The Next Larry Flynt?

Since the beginning of time, parents day dream about what their children will do for a living.  Will they be a doctor, police officer, tycoon or even a preacher.  A mother can only hope.  The Babe wanted to see want this whole kindergarten thing was about that brother keeps talking about.  In an effort to placate his curiosity, The Dad took The Babe to lunch with The Kindergartner the other day.  For those that are not privy to the inner workings of the elementary school lunch room these days, it hasn't changed since you were there.  Apparently The Dad was sitting with his boys at a long narrow lunch room table with about 20 other kindergarten aged kids the other day.  On this particular day, the lunch time convo steered toward the topic of movies.  In an attempt to include The Babe in the lunch time banter, a boy asked The Babe what kind of movies he liked to watch.  The Babe, without hesitation, looked at that boy and told him "I like movies that show ladies private parts".

WHAT THE?!

The Dad seems to think The Babe forgot The Dad was present.  As the table was recovering from the response to The Babe's declaration (apparently the group thought this was quite hilarious), The Dad looked at The Babe with surprise (what the...where...who...).  The Babe knew he was busted.  As his eyes welled up with tears he placed his head in his hands.

I got a call from The Dad the night of what I now call the "incident".  Although we were able to laugh about it, and I was able to say "better you than me", I had a number of thoughts swirling in my head:

• This is not one of those funny kid stories I can retell.  Think about it; if I retell this story people will wonder what in the hell I am letting my kids watch on TV.


• Why on earth would he say that?  Has he seen movies like this.  With whom?  Where?


• Well, I guess I know what he will do for a living.  Yay me...lifetime supply of adult entertainment.  As long as he is happy I guess.

 

"What's that smell... Yankee perfume?"

I was told recently by a family member in my home state of North Carolina that she was going to revoke my “Southern Belle” membership card. It seems, according to a family member that will remain nameless for their own safety, that the North has in a sense, tainted me.

Over the last fifteen or more years, I have moved back and forth between my Southern home and the Northland that somehow sucks me back like a pool vacuum trying to get the smallest piece of soot from the bottom of the pool…it is relentless. Like that last piece of pool gunk; I have finally given in to the pull that I cannot resist; my fate is inevitable. Although my changing ways were vividly apparent to my family; I denied the accusations that I was somehow being “influenced” by “those damn Yankees”.

The irony of the situation is that to my friends in New England, I currently live in Hillbilly Country. I try to remind them that just because we like our “throwed rolls” and our okra fried, it does not mean we are backward in any way. My friends in the first thirteen find it funny that I have to explain the difference between tin and ten to my children; not the actual definitions of the terms mind you but the way the words are pronounced.

Looking back, I suppose it started after attending school in Missouri.  I moved back to North Carolina where I announced in mixed company that I did not care for sweet tea. You could have heard a pin drop. That’s right folks; a pin, not a pen. The family blamed it on the six months I spent in Connecticut. I attributed it to the fact that I like my syrup on pancakes, not in a glass.

The hardest thing for my family to swallow is that I refuse to eat anything that I have affectionately named “geriatric food”. You know what I am talking about; meatloaf, gravy, and beans. These foods require absolutely no dental tools that should be used for consuming sustenance. I just have a problem eating food that I could drink through a straw. As you can imagine; the fact that I “suddenly” will not eat brown gravy was like personally going to the cemetery and rolling over every ancestor I have.

Fortunately, I was given a very short probation period. The committee gathered around the kitchen table while playing Pinochle, and after a heated debate on the merits of my home made pie crust decided I had not shamed the family enough to take my card just yet. I was given a strict diet of pecan pie, Sundrop Soda, and NC State. I think it is fair to say the punishment fits the crime. Now where did I put my Wolfpack sweatshirt?

Like a string on a sweater that you pull but you know better/But doing what you shouldn't is half the fun

Better than Sleeping In

Brad and I determined this weekend that Mother's Day is really Mother-In-Law day'; at least for us. Brad's mom drove three hours to visit her Mother-in-law and Brad and I helped prepare Mother's Day dinner for Brad's mom. This dinner, like most special occasion dinners, took place at Brad's mom and step-dad's home. Don't get me wrong; I certainly do not want to do it at my house, and I am more than happy to do it since this woman watches my boys and their two cousins every Monday. I know she does it because she enjoys it, but I also know it is not a picnic every week.

The day started early for us; we had to get up at 6am to get the boys from Nana's house after attending a camp-out wedding reception Saturday night. Needless to say, I was a little sleepy. The rest of the day was business as usual for a Sunday at our place and then we headed to dinner around 5. The twelve of us included me, Brad, our two boys; Brad's brother and sister-in-law and their three kids; my in-laws; grandmother-in-law; and one of her friends. Since we have dinner at this table every Monday night, it has become a ritual for the kids to take turns saying grace before the meal. They each have their own version and sometimes don't want to do it at all.

To my surprise this time, my Little Babe decided he would offer his 2.5 year old version. He usually passes on the opportunity so I was waiting for just about anything. His cousin had already offered prayer and blessing to each of us at the table while performing roll call and big girl cousin had offered her sweet voice and traditional blessing as well.

Before I can ask The Babe sitting to my left if he wants to say his prayer, he looks at me and says loud and proud "Happy Mother's Day to my Mommy!" and leans in for a kiss. Indeed it was.

A Jack of All Trades

A recycled post from the old blog but still a goodie.  Happy Birthday Hubs!

By George I Think He Got It

We were listening to the radio in the car this morning with the boys in the back.  The DJ requests that the women listeners call in and tell him if they liked to be considered mysterious.  The question was whether or not the claim was good or bad.  Hubs turns to Little Man and says "do you think brother is mysterious?".  Little Man says yes in fact, brother is mysterious, after which he proceeds to ask "what does mysterious mean daddy".  Hubs describes the term as meaning "difficult to understand".  Little man confirms what he had already stated about his baby brother and then added "my states puzzle is mysterious too daddy".

Y...Y...Y

Since I am the proud mother of two of the cutest and craziest boys ever and the wife to the most handsome and patient man on earth, I often find myself pondering genetics and hormones. No matter how much society wants to wussify boys these days, there is a clear difference between boys and girls and I believe they should be raised differently. Don't get me wrong, I think it is great that Little Man loves High School Musical and Annie, and that The Babe only talks about football, soccer, and baseball. Although they have different likes and dislikes, even at their early ages, they are both all boy all the time.

The personalities of the boys are complete opposites. Little Man, as first born, is much like his mama. Neurotic, animated, cautious, and a just a little goofy. The Babe being the second born is just like hubs. Not only is The Babe almost an identical replica of hubs in physique, he is just as laid back as Brad. If I told Little Man there was no more milk he would throw himself on the floor and wiggle around until I somehow made milk come out of the faucet. If I told The Babe we were out of milk he would shrug his shoulders and say "ok" and walk off to play. Learned behaviors or genetics? A little of both I am sure. Although they have conflicting personalities they have one thing in common; beyond their parents. These two boys will find any reason to touch, knock down, run, collide, jump, climb, wrestle or drag something or someone.

What is it about little boys that makes them so physical? I was at work the other day facilitating a field trip in the museum and I watched the kids closely. What I noticed was that the girls stood calmly and talked with their friends while waiting to board the bus while the boys were screaming, wrestling, kicking, punching, and being obnoxious. I had to tell one pair to get off of each other a number of times.

I had mixed feelings as I experienced this. I was happy to see it was not just my children. I was concerned to realize that it doesn't seem to stop after preschool. I struggled to find some sort of logical explanation for boy behavior. The only thing I came up with was there was a reason they named themale chromosome "Y".

Everyone's A Critic

I admit, I was one once too. Prior to having my own children you would find me looking at parents in the mall or park, or grocery store. I had all sorts of insights to provide them, if only they would ask. "They must give him a full can of soda each morning, how could anyone have that much energy?" is what I thought of some kids. "Don't reward him for that behavior", I would think to another. "Who runs the show at that house?" I would wonder to another.

Since becoming a parent, my outlook has changed. I empathize more than criticize. I realize they all have their moments, just like adults. We have good days and bad, and sometimes just need to eat and take a nap. Sometimes we just need alone time, or some time with Daddy.

The boys and I went grocery shopping today. I normally look forward to this outing with them. Little Man helps pick out items and The Babe helps put them in the cart. Today was no exception, all was going as planned, until The Babe saw the yogurt!

The Babe, being all of 20 months, still hasn't found all of his words. When he wants something he usually signs and says the word "more". Today he broke my heart while it melted when he added the word please and used the sign. He knows how to work it.

I have been known to let the boys eat while we shop. Who doesn't dip into the grapes, or open a box of trail mix while meandering down the aisles deciding what to have for the next meal, which is usually within the hour. Since yogurt is not on my approved list of items to eat while shipping, I tried to divert The Babe's attention to string cheese. "Do you think I am dumb woman?" is what the look that he gave me said.

A woman in her grandmother years was in the aisle with us and started to giggle. I mistakenly took this giggle as one of empathy but I was wrong. I soon heard her say "I'm glad those aren't my children". Although I too, was happy they were not her children, I laughed and said something to the effect of "You would think I didn't feed them". We parted ways. The three of us and the woman. Not me and the boys.

We see the woman again a few aisles later. The Babe had calmed down but the annoying attention he is getting from the woman makes him a little irritated and begins to whine. He is, after all, hungry and I did not give into to his yogurt whine so she is just a reminder of this fact. We part ways again.

The Babe calms down with some string cheese and we check out. Little Man helps place things on the counter while The Babe flirts with the checker. All is well again. We head to the in-store Starbucks after Little Man informs me we have been very good at the store and Mommy deserves a White Chocolate Mocha. I kid you not, he said that. He also added that he would like some milk and a donut. He orders for us; again, I kid you not. Tall nonfat WC Mocha for Mommy and too Chocolate milks for the boys. Here she is again. This time she notes the milks and says "Looks like you won this one buddy", she says while looking at The Babe. "Mommy shouldn't reward you for that kind of behavior". I love it when people talk to me through my kids.

In unusual form, I looked at her and said "It is too bad we have to be parents to be grandparents isn't it, being a grandparent is so much easier".

Everyone's A Critic

I admit, I was one once too. Prior to having my own children you would find me looking at parents in the mall or park, or grocery store. I had all sorts of insights to provide them, if only they would ask. "They must give him a full can of soda each morning, how could anyone have that much energy?" is what I thought of some kids. "Don't reward him for that behavior", I would think to another. "Who runs the show at that house?" I would wonder to another.

Since becoming a parent, my outlook has changed. I empathize more than criticize. I realize they all have their moments, just like adults. We have good days and bad, and sometimes just need to eat and take a nap. Sometimes we just need alone time, or some time with Daddy.

The boys and I went grocery shopping today. I normally look forward to this outing with them. Little Man helps pick out items and The Babe helps put them in the cart. Today was no exception, all was going as planned, until The Babe saw the yogurt!

The Babe, being all of 20 months, still hasn't found all of his words. When he wants something he usually signs and says the word "more". Today he broke my heart while it melted when he added the word please and used the sign. He knows how to work it.

I have been known to let the boys eat while we shop. Who doesn't dip into the grapes, or open a box of trail mix while meandering down the aisles deciding what to have for the next meal, which is usually within the hour. Since yogurt is not on my approved list of items to eat while shipping, I tried to divert The Babe's attention to string cheese. "Do you think I am dumb woman?" is what the look that he gave me said.

A woman in her grandmother years was in the aisle with us and started to giggle. I mistakenly took this giggle as one of empathy but I was wrong. I soon heard her say "I'm glad those aren't my children". Although I too, was happy they were not her children, I laughed and said something to the effect of "You would think I didn't feed them". We parted ways. The three of us and the woman. Not me and the boys.

We see the woman again a few aisles later. The Babe had calmed down but the annoying attention he is getting from the woman makes him a little irritated and begins to whine. He is, after all, hungry and I did not give into to his yogurt whine so she is just a reminder of this fact. We part ways again.

The Babe calms down with some string cheese and we check out. Little Man helps place things on the counter while The Babe flirts with the checker. All is well again. We head to the in-store Starbucks after Little Man informs me we have been very good at the store and Mommy deserves a White Chocolate Mocha. I kid you not, he said that. He also added that he would like some milk and a donut. He orders for us; again, I kid you not. Tall nonfat WC Mocha for Mommy and too Chocolate milks for the boys. Here she is again. This time she notes the milks and says "Looks like you won this one buddy", she says while looking at The Babe. "Mommy shouldn't reward you for that kind of behavior". I love it when people talk to me through my kids.

In unusual form, I looked at her and said "It is too bad we have to be parents to be grandparents isn't it, being a grandparent is so much easier".

This may lead to thumb wrestling

Have you noticed all the great blog contests that are out there lately? Me too; yet I rarely enter them. I am either too lazy, miss the deadline, or don’t meet the requirements. If I do manage to enter I doubt I will win. I am such a victim; being brought down by the man. Yet, one man recently brightened my day when he e-mailed me to say I had won a contest! Yeah! “The Man” is Joeprah and I have been remiss in properly acknowledging and thanking him for my fabulous winnings. You see, a few weeks back my man Joe had a drawing for a great lot of books. This contest was so up my alley and Joe made it easy to enter and win. If the book topic didn’t suit my taste I know of someone that will enjoy each one. I am especially looking forward to reading the novel by country music’s fab duo Brooks and Dunn. Who knew they were writers...oh yeah.

So Joe is having another contest that I just had to enter. Joe is giving away a new camera and I need a replacement. The boys have decided that my old Sony is theirs for the taking. I am not all that upset; I like to see their perspective in pictures. Brad has a D70 which is way to fancy and big for me to throw in my bag to take with us on outings or have handy for a quick photo op. Cross your fingers that I win this one too!

In an attempt to be a little more like Joe, we made a video for him. It is certainly not up to his standards though (I do realize that brown nosing will not help me chances in this contest but I had to try). As I watched the video I realized how far apart I am from the boys. This is due to them fighting over the very camera I am trying to replace; I had to send them to separate corners of the couch. The end of the video will demonstrate my fab parenting skills. I kid you not, I am not acting. That is utter surprise and delight that they actually did it without provocation ON CAMERA!

Also note G-Man's new "puppy trick" (phrase stolen from my friend Kim). When his three year old brain is ripe for the picking and we should be teaching him Mandarin Chinese or Sanskrit, we are teaching him stupid movie lines.

The whole family loves ya Joe! Keep it up!

This may lead to thumb wrestling

Have you noticed all the great blog contests that are out there lately? Me too; yet I rarely enter them. I am either too lazy, miss the deadline, or don’t meet the requirements. If I do manage to enter I doubt I will win. I am such a victim; being brought down by the man. Yet, one man recently brightened my day when he e-mailed me to say I had won a contest! Yeah! “The Man” is Joeprah and I have been remiss in properly acknowledging and thanking him for my fabulous winnings. You see, a few weeks back my man Joe had a drawing for a great lot of books. This contest was so up my alley and Joe made it easy to enter and win. If the book topic didn’t suit my taste I know of someone that will enjoy each one. I am especially looking forward to reading the novel by country music’s fab duo Brooks and Dunn. Who knew they were writers...oh yeah.

So Joe is having another contest that I just had to enter. Joe is giving away a new camera and I need a replacement. The boys have decided that my old Sony is theirs for the taking. I am not all that upset; I like to see their perspective in pictures. Brad has a D70 which is way to fancy and big for me to throw in my bag to take with us on outings or have handy for a quick photo op. Cross your fingers that I win this one too!

In an attempt to be a little more like Joe, we made a video for him. It is certainly not up to his standards though (I do realize that brown nosing will not help me chances in this contest but I had to try). As I watched the video I realized how far apart I am from the boys. This is due to them fighting over the very camera I am trying to replace; I had to send them to separate corners of the couch. The end of the video will demonstrate my fab parenting skills. I kid you not, I am not acting. That is utter surprise and delight that they actually did it without provocation ON CAMERA!

Also note G-Man's new "puppy trick" (phrase stolen from my friend Kim). When his three year old brain is ripe for the picking and we should be teaching him Mandarin Chinese or Sanskrit, we are teaching him stupid movie lines.

The whole family loves ya Joe! Keep it up!

Slow Down You Move Too Fast

George Carlin's Views on Aging

Do you realize that the only time in our lives we like to get old is when we're kids? If you're less than 10 years old, you're so excited about aging that you think in fractions. 'How old are you?’ “I'm four and a half! You're never thirty-six and a half. You're four and a half, going on five! That's the key.You get into your teens, now they can't hold you back. You jump to the next number, or even a few ahead.'How old are you?' 'I'm gonna be 16!' You could be 13, but hey, you're gonna be 16! And then the greatest day of your life... You become 21. Even the words sound like a ceremony. YOU BECOME 21 YESSSS!!! But then you turn 30. Oooohh, what happened there? Makes you sound like bad milk! He TURNED; we had to throw him out. There's no fun now, you're Just a sour-dumpling. What's wrong? What's changed? You BECOME 21, you TURN 30, then you're PUSHING 40. Whoa! Put on the brakes, it's all slipping away. Before you know it, you REACH 50 and your dreams are gone. But wait!!! You MAKE it to 60. You didn't think you would! So you BECOME 21, TURN 30, PUSH 40, REACH 50 and MAKE it to 60. You've built up so much speed that you HIT 70! After that it's a day-by-day thing; you HIT Wednesday! You get into your 80's and every day is a complete cycle; you HIT lunch; you TURN 4:30; you REACH bedtime. And it doesn't end there.. Into the 90s, you start going backwards; 'I Was JUST 92.' Then a strange thing happens. If you make it over 100, you become a little kid again. 'I'm 100 and a half!' May you all make it to a healthy 100 and a half!!

The boys have reached milestones in their aging process. Little Man turned three last week and The Babe is now 19 months! Little Man has changed so much over the past few months; going from timid and somewhat of a talker to an outgoing chatter box. We were at the pool yesterday and he ran off with a friend's daughter and the two of them swam like fish together. They jumped off the side of the pool and held hands while swimming. Don't worry, they had on their swim jackets. He told me he was making a new friend and swam away. When it was time for Caroline to leave, he ran over and hugged her and gave her a kiss. This was a surprise to me because I usually have to beg him to even look at someone to say goodbye. We are making progress.

Little Man is a mean story teller too. This morning he told us that one day our house will be a candy store and we will call Daddy and The Babe "Mr Lopart". He recently told me a story about a mean black bunny that ate dinner with us and a prince that turns bugs into more mean princes to take over the world. Little Man is turning into a little boy. He is so smart it scares me; who taught him to think like this? Why is he the one rationalizing with me? Shouldn't it be the other way around? His current favorite things are the zoo, the pool, watching hippos on YouTube with daddy, and music. The kid is a walking jukebox. Dude Looks Like a Lady, Another One Bites The Dust, anything by Big and Rich. Oh, and this little ditty...

The Babe, being our second and last (hubs provides a nice store front but no longer carries inventory...we had a blow out sale!) thinks he is as big as Little Man. "Anything he can do I can do too" kind of thing. I was pushing him in a little car yesterday when he decided he was done. I was mistaken to think he was going to walk. He wanted to push the car. As I tried to help him through the grass that obviously needed mowing, he pushed my hand away and said "no no mama". Wow. Moving on to the "I don't need you" phase already. Last night The Babe woke up crying around 1am. I settled him down and laid him back in his crib. Thirty minutes later hubs had to do the same thing. Thirty minutes later, I am in his room again. He is leaping for the "big boy" bed next to his crib and saying "bed". I laid him in the twin bed and left, never to hear another peep until it was time to get up. He can't possibly be ready for the big bed! He is still a baby!

The Babe is currently obsessed with body parts and particularly loves ears. He seems to be fascinated with mine and loves to pull my ear lobes. He also loves animals and their "sounds"...check this one out:

The Babe does things at 19 months Little Man never thought of, or that I would never dream of allowing. He fears nothing. The Babe is tough as nails. While the smallest thing may startle Little Man, The Babe just keeps going for more. For instance; The Babe is wrestling with Little Man and bumps his forehead, crawls over to the drawer to start the new game of "pull all the clothes out" and proceeds to smash a finger. he then decides brother needs a good hair pulling. Although none of his injuries bothered him, Little Man went on about the hair FOREVER! The Babe is a little lover too. He loves to give kisses and cuddles. He loves to sit in your lap and look at books. He has never met a stranger.

I have never seen two boys so different and so similar. I love watching them change everyday but just wish they would slow down.

Slow Down You Move Too Fast

George Carlin's Views on Aging

Do you realize that the only time in our lives we like to get old is when we're kids? If you're less than 10 years old, you're so excited about aging that you think in fractions. 'How old are you?’ “I'm four and a half! You're never thirty-six and a half. You're four and a half, going on five! That's the key.You get into your teens, now they can't hold you back. You jump to the next number, or even a few ahead.'How old are you?' 'I'm gonna be 16!' You could be 13, but hey, you're gonna be 16! And then the greatest day of your life... You become 21. Even the words sound like a ceremony. YOU BECOME 21 YESSSS!!! But then you turn 30. Oooohh, what happened there? Makes you sound like bad milk! He TURNED; we had to throw him out. There's no fun now, you're Just a sour-dumpling. What's wrong? What's changed? You BECOME 21, you TURN 30, then you're PUSHING 40. Whoa! Put on the brakes, it's all slipping away. Before you know it, you REACH 50 and your dreams are gone. But wait!!! You MAKE it to 60. You didn't think you would! So you BECOME 21, TURN 30, PUSH 40, REACH 50 and MAKE it to 60. You've built up so much speed that you HIT 70! After that it's a day-by-day thing; you HIT Wednesday! You get into your 80's and every day is a complete cycle; you HIT lunch; you TURN 4:30; you REACH bedtime. And it doesn't end there.. Into the 90s, you start going backwards; 'I Was JUST 92.' Then a strange thing happens. If you make it over 100, you become a little kid again. 'I'm 100 and a half!' May you all make it to a healthy 100 and a half!!

The boys have reached milestones in their aging process. Little Man turned three last week and The Babe is now 19 months! Little Man has changed so much over the past few months; going from timid and somewhat of a talker to an outgoing chatter box. We were at the pool yesterday and he ran off with a friend's daughter and the two of them swam like fish together. They jumped off the side of the pool and held hands while swimming. Don't worry, they had on their swim jackets. He told me he was making a new friend and swam away. When it was time for Caroline to leave, he ran over and hugged her and gave her a kiss. This was a surprise to me because I usually have to beg him to even look at someone to say goodbye. We are making progress.

Little Man is a mean story teller too. This morning he told us that one day our house will be a candy store and we will call Daddy and The Babe "Mr Lopart". He recently told me a story about a mean black bunny that ate dinner with us and a prince that turns bugs into more mean princes to take over the world. Little Man is turning into a little boy. He is so smart it scares me; who taught him to think like this? Why is he the one rationalizing with me? Shouldn't it be the other way around? His current favorite things are the zoo, the pool, watching hippos on YouTube with daddy, and music. The kid is a walking jukebox. Dude Looks Like a Lady, Another One Bites The Dust, anything by Big and Rich. Oh, and this little ditty...

The Babe, being our second and last (hubs provides a nice store front but no longer carries inventory...we had a blow out sale!) thinks he is as big as Little Man. "Anything he can do I can do too" kind of thing. I was pushing him in a little car yesterday when he decided he was done. I was mistaken to think he was going to walk. He wanted to push the car. As I tried to help him through the grass that obviously needed mowing, he pushed my hand away and said "no no mama". Wow. Moving on to the "I don't need you" phase already. Last night The Babe woke up crying around 1am. I settled him down and laid him back in his crib. Thirty minutes later hubs had to do the same thing. Thirty minutes later, I am in his room again. He is leaping for the "big boy" bed next to his crib and saying "bed". I laid him in the twin bed and left, never to hear another peep until it was time to get up. He can't possibly be ready for the big bed! He is still a baby!

The Babe is currently obsessed with body parts and particularly loves ears. He seems to be fascinated with mine and loves to pull my ear lobes. He also loves animals and their "sounds"...check this one out:

The Babe does things at 19 months Little Man never thought of, or that I would never dream of allowing. He fears nothing. The Babe is tough as nails. While the smallest thing may startle Little Man, The Babe just keeps going for more. For instance; The Babe is wrestling with Little Man and bumps his forehead, crawls over to the drawer to start the new game of "pull all the clothes out" and proceeds to smash a finger. he then decides brother needs a good hair pulling. Although none of his injuries bothered him, Little Man went on about the hair FOREVER! The Babe is a little lover too. He loves to give kisses and cuddles. He loves to sit in your lap and look at books. He has never met a stranger.

I have never seen two boys so different and so similar. I love watching them change everyday but just wish they would slow down.

Old MacDonald had a Farm

We are just a few of the animals living there!

The other day I was running errands with the boys. I realized it was getting close to lunch time (and nap time! Woo hoo!) and asked Little Man where he would like to eat. I want to go to Old MacDonald's Mama. See, Little Man calls the golden arches "Old MacDonald's" and since I think it is cute I have now adopted the name for the establishment myself. I think the name seems to fit. Think about it. When you walk in one of these places it is like a farm; animals running around making noises. The smell! Whoa! What am I feeding my children? I try to avoid the place as much as possible but on this particular day the closest one was next to my favorite place.

Prepare yourselves, I think I hear a choir of angles...Drive Through Starbucks. I swear, the woman that thought of this idea had to have children. She is the one that thought of the drive through Dunkin Donuts too, I am sure of it. Only a woman (or a stay at home dad) is smart enough to realize the importance of the drive through. We have to feed them, right? It is the getting them out of the car, one on a stroller that is screaming "walk, walk" while the other is pulling your hand (because he knows we hold hands in the parking lot) just to get to the play area. Forget it, we are driving through!

Back to the choir. I run through the farm to get slop for the monkeys and cruise next door for me. I order my usual and drive up to pay. I normally only splurge for a four dollar coffee when I have enough change in my change pouch, but today was a treat. My mother in law gave me a gift card to use. She received it from a girl at church and since she does not drink coffee, gave it to me! Oh, happy day! I hand the happy guy my card and he asks if I would like a White Chocolate Frap that the car in front of me gave up. I decided I would take it to a friend and begin to dig for change; after all, mine was already paid for so there was no harm. Karma baby. Happy guy then says "no no, it is free". Oh Happy Day!

I am a happy clam drinking my free coffee when I hear The Babe in the back seat whining. Thinking he needs another processed piece of meat from the farm, I turn around to investigate. What I find is not a toddler needing food. I find a young boy with a pair of his mommy's (yes, that is me) underwear on his head. He has one arm through a leg hole and is upset he can not get the other arm, or his head for that matter, through the other leg hole. The only thing I could think of was the undies were hiding in his clean shirt when I sorted the laundry that morning. Ah!

No wonder Happy Guy was so happy. No wonder he gave me free coffee. I will never go to that Starbucks again, or roll down the windows to let the boys talk to the attendant. Thank God it was a pair of my "more appealing" unmentionables.

Men are such animals.

Old MacDonald had a Farm

We are just a few of the animals living there!

The other day I was running errands with the boys. I realized it was getting close to lunch time (and nap time! Woo hoo!) and asked Little Man where he would like to eat. I want to go to Old MacDonald's Mama. See, Little Man calls the golden arches "Old MacDonald's" and since I think it is cute I have now adopted the name for the establishment myself. I think the name seems to fit. Think about it. When you walk in one of these places it is like a farm; animals running around making noises. The smell! Whoa! What am I feeding my children? I try to avoid the place as much as possible but on this particular day the closest one was next to my favorite place.

Prepare yourselves, I think I hear a choir of angles...Drive Through Starbucks. I swear, the woman that thought of this idea had to have children. She is the one that thought of the drive through Dunkin Donuts too, I am sure of it. Only a woman (or a stay at home dad) is smart enough to realize the importance of the drive through. We have to feed them, right? It is the getting them out of the car, one on a stroller that is screaming "walk, walk" while the other is pulling your hand (because he knows we hold hands in the parking lot) just to get to the play area. Forget it, we are driving through!

Back to the choir. I run through the farm to get slop for the monkeys and cruise next door for me. I order my usual and drive up to pay. I normally only splurge for a four dollar coffee when I have enough change in my change pouch, but today was a treat. My mother in law gave me a gift card to use. She received it from a girl at church and since she does not drink coffee, gave it to me! Oh, happy day! I hand the happy guy my card and he asks if I would like a White Chocolate Frap that the car in front of me gave up. I decided I would take it to a friend and begin to dig for change; after all, mine was already paid for so there was no harm. Karma baby. Happy guy then says "no no, it is free". Oh Happy Day!

I am a happy clam drinking my free coffee when I hear The Babe in the back seat whining. Thinking he needs another processed piece of meat from the farm, I turn around to investigate. What I find is not a toddler needing food. I find a young boy with a pair of his mommy's (yes, that is me) underwear on his head. He has one arm through a leg hole and is upset he can not get the other arm, or his head for that matter, through the other leg hole. The only thing I could think of was the undies were hiding in his clean shirt when I sorted the laundry that morning. Ah!

No wonder Happy Guy was so happy. No wonder he gave me free coffee. I will never go to that Starbucks again, or roll down the windows to let the boys talk to the attendant. Thank God it was a pair of my "more appealing" unmentionables.

Men are such animals.

A Jack of all trades...

Happy Father's Day Hubs!

A Jack of all trades...

Sweet Sweet/The Memories You Gave to Me

Although I normally don't like to, I think it is safe to assume that each generation strives to give their children more than they had as children. There is a constant battle between time and money. We need to work to pay the bills but in the end, what matters is how much time we spend with our children not how much money we spend on them.

Like the good business owners we are, hubs and I reevaluate our business plans once a year. We do the same for our home as well. It too, is like a business; we have titles, responsibilities, and a budget,. Most importantly, we have goals; goals for ourselves, for our boys, and for our family. As things evolve, so too, must our business plan.

We had a change of plans recently. We moved from our 4500 square foot home to a smaller home with just under 3000 square feet. I was thrilled with the move for many reasons. One story to clean rather than two. The boys sleep on the same level as we do. Almost two acres for the boys to explore and play. A pool. A hot tub. Great school district. Oh yeah; a much smaller mortgage.

The smaller monthly payment affords me the privilege of working from home. I get to spend as much time with my boys as they can tolerate. It is not always sunshine and lollipops, but the majority of the time I wouldn't change a thing. I know how lucky I am.

My parents split when I was eight, so my sister and I were raised by a single mother that struggled to make ends meet. Although my mom was not able to stay home with us, I have fond childhood memories. We lived in a suburb of Kansas City and spent many evenings with my grandparents. As I grew up they were like a second set of parents to me. My mom made every effort to make our house the place to be. Her goal was to have me and my sister and our friends have a fun and safe place to hang out. Not only was it the place to be, many times I found friends there when I came home from school or work. My mom was the mom that kids talked to about stuff they were too nervous to say to their parents.

Growing up in the city did not offer me many opportunities to explore the woods but I spent most of my time outside. This was back when you could ride your bike a few houses down tot play and your mom would whistle when it was time for dinner. I remember going on walks to the nearest park with my friends. The park was about a mile away; not sure if I would let my grade school boys do that.

We had a pool in our backyard so summers were wet. I find myself thinking of my mom often as I realize at bedtime, that I am still in my swimsuit. Mom lived in her swimsuit. She would put it on as soon as she could and was in it while she laid us in bed. To the dismay to some neighbors and the pleasure of others, she even wore her swimsuit to do yard work.

As I watch hubs teach Little Man to swim I think of my father. Dad taught me to swim in our pool and would be happy to know hubs is using the same tried and true techniques that made me the fish I am today. Now, if we could only get Little Man to open his eyes when he closes his mouth. I told him to keep his mouth closed so he doesn't drink the water and not only does he shut his mouth but can't seem do to so without the eyes going too. Can't get very far like that.

The best thing about our new house is what I consider my favorite summer memory. I can smell it a half a mile away from our house. I roll down my car window when I turn on our street and the aroma hits me and the summer memories begin to flow. Swimming the the back yard. Swinging in the neighbors yard. Picking strawberries in the backyard. Picking the grapes from the vines in the arbor. Riding my bike. The smell of Coppertone.

This sweet smelling vine lined our fence line and I would eat the sweet nectar as often as I could. There is an art to eating honeysuckle and I have now passed this tradition onto my boys.

Moving to the new house has provided us the opportunity to change our lifestyle. We are getting back to the basics, and if that means my boys get to have memories like mine, who could want more?

Sweet Sweet/The Memories You Gave to Me

Although I normally don't like to, I think it is safe to assume that each generation strives to give their children more than they had as children. There is a constant battle between time and money. We need to work to pay the bills but in the end, what matters is how much time we spend with our children not how much money we spend on them.

Like the good business owners we are, hubs and I reevaluate our business plans once a year. We do the same for our home as well. It too, is like a business; we have titles, responsibilities, and a budget,. Most importantly, we have goals; goals for ourselves, for our boys, and for our family. As things evolve, so too, must our business plan.

We had a change of plans recently. We moved from our 4500 square foot home to a smaller home with just under 3000 square feet. I was thrilled with the move for many reasons. One story to clean rather than two. The boys sleep on the same level as we do. Almost two acres for the boys to explore and play. A pool. A hot tub. Great school district. Oh yeah; a much smaller mortgage.

The smaller monthly payment affords me the privilege of working from home. I get to spend as much time with my boys as they can tolerate. It is not always sunshine and lollipops, but the majority of the time I wouldn't change a thing. I know how lucky I am.

My parents split when I was eight, so my sister and I were raised by a single mother that struggled to make ends meet. Although my mom was not able to stay home with us, I have fond childhood memories. We lived in a suburb of Kansas City and spent many evenings with my grandparents. As I grew up they were like a second set of parents to me. My mom made every effort to make our house the place to be. Her goal was to have me and my sister and our friends have a fun and safe place to hang out. Not only was it the place to be, many times I found friends there when I came home from school or work. My mom was the mom that kids talked to about stuff they were too nervous to say to their parents.

Growing up in the city did not offer me many opportunities to explore the woods but I spent most of my time outside. This was back when you could ride your bike a few houses down tot play and your mom would whistle when it was time for dinner. I remember going on walks to the nearest park with my friends. The park was about a mile away; not sure if I would let my grade school boys do that.

We had a pool in our backyard so summers were wet. I find myself thinking of my mom often as I realize at bedtime, that I am still in my swimsuit. Mom lived in her swimsuit. She would put it on as soon as she could and was in it while she laid us in bed. To the dismay to some neighbors and the pleasure of others, she even wore her swimsuit to do yard work.

As I watch hubs teach Little Man to swim I think of my father. Dad taught me to swim in our pool and would be happy to know hubs is using the same tried and true techniques that made me the fish I am today. Now, if we could only get Little Man to open his eyes when he closes his mouth. I told him to keep his mouth closed so he doesn't drink the water and not only does he shut his mouth but can't seem do to so without the eyes going too. Can't get very far like that.

The best thing about our new house is what I consider my favorite summer memory. I can smell it a half a mile away from our house. I roll down my car window when I turn on our street and the aroma hits me and the summer memories begin to flow. Swimming the the back yard. Swinging in the neighbors yard. Picking strawberries in the backyard. Picking the grapes from the vines in the arbor. Riding my bike. The smell of Coppertone.

This sweet smelling vine lined our fence line and I would eat the sweet nectar as often as I could. There is an art to eating honeysuckle and I have now passed this tradition onto my boys.

Moving to the new house has provided us the opportunity to change our lifestyle. We are getting back to the basics, and if that means my boys get to have memories like mine, who could want more?

Tattoos and Scars

You know when you are in a stressful situation or are counting backwards while being put under and they tell you to find your happy place? You search for butterflies and grass or classical music in your mind. You dig deep and recall a magical moment in the way back of your mind. Your happy place may be in the mountains or on a beach, reading a good book with a glass of wine by a fire, or sleeping in a hammock.

My happy place is somewhere on a beach. Not a very well known beach. I am talking the kind of place where you master the fine art of counting waves. My dad introduced me to this art form when I was young, on the beach in Virginia. I fell in love with the water, the shells, and the sun. Now that I am older I simply added a cold cocktail.

Life is hectic and sometimes we forget about our happy place. The mundane chores of daily life pull us down like a current. Fear not! I found a solution! For me, anyway.

While living in the Sunshine State I decided it was time for tattoo number two. I will not bore you with the details of the first one as it needs to either be removed or redone by one of the wizards on Miami Ink. Tattoo number one is almost 15 years old now and is showing signs of age. Maybe I will do a before and after post one day.

Back to number two. Hubs and I were spending the day on Ft. Myers Beach. Before we had Little Man we spent all of our free time exploring Florida and it's great beaches. This particular day we stayed close to home and had just finished a couple of frozen concoctions at the famous "Top 'O Mast" on the beach.

So I have a strategically placed birthmark. This birthmark resembles an island. Daddy and I had always joked I should get a palm tree on said island. We couldn't think of a better time.

Off we go to Big Stick Tattoo. BS is the typical tattoo parlor with ideas on the walls and a sign that reminds me "yes, it still hurts". No problem, I am still in.

I meet my artist Bobby. He reminds me of an older, shorter version of Danny Boneducie, red hair and all. I like him and he informs me he can freehand the palm tree I pointed to on the wall. Wow, I am impressed, and a little nervous.

I am instructed to straddle the swiveling chair so he can get a better vantage. While straddling I am able to watch Bobby design other tattoos on the TV. I guess Bobby likes to tape his work so he and others can enjoy later. My art is not spared, Daddy has been employed as cameraman. Look Mom! I am on TV!

I prepare myself. He informs me he will start with the trunk of the tree. Whoa! How tall is the trunk? I swore the tree was all the way up to my bra line! Daddy later informs me the words in his mind were "oh, well we can't turn back now". He keeps his mouth shut and keeps rolling tape.

I sit there for what seemed like a day, if nothing else it was long enough for my Rum Runners to wear off and Bobby to take a smoke break. It was really only about two hours. I need to remind you, I have been on the beach so I am in my swim suit. I am straddling a chair with my suit in places that only my OBGYN has seen and I am trying not to concentrate on the fact that I really need to get on a treadmill. Those tattoo needles can make your jiggling parts jiggle even more.

My new friend Bobby tells me we are finished. I am exited to see my tree but because of the location of my birthmark I can not look directly at it, I have to twist and turn like the yoga lover I am. I turn in the mirror and I am shocked! He free handed that? That is a palm tree? How can something so small feel like it was piercing my frontal lobe? I love it! I got more than I bargained or paid for but was happy with my new happy place. My island birthmark had a tree, sun, birds, and all the fixins to make counting waves a breeze (Ha Ha, get it).




I studied my new happy place for weeks while I settled into my new digs. It was a perfect illustration of that time in my life. I think of my tattoos as just that; an expression of who I am and where I have been in life. I struggle with the idea of changing my first tattoo because I feel like that is me just trying to change the past. Every decision we make is what makes us who we are today.


*Image has been enlarged for detail; it is actually a small tattoo and is placed where you only see if without clothes.






The Babe has a birthmark just like mine. Daddy swore it was a bruise until it was there for about three months and did not go away. So far, this is the only physical characteristic The Babe has like me.






For those of you in the crowd that might be offended, please don't be. The tattoo is not in any "naughty" places but it is placed so only those that see me naked get to see it. I like tattoos on other people that I can see, but like to think of my two as my little secrets with hubs...and all of you.