon as he said:

“Well, hon, its gonna be pretty tricky for you.  First, you’re going to need to find the air compressor . . . ”

I decided my bike was totally fine for a quick bike ride, flat tires and all.  So, off we went and it was freezing.  I would venture to guess it was about 38 degrees.  No joke.

Handsome Dude:

“Mom!  Beat you to the cows!”

“Mom!  Beat you to the bison!”

“Mom!  Let’s go wee faster!”

Mom was a momsicle.  I was able to coerce him back inside at the promise of hot cocoa.

You would think this would be the time when I would finally be able to relax.  And you would be wrong.

We saw a bird.  A blue jay, if you will.

So, we had to stop everything and try to ascertain whether or not the bird was a Mr. or a Mrs.

Like I know.  We went with Mrs.  Next, we had to discuss with Mrs. Blue Jay might like to eat, seeing as how we are out of bird food.

I went with pieces of apple.  Like I know.

Handsome Dude then decided we should play Memory.

Then we had to check on Mrs. Blue Jay.

Candyland was next.  Handsome Dude nearly had a meltdown when I took the lead, because clearly I am uber talented at the complex game that is Candyland.

Then we had to check on Mrs. Blue Jay.

We had to load the fire because it is FREEZING today and I am my husband’s helpmeet who keeps the home fires burning.

Then we had to check on Mrs. Blue Jay.

I told Handsome Dude I really wanted to read.  He said, “No.”  Because he is agreeable like that.  I suggested he painted.

The idea tickled his fancy.

I meant to start reading, but was foolish and decided to clean the kitchen instead.

Handsome Dude:  Mom!  Did you change your mind?

Me:  About what?

Handsome Dude:  Reading!

Me:  Oh, well-

Handsome Dude:  BIRD!

Then we had to check on Mrs. Blue Jay.

Next, I suggested he play trains so I could read.  He reminded me that his train tracks are all discombobulated.  And no, he did not say “discombobulated.”  He is only four, people.

So I went to set up the train tracks.

Train Tracks.  Not for the faint of heart.

But I prevailed and now you must all be impressed, because the task was challenging for me.

And the only reason why I am able to type this very post to you is because I have distracted the boy with peanut butter and jelly.

The boy has finished the sandwich and is currently checking on Mrs. Blue Jay, watering the strawberry plant (because he doesn’t understand seasons and life, in general) and asking me if we can please go on a hike.

Oh, my lands.  It is FREEZING.  And I am ill-equipped to handle a bear attack or anything of that nature.

I think I am going to have to drink my afternoon coffee a bit earlier today.

Happy Weekend!

PS- Mrs. Blue Jay is digging my apples.  Holla!

While we were visiting Bimlissa and company in Tennessee, some of their friends invited us over for “barbecue.”  Or “BBQ” if you aren’t sure how to spell barbecue.  Like me.

As we were feasting, the Tennessee-ians (that is definitely not how you spell it) decided to quiz me a bit on the barbecue.

“Taylor.  What would y’all say barbecue is?”

Well.  A barbecue is kind of a multipurpose word around my regions.

A)  A barbecue is this:

(source)

A contraption used to “barbecue” meat and other various food items on.

and

B) A barbecue is an event.

As in:  “Want to come over for a barbecue?  My dad and uncle are barbecuing up some food and will praise themselves endlessly for their mad culinary skills.”

They think they are something else.

The Tennessee-ians were all aghast at my definition of a barbecue.  Aghast, I tell you.

“Whaaaaat?  Y’all gonna barbecue my food?  That sounds nasty!”

“No!  That is called a grill! Do y’all say grill?”

Finally, one of them asked me:

“Taylor.  What would you call what we ate for lunch today?”

Me:  “Ummm . . . . a shredded pork sandwich on a bun?”

Tennessee-ian (laughing at my ignorance):  “Whaaaat?  No!  What you ate was barbecue!  No one is gonna say, ‘Come over to my house for some shredded pork sandwiches on buns!’  That sounds real fun!”

So, whatever.  Apparently barbecue is a shredded meat/sauce combo.  Consider yourselves informed.

I would make a terrible Tennessee-ian.

***

As were we boarding the plane to come home, the pilots insisted the girls and I come inside the cockpit.

Correct me if I am wrong, but isn’t that against the rules nowadays?  I thought it was odd.  The girls got to push gabs of buttons and one started the rear engine and the other started the other engine.

Planes have multiple engines!  Who knew?!

Science.  Homeschool.  Check.

Is that science?  I cannot be certain.  It certainly isn’t language arts.  Science sounds good.

As I was snapping pictures, one of the pilots literally ripped the camera out of my hands and made me sit down for a picture.  Because I like looking like the world’s largest 8-year-old.

I totally look pregnant there.

Alert:  I have a large black purse in my lap.  I repeat, a large, black purse.

So, that was exciting.

***

At one point during our visit (Yes, I am now going out of chronological order.  Does this surprise you?), Bimlissa’s husband was speaking of his IPad.

Bimlissa: Hon, Taylor is not gonna know what an IPad is.

OK.  That’s taking it a bit far.  Sure, I am a total goober like my parents, but I am not THAT bad.

Bimlissa is so not invited to my birthday party anymore.

***

Speaking of my parents, I feel the need to re-share the story of how my dad became known as a goober on this here blog.

Please.  Try to contain your excitement.

Many moons ago, my dad received an IPod for his birthday.

Why?  We cannot be certain.

It sat on his nightstand for about four months, unopened.  For his birthday in April, he asked for ITunes gift cards.  He got about $100 worth and there they sat by the unopened IPod for a time.

One day, David and I were over at his house and Dad asked if we could help him figure out “that darn I-whatever.”

So, we get everything all set up and he selects two songs that tickle his fancy.

Dad:  Ok, that’s good.

Me:  Dad.  You have two songs.

Dad:  I know.  That sounds good for now.

Me:  Dad.  You have like $98 left in your account.

Dad:  I’ll buy more later.

So, there he went to mow the lawn, donning the headphones of his Two-Song-IPod.  He must’ve really liked those two songs.

Happy Tuesday!

I am reporting to you live and well from Tennessee.  We are having a lovely time thus far, the girls and I.  I don’t have tons of time, as I am feigning to watch the World Series, but I thought I would pop in and share with you a little bit about our day in Atlanta at the American Girl Store.

Here are the three girls outside the store.

My girls didn’t understand why on earth they would want a picture with their MOM in front of the store.

But I made them anyways.  As odd as it was.

First, we went to the American Girl Bistro for a tea party.

If you take a gander at the above photo, you will see that Daisy Mae is praying that this is not, in fact, a dream.

From left to right:

Sweet Pea, “J”, and Daisy Mae.

Daisy Mae was about to explode.  I kid you not.

The menu.  Which is always exciting, no matter where you are at.

The dolls also got to join in.  It is important to make any doll feel almost as if they are a part of the family.  Particularly dolls that cost an arm and a leg.  If you know what I mean.  And I think you do.

They got all sorts of food: cupcakes, tea sandwiches, fruit kabobs, yogurt, and all the hot chocolate they could ever need.

The American Girl Doll People think of everything.  They even help you make your doll feel special in the bathroom.

Which isn’t creepy at all.  In fact, I think I need something like this at home to strap my boys into.  They get into loads of trouble when I am trying to use the facilities.

The girls had some spending money and took forever and a day to decide on which items to purchase.  But they had a lovely time doing so and I think they had a fantastic day.

Many thanks to Bimlissa and her super sweet minivan for driving 10 hours in one day just so we could experience all that is The American Girl Store.

Holla, Bimlissa!

Since The Lumberjack reads this here blog (I think), let us all take a moment to reassure him that The American Girl Store is known for its awesome deals and cheap prices.  Rest assured, Lumberjack.  We hardly spent a dime.

Mmmm-hmmmm.

Alright!  I am having a swell time!  Here are some things I have accomplished thus far:

1)  Taken note of Bimlissa’s accessories so I can copy them.  We live many miles away now.  She will never know.

2)  Noted the price of diesel.  It is much cheaper here.  These are things that my husband will enjoy hearing upon my return.  He’s not into dolls.  FYI.

3)  Missed my boys.  Did you know they are the sweetest, most well-behaved pumpkins in the world?  Why did I leave them?

4)  Ate at Chik-fil-A.  Delish.

5)  Purchased a Diet Coke with vanilla from Sonic just for Zoe, a reader who insists I will abandon Diet Pepsi once I taste a Sonic Diet Coke.  It was good.  But it wasn’t THAT good.

6)  Well-played, Zoe.  Well-played.

7)  Spoke to my parents who were gracious enough to watch the boys while we were gone so David could work.  Was shocked to hear that my mom walked into the bathroom to find two naked boys and a shower curtain soaked with an unknown liquid.  Was even more shocked to hear I had forgot to pack the boys extra underwear.

8)  Oops.

9)  While I admit that in item number 3 of this very list you are reading, I pointed out that I missed the boys, I must also admit that I do not miss their disturbing bathroom adventures.

10)  Perhaps I shall have David install “Dude Fixtures” in my parents’ bathroom post haste.

And waterproof shower curtains.