For the past couple of years, we've had this vine slowly trying to grow on our house. It was fairly under control and the King thought it "looked pretty". It stayed fairly small, so I just ignored it and let the King enjoy it.
My friend, Anita, who also happens to have a degree in horticulture said it was poison ivy. Not that it might be poison ivy. She said it WAS poison ivy. The King insisted that that simply could not be the case, and that the vine was pretty and to leave it alone. Who did I listen to? Yeah, the King. Figures.
Fast forward to last summer. We had a huge bush in front of the vine. Seriously, the bush was known to eat the arms off of passers by, and it was ugly. No, worse than ugly. It was hideous! I finally had enough of looking at the thing (and dodging the mean old mocking bird that lived in there and dive bombed me EVERY time I walked by, so I got a saw and took the bush down. With the bush down, the vine began to thrive.
The vine did more than just thrive. It practically took over the whole house. Picture Little Shop of Horrors. This is the grandfather to the plant from that play. Seriously. It just kept growing, up to the roof, toward the garage, and anywhere else it wanted. It gave me nightmares.
We also have a pet turtle named Walter. He should have been roadkill, but instead lives in a turtle mansion on top of our tv. Truthfully, he's the best pet ever. He doesn't bark, meow, poop anywhere, jump on you, or lick your face while you're trying to watch a movie on the Lifetime channel. (I don't watch them, but the King does. Shhhhh! He'd be so embarrassed if he knew I told you!)
Anyway, Walter seemed to be lusting after some greens to eat. I, being the resident genius of the family, decided to trim some of the vine off. I had grown to hate that thing anyway, so it just made sense. He LOVED it! So, I trimmed some more.
Guess what happened about 48 hours after the first trimming? I BROKE OUT!!! I am covered in poison ivy. Do you know what pregnant chicks can have for poison ivy? Not much, folks! Not freaking much! So, I am now a pasty white beached whale with red blotchy spots all in my hands, arms, and already questionable legs. It's really a classy look. Oddly, I don't see the men lining up to ask me out.
Since I was already covered in the stuff, I loaded up on long pants, a long shirt, and some gloves. I got outside, climbed up on my wobbly little step latter, and pulled the guts out of that sucker. That thing is DEAD on the curb! Ha! That'll show the vine who's boss! Well, sort of. It may be dead, but I'm still covered in an ugly itchy rash...and I promised my kids a trip to the pool today.
This is the wacky story of our wild and crazy lives with six insane kids. Two are Deaf. Two have had major health issues. At least one is plotting to take over the world. Two are the reigning princesses of the house. Read and laugh about our lives to feel better about your's.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
A Speed Bump, A Burp, and a Trip to Target
So, it's been a long weekend with much to report. Truthfully, there's always much to report, but most of it is only interesting to me or is too humiliating to share. Those who have been following this blog know what I'm talking about.
We spent the weekend at our state School for the Deaf. I was presenting on ECI services for other parents, which is always a fun thing for me. I could talk about ECI, Deaf ed., parent advocacy, and all that stuff for days and days on end. Again, I'm the only one who thinks it's at all interesting.
While the King and I were doing our things, the kids were in classes of their own doing art, eating play dough, stringing beads, and doing their best to make sure everyone knew we were the parents of "those kids". You know the ones: That one family who seems to have allowed their children to be raised by wolves. Yep, those are my little angels. I'm so proud. Anyway, Number One got to attend a Sibshop. It's a workshop all weekend long for hearing kids who have Deaf siblings. It's a great workshop and I was SO excited for him to be a part of it. My friend, Diana, was facilitating his group, so I knew he would be in great hands. At the end of the weekend, though, Diana and a few others came up to me just rolling with laughter (and a little bit of awe) at what Number One had come up with.
His group named themselves the Hot Rods and were told to create something having to do with their team name. Most of them drew pictures of really fast and super cool race cars. I think one kid made a headband. Number One, however, decided to create something different. Diana came up and asked him what he was doing. "I don't wanna' be a hotrod." "Well, what are you going to be then?" "I'll tell you when I'm done". Here is a picture of what he created. Number One is the second from the left. Can you tell what he is?
Yep, he was the group's self-proclaimed speed bump. I'm so proud. I do have to give the kid credit for creativity. Who comes up with stuff like that???
The Beast gave us a quite a laugh, too. He tends to miss certain parts of speech here and there, and while I shouldn't laugh, it does lead to some really funny conversation. There was the one time he was devastated because I told him we were going to a parade in Denison and he thought he was going to play at the dentist. He LOVES going to the dentist, and was very disappointed to arrive at the parade instead. His most recent hearing mishap happened when he burped. Instead of saying excuse me, he yelled out "Excuse me. I farted in my mouth". I guess we just hadn't taught him the right words for that yet. You gotta' love him, though. Just look how sweet the kid looks in this pic. of him making Gak at a local carnival. Remember, though: he just LOOKS sweet and unassuming. In reality, he has been raised by wolves.
And we can't forget Pretty. Sweet Pretty. What can I say about her? She has been up to her usual antics lately. The other day she managed to drop the toy box on her face giving herself a lovely scrape all down the side along with a black eye. In that same day, she removed the Beast's processor and disassembled it for him. While he was crying over that, she hit him in the face with her binky giving him a bloody nose for a good thirty minutes. Then, in case her day hadn't been busy enough, she decided to bop Snort on the head just to be sure he was awake. He wasn't. And he cried...a lot.
We also took her to Target with the whole family for family night last night. Do we not all know what happens when I take all my children to Target? Need I remind you? Suffice it to say this was no different. Pretty took this trip as an opportunity to dig in her diaper and pull out a lovely treasure which then got stuck under her nails. See what I mean? Raised by wolves, I tell you.
As for Snort, he's his usual sweet self. What more can I say? The wolves haven't come to take him home with them yet.
And, just for your viewing pleasure, here are some pics to help explain why I still willingly admit that all these little heathens are mine.
We spent the weekend at our state School for the Deaf. I was presenting on ECI services for other parents, which is always a fun thing for me. I could talk about ECI, Deaf ed., parent advocacy, and all that stuff for days and days on end. Again, I'm the only one who thinks it's at all interesting.
While the King and I were doing our things, the kids were in classes of their own doing art, eating play dough, stringing beads, and doing their best to make sure everyone knew we were the parents of "those kids". You know the ones: That one family who seems to have allowed their children to be raised by wolves. Yep, those are my little angels. I'm so proud. Anyway, Number One got to attend a Sibshop. It's a workshop all weekend long for hearing kids who have Deaf siblings. It's a great workshop and I was SO excited for him to be a part of it. My friend, Diana, was facilitating his group, so I knew he would be in great hands. At the end of the weekend, though, Diana and a few others came up to me just rolling with laughter (and a little bit of awe) at what Number One had come up with.
His group named themselves the Hot Rods and were told to create something having to do with their team name. Most of them drew pictures of really fast and super cool race cars. I think one kid made a headband. Number One, however, decided to create something different. Diana came up and asked him what he was doing. "I don't wanna' be a hotrod." "Well, what are you going to be then?" "I'll tell you when I'm done". Here is a picture of what he created. Number One is the second from the left. Can you tell what he is?
Yep, he was the group's self-proclaimed speed bump. I'm so proud. I do have to give the kid credit for creativity. Who comes up with stuff like that???
The Beast gave us a quite a laugh, too. He tends to miss certain parts of speech here and there, and while I shouldn't laugh, it does lead to some really funny conversation. There was the one time he was devastated because I told him we were going to a parade in Denison and he thought he was going to play at the dentist. He LOVES going to the dentist, and was very disappointed to arrive at the parade instead. His most recent hearing mishap happened when he burped. Instead of saying excuse me, he yelled out "Excuse me. I farted in my mouth". I guess we just hadn't taught him the right words for that yet. You gotta' love him, though. Just look how sweet the kid looks in this pic. of him making Gak at a local carnival. Remember, though: he just LOOKS sweet and unassuming. In reality, he has been raised by wolves.
And we can't forget Pretty. Sweet Pretty. What can I say about her? She has been up to her usual antics lately. The other day she managed to drop the toy box on her face giving herself a lovely scrape all down the side along with a black eye. In that same day, she removed the Beast's processor and disassembled it for him. While he was crying over that, she hit him in the face with her binky giving him a bloody nose for a good thirty minutes. Then, in case her day hadn't been busy enough, she decided to bop Snort on the head just to be sure he was awake. He wasn't. And he cried...a lot.
We also took her to Target with the whole family for family night last night. Do we not all know what happens when I take all my children to Target? Need I remind you? Suffice it to say this was no different. Pretty took this trip as an opportunity to dig in her diaper and pull out a lovely treasure which then got stuck under her nails. See what I mean? Raised by wolves, I tell you.
As for Snort, he's his usual sweet self. What more can I say? The wolves haven't come to take him home with them yet.
And, just for your viewing pleasure, here are some pics to help explain why I still willingly admit that all these little heathens are mine.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Morning Mourning
Late last night while the King was picking Number One up from Scout camp, I decided to check in with the MOFia. Usually, it's just a bunch of us sitting there whining, complaining, rejoicing, and all the other stuff that comes with mothering.
Last night, though, it was something very different. Something that has never happened before in the history of the MOFia. Kayla was visiting her family in TX while her husband was at her home in Boise. She had gone to TX to help her sister. Last night, she received a call that her husband had been rushed to the hospital with chest pains that looked to be a heart attack. She asked that we all pray for her. She couldn't even get to him until the earliest flight this morning, which would have been at 6am. We all stopped our chatter, and did our own little prayer. Minutes later, Kayla's sister posted that her sweet husband had passed away of a massive heart attack.
This poor sweet mother of five children ranging in age from 13 down to 1 year was stuck in TX unable to be with her beloved husband at the moment of his passing. How heartbreaking. We as a MOFia will be doing what we can for her, though it just seems so small and insignificant in the grand scheme of things.
So, instead of welcoming the weekend and exclaiming TGIF, we sit together in morning mourning. I think it will go into the afternoon and evening and next week and probably even years from now.
This is the first time anyone my own age has lost their husband. It is just too close to home. It could have been my beloved King, my best friend. And I wouldn't have known where to turn or what to do. I can only imagine what sweet Kayla must be feeling right now.
My prayers are with her. Regardless of your faith or your beliefs, I'm sure she could use all of your prayers, too.
We're thinking of you, Kayla.
Last night, though, it was something very different. Something that has never happened before in the history of the MOFia. Kayla was visiting her family in TX while her husband was at her home in Boise. She had gone to TX to help her sister. Last night, she received a call that her husband had been rushed to the hospital with chest pains that looked to be a heart attack. She asked that we all pray for her. She couldn't even get to him until the earliest flight this morning, which would have been at 6am. We all stopped our chatter, and did our own little prayer. Minutes later, Kayla's sister posted that her sweet husband had passed away of a massive heart attack.
This poor sweet mother of five children ranging in age from 13 down to 1 year was stuck in TX unable to be with her beloved husband at the moment of his passing. How heartbreaking. We as a MOFia will be doing what we can for her, though it just seems so small and insignificant in the grand scheme of things.
So, instead of welcoming the weekend and exclaiming TGIF, we sit together in morning mourning. I think it will go into the afternoon and evening and next week and probably even years from now.
This is the first time anyone my own age has lost their husband. It is just too close to home. It could have been my beloved King, my best friend. And I wouldn't have known where to turn or what to do. I can only imagine what sweet Kayla must be feeling right now.
My prayers are with her. Regardless of your faith or your beliefs, I'm sure she could use all of your prayers, too.
We're thinking of you, Kayla.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Well, I Think I Just Lost My Mother of the Year Award
So, Number One turned eight back in late March. A huge rite of passage when one turns eight here (other than getting baptized) is that you get to join Scouting. Number One has been VERY excited about it.
The problem was our den had its meetings at the same time that Number One had soccer practice. We opted to let him finish his season and then start up with Scouting. Well, his mother forgot to tell the den leader that soccer was over. So, he missed out on an additional two weeks of Scouting.
We finally remembered to get him to a pack meeting, and that's been about it. Why? Well, there are no meetings in June because he gets to go to Twilight Camp. It's one glorious week of evening Cub Scout fun. Shooting bb guns, crafting crafts, playing ball, and all that stuff that little boys can't get enough of. (Well, almost everything. I think it's against the rules to pee out the fire, so he can't do that).
I very carefully wrote down the date of Camp on my calendar. This calendar dictates my entire life down to fifteen minute intervals. There in big bright bold letters all the way across the week was TWILIGHT CAMP. I've planned everything around it next week. That makes me a great mom, right?
Well it would make me a great mom if camp wasn't THIS week. D'oh! So, his leader calls me today about thirty minutes after it had already started and asked why he wasn't there yesterday and today. What?!?! I have it on my calendar for next week!!! His leader politely told me that it was very nice that it's on my calendar for next week, but it doesn't change the fact that Camp is this week.
I hurried home and got his shoes, shirt, and ball glove and drove ( a little too fast) to the camp grounds. Poor kid. He missed yesterday and one-third of today. Plus, we're going out of town for the weekend on Friday, so he'll miss that, too.
He was kind enough to forgive me for my brain fart, explaining that he understands that I'm working with a pregnant brain. Um, thanks...I think. He did say he had a great time tonight, and can only imagine how fun it would have been to be able to enjoy the whole week. (Not twisting the knife already in my heart or anything, right?)
So, there goes my Mother of the Year award right out the window. Maybe I can work on getting it together, and shoot for being a runner up.
The problem was our den had its meetings at the same time that Number One had soccer practice. We opted to let him finish his season and then start up with Scouting. Well, his mother forgot to tell the den leader that soccer was over. So, he missed out on an additional two weeks of Scouting.
We finally remembered to get him to a pack meeting, and that's been about it. Why? Well, there are no meetings in June because he gets to go to Twilight Camp. It's one glorious week of evening Cub Scout fun. Shooting bb guns, crafting crafts, playing ball, and all that stuff that little boys can't get enough of. (Well, almost everything. I think it's against the rules to pee out the fire, so he can't do that).
I very carefully wrote down the date of Camp on my calendar. This calendar dictates my entire life down to fifteen minute intervals. There in big bright bold letters all the way across the week was TWILIGHT CAMP. I've planned everything around it next week. That makes me a great mom, right?
Well it would make me a great mom if camp wasn't THIS week. D'oh! So, his leader calls me today about thirty minutes after it had already started and asked why he wasn't there yesterday and today. What?!?! I have it on my calendar for next week!!! His leader politely told me that it was very nice that it's on my calendar for next week, but it doesn't change the fact that Camp is this week.
I hurried home and got his shoes, shirt, and ball glove and drove ( a little too fast) to the camp grounds. Poor kid. He missed yesterday and one-third of today. Plus, we're going out of town for the weekend on Friday, so he'll miss that, too.
He was kind enough to forgive me for my brain fart, explaining that he understands that I'm working with a pregnant brain. Um, thanks...I think. He did say he had a great time tonight, and can only imagine how fun it would have been to be able to enjoy the whole week. (Not twisting the knife already in my heart or anything, right?)
So, there goes my Mother of the Year award right out the window. Maybe I can work on getting it together, and shoot for being a runner up.
Friday, June 6, 2008
My Beast, the Groper
So, one of the MOF's came into town for a visit today. Whenever anyone comes to visit, the local MOF's try to get together. The others were busy but E~ was available. Being the fun-loving girl that she is, she met us and had her three adorable boys with her. I brough my brood, and off we went to meet Lee.
We didn't have a ton of time, so opted to go to a local ice cream place. How much trouble can we get into there, right? It was going nicely. The kids all played well together, enjoyed their ice cream, and had time to really wiggle around in the little area we were sitting in...until the wheels in the Beast's twisted little mind started turning.
Out of the blue, he gets up and walks over to Lee. He takes his pointer finger and says "Poke, poke" while totally poking her *gasp!!!* nipple. I was DYING inside. So, she politely says, "Oh, please poke me here" while pointing to her belly like the Pillsbury doughboy. His response? "Nope. I like it here. Poke, poke". And he does it AGAIN. Twice my child groped a woman he's only known for less than an hour. In public!!!!
*Sigh*. Will I EVER be allowed in public with my children?
We didn't have a ton of time, so opted to go to a local ice cream place. How much trouble can we get into there, right? It was going nicely. The kids all played well together, enjoyed their ice cream, and had time to really wiggle around in the little area we were sitting in...until the wheels in the Beast's twisted little mind started turning.
Out of the blue, he gets up and walks over to Lee. He takes his pointer finger and says "Poke, poke" while totally poking her *gasp!!!* nipple. I was DYING inside. So, she politely says, "Oh, please poke me here" while pointing to her belly like the Pillsbury doughboy. His response? "Nope. I like it here. Poke, poke". And he does it AGAIN. Twice my child groped a woman he's only known for less than an hour. In public!!!!
*Sigh*. Will I EVER be allowed in public with my children?
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Sunday, June 1, 2008
A Polite Request
I LOVE having the readers that I have. I figure the bazarre events that go on in my house probably make everyone else feel a little more normal about their own lives. So, I love it that many of you have links to my blog on your own blogs. LOVE THAT! (It makes me feel popular). I do have one small request, though. If anyone is using my last name on their links section, would you mind removing it? You never know when the CIA might come looking for me. And we wouldn't want to ruin my membership in the witness protection program. (Yeah, like anything that exciting would ever happen in my lifetime).
Thanks in advance for your understanding in this. It's muchly appreciated. You may now go about your regularly scheduled programming.
Thanks in advance for your understanding in this. It's muchly appreciated. You may now go about your regularly scheduled programming.
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