The Lumberjack's Wife

1. Do you and your family enjoy camping? What do you enjoy most/like the least when it comes to family camping? When was the last time you camped?

Let me answer that question with a collage of fun-filled pictures that are sure to delight you:

Before we go any further, we must clarify a few things from yesterday’s post.

Oh, yes.  We must.

1.  Yes.  I know that if our landscaper friend said “Roadie” for “Rhododendron” it should be spelled “Rhodie.”  However, when he was saying “Rhodie” I was hearing “Roadie” like a person who follows a band.  So, I was merely trying to accurately portray my confusion.

2.  You Smartie-pantsies, you.

3.  We rent this house out from June-August as a vacation rental.  Hence, the flower bed and other general snazziness.

Ok?  10-4? 

Let’s proceed.

We have baby bunnies!

The astute reader may notice that Little Dude’s eyes look like he has been crying.

Yes.  Tis true. 

However, I had to save baby bunny from Little Dude loving him to death.  One loving hug from Little Dude would surely result in the crushing of baby bunny.

Which would be unfortunate, to say the least.

*sigh*

Handsome Dude.  I can sum Handsome Dude up in one word:  exhausting.

I think we have 7-ish bunnies that are 3 weeks old.  7-ish!  Ha!  Isn’t that awful?  I really, simply don’t care.

And I’m proud to admit it.

I mean, they are cute and all, but they are a THORN in my side.  Not the children, the bunnies.  But sometimes the children can be a little thorny, too.

We have another *litter* of bunnies that are too little to be held.

Fun Fact: *litter* is what cool, rabbit owners, such as myself, call a whole bunch of baby rabbits that were birthed at the same time from the same mama.

What is happening to me?

And what is happening to Little Dude?

I fear rural life has gotten the best of his fashion sense.

That boy needs some sun.

Here is some of the work David has been doing with the bull dozer . . .

And now that we are in the middle of this fun-filled Extreme Yard Makeover: Rental Edition, the dozer shall sit there for all eternity.

Plus, it might be broken. 

Shocking.

Here is a picture of what the land looked like before David obliterated it with the dozer.

He plans to attack all 20 acres.  Therefore, we shall never be finished.

David brought me home a hummingbird feeder the other day.  I told him he could wait for my birthday, but I think he feels badly for me, seeing as how he has been working numerous hours as of late.

Perhaps he feels that staring aimlessly at hummingbirds will entertain me while he is gone?

He didn’t really believe me that we have hummingbirds around.  Remember:  David is never here.  The kids and I are living his dream.

Anywho, he believes me now because the hummingbirds are now frequent visitors of my fantastic feeder.  They empty it in about 3 days.

Can you see it?  Can you see it?

That one is Bernice.

I’ve named all my hummingbirds.  They keep me company.

Ha!  Kidding!

Or 

Am

I?

Happy Tuesday!

(Please excuse the following post.  It may be a bit scattered.  This is because I am exhausted, have calloused hands, and Jell-O arms.  Thank you.)

You want to know what is super enjoyable in life?

Owning a rental.

Yes.  Yes it is.

Allow me to elaborate, if I may.  We had renters move out on June 1st.  We have new renters coming on June 10th.

Do you recall that my husband recently tore down the garage at our rental?

Sure you do.

Well, I don’t know if you are aware or not, but when you tear down a garage, there tends to be a huge hole-ish like area full of dirt and the like where the garage once stood.  

Who knew?!

So that was a kill-joy.  Anywho, my husband and I had a talk on Thursday night.  The talk consisted of making a plan of attack for just how we would get everything done that we needed to get done by June 10th. 

Things to get done:

Build a shed

Redo sprinkler system

Plant grass

Build fence

Weed whack

Rake

Deep clean the house

And so on and so forth.

 I informed my husband that I would like to create a new flower bed down the side of the house.

He looked at me as if I were an insane, crazy person.

I assured him that I had discussed the matter with a few peeps over Facebook and was sure I could handle the project myself.

He looked at me as if I were an insane, crazy person.

He told me that there was no way he had any time for any such landscaping.  I told him that he needn’t worry his pretty little head, that I could surely take care of the flower bed.

He looked at me as if I were an insane, crazy person.

On Friday, I had to load up the bambinos and drive into town for a homeschooling picnic (don’t be jealous).  Afterwards, I stopped by a nursery owned by a friend.  He helped me pick out the perfect plants for the flower bed that I would be creating all by myself.  He even tolerated my children who were being “spirited” and got them to sit down on a bench by bribing them with suckers.

I will admit, it was a trifle embarrassing to have someone else try to bribe my kids into behaving, but I was so perplexed by all the fancy words he was using! I wasn’t even paying attention to them. I was just trying to focus and figure out what a “Roadie” was.

Turns out a “roadie” is what he calls a rhododendron.

Keep up, Taylor!

On Saturday, all six of us went to the house.  Bringing children with you to work on a rental is a mistake of gigantic proportions. 

However, they are our children and care for them we must.

Mr. Roadie from the nursery stopped by to help us figure out the best way to lay out the plants he had told me to buy. 

What a guy!

One thing is for certain:  I know not the first thing about the wonderful world of landscaping. 

So, it’s a good thing I decided to create a flower bed when we have no time to create a flower bed.

My husband, the man who told me he had no time for any such bedding of flowers, had to dig up the sprinkler system and move it to accommodate MY flower bed.

Oops.

Then he had to dig a trench to put in edging for MY flower bed.

Oops.

Then he had to level out the ground with his giant muscles. (In fairness, I tried to do this, but he had to take over because I lack the manpower. And the desire to work hard and sweat and other ghastly things.)  And then he did all the planting.

Oops.

So, at 4:30 on Saturday, the day he was supposed to build a shed, he finally got to start the shed.

Oops.

Now, don’t get your panties in a knot, dear readers.  I was being helpful.  Do you know what a “yard” of bark is?

Neither do I.

But my husband purchased FOUR “yards” of bark and had it loaded in the back of the truck.  Would you like to know who shoveled out all FOUR yards of bark?

Me.

I don’t know if shoveling four yards of bark is impressive, but after receiving multiple splinters and callouses on my hands, I would like to think it is.

On Sunday, David went back to work on the shed and I took the kids to church.  I have good news:  Summer came this weekend!

I, yes, I, Taylor Maliblahblah, got all crazy and wore capris and sandals.

Handsome Dude wore shorts and flip flops for the first time this year.  As he was walking into his classroom, he proudly held his Bible and said:

“I’m going to tell my girl that I am wearing shorts and flip flops!”

Lest any of you are confused, “his girl” is what he lovingly calls his teacher.

After church, the girls had a piano recital.

David took a break from his mad, shed-building skills (or skillz, whichever you prefer) and met up with us at the recital.

The girls brought down the house . . . as much as two first-year piano students can bring down a house.

My parents then took all four children home with them and I went to the house so I could be my husband’s help meet.

While my husband was being Bob the Builder, I donned my headphones and began to deep clean the house.

I. Had. A. Blast. 

I kid you not.  Do you know how lovely it is to have to worry about no children for a few hours?

True, I was scrubbing baseboards and windows, but I didn’t have to worry about potty breaks, snacks, fighting, crying, whining, and other mundane, parenting tasks.

So, I was in a grand mood, what with my headphones and the like, and I went to ask my husband when he would be finished.

Oops.

Apparently asking one’s stressed out husband when he would be finished building a shed after he had to create an unnecessary flower bed is not the best of plans.

Live and learn.

Moments later, some friends stopped by.  I told them David was building a shed.  The second I said that, his chainsaw started up.

It’s never a good sign to hear a chainsaw when one is building a shed, is it, dear readers?

Alas.

The shed is not built.  The yard is not raked.  The weeds are not whacked.  The fence is not built.

The renters come Friday and my husband has a full, busy work week ahead of him.

How shall he accomplish all these things?

No one knows.

But I do know this: my husband is Superman and he always gets the job done.

So, this week shall be a bit busy.  And stressful.

Oh!  And his truck broke down.  Do you remember how I had to tow his truck to the mechanic last Thursday?  Well.  It’s still broken.

Thankfully, his brother Alex is letting him use his truck.

Holla, Alex!

And holla to my mom and dad for watching the kids.

And holla to my friend Amanda who is taking all the kids tonight so I can try to be Bob the Builder with David tonight.

And holla to our friend, Mr. Roadie, who knows all about the wonderful world of landscaping and showed us the light.

Ah, good times.

Did this post make any sense?

Is anyone even reading this?

Hello?

I am uber tired and I shall sign off now.

Happy Monday!

PS-Sorry for the lack of pictures.  However, I decided that me walking around snapping pictures would be ill-received by my stressed out husband in such a time as this.

PPS-Roadies are really pretty!

PPPS-Anyone want to buy our house?  It has a lovely new flower bed.

I found Kira’s blog, Kissing the Joy as it Flies, a bit ago, and I thoroughly enjoy it.

Thoroughly.

Anyways, she does this thing called “Fess Up Friday,” and I thought I would join in today.

***

I would like to introduce you to new segment on this here blog called:

The Same Thing Happens Every Morning.

You may, perhaps, recall that I told you my Handsome Dude is a ravenous beast these days?

The boy wakes up, runs right past  me, and begins to pull out everything he will be requiring to satisfy his hunger.

Chocolate milk, cheerios with regular milk, and two slices of toast with peanut butter and jam.

He’s FOUR.

(Yes.  That would be homemade jam in the above photo.)

(Don’t pretend you aren’t impressed.)

Soon after Handsome Dude begins his feast, Little Dude will walk up the stairs.  I know he is coming because I hear his creepy bunny voice.

Sweet Pea has taught him how to talk in this strange, high-pitched voice.  This voice cannot be explained adequately with words.  Just know it is uber weird.

Every morning, Little Dude makes it up with his entourage of stuffed bunnies and puppies that he has stolen from his siblings.

The puppies and bunnies are his bosom friends and they must go everywhere with him.

I’m sure that is healthy for a homeschooling child who lives in the middle of nowhere.

At this point in the morning, the girls are still asleep.  They have an alarm, of which they set.  Yet, they never emerge from the basement at the appropriate time.

Why?  Well, according to Sweet Pea, when the alarm goes off, she simply does not feel like waking up, so she just turns it off and goes back to sleep.

She’s EIGHT!

Aren’t we too young for this nonsense and sass?

Once I wake up the girls, it will take them much stretching and groaning to actually get out of their beds.

Attention all Mother’s of Newborns who are certain they will never sleep through the night again:

I often wondered if these two girls would ever sleep through the night.

Take heart!

Eventually, your children will refuse to wake up!  Ah, what a strange, twist of events.

But that is neither here, nor there.

Daisy Mae will walk up the stairs.  Every morning, she will ask me if she can watch TV.  Every morning, I tell her no.  Every morning, she asks me why.  Every morning I tell her it is because we have to hurry and get ready so we can start school.

And every morning, she is shocked.

“We are doing school today?”

Sweet Pea will have fallen asleep again.  I put on my mean-mom pants and go and tell her that I shall NOT be coming down again and she WILL be waking up.

Sweet Pea does not try to watch a show or do anything leisurely.  She knows she is late, because she is late every morning.  So, every morning, after about three wake-ups, she will stumble right into the shower.

Where she will stand for 10 minutes and stare while the water pours over her.

Once she gets out of the shower, she yells for someone to please get her a towel.  And every morning, I tell her no.  Because every morning, she forgets to grab a towel.

And I firmly believe that I should raise this child in such a manner that she is responsible to remember that she will be needing a towel after the shower.

She will don the towel.  Then she will stand in the bathroom with the towel around her shoulders, shivering as water drops from her nose to the ground.

Me:  Go get dressed.

Sweet Pea:  But I am cold.

Me:  I know.  Dry off better.

Sweet Pea:  But I am cold.

Me:  If you get clothes on, you will be warmer.

Sweet Pea:  But I am cold.

Now, it is Daisy Mae’s turn for a shower.  Daisy Mae will first spend 10 minutes “brushing” out her tangles before getting in the shower.

And when I say “brushing,” of course I mean singing into the brush while admiring her beauty in the mirror.

Daisy Mae will also take too long in the shower.

That child can spend 10 minutes in the shower, lather with shampoo, and forget to rinse.  She will then get out of the shower and be shocked when I inform her that her hair is soapy and she forgot to take out all 9 hair accessories from the day before.

Me:  When you were washing your hair, didn’t you feel the hair clips?

Daisy Mae:  I don’t know.

Me: Did you know that you forgot to rinse out the soap?

Daisy Mae:  I knew I was forgetting something!

And she is all dimples and grins as she jumps back into the shower to try again.

Sweet Pea, the aforementioned frozen child, will come upstairs wearing a summer dress that is absolutely not appropriate for our 60 degree weather.

Because everyone knows that when you are already super cold from your shower, you should throw on a light, breezy summer dress.

All this time, the boys will have finished breakfast, bathed, played with their trucks, fought over the trucks, and informed me that they are hungry yet again.

And that, dear readers, is why I look like I am turning 30 in approximately 21 days.

***

We were driving to town yesterday, and Daisy Mae saw me sipping my coffee.

She was quite distraught.

“Mom!  You aren’t supposed to drink and drive!”

***

Little Dude is very interested in telling me the colors of the stoplights.

“Green!  Go, Mom!”

“Red! Stop!”

You would not believe the wrath I must suffer when I turn right at a red light.

***

Little Dude told me the same joke over and over yesterday.

Would you like to hear it?

Sure you do.

Little Dude:  Knock, knock

Me:  Who’s there?

Little Dude:  Banana!

Me:  Banana, who?

Little Dude:  Yummy!

*giggle, giggle, chuckle, chuckle*

***

The other day, I was having a DAY with homeschooling.  You know those days, fellow homeschooling moms?

They come and go.

But anyways, it was a DAY, and I was looking over Daisy Mae’s math and I just burst out laughing:

Happy Thursday!

Yes.  Hello.

I have a plethora of nothingness to share with you.  After a bit of consideration, I have decided it would be best to throw this nothingness at you in a lovely, list form.

You’re welcome.

1.  David tore down the garage at the old house on Saturday.  He took with him Daisy Mae and Handsome Dude, who later went to visit their grandparents.

2.  Do you know how easy life is with just two children?  What were we NOT thinking?

3.  Sweet Pea helped me get all the closets organized.  Little Dude just laid around, refusing to wear pants, and playing trains.  There was no fighting.  There was no hitting.  There were no tears. 

There were no pants.

4.  We even had a visitor out there in Ruralville.

Moose are not sissies, like their friends the deer.

Nope.  This guy, or more accurately, gal, just stared at me and continued to eat my cute, white flowering trees.

I know it was a gal because of the absence of horns.  Duh.

I have to text David pictures of all the wildlife he is missing over here at his dream house.

It’s a shame he is never here.

I’m living his dream.

Lucky me.

5.  What is wrong with me?  I’ve spent too much time talking about the wonderful world of wild game.  My apologies.  Let’s move on to more normal topics, shall we?

6.  My wedding ring lost a diamond.  This saddens me.  But that is neither here nor there.

7.  We have baby bunnies.  They are about 9 days old.  Before I show you this picture, I want to remind you that I have no photography skills (or skillz, whichever you prefer).    Also, these babies are buried under a nest of their mother’s own fur.  Plus, I took it with my phone.  And I didn’t edit this picture to perfection, like I normally do (ha!).  So, take all of that into consideration and trust me when I tell you that this is a picture of newborn bunnies.

8.  Dang.  I started talking about rural-ish animals and the like again.  My apologies.

9.  We have had some strange happenings here.  Things are getting bent and nobody knows why.

Exhibit A:

Handsome Dude’s bike.

Yes.  I am aware.  The bike is a bit girly for a dude. 

It is a princess bike that was formerly his sister’s.  We have four children now and we no longer have time to concern ourselves over such trivial matters.

The point is:  What happened to the wheel?

Exhibit B:

Weird, bending toothbrushes.

Nobody knows what happened.  And nobody did it.

Incredulous.

10.  David brought me home a present yesterday.  A hummingbird feeder.  Readers!  Did you know we have hummingbirds out here, too?

So, now I can spend my long, long, long days out here in Ruralville aimlessly watching the hummingbirds as I sit and pine after my husband, waiting for him to return to his dream house that I am living in for him.

I kid!  I jest!

I like to watch the hummingbirds.  And I certainly don’t have time to sit and pine after anyone.  There is laundry to be done, people!

11.  We went on a walk last night.

Handsome Dude armed himself with a stick.  You know, for to kill the crocodiles.

Lest any of you are concerned, there are no crocodiles out here in Ruralville.

Or at least that’s what my husband tells me.

And he tells me many things.

Many.

No.  Handsome Dude is not wearing his glasses.  This is not his fault.  He is awaiting new lenses.

Little Dude showing me “The Tunnel.”

Little Dude basically makes his whole world revolve around trains.  On our walk we went through “tunnels” and would randomly “choo choo.”

And everytime we walked a bit uphill, he would start singing:

“The train went over the mountain, the train went over the mountain . . . “

12.  On our walk, we saw a mama duck with her babies.

I am wondering, dear readers, if this mother duck is a fit mother.

I am not sure our “lagoon” is a good place to raise a family.

But who am I to judge?

Happy Tuesday!

Is anyone doing anything fun for Memorial Day Weekend?

I have shocking news:  We are NOT going camping.  I believe my dapper husband is loading up his chainsaw in the early morning sun (or, more accurately, chilly downpour of rain) and heading to our old house to perform some long-overdue demolition on the garage there.

Here is a super old picture of that garage from when we lived there, about a year and a half ago:

Things to Notice:

1)  David is wearing Carhartts, and wearing them with pride, I might add.  You can tell from the emblem on his rear.  Not that you should be looking at his rear.  For shame, readers.

2)  Handsome Dude is “helping” unload the wood.

3)  Venturing out into the woods to chop down numerous amounts of trees for to heat the house is an activity that will resume this summer.  I am trying to contain my excitement. 

However, I know I shall get a splinter.  This discourages me.

4)  Oh!  Yes!  The garage!  Do you see it?  It’s in way bad shape.  We keep hoping the snow fall will collapse it.  But, alas.  David must do the deed himself.

So.  I will be home with the bambinos tomorrow, which will be a rarity for me.  Not.  (Or Sike-for Erin, my just-pretends friend.  Holla, Erin)  I think I am going to clean out closets and toy boxes.

This will result in me getting angry.

I will try to remain patient and not get mad when I discover the hidden unknowns and mass devastation that I am certain to discover in my kids’ rooms of doom.

But it probably won’t happen. 

People!

My girls write about 6 plays a day.  They cut out pictures and tape dolls to straws.  They make play books.  They write letters to their friends inviting them to  attend.  Then they journal about their experiences.  And they write notes.  To each other.  And they share a room.

Now, I want you to all close your eyes for a moment and just imagine with me how much paper is in my house right now that is considered absolutely precious and must not ever, under any circumstances,  be thrown away.

The thought of it just makes me feel so forlorn.

But that is neither here nor there.

Let us move on.

I have grossly neglected my Comment of the Week feature on this blog.  To make up for my rudeness, I shall award it thrice.

Oh, yes.

I said thrice.  Feel free to sneak that fun word into your next conversation.  It’s a word that’s sure to impress.

COW #1 goes to my Auntie Datenutloaf on the post Gentle, gentle!:

Yes, I remember when you got you iPod – LJ was showing it to me and what it said but the screen was too small and all I saw was Taylor is a ho and thot he was very rude icks dusting.

(She is speaking of my Ipod that my husband named “Taylor the Hottie.”)

COW #2 goes to JoAnn on the post The Hot Tub Party Bus:

Okay so here’s my deep dark secret: My mom (idiot) (not really) (you’ll see why I’m calling her that in a sec), decided it was a good idea to pull out a giant tupperware container of my old barbies and let my 2 and 3 year old sons play with them. They no longer owned clothes. They had morphed into a barbie nudist colony in that box. Okay, well one barbie was wearing clothes, a hot pink spandex body suit. She had been roller blade barbie.
So I walk in the room and have a small heart attack when I see Q holding a few nude barbies, and then he asks if he can take a nap with them. I say “NO!” and he says, “Why not?” and I say, “Because look! They have sharp feet! They could poke you in the eye while you sleep!”
I made my mom hide them back out in the barn and guess what toys he’s always requesting now when we visit? BARBIE!
I have decided to never tell my husband about this incident.
The End.

COW #3 goes to Debra D:

Maybe Handsome Dude could give me some pointers on the whole losing-of-the-eyewear deal, ’cause I seriously want some new glasses. I just cannot bring myself to buy new ones when I have a pair that work. Just some simple instructions on how to damage these will do just fine if he is still perfecting his modus operandi. Holla, H.D., Holla!

***

Thank you all for the ideas you put in the comments this week.  I am excited to try some of these easy dinner recipes out.  In fact, I am trying Erin’s recipe right now.  Seriously.  It’s in the oven.  Right now.

Trippy!

Oh!  I almost forgot to tell you!  We sold our mice-infested Honda!  Ok, ok, the mice were evicted and the car was clean and all fresh smelling when we sold it. 

Hold on to your pants, people!  I might be getting a minivan.

Or not.

It just depends on what Mr. Lumberjack finds on The Wonderful World of Craigslist.

***

Before I say goodbye, I wanted to share with you all a conversation I overheard my girls having with their friend last week.

Friend:  Did you know there are still princesses?

My girls (who are clearly sheltered):  There are?

Friend:  Yes!  And one named Kate just got married!

Sweet Pea:  Did you know that we are at war with England?

Friend:  Yes!  I know!

Daisy Mae (a storm of fear and sorrow is welling inside of her.  You can tell by the volume of her voice and furrow of her brow.):  What?!?

Sweet Pea:  Yes!  And we will probably lose.

Friend:  Yes.  We will.

Daisy Mae:  WHAT?!?

Sweet Pea:  And when we do, the King and Queen of England will rule over us.

Friend:  Yes.  They will.

Daisy Mae is beside herself with grief.

Sweet Pea:  And when they move to America, they are going to make us bow down and worship them.  And we will have to be their servants.

Daisy Mae:  I just want to DIE!  I just want to DIE!  I can’t believe this!

Sweet Pea:  It’s true!

Friend:  It is.

Daisy Mae is crying and wailing and stomping and yelling.

?

***

Oh, yes.  That was a fun one to try and sort out.

Happy Weekend!