The Lumberjack's Wife

We are back from camping!  We survived!  We (dare I say it?)had fun!

I didn’t actually realize that the campground we were going to had “hookups.”

That’s fancy trailer talk for water and power.

So . . . yeah.  I took a shower . . . used the hair dryer . . . listened to Pandora . . . brewed hot coffee . . .

It was pretty rough.

Right before we left our house, the kids and I finished theTitanic cake for my dad’s birthday.

Yes.  Laugh if you must.

However, my children deemed me the most awesomest cake maker in the world.  Apparently, I should open up a “cake store.”

When Sweet Pea read that I wrote, “Have an UNSINKABLE day!,” she could barely contain herself.  Clearly, I rock.

(Please note that in the above picture Little Dude is naked.  This is proof that I am not a liar.  That boy is always naked these days.)

Camping wasn’t as cold as I had anticipated.  We were the only fools camping, so we had the entire campground to ourselves.  The girls decided to go “dirt-biking.”

Methinks they took the word “dirt-biking” a little too literally.

Brilliant, are they not?

This was Lucy’s first time camping.  She did great!

She is reminding me of Mabel (our first dog) more and more.

*Gasp!*

Is my husband laughing at my cake?!  Is my father?!

Perhaps I am not as magnificent as my kids claim me to be?

Sweet Pea and PopPop.

PopPop with all the grandkids.

After the birthday festivities, we decided to take a walk.  We walked and walked.  Then we saw a hill, and we were inspired to climb it in hopes of seeing fantastic views of the lake.

Instead, we saw fantastic views of a water treatment plant.

It was discouraging.

Sister Meagan. of whom I neglected to photograph, stayed behind with Little Dude and Sweet Pea whilst we were walking.

Therefore, Sister Meagan had the priviledge of helping Little Dude use the “tray-wer tullet.”

Sister Meagan to Sweet Pea:  Hey!   Does he need help wiping after he goes poo?

Sweet Pea:  Yup.

Sister Meagan:  How do I do it?

Sweet Pea:  Pretend it is your bottom.  Just wipe him like you would wipe your own.

My girl is brilliant.

Later on, I took Daisy Mae on a bike ride to a part of the state park that had a little bridge and boardwalk in a marshy area.

We saw a heron, ducks, and other various sorts of exciting waterfowl.

On our bikeride back, we got stuck in a hail/rain/thunder storm.

So, that was fun.

On Sunday, we had breakfast and packed up to go.  Before we left, we took a quick walk.

We were a bit miffed that the sun decided to come out 10 minutes before we left.

Little Dude was dressed appropriately.

“Fat man in a little coat . . . “

(Name that actor)

So.  We survived.  Apparently, you can camp in April.

Who knew?!

Happy Monday!

Now.  Imagine that title being said by Tom Hanks in “League of her Own.”

Remember?

“There’s no crying in baseball!”

See?

There’s no camping in APRIL!

But, alas.  Who has two thumbs and is going camping promptly upon her husband’s homecoming?

This girl.

At least the weather is cooperating.

You may ask, “Taylor!  Why on earth do you agree to such nonsense?”

Well, dear readers, I have discovered that life is not all about me.

I know.  It was a shock to me as well.

This morning I was awakened at 6am by a naked (surprise) Little Dude.  He was holding his underwear in his hands, running in place, and shouting:

“Camping-time!  Camping-time!  Camping-time!”

I could not share in his joy until after I had some coffee and confirmed that he had not wet his bed.

He didn’t! 

Holla!

It is sad that dry underwear and coffee are what excite me most in life now, is it not?

Anyways.  Camping is really fun for the kids, so therefore, me and my bad hair shall attend.

But we don’t have to like it.

***

Last night, David came into the house and informed me that he needed my help with the camp trailer.

I thought he was talking crazy-talk, seeing as how I don’t tow anything.  Ever.  Nor does he want me to.

Turns out the camp trailer was stuck.

Fun Fact:  David is notorious for getting things stuck.

Whether it be during one of his Proud Drivers Against the Use of Four Wheel Drive Moments or if he is just trying to test the limits of something, it is not rare for him to get something stuck.

Funner Fact:  The one and only time I went wood cutting with David, he got us stuck on top of a mountain.  And we had to hike 10 miles out.  And the grandparents, who knew we were missing and presumed us dead (whatever), began arguing over who would take my sweet cherubs.  True, the boys had not been born yet.  Perhaps things would be different today?  I kid!  Kind of.

So, he needed my help to pull the trailer out.

If he needed my help, you can be assured he was desperate.

What on earth was his plan?

Well.

I was to drive the Excursion and he was to drive the dozer.  The dozer was towing the Excursion, the Excursion was towing the trailer.

Keep up, people!

See?  I knew there had to be a reason for him to buy that dang dozer.

Why was it stuck?

Because the ground was so wet from all the rain.

May I remind you that THERE’S NO CAMPING IN APRIL!!!

But, I digress.

The dozer pulled us up, but then the Excursion/trailer was tilting greatly over and I was quite certain everything was going to fall over.

This was my view:

David assured me I would not fall over.

And I didn’t.

I had to put on my big-girl-towing-a-trailer-pants and negotiate a turn with this trailer.

David:  Taylor.  You have to turn it like blah-blah-blah and yada yada yada or else you will hit the trailer into the house.

Me:  Huh?

David:  You will be fine.

Me:  Huh?

I don’t mean to tootle my own horn, but . . .

I got ‘er done.

And now, I shall bid you adieu.

I have some more food to prep and a Titanic cake to assemble.

Happy Weekend!

On Wednesdays, we pack up and pull out by 8am.

I can assure you this is no easy feat.

Since it is usually our only weekday in town, we pack a lot of events into this day.  The girls have piano lessons from 9-10.  I do any shopping I need to do, errands,  glasses repairs (*sigh*), doctor appointments, play dates, and so on and so forth.  We end the day with the kids at Awana and David and I at our home group.  We get home at 10:30pm and wonder what on earth we were thinking when we created this monster called Wednesday.

So.  Apparently as I was looking over the Wednesday funtivities, I decided we needed more stuff to cram in there.

Therefore and henceforth, I signed up Handsome Dude for swimming lessons on Wednesdays.

Dude has been looking forward to this ever since his Grams bought him some swimming lessons for his birthday.  Dude has been talking about swimming lessons constantly.  Dude told all peoples around him about this exciting event.  Dude gloated to all his siblings that he would be swimming, and, sadly, they would not.  Dude informed everyone that he simply could not wait to swim.

Alas.  Dude is a liar.

We arrived at the swim lessons.  All was well until I had the audacity to tell Dude that he needed to change into his swimsuit.  Apparently, he finds this unacceptable.

It all went downhill from there.

So, there I was, brand new to swim lessons.  I have my two boys with me (girls were playing at a friend’s house). 

Little Dude is donning his clunky cowboy boots, of which he wears daily, and crying because I won’t let him get in the water.

Handsome Dude is wearing swim trunks that are too big for him.  They are hiked up to his rib cage and folded over.  He is shaking and cowering and crying that he is too cold and would like to go home.

Helpful, concerned parents of other children kept coming over to try to talk to him.  They assured him that the water was warm, that swimming was fun, and that he looked uber handsome in his swim trunks (I cannot tell a lie, he did look quite fetching).

One helpful parent decided to try to come and coax Handsome Dude into the pool, bless her heart.

For the purposes of this blog, we shall call her Gladys.  Simply for the fact that Gladys is a fantastic name.

Gladys:  Well, hello there, big guy!

*Handsome Dude buries his head into my stomach* 

(I cannot blame him.  It has pillow-like qualities)

Gladys:  I can tell you are a big guy!  Are you 6 or are you 7?

*Handsome dude is now completely behind me to get away from Gladys*

No.  Handsome Dude is not 6 or 7.  He is four and freakishly tall.  With uber handsome swim trunks.

Gladys:  Well, big guy!  You are going to love it!  My little girl is in there . . . can you see her?  She would like to swim with you.

*Handsome Dude is now crouched on the floor behind the chair, desperately trying to get away from Gladys*

One must wonder if my kids need to get out and see humans more, no?

And so the lesson started.  Handsome Dude remained crying and shivering and refusing to participate.

Convenient.

I was at a loss as to what to do.  My girls have never, ever acted like that.  It totally bugs me that he would not get into the pool. 

For 20 minutes, he did this.  Finally he would get brave enough to walk near the vicinity of the pool, but then the teacher would foolishly speak to him, and back he would go to crouch and cower and hide.

So, I did what any annoyed parent would do.  I bribed him. 

Don’t judge me. 

And he finally made it into the pool.

Which resulted in everyone clapping and cheering for him.  Which, in turn, resulted in me rolling my eyes.  Kidding.  Kind of.

And wouldn’t you know it, he loved it.

We do, however, need to work on his teacher/student skills.

Teacher:  Dude, can you please put on your goggles?

Dude:  No.

Teacher:  Dude, would you like to come and swim with me?

Dude:  No.

Fantastic!

He did, finally, warm up to her and participate.  They started to play a game and she asked all the kids questions.

Handsome Dude, cross-eyed from no glasses, raised his hand to answer her.

Teacher:  Yes, Dude?

And there he sat.  Proud as can be.  Hand in the air.  Eyes crossed.  Saying nothing. Smiling.

Just raising his hand.

Teacher:  Yes, Dude?

Nothing.  Just raising his hand.

Teacher:  Dude?  Did you want to say anything?

Nothing.  Nope.  Nada.

I am not sure if I should homeschool that one.  He might already be too far gone.

***

After swim, we picked up cousins and went to hang out at their house.  Little Dude and my niece, Little Miss, are about 6 months apart.

Little Miss:  My daddy works for stoves!

Little Dude:  My daddy-my daddy-my-daddy . . . works ice cream!

Little Miss looks at him like he is crazy.

And rightfully so.

Little Miss:  Huh?

Little Dude:  Ice cream!  Yummy yummy!

Me:  Daddy doesn’t work for ice cream.

Little Dude:  No, Mom!  DAVE works for ice cream.

Oh.  Pardon me.

***

In other news that you don’t need to know, I have started to compost.

Just cuz.

I greatly dislike when people spell because, “cuz.”  Thoughts?

Alright.  After examing this post, I have decided that I am not sure what the point is.  Sorry to have wasted your time.

I need to begin packing for camping.

Yes.  Please feel bad for me, seeing how it snowed a bit yesterday.

Good news:  I shall not have to pack my swimsuit.

Happy Thursday and Happy Birthday to my Dad!

He is obviously getting hipper with age.

*Attention.  If you are my dad, then do not, I repeat, do not read any further.*

*I mean it.  It is in regards to your birthday.*

* I know you are tempted, Dad.  Just walk away.*

Hello, people.  I feel as if there should be a law against husbands coming home late.

And that is all I have to say about that.

My husband walked in the door tonight.  Two children were doing who-knows-what with dolls.  One child was naked (guess who).  The final child (guess who) was weeping and wailing and waiting in a time out for his father to come “talk” to him.

I smiled, informed him that his dinner was in the fridge, grabbed the dog, and wished him the best of luck.

I was leaving.

My options are limited, you see, as to where I can go.  I decided to head down the road.

Exciting.  I know.

But I did see at least 30 deer.  And Lucy (the dog) was angelic, I kid you not.  I decided I love her and I shall be her bestest pal forever and ever.  So long as she continues to be a dear and not give me grief.

I put on my music from my fancy phone and enjoyed the last 30 minutes of daylight and the absense of children and dishes and laundry and peach walls and school work and creepy deer heads staring at me and crumbs on the counter and trucks and random socks strewn about.

Am I the only person in the world who has numerous socks all over the house?

And I learned something on this walk, dear readers.

Ruralville+me+no one else+almost dark+trees+crackling+rustling+five deer running in front of me=creepy.

It did not help that Lucy seemed nervous the entire time.  It made me wonder, if I were to be mauled by some horrific animal on my adventurous walk, would Lucy be a heroine and run home and inform David?

I don’t know.  She doesn’t seem that smart.

And would David figure out her message?

And now I am wondering if I need more adult company in my life.

Yes.  I think I do.

Consider this a cry for help. 

I will have you all know that I did, in fact, wear my uber cute earrings on my terrifying walk.  If I was going to be viciously attacked, at least I would go out in style.

I may live in redneck-ville, but I sure don’t have to look like I do.

Take that, Ruralville.

What on earth is the point of all of this drivel?

Let’s move on.

My dad!

It is my dad’s birthday soon.  He is kinda sorta a Titanic fanatic. 

Things like disasters, assassinations and politics excite him.

I like earrings, popcorn, and The Big Bang Theory.

Fun Fact:  My dad was born on April 14th.  Same day the Titanic hit the ice berg.

And don’t say I never taught you nothing.

So, Sweet Pea, in all her learned-ness has also become intrigued by the Titanic.  So she decided she would like to make her PopPop a surprise Titanic cake.

This means I will be making him a surprise Titanic cake.

I am sure you can all guess how well prepared I am to make such a cake. 

If nothing else, it might make for a good blog post.

Anyways.  Is there anyone out there with a creative bone in their body that can help a clueless gal, such as myself?

Here are some things you need to know:

1)  I really have no time for this.

2)  He wants a carrot cake with cream cheese frosting.

3)  The recipe says to bake the bake in two round pans.  Therefore the cake shall be round.  No ifs, ands or buts.  I do not deter from recipes.  I shall stand firm in this belief.  Unless you tell me how to convert the recipe to a 13×9 pan.  And I shall double love you forever.

4)  I shall not be purchasing any fancy schmancy cake pans.

5)  Do not even mention fondant.  I know not what fondant is.  Nor do I want to. 

6)  My kids are naughty.

7)  I am almost out of flour.

8)  I once made an “Elmo” cake for Sweet Pea’s birthday.  It was to have red, coconut frosting and be magical and wonderful and all peoples would rise and call me blessed.  It ended up looking like Elmo threw up something pink all over himself.  It resulted in David running to the store to purchase a cake. 

 No one rose and no one called me blessed. 

 And I was out a lot of money.

9)  I would prefer to stay away from red, coconut frosting.  I am convinced that red is a frosting color that simply cannot be achieved by anyone.

10)  I am super open to all ideas and would appreciate any help.

And, that is all.

Good day to you.

PS- 100 (meaningless) points to anyone who can guess what we shall be doing for the patriarch’s birthday.

Hint:  Think coldness, trees, and bad hair.

Do you ever have one of those days?

One of those days where you doubt your decisions . . . decisions such as homeschooling and moving out to the middle of nowehere.  Do you ever panic and feel like you should throw out all your curriculum and start over?  Do you ever wonder if you are totally forgetting some sort of vital something-or-other that they should be learning?  And maybe you were planning on teaching it, but you were interrupted by one naughty boy who is throwing toys everywhere searching for binoculars so he can “get da deers” and another naughty boy who still needs help going to the bathroom and insists on getting completely naked for each bathroom attempt.  Do you ever worry about how far you moved away from everything?  And fear that you are stuck homeschooling unless you are willing to commit to driving about 2-4 hours a day to get your kids to a school.  Do you worry about gas prices?  Do you worry about time management?  Do you worry that your son will never, ever, ever, actually wipe his bum when he goes number 2? 

Me neither. 

 I was just wondering if you ever worried about such trivial matters.

You shouldn’t worry, dear readers.  It isn’t becoming.

Ah, yes.  Today is a day.

I promised all my kids they could play outside for a bit.  This is no simple task.  We first must do bathroom runs.  Little Dude has to get naked first.  Then he has to sing train songs for 10 minutes and not actually pee.  Then he gets off the toilet unbeknownst to me and begins to play trucks, forgetting he is naked and supposed to be using the facilities.

Me:  Dude!  Where’s your underwear?

Little Dude:  Right on my bum!

Me:  No!  They are not on your bum.

Little Dude:  REALLY?!  Oh!  Oops!

Me:  You need to put your underwear back on.

Little Dude:  O-Tay!  First I go potty!

Me:  You just went!

Little Dude:  No!  It was not working!

And so the vicious cycle of nakedness, train songs, and peeing continues.  

So, everyone gets dressed for outside play.

Then we have to get Lucy in.

This, too, was, no simple task.

“Was” being the operative word, of course.  Thanks to many of you, we purchased a certain collar with certain spectacular features that make a certain dog more apt to behave.

It is certainly wonderful.  And I certainly appreciated the suggestion.

So.  All the kids got dressed into play clothes, coats, socks, boots, and blah blah blah.  And then the weather became fickle and we had to reverse gears and come back inside.

Oh, for the weeping.

I am really not that mean.

I mean, would it not have been meaner for me to send them out there during the torrential downpour of rain and hail?

Trust me.  I would have preferred it if they were outside.

So.  They shunned me and went downstairs.  Darn.

And during the peace and quiet, I may have panicked and ordered a new science curriculum.

Hope I like it!

Then, Little Dude interrupted me.  He was a mess.

Proof that young children should not be given markers as gifts.

(Ahem, Mom)

Notice that large bandaid-looking thing on his sleeve?  That would be Handsome Dude’s eye patch.

How did it get there?

We cannot be certain.

I told the boys it was time for bed.

This brought Handsome Dude much worry and angst.

So he had to grab his *ahem* area for comfort. 

One must wonder if grabbing in this region actually does bring comfort to the male species?

 He was worried that we would not be reading books before naps.

I assured him we still would.  So he gathered 14 books and shouted for all the world his fellow homeschooled siblings to hear,

“I got the books!  Say ‘Thanks!’ to the hero!  I am the hero!”

That boy exhausts me.

The boys are asleep.  The girls are working on writing.  I am drinking gallons of coffee and hoping things start to look up.

They probably won’t though.

I have a feeling that Little Dude will be having an accident during this very nap time.

Indeed.  I do.

There was too much singing and not enough peeing before bed.

If you know what I mean.

But here’s to hoping!

First and foremost, I have a confession to make.

*Brace yourselves*

I bought myself a Carhartt Women’s Wear sleeveless work shirt.

Oh, yes.  I did.

You see, dear readers, on Thursday I had to drive to a small-ish town that I rarely go to to take Lucy to the vet.  Whilst I was there, I foolishly took all four children into a consignment shop. 

Have you ever taken four children into a consignment shop?  Don’t do it.

 Said consignment shop was having a massive clearance on all their adult clothes.  As I was perusing the racks, I found this Carhartt shirt on clearance for 99 cents.  And, therefore, I had to purchase it.

Oh, yes.  I did.

I figured that 99 cents is an outrageous deal when you factor in the the fact that I was “eye candy” for my bull-dozing husband today as I helped him do whatever it is we are doing to our land.  I rocked that Carhartt shirt.

Oh, yes.  I did.

As much as a Carhartt shirt can be rocked.

Alas.  I did not take a picture. 

All in good time, dear readers.  All in good time.

Which brings us to today.  The day in which I was wearing the Carhartt shirt and looking like a poser.  For I know not the first thing about hard work.

David and Handsome Dude.

You may ask, “Taylor!  What is the plan?”

And I shall admit to you that I know not what the plan is. 

I think we are leveling things out? 

Perhaps we are clearing out dead stuff? 

 Maybe we are just coming up with things to do as an excuse to purchase a large, seemingly unnecessary bull dozer?

I cannot be certain.

For the first hour or so, I just wandered around . . . picking up random sticks and being eye candy.

Lest any of you are confused, I am not eye candy.  No.  Not at all.  Nope.

I walked up to my manly-man husband and informed him that I needed vision!  I needed purpose!  I needed a plan! 

So, he gave me a job.  GoshDarnIt.

And with that job came a lesson in 4wheeler driving.

As I gathered sticks, Little Dude clapped and cheered for me and said,

“Good job, Mom!  You are wee hep-full!”

I ain’t gonna lie.  I am wee helpful.

So, Little Dude and I cruised the lands and threw sticks into the trailer and then brought them to the burn pile.

I am sure that many of you are aghast that we have a burn pile.  I assure you it is quite legal in these here parts.

Oh, yes.  It is.

Little Dude and I were quite excited when we found this little treasure trove of sticks.

I’m sure you can imagine our jubuliation.

We worked hard all morning.  Handsome Dude even started to fall asleep.

A dozer on the dozer!

Ha!  You cannot deny that was uber clever.

Happy Weekend!

Kelly’s Korner is having a “Show Us Your Mother’s Day Ideas” theme this week.

Since my kids do not make money, I thought I would supply them with a list of ideas for gifts they could give me.

I’m thoughtful like that.

1)  I would like to be able to take a bath and/or shower and have no one see me naked.  Privacy is unheard of over here.  Things are getting borderline-inappropriate.

2)  In addition to #1, I would also like there to be no “questions” or “puzzled looks” after seeing Mommy when she is seeking privacy.  It hurts Mommy’s self-esteem.  Or what’s left of it.

3)  I would like to sit on a toilet seat and not have it be splattered with urine.  I am hoping for a 100% accuracy rate on this (ahem, Handsome Dude), but I would be happy with 50% accuracy.

4)  I would like to not feed you all for a day.  Just one day.  I know this sounds cruel, but I find it to be such a tedious bore lately.  It’s just that there’s so many of you, you see.   Also:  I am tired of dishes, complaints, spilled milk, crumbs on the floor, and peanut butter on faces.

5)  I would like you to cease to produce dirty laundry.

6)  I would like you to have clean rooms at all times.

7)  I would like you to clean my room.

8)  I would also like to join in for nap time.

9)  Perhaps we could learn to wash our spit out of the sink after brushing our teeth?

10)  Please stop asking me if why I have “red spots” on my face.

11)  Please beg me to read a book instead of watching television.

12)  Please stop tracking mud on the carpet.

13)  Please stop fighting.

14)  Please stop hitting.

15)  Please stop whining.

16)  Please don’t stop fighting over who gets to have Mommy carry them down the stairs.

17)  Remember to always snuggle in for a book before naps.

18)  Keep drawing me 16 millions works of art daily.  And insisting I keep them.  All of them.  Forever.  And ever.

19)  Continue to sing my praises when I make you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the shape of a bunny.

20)  Try to not gag at the sight of broccoli.  Broccoli is your friend.

21)  Keep talking to me first out of all the people you know and telling me all the exciting things you are learning and doing.

22)  If you wear glasses, please be responsible with them. (ahem, Handsome Dude.)

23)  Don’t get sick.

24)  Don’t get hurt.

25)  Don’t grow up.

26)  If you insist on growing up, please continue to like me.  And spend time with me.  And go on special dates with me.

27)  If I get wrinkles, don’t mention them.  You probably gave them to me.

28)  Slow down a bit.  Life is flying by.

29)  Pretend I am your favorite teacher and mom, even if I am not deserving of it at the moment.

30)  Remember all the moments we have had together and think of them fondly and with love.

31)  And please stop insising on wearing your underwear backwards.  And your shoes on the wrong feet.

32)  Oh!  And start flushing the toilets.

33)  Remember you are treasured and a blessing to me.  Even if I don’t always act like you are.  You are the best parts of my life.

Love,

Mom.

Hello!

I am joining in on The Hodgepodge today!