The Lumberjack's Wife

I am reporting to you live (barely) from the trenches of slumber party heaven.

And I use the term “heaven” quite loosely.

Quite.

What is it with little girls?  And their drama?  And their emotions?  And their hairstyles?

Weird.

Yes.  Four little girls all together . . . pray for me.

In other news, I am alive and well and looking forward to my visit with Bimlissa this afternoon.  It would appear that I am the last person she will talk to on her March tour of friends and family.

Whatever. 

She’s not invited to my birthday anymore.

Do you know who Bimlissa is?  Are you confused?  Are you wondering why you are reading this blog?

You are not alone.

So, yesterday, my friend, Alisa ,came to bring her daughter over.  My kids like to take the bunnies out and put them in this large black utility trailer so they can play with them.

The girls stole my camera and took some shots of their rabbit “daycare.”

Bunnies sliding? Perhaps this is a bad plan?

Don’t worry.  The bunnies enjoy it.

See?  Nothing but smiles.

Don’t worry.  I nipped that sliding nonsense in the bud.  In case you didn’t notice, I run a tight ship over here.

Anyways, as the children were playing in the trailer, Alisa and I noticed the trailer slowly rolling down the hill.

Attention all friends:  Yes!  Let your children come to my house and play!  I will stick them in a trailer with numerous rabbits and send them careening down our rolling hills!

Safety first!

So Alisa and I broke out all of our muscles and attempted to push the trailer back up the hill.

It did not budge.

But we decided we burned lots of calories trying.

But this is my life now.  I used to meet friends at Starbucks and wear cute earrings and talk about normal things.  Now, I enforce my companions to help me rescue rabbits stranded in trailers rolling down hills.

And I have to make pot coffee.

But I still wear uber cute earrings.

I am bringing fashion to Ruralville.

Happy Friday!

Well, hello!

Yesterday was our “going-to-town” day.  One of our stops was the library.  At one point, Handsome Dude decided he needed to use the restroom.

Unfortunately, I was busy with the other three, so I had to send him on his own.  All by himself.  Without supervision.

Raise your hand if you feel this was a bad idea.

Mmmmm-hmmmm. 

(please imagine that mmmmm-hmmm said all sassy-like.  thank you)

Me:  Dude.  Please don’t pee on the floor.

HD (short for Handsome Dude . . . keep up, people!):  O-TAY!

Me:  And don’t pee on the seat.

HD:  I not!

Me:  And flush the toilet and wash your hands.

HD:  O-TAY!

Me:  And please, please, don’t yell while you are in there.

HD:  I NOT!

So, I foolishly thought I had my bases covered.  You see, dear readers, if I tell him not to pee on the seat, he won’t.  But if I forget, he will.

I went back to helping the other children with their bookish activities.

And then, I notice the librarians laughing and shaking their heads.

It would seem that Handsome Dude now must be reminded that he also must close the door before dropping his pants.

So, the entire library saw his little tushie yesterday.

And what a cute tushie it is!

That boy exhausts me.

***

In other news, we were surprised by a visit from good friends this week!

And I shall have you guess who is here, because I know it pleases you to play these sorts of games with me.

Clue #1:  She let me “steal” her perfect black sweater.  It even had ruffles.

Clue #2:  I went to high school with her.  But she refused to speak to me there, on account of how much cooler she thought she was than I.  But now, she sees the light.

Clue #3:  Her daughter and my daughters are good friends.  And we surprised them with a little reuinion yesterday:

Here is Daisy Mae opening the door to our surprise visitors!

The girls! 

Notice how red Daisy Mae’s cheeks are . . . she didn’t quite know what to think!

(Lest any of you are confused, we were at the hair dressers.)

And as soon as we got home, my girls got right to work on showing their friend the ways of Ruralville.

And, not to be outdone, their friend has informed them of the following:

1.  She milks cows.  It feels cool.

2.  She sews all the time.

3.  She has made 4, no five, table runners.

4.  And she has made numerous pillow cases.

Dang!  This gal is more of a country gal than I am!

So . . . can you guess which dear friend of mine has come to visit?

Happy Thursday!

Oh, goodness.

Here are some alternate titles I came up with for today’s post:

Fat Tuesday:  Let’s Quit Edition.

Fat Tuesday:  Why are we doing this?

Fat Tuesday:  Brownies Galore!  Share your fattiest brownie recipes immediately!

As you can see, I went with the boring, yet safe, title.

I didn’t gain anything.  I didn’t lose anything.  I didn’t exercise. 

But there is good reason!  I felt sick most of the week.  And only crazies actually exercise when they have a sore throat or a runny nose.

Am I right or am I right?

Herein lies the problem:  I don’t have any motivation.

I have a husband who thinks I am “hot.” 

Dear Lord,

Please help this to not be the one post out of twenty that my parents read.

Thank you.

Come pregnancy, post partum weight loss, belly chubs, homeschooling weight gain, and my intense love for all things chocolate, he always thinks I look “hot.”

He thought I looked hot in this picture:

And in this picture:

Fun Fact:  When I was in junior high, a CUTE boy had this conversation with me . . .

Cute Boy:  Hey, Taylor!  You know what happens when you wear a red shirt?

Me:  What?

Cute Boy:  Everyone runs away and screams “Kool-Aid!”

Get it?  Like I looked like the Kool-Aid man.

So mean. 

But he had a point.

And my husband would probably say I looked cute in this picture:

But he would most likely be lying.

And yes.  That would be after I had the baby.

And I am still battling that tummy.

Oh, the humanity!

***

So, I am not going to be all that helpful today.  But I checked in and, therefore, you will too!

It’s only fair.

Happy Tuesday!

So, today was kind of blah.

I don’t feel so great, and I ain’t gonna lie, I’m not good at hiding that. 

When I am sick, I find things irksome.

And poor Daisy Mae.  She irked me.

You see, dear readers, we were reviewing her math lesson.  Can you guess what “letter” Daisy Mae had in place for each and every one of her “9’s?”

Yes.  That’s right.  Her page was littered with “P’s.”

Irksome.

So, as I was pointing this mistake out, I noticed she had massive amounts of blue ink all over her hands.

Me:  Did you write on yourself?

DM (short for Daisy Mae . . . keep up, people!):  Yes.

Me:  When did you do this?

DM:  Last night in the car.

Me:  Why?

DM:  Because I was bored.

Me:  You cannot write on yourself life that!

DM:  Why?

Me:  Because . . . because . . . you can’t!  You’ll get ink poisoning!  Now go change all your “P’s” to “9’s.”

Yes.  I was cranky.  No.  I have no idea if a person would actually get this “ink poisioning” or not.  But the threat sounded like a good idea at the time.

So then she wouldn’t stop crying all morning long.

And foolishly, I thought it was because she felt remorseful about WRITING HER “9’S” AS “P’S” EVERY SINGLE DAY OF HER LIFE.

But, no. 

It would seem that six year old girls fixate on certain words their loving, brilliant mothers throw at them.

Words, such as, “POISON.”

So, I had to assure her for the P0th (get it?  do you get it?) time that she would not surely die from the ink on her hands.

It was an epic moment in my homeschooling career.

Here is photographic evidence of her ink hand, about 24 hours after she inked herself.

Now, here is another example of irksome things in life:

A)  I took this picture with my handy-dandy camera phone.

B)  I had to email this picture to my email account.

C)  Then I had to download the photo to the hard drive on my computer.

It is at this point in the post that my father is surely befuddled.

D)  Next, I had to upload the photo to my blog.

E)  But first, I had to try to remember where on earth I had saved this photo.

F)  Oddly enough, I had saved it in a file called “Nose.”  Are not my organization skills to be envied?

G)  I wait 2.7 years for this photo to upload to my blog.

H)  I am sure you can see how it was worth the wait, seeing as how you can hardly see the ink on her hand.

I)  And you are probably wondering why they are holding a ziplock bag full of fake money with the number “300” on it?

J)  And you are surely curious as to why the photo is sideways.

K)  I tried NUMEROUS times to get it right.  NUMEROUS.

L)  I am irked again and I give up and I don’t care.  I have wasted enough of my life on this mediocre photo.

M)  You might also notice that Daisy Mae’s face is shiny.  This is because she loves to lather her face in vasoline.  It is part of her beauty regimine.  Feel free to steal it.  She is kind of cute.

N)  My tummy hurts.  And my throat.  And my head.

O)  I put my kids to bed an hour ago and I just saw a flash of what suspiciously resembles Handsome Dude running around the living room.

P)  Irksome.

***

Speaking of Handsome Dude . . .

Right after his bath today, he was all giggly and whiny all at the same time.  He looked at me all cross-eyed and said:

“Look!  Two mommies!  I see two mommies!”

Yikes!

So, I patched his eye for an hour and googled what this double vision phenomenon could mean and now I am terrified.

So I ate three chocolate chip cookies and decided he isn’t naughty at all.

He is, in fact, precious.

***

I wish my husband could bring me home ice cream for my sore throat.  But ice cream cannot survive the trip from the big city to Ruralville.

Such sadness.

***

I just thought of another irksome tragedy!

I have to do that bothersome Fat Tuesday tomorrow and I didn’t lose any weight.

Again.

Can we skip it?

***

Alright.  I am going to log off and go see if I can find some hot cocoa to cheer me up.

Happy Monday Night!

I wasn’t feel so grand today, so I decided to try and organize my pictures.

My pictures are still not organized.

I did, however, find some pictures I wanted to share with you all.

Lucky you.

September 2007

Sweet Pea (left) and Daisy Mae (right) on Sweet Pea’s first day of preschool.

This is when we did not live in middle-of-nowhere-ville and we were able to walk to her school.

Amazing.

September 2008

Handsome Dude (6 months) with my mom.

Just look at him.  Can we not all agree that he is uber handsome?

Hence, his code name, Handsome Dude.

The next several pictures are to show you how far my husband has come with the camera.

Please notice how he is not just not smiling, which is what you have all come to expect from my Lumberjack.

But he is actually hiding from the camera.

See?

Things used to be much worse.

Poor Little Dude.  He shall always have a well-meaning big sister squeezing him to death.

Wait?  Where is David?  Has anyone seen David?

He’s so tricky!

Ha!

Poor Little Dude.  He has never been a fan of my cooking.

Wait a minute . . . is that my husband hiding from the camera again?

Yes.  And there he is again.

So  . . . sneaky, that man in black.

So . . . mysterious.

So . . .

 weird.

But I digress.

Little Dude.  Cute, cute!

Me and Little Dude.

The weirdest part about looking through all these photos was that my girls have not seemed to really age to me over the past few years.  But when I look back, I see how much they have changed.  And grown!

*sigh*

I need a pause button.

Happy Weekend!

A Friday List.

1)  My dearheart friend, Amanda, threw caution to the wind and drove all the way out here to visit me.  Is she not splendid?

2)  We both agreed that cooking dinner this evening did not sound like a fun task.

3)  As a result of this, Amanda gets to go to Red Robin in the big city with the lights and cars and humans.

4)  I shall be cooking dinner.

5)  It was a beautiful day today.  But there does come a time in every gal’s life when she has to wonder: 

When is spring coming?

6)  Combined, Amanda and I have eight children.  We allowed said children to play outside.  And we foolishly believed that all eight children would listen to us and not stand in any mud puddles.

7)  We should know better.

8)  At least Amanda should know better.  She is in her 30’s.  I am only in my 20’s.

For shame, Amanda.  For shame.

9)  All children ended the playdate with soaked socks and soggy bottoms.

10)  What should I make for dinner?

11)  I am contemplating running a 5K.  Dumb or brilliant?

12)  I have zero running/exercise/fitness experience and this event will occur in 4 weeks.

13)  Or, I could just make brownies tonight and give up.

14)  I am also giving up on couponing.  Thank you to everyone who gave me permission to do so.

15)  What did the boy volcano say to the girl volcano?

16)  Do you lava me as much as I lava you?

17)  Ha!  That is clever, you cannot deny it.

18)  The new water heater incident did not cause any sort of tiff whatsoever.  And we all got hot showers this morning.

19)  Therefore, my husband probably doesn’t need to bring me flowers for another year or so.

20)  But, watch out, Lumberjack.  The year 2012 will sneak up on you.  And you shall be romantic, yes you shall.

21)  Let us discuss the COW.  The COW is the Comment of the Week.

It is Erin.  Erin is always hilarious.  I love Erin with an undying, non-creepy, blogging friend sort of love.

But Erin gets it this week because she remembered something on my blog from January of last year.

Her brain is like a sponge!

Erin said:

Is this the same dentist you freaked out with your wet hands while visiting after your 6-year hiatus?

Why, yes!  And you can read all about it here.

Go visit Erin.  She is good times, fun, and happiness.

Happy Friday!

Yesterday, I took the children to the dentist.

Foolishness, I know.

However, I cannot have them known as those homeschooled kids from Ruralville with the grimy teeth.

So.  To the dentist we shall go.

Last September, Handsome Dude went for the first time.  For some strange reason, the staff at the dentist office was quite certain that he was a girl.

There are a lot of words I could use to describe this boy.

Girly is not one of them.

When the gal called him back, she said,

“We are ready for her!”

And I let it slide.  That’s the kind of gal I am.

But when they sent him home with the princess toothbrush, they were crossing the line, folks.

Crossing the line.

So, last week when I called to make the appointment, I casually mentioned to the guy making my appointment that my son was, in fact, of the male species.  And appointment dude thought this was uber hilarious and could not believe the mistake they had made.

So we had a good chuckle over it and he promised the situation would be recitified.  And that was that.

Let’s move on.

We walk into the appointment yesterday.  I hear appointment-maker-dude mention to two other gals the mistake and they all got a good look at Handsome Dude and would giggle and laugh.

I would be lying if I said I was not a bit paranoid.

Is it that hard to tell?

So, they call the three oldest kids back and I sat in the waiting room with Little Dude.

And Little Dude was quite the precious angel, I kid you not.  It was baffling.

About an hour into it, a lady comes back to the waiting room.

She is nothing but smiles and pleasantries.

Smiley Lady: Hi, hon!  Are you Handsome Dude’s mom?

Me:  Yes

Smiley Lady:  Well.  We are having a slight problem.

A million scenarios are racing through my mind.  I am convinced the problem involves either a) urine ,  b) poop,  or c) a and b combined.

Smiley Lady:  He is refusing to open his mouth.

Phew!

Me:  Ok.  Would you like me to go back and talk with him?

Smiley Lady:  No!  We prefer not to force the children to open their mouths.  We will just wait and see if he will let us get a look.  If he decides to allow us to, we will clean his teeth.  Otherwise, there is simply nothing we can do.

Alright.  I’m all for smiling and pleasantries.  However, I have to drive 45 minutes each way to the dentist.  I have four children and a limited gas budget.

And if I take him to the dentist, and he won’t open his mouth, then what, pray tell, is the point?

No.  I am not worried about forcing that kid to do anything.

I have to deal with his broken glasses, peepee toilet seats, piling snow on his bedroom floor, pulling his sisters’ hair, hitting his brother, yelling, kicking, screaming, complete refusal to attempt to chew broccoli, his strange habit of putting everything in ziploc bag, his stealing of gum, his sneaking of cookies and his newest habit: blow-drying his hair in one spot to make it stand straight up.

He can open his mouth at the dentist.  It’s the least he can do.

But, I am sure the smiley, pleasant lady is not going to be on board with my plan.

Me:  Could you just try one thing for me?

Smiley Lady:  Umm . . . .

Me:  Just tell him this:  Your mother said if you open your mouth you get a piece of gum when we leave.

Bribery.  Don’t pretend you don’t do it, too.

So, he opened his mouth.

And now, my dear friends, he is Johnny-Clean-Teeth and he has already used an entire tube of toothpaste and flossed four times since he woke up.

The boy is intense, is he not?

***

Many moons ago, I had a talk with my husband.

You know.  The “boy, I know you love me and we have been married for, like, forever, and life is good, but every now and then, and maybe even just like once a year, could you surprise me with flowers or something on a day that is not Valentine’s Day or any other day that you are supposed to bring me a gift?”

Don’t pretend you haven’t had this same discussion with your husband, you fibbers, you.

So, today, my husband comes home.

Me:  Hi!  You are a bit late.  Did you have trouble?

David:  No.  I just decided to buy you a present.

Glory be and the saints be praised!

Me:  Really!?! Wow!  You didn’t have to that!

Even though I kind of told him he did.

Me: What is it?!

David:  A new water heater!

I know, I know.  So disappointing on so many levels.

However.  This is actually fantastic news!  We truly needed one.

And here’s the best part:

In just a bit here, I get to go “help” him move it into the basement.

Fun fact:  I am not helpful when it comes to muscles.

Therefore, we will probably get into a tiff.  And maybe, just maybe, tomorrow I will get some “I’m sorry flowers.”

Maybe.

Happy Thursday!

There are times in my life when I become overwhelmed.

Oh, yes.  Overwhelmed.

I feel antsy and worried, but I can’t figure out why.  So sometimes it helps to make a list.  A list of things that are bothering me.

Once I see what it is, I either get my bum in gear and get things moving, or I see that it is all silly and I should not be bothered with it at all.

So, without further ado, here is what is bothering me.

(Yes.  I am pretending this will be of interest to you.)

1)  I have not printed out a single picture to preserve my family’s memories since late 2007.

2)  Little Dude was born in 2008.  As far as the photo albums know, we only have three children.

3)  Poor Little Dude does not have a baby book.  Children 1-3 do.

4)  Swimsuit season is looming around the bend.  And I cannot find my swimsuit body.  I fear I never had one.

5)  I ate about 37 cups of popcorn last night.  It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now I have a tummy-up-my-berry.

Lest any of you are confused, tummy-up-my-berry is what my dad always referred to tummy aches as.

He is creative, is he not?

Who knew?

6)  There are people in my circle who are getting into this extreme couponing craze.  I feel guilty if I don’t try and participate, because who wouldn’t want to get 14 tubs of fabric softener for $1.17?  However, I am apparently dumb and I cannot figure out how to get these deals myself.

7)  After considering the matter for three days, the best I could come up with was Yoplait yogurt for 37 cents each and Kellogg’s cereal for 88 cents each. 

Three days.

8)  I should probably potty train Little Dude at some point. 

9)  Many moons ago, I got creeped out and I went all paranoid with my blog.  I started using fake names for the children and I blocked search engines.

I just recently allowed search engines, and now I am wondering if I should remove that feature.

Here are some searches that have led people to this blog:

*how to avoid the lumberjack crack

*my belly hangs over my pants, yay

*taylor is peeing too much, why?

*wife peeling apples in the morning light

*taylor ate a cheeseburger

*ugly mudder blogs

*shall we earn good money in breeding

*punishment for kids leaving poop in the bathroom

*peace out word to your momma

And there are many other creepier ones that I shall not share with you for fear that I will bring more creepy searches with those same creepy search terms.

Let’s just say I shall probably be blocking search engines.

Fun Fact: 90% of people who are using search engines have no idea how to spell or come up with complete sentences.

10)  I need to find ivory dress shirts for my boys.  They do not exist anywhere in the continental US.

11)  I just realized that my favorite jeans are in the washing machine.  And, since I am leaving soon, it looks like there shall be no hope for me wearing my favorite jeans to town.

Which is unfortunate, seeing as how I only go to town twice a week.

A gal should always wear her fanciest of jeans when heading into town.

12)  I will be 30 soon.  This discourages me.

13)  My kids are growing up too fast.  This saddens me.

I hope I am being a good mom.

14)  Should I exercise today?  Nah.

15)  I lied to you all.  I told you I was a hardcore Diet Pepsi fan.  Alas, I really don’t care.  I will drink Diet Coke and Diet Pepsi interchangeably.  If given a choice, I prefer Diet Pepsi.  But it really doesn’t matter.  Judging from the comments section last week, it would appear that I am the only person in the world who enjoys Diet Pepsi and I must wonder how they are still in business.

16)  I kind of want to ask you all to vote for me in this blogging contest.  However, I feel kind of dumb asking you.

So, I won’t.  Kind of.

I would keep going, but I fear I shall be late for my going to town day.

Wish me luck with my not-so-nice jeans!

Happy Wednesday!